#We should still be goading each other on

[stardustedknuckles]

Memory loss associated with Adhd has got to be the stupidest and cruelest symptom because without fail it's like. Me wavering on whether I should take my meds every single time, followed by sitting on my dumb ass three hours later going "wow, I'm actually feeling emotions and connected to people I've loved and lost and I feel capable of facing the complicated grief and emotions associated with a lot of those memories. I wonder why that - oh. Right. I'm a whole idiot."

[ellecdc]

Poly!Jegulus x Slytherin reader idea

So reader is one of the Slytherin chasers and she gets hurt on one of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor matches (maybe just a sprained wrist, or a concussion, whatever you prefer is good!) and imagine just the two captains losing their cool, its either funny or very chaotic or both, really just craving hurt and comfort

it's so funny because keke and I were talking about this dynamic not too long ago. I fiddled around with the positions etc, hope you don't mind! so glad to have you back mimi 🫶

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who plays keeper for the Slytherin team

It was very clear that Regulus was stressed. You knew he didn’t like having to call you up to play.

“Quidditch players play dirty, amour. Have you seen Barty out there?” he had urged you, earning him a roll of your eyes.

“Good thing I’m not playing against Barty then, huh?”

“Yeah, but you’re playing against the players that are playing against Barty; they’re going to go for blood.”

But this was your job as a reserve player. The Slytherin keeper had a case of mumblemumps and was currently on bedrest, meaning it was your turn to step onto the field.

Regulus had ‘double checked’ your equipment for the sixth time before you swatted him away.

“I’m okay, Reg. I’ve played before, yeah?”

Regulus sighed and looked into your eyes imploringly. “Do not take any unnecessary risks, okay? Especially against those animals.” He muttered.

You snorted a laugh. “You do realise we’re playing our boyfriend, yeah? The captain of those ‘animals’?”

Regulus levelled you with a glare. “Exactly.”

You opted to ignore Regulus’ worried ramblings in French and hyped yourself up for the game. Regulus had been hoping that the keeper would pull through in time for the game and was only willing to call you up a mere twenty minutes ago, meaning you hadn’t been mentally prepared for this.

Perhaps more importantly, neither had James

“WHAT IN THE BUGGERING FUCK IS SHE DOING OUT HERE!?” You heard James shout as he marched over to the Slytherin’s on the pitch, earning him a warning from Madame Hooch.

“Crawley is still in the infirmary.” You explained simply as James made it to you and began fussing with your equipment and uniform in much the same way Regulus had already.

“So what? He’s got swollen glands and a case of the mumbles, he can play sodding quidditch.” He muttered, tightening your elbow pads to almost painful lengths.

“Okay, James, enough.” You began shoving at him, but Regulus came to your defence.

“I’ve already done all that, James.” He sighed, sounding equally as disturbed about this as James did.

“I don’t like it. Maybe we should forfeit?” James mused aloud, earning him a horrified outcry from Marlene and Sirius.

“Like hell we’re forfeiting just because your girlfriend is playing, Prongs!” Sirius shouted at the same time as Marlene cried “I know she’s got a pretty face, but this is quidditch, Potter!”

“You never get this worked up over playing against Black, Potter.” Barty goaded from behind you, earning him a dark glare from Regulus.

“That’s because he’s busy looking for the snitch and well out of the action, Junior.” James sneered back before returning his eyes back to you. “Oh, my poor girl.”

You groaned and stepped away from the boys at that. “This is ridiculous, let’s sodding play!”

With an unnecessary amount of reluctance on his part, James stalked back off towards his team as everyone got into formation for the whistle.

The game was as fast-paced and intense as any game was against Slytherin and Gryffindor; the intense and deep-rooted rivalry causing the air to crackle with electricity.

As was predicted by anyone and everyone who knew Barty Crouch Junior, he was one lunatic of a beater, lobbing the bludgers at the opposing players with an unnecessary amount of force. The chasers on the other team seemed to be taking that in stride for the most part, save McLaggen who appeared to take each hit personally.

Any anxiety you had prior to the game melted away with the ease and familiarity of your broom beneath you and the rhythm of swatting quaffles away from your goal posts. Though James talked a big game of you being in “the thick of it”, keepers were the only players allowed within the vicinity of the goal posts, contributing to a certain amount of protection for those in your position.

Unfortunately, the seventh time McLaggen was hit by one of Barty’s bludgers seemed to be the undoing of this so-far fair-played game.

In a manner that seemed to be fueled by pure rage, McLaggen managed to bypass Barty and the other Slytherin beater, and beelined it for you. You would have been impressed by his skills and quick manoeuvres on his broom but you realised too late that he had nearly made it all the way over to you.

“Oi! Stay out of my zone!” You called at him, alerting the chaser’s presence to Barty.

With little more than a twist of his broom, Barty was barrelling his way towards you and aiming a bludger for McLaggen. You were slowly backing up towards your posts in an attempt to stay in position to block McLaggen’s quaffle whilst also trying to stay out of the way of his broom when he suddenly dropped altitude as soon as Barty’s bludger left his hand.

You looked down as he smiled up at you, realising too late what that meant for you.

Suddenly, your vision went black as the bludger made impact with the crown of your head, and you tasted iron as the wind ripped violently through your hair.

You could hear shouting and swearing, suddenly aware that you no longer had your broom under you; you were freefalling.

Still without sight, you had only seconds to brace yourself before you made impact with the hard ground below you.

Your lungs were being squeezed by a large fist within your chest and your ears were ringing something fierce.

There was warmth; warmth on your head, by your ear, trailing down your neck. It felt good against the wind that had accosted you moments earlier.

There was pressure at your collar bone, and deep within your chest.

The pressure became too much.

You took a gaping breath and with that, the ringing in your ears made way for the chaos surrounding you to permeate your consciousness.

“Okay, okay. Okay, good; good job amour, keep breathing. You’re okay, okay? Okay, you’re okay.” You heard Regulus chant, his voice taut with emotions. “Breathe amour, breathe.”

You took a few more gasping breaths and tore your eyes open, realising then that the lack of sight wasn’t due to inability, but rather your body’s unwillingness.

“Hi, hi amour. You’re okay.” Regulus said breathlessly, his eyes scanning between the two of yours before flitting up to something above you.

Your hearing was still fuzzy but you could hear something happening out of your line of sight.

“Yelling.” You choked out, coughing through the pain of having had the wind knocked out of your mere moments ago.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING, MCLAGGEN? THE KEEPER ZONES ARE OFF FUCKING LIMITS.”

“It’s okay, amour. Don’t worry about that, just keep breathing for me, okay?” Regulus urged, placing a gentle hand on the juncture of your neck and shoulder causing you to wince in pain.

“Mr. Potter, you need to calm down.” Madame Hooch could be heard from behind you.

“I’ll do no such thing! He fucking orchestrated that! YOU LET YOUR BEATERS TAKE CARE OF OTHER BOTHERSOME BEATERS! YOU’VE BEEN PLAYING QUIDDITCH FOR SODDING YEARS, YOU KNOW WHAT JUNIOR IS LIKE.”

“Oi! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“You’re off the team. You’re DONE. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You heard what sounded like McLaggen storm off towards the locker rooms as Madame Hooch let out a sigh.

“The game is a draw, Slytherin is forced to forfeit with no keeper. Everyone off the pitch.” She droned in monotone.

“Jamie.” You whimpered, your sinuses suddenly swelling painfully.

“Hey! Hey babylove, I’m here.” He said quickly, quietly, gently; his voice a dramatic change from the way he’d been speaking to his team moments ago.

“I’m okay.” You stated, though it sounded more like a question with the way your voice tilted upwards at the end.

“Of course you are, you’re such a strong girl.” He agreed readily, offering you a sad smile. You chuckled self-deprecatingly and lifted your hand to wipe your tears as they trailed into your hairline, grimacing when your hand came back bloody.

“Just a bump, yeah?” James said lightly, causing Regulus to sniffle.

“I think she hurt her collarbone too.” He whispered as if speaking any louder would cause his voice to break and the tears to fall.

“Okay, alright.” James said as Madame Pomfrey arrived with a gurney. “Head injury and possibly injured collarbone.” He relayed to the matron. 

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. Mr. Black, I’ll take over now; please step aside.”

But Regulus didn’t seem able to let go.

“Mr. Black.”

“Come on, Reggie. We’ll follow her up, yeah?” James tried gently, pulling at Regulus’ shoulder so that the matron could levitate you onto the gurney. 

“We’re right behind you, okay sweetheart?” James called after you as he held Regulus to his side, and you let unconsciousness pull at you with the knowledge that they were following you back to the castle. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him, Pads. I’m going to skin him alive and put his head on a spike on the Gryffindor stadium.” 

You heard Sirius chuckle at the sound of James’ dramatics, though he never bothered to argue with his mate. 

“How is it that you’re such a lover boy and my brother is such a gremlin; but anything happens to her and the two of you trade personalities?” Sirius taunted. You heard a shuffle, a grunt, and then an ‘oi!’ before the sound of Remus’ voice permeated the infirmary.

“Alright, alright. Pads, get off your brother.”

“And then, and then! I’m going to mail his ear to his mother with a note saying “you raised a fucking wanker”.” James continued as if no one had said a word.

“Y/N?” You heard Remus ask, causing the shuffling of your boyfriend and his brother, and the musings of your other boyfriend to come to a halt as they waited with bated breath for you to open your eyes.

“There she is.” James sighed in relief as his eyes met yours, his smile only at a fraction of its usual wattage, though it was still enough to brighten up the grim infirmary.

“Hi.” You croaked, wincing as your stretch was impeded by a sling on your arm.

“No, don’t.” Regulus whispered, brushing your elbow with a touch that was barely there. “Madame Pomfrey reset your collarbone, you’ll be in the sling for a few weeks.” He explained.

“Gives us all the more of an excuse to fuss over you, yeah?” James offered, clearly trying to keep spirits up.

Though you knew James was likely just as worked up about your injury as Regulus currently was (if not more, if his threats of murder and mutilation were anything to go off of), he was making an effort to be strong for both of your sake’s.

“Reggie, I’m okay.” You pressed, taking Regulus’ hand in yours that wasn’t currently pressed to your side. 

“I know.” He whispered back.

“So are you.” 

Regulus’ face crumpled at that and he slowly lowered his head to rest on your abdomen.

“Glad to see you up and at’em, Y/N.” Rem smiled at you as Sirius shot you a wink before patting Regulus on the shoulder and leaving the three of you some privacy. 

“Reggie, babe.” James murmured, moving to stand behind Regulus and rub at his shoulders soothingly. “You’re going to get tears and snot all over our poor girl’s jumper.”

“Sod off.” Regulus mumbled into your stomach, causing you and James to chuckle. 

Regulus’ head popped up at that, and he looked at you shyly from red rimmed eyes behind black curls falling over his forehead. 

“You promise me you’re okay?” He whispered, rubbing his thumb back-and-forth over your knuckles.

You nodded and offered him a small smile. 

Regulus sighed and sat up, rubbing at his face. “Good.” He said simply as he stood.

“I’ve got a Gryffindor to kill.”

He placed a gentle kiss to your temple and stalked out of the infirmary before your horrified glance moved to James who stood passively at the end of your bed.

“James!?” You asked, gesturing with your good arm towards the entrance.

James shook his head and waved you off. “Don’t worry; Pad’s and Moony are on watch out there. We knew once you woke up he’d be on a warpath.” 

You let out a surprised laugh as James casually took Regulus’ vacated seat beside you and picked up your good hand.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Just sore.” You offered with a nod. 

“Well, I don’t like that you got hurt, but I do like getting to take care of you.” He said salaciously, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. 

You shared a soft smile with James before you heard screeching. 

“I need a healer!”

James brows furrowed as he turned to see 1) McLaggen holding a jumper to his face leaving a trail of blood droplets behind him and 2) Regulus, Sirius, and Remus walking back towards your bed far too nonchalantly for your liking. 

“You were supposed to stop him!” James shouted at Sirius as he gestured to Regulus.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we did.”

James let out a surprised scoff. “Then how’d he manage to maim McLaggen?”

“I didn’t have to.” Regulus replied simply, sitting on the end of your bed and pulling your feet into his lap as he massaged them through the blankets. “Barty got to him first.”

[fangswbenefits]

Reading Session

Summary: Astarion walks in on you reading a rather suggestive book, and far be it from him to interrupt your learning process. 

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Innuendo. Edging. PiV. Creampie. After care. Precum.

Word count: 3.5k

Author's note: Yes. The book exists in BG3. Thank you to @hmdeath for helping me find it 🩷

You flipped through the last pages of chapter four of ‘The Quarta Sune: A Guide to Sexuality, Eroticism, and Emotional Fulfilment’, your eyes widening slightly from all the intricate and rather impressive positions illustrated with some notes on how to maximise pleasure for both parties involved.

Needless to say, it had your heart racing as the faintest of throbs settled between your thighs. You bit your lip, pressing your legs together as the thought of putting some of these pointers in practice gradually took over.

You flipped back to chapter three, taking mental notes and humming softly as you rolled onto your stomach, placing the heavy book on your pillow.

‘If one is to indulge in the ‘Waterdeep Caress’, it is mandatory that the one on top sets the pace, looking into their lover's eyes.’

It seemed simple enough.

‘...one arm should be wrapped around their neck as the other is set on their chest, caressing a nipple with gentle fingers…’

You nodded attentively.

The images drawn across the pages had your undivided attention to the point you didn't even notice you were no longer alone in your room until a swift hand snatched the book from your grip.

You were about to voice out a protest, but ended up deciding against it once you realised who the perpetrator was.

Astarion.

Of course.

He looked as amused as ever, inspecting the cover before his gaze travelled down the page you had been so focused on.

“Reading ‘The Quarta Sune’?” he tutted with a knowing smile. “My, my… feeling naughty, are we?”

You were on your feet in an instant with both hands reaching out in a pointless attempt at retrieving the book.

“Give it back!”

He held it aloft, effortlessly keeping you at bay. “I don't think keeping secrets from me is very nice, is it?”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you let out a groan of frustration. “Please. Just… give it back.”

“I am merely wondering why you'd need to resort to this in the first place, darling,” he asked, feigning hurt. “I'm an open book in these matters – you need only ask.”

And that was precisely why you had bought a copy from Nansi Gretta at The Blushing Mermaid. 

Astarion was a very considerate lover, and you found yourself wanting to surprise him, too. To have a few tricks up your sleeve that he couldn't see coming his way.

But now you just felt disappointed as your plan vanished into thin air.

He was still holding your gaze, now with a hint of delight.

“This is not fair…” you eventually said, flopping onto the bed with a prolonged whine.

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion began, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat down on the edge, caressing the nape of your neck. “Far be it from me to interrupt your studies.”

You groaned against the bedsheets, feeling the urge to throw a tantrum from having had your hopes crushed.

“Go on,” he said, shifting closer. “Tell me why you were so enthralled by it.”

Oh, he was goading you.

Of course he was.

He excelled at riling you up and smearing it in your face.

So you chose silence, scowling deeply.

His hand moved to your back, toying with the clasps of your nightdress.

“Pouting? Really?” he said with a click of his tongue.

But his taunt was only met with more silence.

He then began to tug gently, undoing each clasp with an expertise that only his level of dexterity could provide.

A chill ran down your freshly exposed skin, fingers pushing the fabric apart in their wake and travelling down your back.

That persistent throb in between your legs from before threatened to quicken as you caved under his touch.

You flinched away from his grasp, throwing him an irritated glance.

He held the book in his other hand, and extended his arm to you. “Feisty today, sweetheart? Here, have your book.”

With a pout, you promptly retrieved it.

Astarion chuckled, his eyes dropping to your chest. “Do carry on being a tease – I am rather enjoying the view myself.”

You followed his gaze, suddenly made aware that the sudden motion had caused your nightdress to come apart and roll down your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Shit,” you hissed, dropping the book and fumbling with fabric to regain your modesty.

But the damage was done and you were left all flustered under his unwavering gaze.

“Will you tell me why you were reading this book?” he insisted, offering a coy smile. “Was it a fit of depravity that overcame you?”

“No!” you said, the impending feeling of defeat looming over you. “I just… I wanted to see if I could find something – anything – to surprise you with.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Surprise me? How come?”

Your face was swallowed in heat as your eyes darted to the book. “Well, you've probably read it, haven't you?”

“I haven't, but I reckon it's a pile of utter rubbish.”

What?

“But… I got it at The Blushing Mermaid.”

An understanding smile curled his lips. “All the more reason. See, darling,” he said, bringing his knuckles to caress your arm, “you don't learn these tricks from books.”

A frown settled on your face. “But…”

His hand found yours and he rubbed each finger with the pad of his thumb. “Experience is still the best teacher.”

“You're no fun,” you said, sticking your tongue out before rolling over on your stomach and snapping the book open to continue your reading.

For a moment, you chanted victory inwardly as not another teasing remark was heard from him.

But Astarion wasn't easily silenced.

Not for long, anyway.

You tried to focus on erotic drawings in front of you, ignoring how the bed shifted slightly under you.

And then each of his legs was on either side of your thighs, caging you under him.

“Very well, then,” he said, hiking the hem of your nightdress up until it was resting at the small of your back, exposing your backside to him. “If you're so adamant about this, who am I to deny you?”

You glanced over your shoulder and were met with the most devious grin ever.

What was he up to?

His hands settled on each cheek, groping the rounded and taut flesh underneath.

Oh…

He alternated between soft and firm squeezes for a long while, and you had already lost any semblance of concentration.

You felt him pat one cheek twice before his cool lips were suddenly at your ear, drawing a shiver from you.

“Astarion… what are you doing?”

You felt a soft kiss being pressed to your neck. “You're obviously eager to learn a few tricks from this book,” he whispered, as his hands travelled down your sides before gripping your waist rather firmly. “So teach me, darling.”

Inevitably, your eyes widened at his proposition and you immediately propped yourself on your elbows, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The new angle gave him the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss from you.

It was fleeting and clearly not his main focus, so he pulled from your lips.

“You are going to read to me your favourite passages.”

“What?”

“I am sure you've managed to find something interesting by now,” he carried on, pecking the tip of your nose. “And I don't mind being proven wrong about this book.”

It would have been easier to dismiss his request if his hardening cock wasn't so firmly pressed against the swell of your backside.

“I can just tell you…” you said, swallowing hard.

He simply chuckled. “You said I was no fun, so I am making sure this is fun.”

You gazed down at the open book in front of you, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue.

“And, darling?” he called from behind you. “If you stop, I stop.”

And suddenly, the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room.

Your underwear had been effortlessly torn apart, granting him exclusive access to your now soaked core.

You shuddered under him, tilting your head to meet his crimson eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If you stop reading, I stop fucking you.”

The crudeness in his words was enough to draw a gasp from you, and mainly because you knew he meant what he said.

Astarion wasn't one to hand out empty warnings.

It soon dawned on you that he had caught a glimpse of the page you were currently gripping, providing him with enough material to use as leverage against you.

Fuck.

“Isn't this the one you want to try out?” he cooed, pressing his erection against your backside once more. “It seems like we are already halfway through.”

Instinct guided the next few rolls of your hips, yearning for more friction, not at all interested in wasting time reading anything from this book, when the subject of your desires was all you wanted to focus on.

But Astarion disagreed.

In fact, it was the loud tapping of his fingers next to the explicit diagrams of the ‘Prone Delight’ position that snapped you out of your lust-filled haze.

“Read it out loud.”

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice. “But you can see it…”

He pressed his strained cock harder into you and you yelped from the sudden pressure.

“Read. It.”

Somehow, you found the will to fix your gaze back on the now crinkled page, fingers quivering as you skipped the first steps of the visual guide, darting your eyes down until you found what to read out loud next.

The urge to arch your back nearly overtook you as you read through the instructions.

You cleared your throat. “‘As soon as your partner is flat on their stomach, proceed to place a firm pillow under their hips to elevate them to place them at an ideal angle.”

Astarion quickly darted to his side, launching forward to grip a pillow on the far end of the bed.

You glanced to your side as soon as you heard the sound of laces being unfastened, freeing his cock with a hiss of pure relief.

He pumped it twice as if urging it to harden even more.

“Why did you stop?”

You jolted from how harsh he sounded, but his tone had an immediate effect on your clit, causing it to pulse more intensely than before.

The bed dipped and creaked under his knees as shifted before patting the side of your waist. “Up.”

You immediately complied, raising your hips high enough for him to place the pillow under them, effectively causing you to gasp.

Astarion smacked your backside softly, urging you, and you felt a gush of wetness spill down your folds as you clenched again.

“‘The legs must be pressed tightly together to further increase the tightness’,” you said, but your voice faltered as soon as his firm hands were suddenly on your thighs, ensuring you followed the instructions, which caused your swollen clit to be squeezed in between your soaked folds. “Gods…”

He pulled away at once. “You stop, I stop, darling.”

You immediately clenched hard around nothing, your body yearning for his cock.

“Please…” you pleaded, wanting nothing more than to tear the page apart and spread your legs to invite him in.

Tough luck.

Astarion was in no mood to cooperate with your request.

“You wanted to surprise me, didn't you?” he cooed, lovingly stroking your plump cheek before giving it a squeeze. “Then go ahead and show me how you can keep your pretty head focused whilst taking my cock.”

Another clench.

A more violent one this time.

Followed by a groan of frustration as you desperately clawed at the book, knowing you'd have to carry on.

“‘The other partner must straddle their legs from behind and…’” your voice cracked when he positioned himself atop your thighs, his cock already nudging at your entrance. “... and…” Astarion stilled right away and you groaned. “... and slowly initiate the act of p-penetration’.”

He seemed satisfied enough with your performance as proceeded to drag his tip along your folds, coating it in your wetness.

“Like so?” he then asked as he slowly began to stretch you open, earning a sob from you from how thick he was. 

“Yes…” 

His thighs caged yours, preventing you from parting your legs as he struggled to bottom out.

“Gods… why do you have to be so tight,��� he hissed in frustration, probably realising this position wasn't all that favourable. “Keep reading.”

You wanted to protest, but you just couldn't speak as you tried to take all of him in spite of your tightness.

And before you could feel full with his cock, Astarion withdrew from you in one swift motion, causing you to almost cry out.

“No! No…no…” you sobbed, feeling your walls squeeze as if that would magically bring him back inside. “Astarion… please…”

He had the nerve to chuckle. “Trust  me. I want nothing more than to sink all the way in, but we had a deal. Now, read.”

This was pure torture.

He was too good at making you crave him.

And you were too weak to resist him.

With newfound strength, you managed to move to the next step, sniffling. “‘A gentle pace should be initiated first, before setting for a more forceful one, with long and deep thrusts’...”

Just as expected, he was sliding back inside you once again, rewarding your perseverance.

“‘If there is any sign of discomfort, it is advised to halt at once’,” you managed to say in between throaty moans.

Astarion bottomed out before you could initiate the next sentence, letting out a delicious groan of pleasure. 

You needed more.

You needed him to roll those sweet hips of his.

“‘It is advised to alternate the pace according to…’” A sobby moan left your throat as he slid all the way out before plunging back inside and setting a relentless pace. “... ‘...according to the partner's body language and vocal cues…’” You paused again as creamy lewd sounds filled your ears. It was getting harder and harder to keep your vision straight as he fucked you so good.

But, as soon as you failed to deliver an unwavering diction, Astarion stilled inside you, causing you to instinctively clench around his cock, silently urging him to move again.

“What's the matter, darling?” he mocked, caressing your backside with both hands, fingers digging into your flesh. “You wanted to teach me, so do it.”

There was nothing in this godsdamned book you could use to teach him.

And he knew it.

Astarion knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew what made it tick and what had you beg for more.

But still, you endured, as your lust for him overcame everything else.

“‘This position has been described as one that allows the partner on top to get as deep as possible whilst experiencing unprecedented tightness.’” 

You weren't sure how you managed to say all of it in one go, but it was enough to have him slam into you harder than before.

It was almost embarrassing how easily soaked you got from being told what to do, but you didn’t care anymore.

And it seemed that Astarion was too lost in his own pleasure to notice you had stopped, so you allowed yourself to enjoy each thrust and groan you squeezed out of him.

He always sounded so pretty buried inside you.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he rammed hard.

As expected, his pace never faltered, but you wanted to give him more incentive and flipped the page, ready to commence your diction.

“‘The suggested position after–”

But before you could continue, Astarion snatched the book in front of you and sent it flying across the room with a growl.

“Enough of that idiotic book,” he snarled, lifting your hips. “On your hands and knees.”

He kicked the pillow from under you, without sliding out.

Your muscles were slightly numb from the previous position and it took you a moment to adjust yourself.

Once he was sure you were ready for more, he pressed a hand down your back, causing you to arch for him.

“You're too soaked for this to last much longer,” he said, sliding all the way inside, his balls hitting your swollen clit. “You don't need a book to have me come undone for you, sweetheart.”

You shuddered.

It was almost criminal how good this man was with his words and body alike.

Your mouth dropped open as soon as he began to speed up once more, wet and creamy sounds being heard in between the snap of his hips against yours.

The familiar coil in your lower abdomen signalled how close you already were with each slap of his balls against your clit. Judging by his grunts and less spaced out hisses, you could tell your own climax would trigger his.

But you needed more.

You needed the sight that would have you topple over the edge.

So, you looked down along your body, almost whimpering from the view: a single thick strand of precum mixed with your own wetness was dangling from your swollen clit, swaying with each thrust.

Gods…

You took a deep breath, embracing the wave of pleasure that was about to hit you as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

It came all at once and your arms quivered under you until you had no choice but to fall forward on the side of your face as your climax violently tore through your entire body, initiating a sequence of contractions that further had you tightening around his cock.

It was almost blinding and your mind blanked at once a string of moans spilled from deep without you, breath taken away from your lungs.

Astarion cursed loudly and you knew then, even through your haze of pleasure, that he had reached his peak.

Each contraction aided him in spilling himself deep inside you, your body craving his seed.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from your clit and how swollen it was, parting your folds. Then, you shot a brief glance at his handsome face, wanting to witness it contorting in pleasure and relief as he rode out his own climax.

As you came down from your high, you began to see the first drops of thick cum dribbling down his balls as he began to pull out. 

By the time he was fully out, a gush of cum leaked out, coating your folds and dripping from your clit.

It never ceased to amaze you how hard he always came… the amount of cum was obscene to say the least. 

He nearly lost his balance and you saw his cock completely covered in cum as he growled through clenched teeth, his fangs fully visible.

Somehow, your knees hadn't quivered and you remained in the same position for a while, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Eventually, you found your voice again. “You… shouldn't have thrown it away… it has some post-encounter care suggestions…”

Astarion was on his knees, his cock still hard and thick as his half-hooded eyes met yours. “Lay down.”

Was he not done ordering you around?

You chuckled weakly, but did as you were told.

He slid from the bed at once and you admired his backside as he sauntered across the room, taking a towel in his hand before returning to your side.

“On your back, darling,” he said, voice soft and caring as he placed a kiss on your flushed cheek. “Allow me to properly take care of you.”

You offered him a smile, eager for what was to come.

“You know, that was mean of you…” you said in between shallow breaths.

Astarion pressed a kiss to your forehead, parting your legs. “But was it fun?”

You chuckled, feeling your muscles sore. “No.”

He feigned hurt as he dabbed the soft towel along your folds, earning a jolt from you when it reached your oversensitive clit. 

“Do not lie.”

A thick layer of his cum slowly dribbled from you, which he promptly wiped clean.

“It was mildly entertaining,” you groaned as he kept on pressing adoring kisses along your cheek. “I'm surprised you were able to hold back.”

“Oh, darling… I didn't.”

And for the next few minutes, you enjoyed the comfort that came with the silence of being next to the person you adored the most.

Astarion was a dedicated lover.

He would have you come undone for him, but he would ensure the after care was just as rewarding.

As such, he would clean you up and offer you water and even a bath. And if you couldn't walk? He would simply carry you.

But you never wanted it to be a one-sided courtesy.

He deserved to be taken care of just as much and you would often be the first to pat his cock clean with a soft piece of cloth. 

Sometimes, you would aid each other simultaneously in between tired kisses and hugs, finding bliss in the trust that held you together. 

Masterlist

[sommerregenjuniluft]

evan and regulus frolicking like they're frotting in bed making out sloppy style about to fuck to the sounds of their boyfriends fighting outside

jfkdkfkdkf STOOPPP (this escalated, NSFW)

Regulus comes back into the living room, mug of steaming tea in hand and he rolls his eyes as soon as he, too, hears James and Barty where they're still out on the balcony arguing, cigarettes long stubbed out in the ashtray.

Evan grins, lifting the blanket as Regulus lets himself plop down and snuggles into his side.

“What’s it about this time?”

Evan snorts, nuzzling the black curls behind Regulus’ ear, “You think I know?”

Regulus shakes his head, like a disappointed old grandpa and Evan’s grin widens.

Outside, Barty makes an incredulous noise, half rising from his chair before he sits back down, trying to talk over James’ continuous arguing.

Regulus makes a soft groan in irritation, tipping his head back against Evan's shoulder. There’s a triangle of moles right under the hinge of his sharp jaw, teasing Evan to put his mouth to good use.

“It’s never nothing with the two of them,” Evan murmurs, warm breath ricocheting off Regulus’ skin and back at him.

It makes Regulus tilt his head back down, eyes narrowing and searching for something in Evan’s expression. He hums a little, sinking lower into the cushions and Evan’s embrace.

“Think we should keep ourselves busy, don’t you?” Evan says, catching Regulus’ eyes skipping down to his lips, “Who knows how long they'll be at it this time.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything but he tips his chin up and he lets Evan hook one of his legs over his lap without fuss. Evan watches the line of his throat move when he swallows, “You smell like lemons.”

“And limes,” Evan corrects with a grin. “You're off your game, whiskers. Something distracting you?”

Regulus’ slack expression slips into a glower and Evan chuckles, bumping their noses together. “I spooned some of Barty’s protein yogurt after dinner when he wasn’t looking, too busy nagging at James while they were doing the dishes.”

Regulus snakes a hand under Evan’s t-shirt, caressing the skin, “’s it taste anything good?"

The tiny devil on Evan’s shoulder does a little happy spin, “Why doesn’t the chef try for himself?”

Evan happily swallows the little pant betraying Regulus’ indifference before their lips connect.

He doesn't even have to goad him, their tongues nudging immediately as Regulus eagerly parts his mouth.

It's a wet slide of lips and Regulus’ short nails digging a little desperately into the side of Evan’s ribs when he sucks Regulus’ lower lips between his teeth.

James lets out a loud string of spanish curses outside, slamming a fist into what must be the metal of their balcony railing and Regulus sucks in a breath against Evan’s cheek and oh, is Evan having fun on this beautiful Friday night.

More kissing, hands grabbing and shucking away clothes and when Evan tugs Regulus closer by the hip he makes an entirely too sweet needy noise that goes straight to Evan’s cock.

They keep licking into each others’ mouths, Barty’s and James’ aggravated voices a quiet muffle in the background, and Regulus keeps making these little noises, squirming in place and adjusting his hold on Evan again and again, fingers clenching and unclenching and Evan can’t help himself but grin into the kiss.

It disrupts their rhythm and Regulus makes a complaining grunt that tells Evan he’d roll his eyes right now if he wasn’t currently busy eating Evan’s face off.

He’s so cute Evan wants to take a fucking bite out of him.

Or maybe finger him until he squirts all over the couch.

Evan gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek and then works his way down his neck and Regulus is restless, shifting around and then his fucking knee slides over where Evan is rock hard and he stutters out a truely embarrassing groan for it being a fucking knee.

But Regulus is an angel because he moans in response and slides his fingers into Evan’s bleached curls like it’s second nature whenever he needs something to hold onto.

“Evan,” Regulus speaks up, voice husky and eyes a little glassy when Evan lifts his head to look.

“Reg?” Evan says sweetly, cocking his head, before he goes back to the mark he was about to suck into the pale expanse of his throat.

“I’m– mgh,” Regulus swallows, out of breath, “Can you—”

Evan’s lips twitch into another smile, “Huh? Pardon, I can’t hear you, bébé.”

Regulus huffs but he makes another obscene noise when Evan trails his fingers up the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to where Evan already knows he wants him.

Another of his complaining noises—Evan lets out a snicker against the soft skin and gets a shiver in response—and then, “Want your fingers.”

“Want my fingers, love?” A gentle bite into the tendons of his neck.

Regulus arches, nodding against the cushions, “Please.”

And who is Evan to deny a polite plea as sweet as that of his lover?

Regulus’ sweats, that are actually Barty’s, get discarded. He isn’t even wearing any boxers, nom de dieu, and then Evan is slipping the tip of his middle finger through where Regulus is sinfully slick.

He throws his head back with a moan that Evan feels reverberating down his spine and then Regulus is looking at him with big, silver eyes. Wide and needy and dark brows furrowed and, fuck, so fucking wet for him Evan simply slips in two fingers at once.

And maybe he shouldn’t have. Honestly, should have taken it easy—Usually he’s the last out of the four of them to lose his patience but with Regulus looking at him like that?

Evan presses their lips together, heated and rough, and Regulus welcomes him happily. Makes a high-pitched noise when Evan curls his fingers before starting a slow pace of pumping in and out, thumb drawing slow, teasing circles around his cock.

Suddenly there’s a sharp noise from outside, one of their garden chairs scraping against the tiles of the balcony and then the door flings open.

“—the fuck do you think you’re goin’?”

“If I’m gonna have to listen to your fucking bullshit only one more second I’ll start to get violent, B. Reg is still pissed we didn’t get the blood stains out of the—”

“Fuckin’ pussy. I told you to– oompf,” the sound of someone walking into another body, “James?”

“Shut up.”

“You- fuck you. I’ll—”

“B, look.”

“—fucking destroy you, P- oh.”

Evan peeks over the back of the sofa to see James and Barty standing dumbly in the middle of their living room, expressions slack and balcony door wide open behind them. He crooks his fingers again and Regulus whines brokenly, throwing his head back, mouth parting in a perfect little o and Evan watches James eyes bulge behind his glasses and Barty’s tongue lolling out.

Can’t help himself when he grins menacingly, tilting his head and thumbing over Regulus’ cock again, making the man beside him arch.

“I- you seeing this, Crouch?”

“You fucking bet I am, Jamie.”

“Since when have they- How long were we out there?”

“Dunno but I do know I’m not missing another second of this. Budge up, Rosier. You’re going to get your dick sucked so good.”

“Fine with me as long as you do it ass up,” James murmurs lowly, “Gonna fuck that wrong opinion right out of you.”

Barty scoffs a laugh, “You wish.”

“Then dibs on Regulus riding me.”

“You—”

Evan shakes his head and chases the delectable noise slipping out of Regulus when he slips in a third finger.

[caker-baker]

Playing Sides

The detective allowed themself tense shoulders and whitened knuckles, if only to properly play the game.

Body language could make and break this meeting, and they needed to be a collection of fearful memories on display for the villain, an offering, appeasement, something else here and there.

If anyone other than the villain noticed the act, they were obviously choosing not to say something, going about their individual days, drinking coffee and politely nibbling on microwaved pastries.

But those people didn’t matter, not when there was something else much more pressing at the table.

“This seems a tad…” The villain sitting across from the appeasing detective took their time looking for the word. “incompatible.”

The detective only spared a sweeping glance at the rest of the cafe. “For you or for me?”

Chuckling, the villain raised their coffee cup to their lips. “Tricky, tricky, tricky. Always is with you.” They took an appreciative sip, eyes never leaving the detective. “What is this act you’re putting on? It’s good, believable, but not enough of a constant for me to place any value in it. I don’t appreciate attempts at flattery.”

The first thought was to argue, because why wouldn’t it be? The detective was a professional, their job was to unearth, discover, and find the final truth, the one answer.

Sitting in front of an anthropomorphized file of contradictions with the ability to lie, could, arguably, make the detective jumpy, twitching to argue and argue and argue until that final truth was revealed.

“Maybe it’s not an act.” The detective finally said, not exactly an argument, but a halfway concession, relaxing their muscles, loosening the vice grip on their coffee. “Maybe I’m scared.”

“But not of me.”

“Should I be?”

The villain offered a closed lip smile, one motion away from baring their teeth.

“I don’t so much mind you, my dear detective friend.”

“I don’t care for flattery, either.” The detective said.

“Good thing it wasn’t flattery. You would notice if I were to compliment you.” The villain watched them, particularly their relaxed hands.

The detective managed to rid the urge to move their hands then and there, stayed completely still even as the chill creeped up their spin.

“No, no, not flattery.” The villain continued. “Merely acknowledging the truth. We have a good deal going for each other.” They leaned forward. “Which is why this meeting worries me, why I was unconvinced of your taut facade, your attempts of appeasement.”

The detective straightened, knowing well enough that the villain was mocking their strategy.

“You were hoping to…what? Beg for some sort of help?”

“No.”

“Ask for something, then?”

The detective stayed silent, looking away as the villain stared them down, goading them on in their silent way.

The two did have a good deal going on, and if the detective was wrong, this could ruin that.

But they weren’t wrong.

“There have been whispers, Villain.”

“There tend to be, yes, old friend.”

“About something, someone, coming.” If the villain wanted to respond, the detective wasn’t going to give them a chance. “Now, you know me, you know us, our usual deal. I play both sides of the fence, just barely. Lately, during some of my data tracking for the heroes, I’ve noticed a disturbing pattern.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been forced to wonder something, I have a question for you. All I need is a simple yes or no-”

“Going to stop you there.” The villain set down their cup, fixing the detective with a colder, less amicable gaze. “I do know our usual deal, which is why I’m insulted now. You wanted information, pertinent, valuable information about something disturbing, and you were hoping to bargain with your fear?”

“Villain-”

Their eyes widened, the table under their fist began to crack.

“Careful.”

The detective couldn’t hide any body language from that, flinching at the tone of voice, tones, that the villain had - a million low voices all merging into one, horrific growl that sent shivers wracking up the detective’s spine, hurting their very bones.

“My guilt!” The detective spat out, ignoring the building bone nausea. “It wasn’t fear. You’re right. I’m not scared, not yet, but I’m guilty, and I will be terrified depending on your answer. If this ends up a yes, then I’m prepared to offer you something that I cannot take back, Villain. I’ll trade in something terrible for the rest of us, if it means I have the smallest chance to prepare.”

Those wide eyes narrowed, but the cracking table at least stopped, and the million low voices returned to one.

“Do tell.”

“Answer me first.”

“Tricky, tricky, trick.” The villain relaxed into their chair, amused now. “I’ll decide if it’s worth answering, Detective. Seem fair? Ask your silly yes or no question.”

Another sweep around the coffee shop, everything going according to how the detective had set up.

“Normally, your type gets quiet, goes under radar before a bigger stunt is pulled. I keep track, alert the proper channels, make sure not too many civvies are in a particular high risk zone at a given day. Some contacts in other big cities have reached out, said it’s been too quiet, everyone’s been too quiet.”

The villain’s amusement had already been fanned like a flame, crossing their arms and watching the detective lay it out for them as if it was some soap opera.

“I’ll spare you too many details, but I have reason to believe something big is being planned for here.” They held up a hand, watching the villain’s eyebrow quirk up. “I just need to know, yes or no, is this happening? Is my home going to be razed down for a personal vendetta? A final heroes vs. villains?”

The villain looked the detective up and down.

“If you knew the answer to that, what would you do?”

“Let you and yours duke it out with the heroes. Take the place if you want, it’s only a place, but I’d like to minimize civvy death count, Villain. I’d get in touch with those channels and start mass evacuation. I’d start it now.”

“And now the fun part.” They leaned in again. “What could you offer me in exchange for this answer? What could bring you of all people to guilt? You, whom I almost respect?”

The detective swallowed, and placed their bag on the table, letting the villain take a look inside.

Body language would make or break this.

“Power dampening cuffs. A prototype. I can’t guarantee they work. But I’m sure if you and yours worked together, you could figure something out.”

For the first time, the villain seemed surprised, hardly giving the prototype cuffs another glance.

“Detective-”

“I can’t guarantee they work.” The detective repeated. “But in this squabble of yours that may or may not be coming up, you could use these, and they would help, I know they would.”

“Hm. And you’ll let me walk out with these and the current schematics if I answer you? What if I lie? You make the wrong call, and I still have these. Maybe I will lie, maybe I want to see you be horribly wrong at such a cost.”

“You don’t.” The detective wasn’t wrong. They weren’t.

“Why’s that?”

“It would be no fun for you. You couldn’t almost respect me if this was the end of our partnership, my too easy failure.”

There was so much the detective was betting on, and knowing the villain was one of them.

The villain was a villain through and through, conniving, powerful, selfish, dangerous. And sometimes, those traits, the selfishness, carried into these little deals of theirs.

No, the villain wouldn’t want this to end without a bang. The villain would want to string along the detective until there was no more use of them.

“In a way,” The villain said, standing and grabbing the bag. “You’re right. It would be no fun. I don’t just want these, though. I want something else.”

“Answer the question, I’ll see what else I can do.”

The villain stared down at the detective for a long time. A minute. Two. Three. Or maybe it was only three seconds, stretched out into the fraying ends of a perfectly planned meeting.

“Yes.” The villain finally said. “The answer is yes, something is coming.”

The detective stood, not too quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate that. What do you want? Codes to inaccessible areas? You can have them as soon as-”

Reaching across, the villain grasped the detective’s shoulder. “The ramifications of razing this city down, as you so put, were lost on me. How could you and I keep this up if you’re running off, evacuating with the other saps?” They watched how the detective’s eyes flitted to the villain’s hand. “What I want, Detective, is to keep having fun.”

“Villain, there’s not much you or I can do to continue this deal of ours if there’s all out super war-”

“You play for heroes and villains, or, excuse me, just barely.” Their hand tightened on the detective’s shoulder. “Let’s see what sort of fun we can have with that.”

Before the detective could open their mouth, the villain smiled, and the two disappeared.

[zhivaoverdrive]

Saline Thief, 4 Today’s fill - enough to transform any other woman from a bystander into a spectacle, but on her, it barely registered.

--- The IV bag ticked like a clock counting down to some inevitable doom. Amy watched the digital display count upwards relentlessly: 120cc... 380cc... 750cc. With each update of the display, the saline in her chest felt heavier, crushing her under its weight.

4,500cc? Lies. This wasn’t just another "bump," this was feeding a monster she barely understood anymore.

Her left breast throbbed with a dull ache, stretching against the confines of her skin.  30,750cc... 31,200cc....  She kept track in her head, the real number she kept hidden from all.

They knew. Amy was certain of it. They weren't fooled by her facade, not for a second. She knew about the midnight raids, the stolen saline, the ever-expanding desire threatening to consume Amy whole. But they played along, this twisted game of cat and mouse, letting Amy walk right into a trap.

Nurse Laura had called it a "teeny overfill," but Amy knew better. She was already monstrously large, pushing the limits of what felt human. This injection would push her further, into territory she couldn’t imagine. As the saline flowed, a familiar combination of fear and exhilaration coursed through Amy.

Oh god, what have I done? she thought, mentally slapping herself.  I'm like a walking water balloon… a teeny overfill?

Would this ruin any chance of finding someone who loved her for who she was? The thought flitted through her mind, quickly extinguished.

Her tits were just so huge since her last late night escapade. In the rush of that intrusion, she hadn't bothered to count anymore. But they were huge. Gigantic. God, I'm a freak. Am I the biggest in the world?

The numbers ticked by, each one another nail in the coffin. 32,500cc... 33,000cc... Amy closed her eyes as she counted the hidden total, trying to block out sensation of her swelling breast. It felt alien, a shocking caricature of femininity. Yet, she couldn’t deny the thrill coursing through her.

Nurse Laura’s bubbly demeanor grated on Amy's nerves. She saw through it all – the feigned concern, the over-the-top enthusiasm.  It was a performance designed to goad Amy, to push her further down this dark path. And Amy, caught in the web she'd woven herself, couldn't help but play along.

The IV beeped, jolting Amy back to reality. Laura appeared in the doorway, that ominous smile plastered on her face.

Well, well," Laura chirped, her gaze lingering on Amy's chest. "Looks like our teeny overfill barely made a ripple! You're practically symmetrical still. I wonder what it’s going to take to really do the job… perhaps in this case we can push just a little further?

Amy glanced down at her chest. It felt heavier, tighter, the saline stretching her skin. But visually, the difference was barely there. A wave of disappointment washed over her. Today’s fill - enough to transform any other woman from a bystander into a spectacle, but on her, it barely registered.

Her right breast, a hefty 30,000cc when she walked in, should have looked noticeably smaller next to its counterpart now holding a staggering 34,500cc. But despite the numbers screaming a vast disparity, visually... it didn’t. The sheer volume she already possessed swallowed the increase whole.

"You know," Laura continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "some girls might be scared by how much we're putting in. But you? Well.."

34,500cc, 10 pounds of saline forced into her breast, rendered irrelevant by the sheer scale she already possessed... How could she be so big and still crave more? The thought terrified her… and yet, a tiny voice whispered at the back of her mind: Just a little bit more won't hurt.

[e-rated-beardo]

Do we need another voice added to the conversation about The Thing? I guess it can't hurt.

I have about every feeling on Earth. I'm frustrated it's going to be shorter than we thought. I'm wary, because we've all learnt this year that a green light can be un-green-lit with no warning. I'm so relieved they've removed That Guy. I'm relieved we're getting something. I'm angry that That Guy had to secretly be a shit (judging from the info I have) which has caused all this bloody anxiety for all of us IN ADDITION to the actual proper shit things he's done to others in the past (given the info I have) and that his shittiness is going to sully people's enjoyment of this thing in big or small ways. I'm cautiously optimistic that we might get something faster, because fewer minutes means quicker work, maybe. I'm worried (as I always was) that it isn't going to be what I've hoped for. I'm frustrated that it's still so very quiet in media regarding what That Guy has done and mildly worried his ex-fans might never know a lot of things that might have led to closure.

I've never been in fandom before this and I have a vague understanding of how lucky I am that this was the one that sucked me in. I'm told not all fandoms are created equal. This one is a bloody marvel. A real fucking marvel. I'm not talking about the art and writing (which are just fantastic like I can't believe), but about how last night I first read The News in a Discord server and thus had other fans Feeling All The Feelings around me right from the start; how I went on Tumblr and found the early discussions and shock and complicated emotions from people whose handles mean something to me, and how I went on Reddit and saw other people gif-screaming in frustration while simultaneously trying to comfort each other. This is such a wholesome place. HOW is this such a wholesome place. Can we keep cultivating this? All of this? Keep welcoming the randos posting on Tumblr about experiencing the Final Fifteen for the first time with avalanches of emoji hearts and fanfic? Keep patiently explaining and re-explaining new and confusing news to commenters who haven't heard all of them yet? Keep showing strangers how to code on AO3 or how to be a lovely fanfic reader or introduce them to the metas people thought up in 2015 or encourage them to post their own loving, scrunckly first art piece and give them love and appreciation for it?

We've Had A Fucking Moment Year, haven't we? And somehow, as an overall experience, to me, this has been an absolute GOOD. Because there's a whole bloody world of other obsessed folks around me now, feeling the same conflicted feelings as I do, largely speaking, and mulling them over in open blogs and private servers and fanfics and comics and DMs.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. (Or more than half of you, more likely. We're not Hobbiton.) I really like y'all, anyway. You're neat. Can we be frembs? ❤️

If you want a little comfort fanfic escapism, I'm told this 7k-word, E-rated silliness I made once is a balm for S2-related wounds. (There's a podfic of it, too.) This thread on GOAD cropped up with great timing yesterday and is full of people's comfort fic recs. There's tons more of this everywhere. This fandom, man. This fandom. 🖤🤍

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

@bucktommypositivityweek Day 1, season 8 opening disaster. 2,610 words, read on AO3

🐝“We're doomed.”🐝

“Millions of bees?” Chimney asked unbelieving, still clutching the radio. Dispatch had just reported it; in fact, it had been his own wife, and she was definitely not joking on the job. “Killer bees,” Buck corrected, squinting up at the cloudless sky as if they were already pouncing down on the 118. “African honeybees, actually. Nasty, aggressive critters. The whole hive attacks when threatened, and they chase their victims. Saw it on a documentary once.” “Nobody wants to know, Buckley.” Gerrard was just leaving the fire engine and putting on his helmet. ”There's a huge traffic jam ahead of us, and a few miles at the end of it is the truck that caused it. Whether there were millions of bees in it or not, which I personally think is nonsense and an exaggeration, we’re the ones picking up the pieces, so let's get to work.” Buck shouldered his axe, though a noise overhead distracted him. A small plane, a nimble propeller-driven aircraft, was flying pretty low above them. Was he imagining it, or did the pilot briefly wobble its wings? “That's one of ours,” said Eddie, who was now walking beside him, toward the next crashed car. “There are at least two people trapped inside.” "Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I looked through the windshield, Buck,“ Eddie replied with a bemused look. ”No,” Buck shot back, looking up again, ”that it’s one of our machines?”

“Pry open the door here… yeah, that's it. Get a grip, Buck. I know this because Tommy explained how to recognize the machines. I'm surprised you haven't started spouting off trivia about airplanes and helicopters yet." Hen came running up, tossing Eddie an IV bag which he deftly caught. “We're doing a proper triage," she said. “Oh wait…" She bent over past Eddie, who was busy calming the occupants of the car, two women, appearing frightened, confused and clearly injured. ”Ma'am? We got you. Eddie, hand me a skin clamp, please.” Buck, standing behind her, was already looking for the next car from which someone needed to be freed. He recognized from her tone of voice that she had discovered something bad in that car, but that the person concerned should not notice under any circumstances. Eddie rummaged in the emergency bag, and Hen asked in a conversational tone, “What do you think they need a plane for? It's not exactly a forest fire.” “It's a crop-dusting plane, I think,“ Eddie replied. ‘It's probably supposed to spray chemicals against the bees.’ ”Against millions of bees?” “Well, how else are they going to get rid of them? Buck, I think I heard Gerrard call you!" Buck turned around and saw the captain pointing at two cars wedged into each other, a scowl on his face that furrowed his forehead. I better hurry, he thought, and he was right about that.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

Of all the things Tommy had ever done with an airplane, this was probably the craziest.

The mission had been anything but normal from the start. Millions of bees had escaped from the truck in an accident on the highway, dispatch reported. Killer bees, goaded and stressed, now following an instinct. Whatever bees do, maybe they want to pollinate something. Tommy took a look at the controls – everything was fine – and thought of Evan.

Of course, it was the worst possible time to think about the man who’d turned his head, but then again, it wasn't. Evan would probably have a lot of exciting prattle about bees. Tommy briefly pondered what he knew about them… well, wasn’t much. Right now, what mattered was his job; the only idea Animal Control had come up with, He was supposed to fly as close as possible to the swarm and spray biocides. First, the smoke would irritate the insects and disorient them, then kill them in no time. He already felt sorry for those who would have to sweep millions of dead bees off the streets at the end of the day.

Tommy kept to the west of the highway; according to his information, the bees had set off directly towards the city. He steered the machine low, the bees didn't reach that high of an altitude. A few red spots below him told Tommy that the emergency services had already reached the scene, and Evan would be among them, no doubt. The people down there were safe. However, that didn't apply to a large part of L.A., if those bees were to cause trouble there. With such a large number of aggressive animals, you didn't even have to be allergic to die from their stings.

“FLX-126, this is Air Control,” croaked his radio. “Kinard, the population has been warned to close windows and doors, you have clearance. Catch the beasts before they reach the city.“

”Copy that. I’ll take up the chase against the bees.“

Evan would find that funny.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

”Hurry up, Buckley, there's an oil slick up ahead that needs to be secured. You want half the pileup to blow up? One spark is all it takes!”

“I'm nearly there, Captain,” Buck shouted, helping a shivering elderly gentleman out of the car. He had almost torn the door off its hinges trying to free him, but after a quick check, it seemed that the man was all right, except for an ugly gash on his forehead. Not the first miracle today. ”The ambulances are over there, please go to them, they will take care of you.”

“Buckley!"

Buck liked to imagine Gerrard as a nagging little man who would tear himself apart in the forest in a rage, but reality was no fairy tale. Reality was an operation on a chaotic road smeared with oil and blood, where a hazardous materials truck full of bees had left a trail of devastation. A mission with dozens of trapped people who had to be freed using heavy equipment and muscle power, and Buck was already dripping with sweat. But there was no time to catch a breath, not when Gerrard was in this mood.

“Get the binder!” Gerrard snapped, while simultaneously impelling Chimney, ‘There are still people trapped up ahead, so get your ass in gear!’

Gerrard's arms were gesturing in both directions. Now Buck knew a better comparison than a vicious fairy-tale creature — Gerrard reminded him of General Grievous, who could lash out with four arms at once. He jogged over to the captain, giving the oil slick a skeptical glance. It was big, yes, but a simple barrier should suffice to start with; there were more important things to do right now.

“The binder is in the truck, and it's almost half a mile down the highway,“ he said.

”So?“ Gerrard's Adam's apple jumped up and down angrily. Buck stared at it, fascinated.

”I should help Chimney, there seems to be a problem up ahead.”

Buck pointed to his brother-in-law, who was trying with great effort to break open a wedged car door.

“The 126 is further ahead, they’ll be fine. The oil slick is here.” Gerrard said with narrowed eyes. The guy needs glasses, Buck thought.

Now he knew why Gerrard wanted to keep him here. He was probably afraid that Tommy was on duty up ahead and they would meet. Moreover, the captain of the 126 was not very fond of Gerrard, and Gerrard would have to stop his annoying harassment for a while. At least Buck would then have been able to work in peace as he saw fit... the way Bobby had taught him, not that stupid old geezer with his old-fashioned rules. However, he was convinced that Tommy was on the plane that had just made a loop above them and then turned west. For a second, he pondered whether it was worth rebelling against Gerrard, but then he thought of all the people who were still trapped and hurt, looking for help. Buck took a deep breath.

“All right,” he growled and jogged across the highway to the fire engine.

At least Tommy is having an exciting time.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

When Tommy spotted the swarm of bees, his mouth went dry.

He didn't know what he had actually expected, but the sight was... sobering. Not to mention scary, even from up here. Millions of bees formed a dense cluster that only frayed a little at the edges. It was an enormous cloud of insects that almost looked like a single animal; a huge, billowing monster moving towards the city.

Evan would have a better comparison for it, he thought briefly. But even his brave, extremely adorable boyfriend would probably freak out if he could see this. Tommy, in any case, sensed that only an adrenaline rush was keeping him from simply turning the plane around and leaving as quickly as possible. That, and his sense of duty. Damn it.

The swarm was now already close to one of the city's outskirts, a peaceful suburbia with neat terraced houses and cute gardens. Gardens that would soon be invaded by so many bees that every living being down there would be buried beneath them. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Tommy gripped the stick more firmly, lowering the machine a couple of feet.

These critters were already much too close to L.A. There had been warnings through the usual apps, but people were people. He knew there would be enough who hadn't noticed or were just too ignorant. Some of them would be hit by the chemicals, no doubt. And Tommy knew that theoretically that shouldn't bother him; he had a job to do. But only people like Gerrard would consider the consequences to be collateral damage. If Tommy released the biocide now, it would not only destroy the bees, but also cause a lot of damage in the pretty little gardens below him – and in the groundwater. A crazy idea formed in his head. There wasn't much time to make up his mind.

He pushed the controls down, added a little thrust and flew straight into the swarm.

It was a strange feeling, a bit like floating through cotton wool. The bees were briefly startled, but kept their pace. It wouldn't be enough to make them change course, and Tommy had to hurry – the longer he flew through the middle of the swarm, the more likely it was that they would sit on his windshields until he couldn't see anything. Or that too many of them would fly into the propellers until they clogged them and he would lose control. Tommy gritted his teeth. All or nothing, he thought, and waggled the wings to stir them up. Then he yanked the plane sharply to the left, flew a small loop, and glanced behind. The bees followed him; the cloud of insects, which had only briefly scattered, had reformed into a dense, angry mass, and they were on his tail.

Next target: Kinard, he thought. Off to the desert with you.

<+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+><+>

That evening, as Buck unlocked the door to the loft, dirty and tired, he was greeted by an extremely pleasant scent. It smelled like... lasagna? He had barely closed the door when his stomach growled.

“Interesting greeting, Evan,” Tommy called to him from the kitchen counter.

Tommy, to whom he had given a copy of the keys to his apartment only two weeks ago. Buck's heart gave a happy little jump. He was also a little jealous, though, because Tommy was obviously freshly showered, and he felt like he had just come out of the garbage disposal. However... the sight of his boyfriend, with his hair still damp and slightly wavy at the ends, and apparently wearing one of Buck's T-shirts that stretched in all the right places... His throat tightened and he cleared it.

“My stomach's as happy to see you as the rest of me,“ he replied, and with two quick steps he was at Tommy, kissing him fondly while he glanced at the stove. Lasagna, definitely.

”Mmm,” Tommy purred appreciatively, ”ten more minutes. Maybe you want to change quickly? You kinda reek of oil.”

Buck groaned. “Gerrard had me do all the dirty work,” he complained, as he dropped onto a chair at the kitchen table. “That truck with the killer bees? It skidded because the driver – who, by the way, was very lucky to survive – was frightened by a spider in the cab. Can you imagine? The guy had millions of bees on board, and he freaked out because of a spider that had come right down on his nose.“

”You call me if you find a spider in the shower,” Tommy remarked as he stirred salad in a bowl.

“Because I find touching them gross. And because it's not right to just flush them down the drain. Did you know that spiders are very important to the ecosystem?“

”Hm. But I guess you would have been scared, too.”

“Maybe,“ Buck admitted. ‘Anyway, the guy swerved so hard that he caused a huge accident on the highway. Dozens were injured, it's a miracle that no one died. The trail of devastation stretched for a few miles across the roadway.’

”Including an oil slick, it seems to me,” Tommy teased him.

Buck raised an arm and smelled his armpits.

“Yuck. Yeah. Gerrard had me mopping up oil, securing the roadway, extinguishing tiny fires on the shoulder... I was lucky I could free four or five people from their cars before he sent me off to do some useless crap again.”

"The guy really has it in for you.”

“It's the medal,” Buck said, while he pushed a few of the carrot pieces, that Tommy had already cut but not yet added to the salad, into his mouth, ”He can't stand that I was decorated and he's been stumbling on the career ladder for forty years.”

“Hmmm,” Tommy went and quickly threw the rest of the vegetables into the bowl before Buck could contaminate them even more. ”That, or it's just because he's got a stick up his ass.”

Buck laughed briefly, then sighed. “It was a crazy operation, and I could have helped a lot more people. Tommy, I saw your plane for a second today. I bet you had a much more exciting day. A huge swarm of bees right under your plane, and you destroyed them all before they could wreak havoc on the city!”

The look he shot Tommy was admiring, and Tommy grinned. He thought about how he had almost peed his pants flying his plane in front of a giant swarm of aggressive bees, and that flying right into them had been a pretty crazy move. About the maneuver he had flown over the desert, that had almost cost him an engine because he had to try to get above the swarm again to release the biocide. He thought of the moment when a few of the killer bees had broken away from the collective and actually, as he had feared, settled on his cockpit windshield to narrow his view. And he thought about how the flap had jammed when he was directly over the swarm, how the sweat had run down his back and he could hardly breathe. How he had thought of the thousands of people who would be in danger if he didn't finish this; among them Evan.

“It wasn't that exciting,” he said modestly. ‘To be honest, dropping a few chemicals is a simple job, nothing to write home about. You should really take a shower, babe. After that, you can tell me more about Gerrard's exploits, okay?’

He leaned over to breathe a kiss just above Evan’s birthmark, and his smile was worth the little lie.

[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale Chapter 34

You know the drill, Spoilers for all of ISAT, etc. CW: Confused Pining? Sparring Scene/Consensual Violence. I SHOULD NOTE THAT THE PINING AND CONSENSUAL VIOLENCE ARE NOT RELATED!!!

"So, how was your little chat with Eclipse last night~?"

"It went well actually," [Blind it!] "how was sharing a tent with Nille for the first time~?" [STARS BLINDING CRAB!!! You immediately feel your face begin to burn.]

"You could at least humor me when I try to tease you, you know!"

"Hah! Not so fun on the other end, is it~?" [You cross your arms and pout. It wasn't fair how difficult they were to fluster now.]

"... Wait... what do you mean it went 'well'?"

"Well... I talked about what I was going to talk about back then... a-and uhh... they weren't... against it." [His face begins to darken instead. Hah! It's working!... Wait what is he talking about?]

"Against, what exactly?"

"Uhm... M-Maybe we shouldn't really talk about this! Th-That was a whole loop ago, it never really happened technically, j-just forget about it!"

"Hah~! I haven't seen you this flustered in a long time~. If I didn't know any better I'd think you were falling for me, Stardust~." [His face burns darker as he falls silent.] "... This is the part where you refute that, Stardust."

"... W-Well... the thing is... uhhh..." [Your own face grows just as dark.]

"... Truce to never speak of this again?"

"Y-Yup! Truce!" [You both stop acknowledging each other as you break off. Stardust heads off towards Eclipse and the Housemaiden, while you head towards Nille, Flare, and, ugh, the Researcher... Fantastic. Nille perks up at your approach.]

"Hey Vay, what were you and Sif talking about?"

"Absolutely nothing~! Next question~!"

"That bad, huh? Alright, I won't pry. Though speaking of, Dile here was hoping to get some info out of you." [Of course she is...]

"Yes, Petronille has informed me that you're a paper type now. I've never heard of someone changing their craft type before, but there's a lot of topics that would apply to in the last few months. I was hoping you might like to spar sometime." [Wonderful, here comes the interro-wait what did she just say?]

"You... want to spar with me?"

"Yes. In Ka Bue, it is believed that there's no better way to understand someone than by the way they Craft. I may not believe in all the sentimentality behind it, but watching someone Craft can make for quite an impression. Perhaps it could even answer some questions you have about yourself."

"... I don't think that would be for the best. I'd rather not hurt any of you."

"I don't doubt your time in the loops has given you an advantage when it comes to experience, but I'm sure I could hold my own long enough to get what I'd need. Besides, Mirabelle can help ensure nothing goes too far." [Your expression does very little to hide your hesitance about the idea.] "So you don't want to prove how different you are from Siffrin now?"

"What?"

"I've seen how Siffrin Crafts for months now, I'd be able to spot it in a moment. So why don't you show me just how different you are now?" [You know exactly what she's trying to do... yet her goading still succeeds in spite of that.]

"Fine, then spar we shall~."

"DILE'S GONNA KICK VALE'S CRABBING BUTT!" [Flare shouts as Nille chuckles with a shake of her head.]

"Can't say I'm not excited to see how this plays out."

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

[You stand at one end of a clearing, the Researcher at the opposite end. Everyone else eagerly gathered into a little group nearby to watch. You perk up as Nille calls out.]

"Go easy on them, Dile! They've only been in a fight or two since the Change!" [Excuse us?!]

"Thanks for the vote of confidence?!"

"Hah! Well it's true!"

"Vale seemed rather worried about hurting me earlier, so I don't intend to hold back. Besides, if they do then this whole research project would be null and void. I need to see you at your best, so don't pull any punches!" [The Researcher calls out in a demanding tone, one similar to a teacher encouraging a student. You're unsure why, but it starts to light a fire within you.]

"Alright." [You draw your whip and hold out a paper sign with your other hand.] "Ready when you are, Researcher!"

"Would you mind counting us down, Boniface?" [Flare jumps to their feet eagerly. A very excited grin across their face.]

"One!" [Wait...]

"Two!" [We just remembered...]

"Three!" [WE DON'T HAVE ANY CRAFT SKILLS OF OUR OWN!]

[You begin to panic as the Researcher starts to rush towards you. You see her hands move in a familiar way, and without thinking to go to copy it. You need every advantage you can get as you both SLOW IV each other with the exact same method. She raises a brow as she realized what happened.]

"Huh. No, no that would make sense. You must have seen me use that craft countless times, of course you'd learn how to emulate it. This still isn't exactly helping this experiment though, show me your craft, Vale!"

"I... don't really have any yet..."

"Then you best come up with something fast!" [She threatens and makes a scissors sign, slicing a streak of SCISSORS III towards you. You barely manage to dive out of the way thanks to that heavy feeling slowing you down, leaving you wide open for the next attack.]

[She swings her open palm down towards you just as a PAPER III blast slams down onto your back.] "GAH!" [It stings, but no where near as much as that earlier strike would have. You shake off the craft weighing you down and quickly get back to your feet. You notice she still has the SLOW on her, you have an opening!]

[You crack your whip a few times, sending waves of Paper Craft towards her. She only manages to block one, taking the full brunt of the other two. She slides back across the dirt and falls to a knee. Despite this, a grin crosses her face as she looks back up at you.]

"Now we're getting somewhere, keep it up Vale. Show me what you're capable of." [She commands yet again, getting back up and flashing another scissors sign. The Craft comes flying at you quickly, slamming into your stomach and causing you to fly back, slamming into a tree.]

"Ugh... Oh you'll pay for that one Researcher!" [You're injured now, but it only strengthens the fire within you. You focus your intent into the tip of your whip before lashing it out, sending an intense wave of pure Creative Craft towards her. Even as she blocks it, it manages to deal a good amount of damage. You don't let up, you snap your whip again and again, sending smaller blasts but trying to overwhelm her. She evades the first few only to stop in her tracks and SLOW IV you yet again, taking a couple hits to do so.]

"You're getting desperate, good! You're showing your true self now!" [You grumble as you feel that same weight again, like your whole body was moving through sludge. You can't take another big hit, you look around to find some sort of advantage... You crack your whip once more, and as she goes to defend, it swings upwards and blasts the tree behind her, sending an explosion of leaves to surround and distract her. You move as quick as you can in this addled state to hide behind a tree until it wears off.]

"Clever. You fight like a cornered animal, yet you still manage to find and use any advantage you can." [Why do we feel like a book being read right now?...] "I haven't had a good fight since Dormont, I appreciate you indulging me with this." [You take a few breaths to help shake the craft off of you.]

"My pleasure, I just can't wait to wipe that grin off of your face~!" [You call out, whip ready as you focus your craft into it again. Just as expected you feel a heavy blast of Craft slam against the tree you hid behind. You tuck and roll back out into the open and prepare to strike!... Wait, where did she go?]

WHACK [You're suddenly smacked upside the head with another PAPER III, knocking you over as you grip your head.] "OW! CHEAP SHOT!"

"You think you're the only one who can use tactics?" [She smirks, stepping out from behind a very different tree than you expected. She holds her free hand in a paper sign.] "Now time to finish this."

[You prepare to defend, you're weak but you could take another hit of PAPER III if you're ready for it... until you notice her hand moving different than usual. You glance over at her hand holding her book, which was hiding the Scissors sign she was actually using to power the craft! By the time you realize her trick, the piercing energy was already heading directly towards you.]

[You panic, without thinking you act, a wave of Craft flowing out of you and into your whip. LION TAMER! You lash out your whip, coiling around the attack itself. You guide it off course, and hold on tightly as it spins around your form, releasing it as it flies directly back at the Researcher. She was too surprised by what you did to even try blocking it, landing a direct hit with her own attack and leaving her K.O.ed across the grass... You blink a few times as you still aren't even sure what you just did.]

"M'dame!" [The Housemaiden quickly hops up and rushes over to her side, starting to pump healing craft into the downed Researcher. Flare is close behind with the pack of tonics in case it's needed. You look down at your hands and whip, still just lost in the shock and adrenaline of what you'd just done. You stumble as a heavy pat hits your back.]

"Holy crab! Where have you been hiding that one, Vay?!"

"I... I have no idea... Is... Is she okay?" [You look back over to her, Flare and the Housemaiden are helping her up to a sitting position. She looks spent but otherwise awake and aware. You hesitate before walking over.] "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize I could even do that, are you-" [You're interrupted as she raises a hand to stop you.]

"That was exactly what I asked for, thank you for assisting me with this experiment. I think we've both learned a lot from it, Vale." [She has a satisfied smile painted across her face.]

"Yes, that was... certainly an experience, thank you for helping me find myself like this, Comet." [She raises a brow at the end of your statement.] "A nickname, if you don't mind me using it..." [She shares a look with you, understanding the importance you give to these silly nicknames. She smiles and nods.]

"Of course, now go enjoy your victory, I need to rest and gather my thoughts properly." [She says with a huff, trying to play off the feelings much like you do.]

"Of course, rest well~." [You head back to Nille as you hear Flare begin shouting behind you.]

"Diiiile! I can't believe you let Vale beat you! What the crab!"

Huge thank you to @itstheval for inspiring the fight scene and coming up with Craft Skills for Vale!! His fan chapters are wonderful and the skills he came up with are so goooood!

[b00kdiary]

Yours | Rhysand

Rhysand X Plus size reader

Y/N meets Rhys in a bar- one month after the worst night of her life. One month after he saved her. But Rhys has no interest in being a hero, and Y/N doesn't want to be a victim. They only want each other.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, allusions to SA/ r*pe, fluff, angst and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"For Cauldron's sake, Rhys," Cassian laughed, a husky, low sound. It interrupted my hazed thought, dragging me back to this room, with its incandescent lights and booming music. "You've been staring at her like a creep for hours, why don't you just go talk to her?"

I clear my throat, forcing boredom into my face as I roll back the sleeves of my navy shirt. My eyes move to stare at my brothers before me, both of them smirking, a knowing gleam in their dark eyes.

"No idea what you mean, Cass," I drawl, leaning back against the leather seat, my long legs spreading out before me. I curl my fingers around the cold glass on the table, a nonchalant smile tilting my lips as I bring the cup to my mouth and sip.

"No? So, you haven't been staring at the female sitting at the bar all night?" Azriel mused, his brow raised mockingly and the shadows around his shoulders dance with every word, as if amused. "The pretty one with all those lovely curves and the smile that could melt ice?"

My hand clenches around the glass at his words, just for a second, barely even long enough for anyone to notice- but Azriel does, he always does. I shake my head as his eyes twinkle, knowing he was goading me, talking about her to force a reaction from me and like an idiot, I fell for it.

"There are plenty of pretty females here tonight, Az," I counter, lying through my teeth with an easy smile. It takes every ounce of control in me, five hundred years' worth of control, to not look in her direction, to not be drawn back to her lovely form. "Why don't the two of you go bother them and leave me alone?"

Cassian snorts and my eyes narrow at him as he runs a hand over his stubbly jaw, his hazel eyes darkening as he glances at her- sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of wine in one hand while the other moved animatedly as she talked and laughed with her friend.

I felt a smile tug at my lips at the sight, at the bright grin and glowing eyes, that could indeed melt ice.

I can't help but look over her again, taking in her bouncing hair and plump, soft face. I ran my eyes down her body, over the dress that clung and moulded perfectly to every curve and dip and roll of flesh she had been blessed with.

"You're right Rhysand, we should go speak to one of the lovely females here tonight," Cassian nodded and as he began to rise from his seat, his eyes unwavering upon her, Azriel chuckled.

Under any other circumstance, I would have been laughing too, would have been utterly amused by Cassian's teasing, by the banter we always found ourselves in, even five hundred years later. But as he watched her, as that familiar desire lit in his gaze, something in me burned.

"Since you're not going to make a move on her brother, you won't mind if I-"

"Sit down," I breathe, low and sinister, and more than a few eyes turn to me at the vibration of dark power that begins to emanate from me as I glare up at Cassian. He smiles, victorious, and even despite the violence promised in my gaze, he doesn't relent. "Now, Cassian."

I could feel the Fae instinct in me scorching to life, that terrible, violent urge to hurt Cassian- he was my brother, my family, and yet the mere thought of him even looking at her, thinking about her in any way, made me want to tear his throat out.

"Now that we've established, you're a territorial prick and you are interested in her," Cassian beamed, unfazed by the intense and unfathomable power radiating off me, merely sitting back down and cocking his head at me. "Why don't you go talk to her? I've never known you to be shy, Rhys."

"I'm not shy," I bare my teeth at him, tendrils of jealousy and aggression still clawing at my chest. Cass and Az share an amused glance and I grit my teeth, choosing to chug back the remaining alcohol in my glass, before slamming it back onto the table. "I just don't want to make her uncomfortable, she might not want to see me."

"Why would she-" Azriel stops, and as usual, unsurprisingly, he connects the dots faster than anyone else would. Cassian furrows his brow at the contemplative look Azriel gives me. "The female you walked home last month- that's her?"

"The one with the boyfriend Rhys nearly killed?" Cassian scoffed, clearly remembering how furious I had been that night, how it had taken so much restraint and the both of them on guard to stop me from flying out to rip that bastard's head off. "Cauldron, I haven't seen you lose control like that in years."

"He was lucky- if the two of you hadn't stopped me and she hadn't begged me to leave it alone-" I grit my teeth, trying to extinguish the raw, scorching wrath still burning in my chest. My dark eyes turn to look at her, and as I take in her breathtaking smile, my chest tightens with the memory of that night.

The sound of her broken sobs, the way those bright eyes had shattered, filling with endless tears, how she had curled into herself, wilting like a dying flower- all because of him.

"Easy, Rhys, he isn't even here," Cassian cautions and I swallow thickly at the familiar feeling of the beast inside me rearing its head, the kind of violence and danger in me that only arose during the biggest threats, during the worst battles and now, in defence of her. "I've never seen you like this before."

"I know," I sigh, my eyes shut as I pinch the bridge of my nose, the tension in my body almost suffocating as I'm bombarded with the thoughts of that night, with the thoughts of her. "Fuck, I know."

"Go talk to her, Rhys, for your own sake at the very least," Azriel muses softly, and I can hear the unspoken words in his hazel eyes, the kind that told me to be happy, to stop putting everyone first and think of myself. "You never know what could happen, brother."

I inhale deeply, the strength of my brother's stares weighing heavy on me and yet again, my violet gaze drifts over to her and this time I don't ignore the magnetic force that pulls me in.

***

"Another drink, Y/N?" Lin smiles, her slim waist curving as she turns her long legs towards the bar, a sparkle in her eyes as she glances from the bartender back to me. "I know I need another one."

"You don't need to ply me with alcohol, Lin," I muse, cocking my head at her and she shrugs nonchalantly at my knowing smile, an innocent pout gracing her red lips. "I'm having fun, I promise."

"Are you though? It's been a long month and I just-" Lin sighs, her manicured nails coming forward and curling around my hand, settling our hold against one of my plush thighs. I smile at the worry creasing her brow, dimming the radiance in her eyes as she stares at me, "I just want you to be happy, Y/N."

"I am happy, Lin," I scoff, ignoring the ache in my chest, duller than it had been a week ago and yet still an ever-suffocating presence that loomed over me like a dark cloud. "But you know what you could do to make me even happier?"

"Tell me," She leans forward, her lovely face melting into an even lovelier smile, and her hand tightens around mine, an anchor that I'm glad for. "I'll do anything."

"Well, you can go and talk to that ridiculously tall and attractive male who's been ogling you for the last two hours," I drawl sarcastically, taking a pointed sip of my drink as she glances over her shoulder, her blonde hair bouncing as she locks eyes with him. "Don't think I didn't notice the two of you eye fucking from across the room."

She giggles, a purely feminine sound and I smirk at the way the male watches her, his blue eyes darkening into storm clouds, raking down her toned and slender figure like he could see through her clothes and Lin grinned like she knew it.

"But this is meant to be a girl's day, me and you and endless drinking until we're vomiting and regretting it desperately tomorrow," Lin groans and my shoulders sag at the conflict in her eyes- the pity. She didn't want to abandon me, and I hated it.

"I think I've had my fair share of drinks tonight; I'll probably head home soon-" I gnaw on my lip, already seeing the protest in her eyes, but when I raise a brow, glancing at that male again, she sighs, "Go, have wild sex with a hot stranger and then tell me all about it tomorrow."

I can see the anticipation in her body, and I force down the teasing remarks dying to come out as I take a sip of my drink, the burn as it slides down my throat distracting me from my own infinite loneliness.

"Or you could go find a hot male and have some wild sex of your own?" Lin giggles, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me but I roll my eyes, slapping her hand and trying to usher her from her seat. "Fine, fine, but are you sure-"

Lin pauses, the words dying out on her lips and under the fluorescent lights her tan skin goes pale, her eyes widening in surprise as she glances, not at me, but past me.

"Hey, are you okay?" I laugh, my brows furrowing as Lin's eyes turn back to me and the smile that tugs at her lips is odd- knowing, giddy almost. "Lin, what-"

"I'm fine, incredible even, and you're about to be too, I think," She bites her lip, giggling as she lifts from her stool and onto her platform heels, her eyes shining like stars as she slowly backs away. "Have fun, Y/N."

"Okay, you too," I say slowly, half-laughing, half-confused as Lin saunters away, her hips swaying as she moves toward that expecting male. His eyes meet hers and the tension goes taut between them. "Don't drink anything he gives you!"

I laugh quietly to myself as I turn away from her, tucking my legs under the bar and shaking my head at her bizarre behaviour- it seemed Lin was more of a lightweight than I thought.

"Hello darling," A smooth, deep voice, like melted chocolate, greets me from behind and my body shivers at the easy sound, "Is this seat taken?"

"No, it's available, this one too I'm just about to leave-" The placated smile on my lips turns to a surprised 'o' as I toss my hair over a shoulder, my bright eyes lifting- and meeting with a constellation of violet.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court- and the male who had been there when I was at my lowest.

"High- High Lord," I stutter, my eyes widening and it's as if his presence spurs something deep in my chest and it has me shifting to sit straighter, my head angling up to meet his captivating gaze. "These seats are available-"

"Please, it's Rhys," He smiled, and I smelt the sweet aroma of night-blooming Jasmine and ocean breeze as he pulled out the chair beside me, his long, toned body elegantly taking a seat inches from me.

"Right, Rhys," I breathe softly, remembering how he had said the same thing that night. Though his eyes held more softness now, unlike that night no violence or death was gleaming in them.

"Can I get a bourbon on the rocks," I watch his handsome face glance at the bartender, and I can't help but run my gaze over him- the silken raven locks effortlessly tousled, the strong bridge of his nose, the tilt of his lazy smile, how he leaned back against the chair, his powerful form at ease.

"And another of what the lovely lady beside me is having."

My eyes snap back up to his at the words, and my cheeks burn at the sparkle in his eyes. The kind that told me he knew I was looking over every inch of him, and that I, like most females, liked what I saw.

"You'll stick around for one drink, I hope?" He questions, and my heart pounded in my chest as he leaned closer, his legs brushing mine and I felt the electricity of his touch lance through my entire body. "I could do with the company, darling."

Darling. The nickname made my stomach flip, the way it rolled off his tongue made it sound so erotic, sensual like he knew he could pleasure a female with just his words.

"One drink," I nod, swallowing thickly as the bartender places Rhysand's glass of Bourbon and my wine before us with a soft clink. "I suppose it's the least I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything, I hope you know that" His voice softens, his eyes do too, and I know he's picturing me as I was that night. Crying. Shaking. A mess. His throat bobs, ringed finger tracing the rim of his untouched glass.

"I know, but I want to," I manage a small smile and the heat of his eyes on me, I feel it over every inch of my skin. Not purely sexual but seeing, like he couldn't take his eyes off me. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for what you did that night, I really am grateful for you helping me-"

"Please don't," Rhysand frowns, and his body is stiff now. All the warmth, all the teasing, has vanished from his eyes. Replaced by one thing- sadness. "Don't make me out to be some kind of hero for that night, Y/N. Anyone would have done the same-"

"And yet you were the only one who intervened," I scoffed, and his face tightened. The violet turned dark like midnight. "So many people passed us, so many people saw him grabbing me, heard how he was speaking to me. They saw me crying, heard me say no-"

My back hit the wall. Arms caged me in.

'You're nothing but a worthless fucking slut.'

'No, no, please, don't,' I felt the side of my dress tear open, the cold wind prickling my skin.

'A fat bitch who never listens,' I could taste metal in my mouth, his hand clamped down on my jaw, pinning me down. 'A fucking tease, wearing this dress and then telling me no when I want to touch what's mine.'

'Please, you're hurting me,' He laughed as I sobbed, groping along my body, the smell of alcohol on his breath making bile rise up my throat.

I heard the sound of a belt unbuckling.

'Someone please help me.'

"Y/N," His voice was hoarse as he spoke my name, pained. And when he laid one of his large, ringed hands against my knee, fingers curling around my flesh, I released a tight, desperate breath.

"You saved me that night, you and no one else," I blinked away the burning tears and locked my gaze with his. Power thrummed from him in waves, and the shadows in his eyes told me he remembered that night as well as I did, that it haunted him too.

"Perhaps you're too humble to think so," I cleared the lump in my throat, throwing Rhysand a teasing smile, or as much of one as I could manage. "But as far as I am concerned you were my hero that night, Rhys."

"I don't think humble is the word my family would use to describe me, darling," Rhys's lip quirked, and I knew he slipped into a mask of charm and playfulness for my sake. It made the ache in my chest ease. "I think the words they would use are more along the lines of arrogant, cocky, smug-"

"Charming, charismatic, flirtatious," I continued with a sly grin, and as I brought my glass to my mouth, Rhysand watched every movement keenly, shadows eclipsing his eyes as my lips parted and I sipped. "Clever, witty, swaggering."

"Careful, darling," His eyes flashed when my tongue flicked out to collect the droplets of wine off my bottom lip and I nearly purred when his fingers curled around my knee tighter. "You're inflating my already massive ego."

"I'm not done," I mutter softly, setting the glass before me again. Rhysand raises a brow, and his chest is rising and falling so harshly now. "Alluring. Gorgeous. Seductive."

His eyes twinkled like a thousand stars bursting to life and I knew he could hear how my heart was thundering in my chest.

"I fear you've got us confused," He breathed, and my entire body felt alight as he swooped his thumb back and forth against my thigh, his touch so consuming it was as if he were touching my bare skin. His lip quirked as if he knew it. "Those are words that describe you, not me."

I scoffed out a laugh, rolling my eyes but I couldn't deny the way his words made me feel. The way he made me feel. Tracing over my bright eyes and beaming smile, down my neck and chest, across my stomach and hips and thighs, his power thrummed as he took me in.

"Did you come here alone tonight?" I angled my head at him, feeling hot under his stare. Again, his thumb didn't stop soothing against me, so soft I was starting to get dizzy.

"I came with Cassian and Azriel," Rhysand nodded over his shoulder, "It was actually them who encouraged me to come speak to you."

"Encouraged you?" I raised a brow, surprised and the chuckle that escaped him ran over my skin. "What happened to arrogant, cocky, smug Rhysand?"

"Apparently as Cassian put it, I became the creep who was staring relentlessly at a beautiful female for hours," Rhys drawled, and a surprised laugh burst from me at his words. He rolled his violet eyes, but I swear under these lights, I could see a tint of red staining his cheeks.

The High Lord of the Night Court.

The most powerful High Lord in existence.

Blushing.

"You're laughing at me?" Rhysand cocked a brow, hand coming to his chest in faux offence, " I've been mocked by my brothers and now by the female, I like. I'm wounded darling, truly."

The female I like.

Cauldron.

"Poor High Lord," I pouted, my delicate hand coming down and resting over his at my knee. I shivered at the feeling of his skin against mine, and his eyes flashed down to where we touched. "It seems you can't catch a break tonight."

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's been a total loss," He mused lowly, his eyes lingered on our hands, on how much smaller mine was compared to his before they lifted to meet my gaze. Shadows and stars. Utterly consuming. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"And I'm here with you," I smiled, and it was the most genuine smile I've had in a while. Rhysand's eyes softened as if he knew it too. As if he could feel my content right now as strongly as I could.

But it wasn't just content. As I stared at him, at this beautiful, powerful, captivating male before me, I couldn't deny the ache that spread through my core. Couldn't ignore how just his hand at my knee made my thighs clench.

His eyes fell to where my legs clamped shut and something wholly dark filled his gaze, something that made it impossible to hide my arousal. His throat worked, and I knew he could smell exactly what my body wanted.

"Would Cassian and Azriel mind if I stole you for the night?" I asked, soft, breathless, I couldn't get the words louder than a whisper. Because I was afraid- of rejection, of embarrassment, of saying it aloud.

But he heard me. I knew he did.

I saw the muscles in his thighs tense, his whole body turning hard as stone. Even that hand at my thigh seemed to turn stiff. His eyes met mine, his mouth parting- and then closing. Like he didn't know what to say.

"Oh," I forced out a strained laugh, humiliation burning through me as I sat up, pulling my thigh from Rhysand's hold and frantically looking anywhere but at him. "It seems I've read this whole situation wrong."

He didn't want me.

He was just being kind.

He was just trying to make sure I was okay.

Of course, he didn't want me.

"No, no, don't-" His voice was sure, strong. As I reached to grab my purse, his hand curled around my wrist, gentle but firm, keeping me sat where I was. I clamped my eyes shut, twisting my face so that I did not have to face him. "You did not read this wrong at all, not at all Y/N."

"Rhysand, it's alright," I mumbled, trying to pull my hand free from his hold, but he wouldn't relent. I heard his body shift until his thighs were pressed to mine and I knew he was inched from me. "You don't have to say anything, I understand-"

"No, you don't darling," He snarled softly, and my body shook when his hand came to my chin and turned my face to his. I blinked, barely breathing as I met his burning violet eyes so close to mine. "I can hear those thoughts running through your mind right now. Stop, stop and don't even dare think that for a second again."

His thumb brushed my cheek, and I couldn't breathe with how close he was to me. So close I could smell the bourbon and mint with every breath against my mouth, so close I could count the stars in his eyes.

"I would like nothing more than for you to steal me away tonight, to steal me away every night," He admitted, his voice stern and commanding. "Some very selfish, greedy, dark part of me has been staring at you all night picturing exactly that. Picturing just how we would spend those hours."

Low, sultry words that made my heart race.

"But?" I whispered, my voice shaking. My whole body was shaking now.

"But I do not want you to see me as a hero, to see me as some kind of saviour," His words were unsteady, pained and I hated the frown that tilted his lips. wanted to soothe out the furrow in his brow. "I don't want you to think you owe me this. I want you to want to."

I swallowed and melted into the touch, the callouses of his fingers at my face making me sigh. My hand curled around his wrist, strong and sure, and I met his eyes with certainty.

"I do want to," I said, louder this time, "You do not want to be a hero, fine. But I do not want to be a victim, Rhys. Don't try and make me one."

Surprise flashed in his eyes. And something else. Something akin to fire, like my words lit a blaze in him.

"Cassian and Azriel definitely will not mind you stealing me away tonight," He rasped, voice like gravel and my body shivered at the smirk he gave me. "Let me grab your purse for you, darling."

***

Walking back to my apartment with Rhys, it was hard not to remember that night.

How different it had been.

How I had been shaking and crying, wrapped in a blanket to cover the exposed skin revealed under the tatters of my dress. How Rhysand had been violently still, his eyes so black it was as if a void had sucked away all the stars in them.

And how that awful, pulsing black magic had coiled around his hands. The same black magic that had wrapped around that male's throat, that had ripped him off of me, dropped him to his knees and squeezed the air from his lungs until he turned purple.

I remember seeing Rhysand appear in a cloud of black smoke, looking like death itself.

My head spun with how he had looked at me as he guided me home, walking trembling step after step, and something so pained, so agonised had filled his gaze. I knew it was me and me alone that kept him from killing that male, it was his need to take care of me first that had quelled the unparalleled desire he had to destroy him.

And now, a whole month later, as we walked under the sheet of stars and moonlight above, I couldn't help how my stomach coiled, a mixture of nerves and excitement dancing through me.

"I'm sure it's not the kind of luxury you're used to," I smiled, turning the handle of my front door, and pushing it open to reveal the dark expanse beyond. "But this is it. Home."

The Fae lights in my living room flickered on, dousing the small space. I stepped inside, Rhysand's tall form ducking under my doorway as he entered. I couldn't help but glance to and from his face as I locked the door behind us, watching him take in my home.

It felt intimate somehow. Him being here.

"It's lovely," Rhys smiled, violet eyes bright as he took in the simple leather couch and oak table, the shelves full of books and ornaments. He glanced forward, to the kitchen attacked to the side, drink bottles littering the island.

"I don't really bring people back here, males I mean," I laughed awkwardly, my stilettos clicking against the floor as I led Rhys further into my house. "My roommate, Lin, usually has people, males and females alike over all the time."

"I'm honoured to be here, then," I stopped at the kitchen island, dropping my purse on the table. My eyes met his, saw them darken as a smirk lined his lips "And selfishly, I'm glad that you don't bring males back here."

"Why?" I breathed, my chest rising and falling in waves as he inched closer to me. Stopping close enough that my taut nipples brushed his hard chest. "Feeling possessive? I didn't think High Lord Rhysand was the jealous type."

"Oh darling, I am the jealous type. The possessive type too," He murmured, and my eyes fluttered when his hands fell to my hips, pulling me flush to his chest and kneading the flesh there. "Because when you're mine, you're only mine."

"And am I?" I tilted my head to meet his eyes and the look in my gaze made his fingers tighten at my hips. "Yours?"

"Yes, if you would like to be," His voice turned quiet, sincere. I smiled at it, at the softness in his eyes. "I would like you to be."

"I would like to be too," My hand came up and cupped his strong jaw, loving how he melted into the touch. "Especially tonight. Kiss me Rhys."

He groans like I'm going to be the death of him. And then his head is dipping, and those sweet, pink lips collide with mine.

Cauldron, I knew he could kiss. But this was better than I could have hoped for.

My back hits the island as Rhys claims me, lips moving slow and steady against mine, strong hands keeping me in place. My mind spins as he kisses me, working me through every lap of his tongue teasing mine, one hand moving to tilt my chin, before resting at my throat.

The marble at my back digs painfully, but I don't care, not as Rhys slips his tongue past my lips, wet and hot and exploring. He groans at the taste of wine in my mouth, and my pussy clenches around nothing at the heady sound.

"Rhys," I whimper at the feeling of his long, hard cock straining in his pants, and pulsing against my stomach. He kisses and nips at my jaw, and I can't help but rub against him, loving how he shudders.

"Darling, I suggest you stop doing that," He snarls softly, canines scraping my neck and his hands clamp down, halting my movement. "Unless you want me to bend you over this island and fuck you raw right now."

I moan at his filthy words, back arching when his hands shift down to cup and fondle my ass. He laughs, sinister and low, violet eyes flashing to mine and brightening.

"Dirty girl, you'd like that wouldn't you?" He muses, smirking as he kneads my ass, rings digging into me. "Perhaps another night. Tonight though, I'd prefer to be a gentleman and take you for the first time on a bed."

"I happen to have a great bed," I whisper, my hands on his chest, pushing at the corded muscle. He chuckles again, mocking me, but he does relent, pulling me along with him. "First door on the right."

"First you let me into your home, now your bedroom," Rhysand smirks at me over his shoulder, his large hand interlaced with my small one. My stomach tilts and whirls as he pushes open my door. "It must be my lucky night."

"Arrogant, cocky, and smug indeed," I roll my eyes, seeing his smile brighten when the lights in my room flicker to life. Before I knew it, we were inside, the door closed and locked behind us. Alone.

He must sense my unease because he turns on his heel, his face serene as he glances over my small room. The double-sized bed, the pink cotton sheets, the small dresser and cabinet and more shelves stuffed full of books.

"You like to read?" He muses, walking over to the bookshelves and running a long, slender finger across their spines. My breasts ached at the thought of him touching me with those hands. His eyes peered over a shoulder at me- dark like he had heard that thought.

"Yes," I managed to say, throat dry as I fiddled with my thumbs. "I was big on fairy tales as I kid. Now I like more... adult stuff."

"Adult?" Rhysand's brow rose and every inch of me was molten as he turned around to face me, leaning against my draw with his arms tucked into his slacks and his powerful body at ease. "Adult-like romance or adult-like females being pleasured six ways to Sunday?"

I burst out laughing at that and Rhysand's smile grew, broad and lovely at the sound. He made it so easy to be around him, made it so easy that the anxiety in my chest faded into nothing.

"The second," I said quietly, and the air turned still as I moved toward him, taking step after slow step. "Though I'm yet to experience it myself. Being pleasured six ways to Sunday as you so eloquently put it."

I stop before him. I place one hand on his hard chest, feeling his heart racing under my palms. And then I glance up, fluttering my dark lashes and praying this looks sexy and not creepy.

Again, he laughs.

"Allow me to remedy that for you, darling," He grins and when his hand cups my jaw, I let myself go slack against him. His lips against mine are heaven, I could kiss this male for the rest of my fucking life. He kissed me back like he shared that sentiment.

I stumble back with him, our teeth clashing and lips bruising as we kiss and my hands touch him everywhere- through his dark, silken hair tugging at the roots, scratching down his neck and broad shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple under my fingers as I claw at him.

My legs bump against the bed but instead of pushing me down, his hands move to my dress. To the ties at the back. He pauses, panting as he pulls his lips from mine. I groan at the loss of contact, nibbling on his teeth as he draws away. But he peers at me, and I can see all the questions in his eyes.

For a second, I feel different hands touch me. Vile and degrading and horrible, all over my body. I smell bitter alcohol, invading my senses, and it's almost as if I can feel the wind piercing through the rips in my dress just like it did that night.

But then I blink. And It's Rhys again. With that lovely smile and those kind eyes. With those exploring, gentle hands and those lips that taste like sin. It's Rhys. And he wants me.

"May I?" He mutters, brushing his lips across mine in the barest kiss. I sigh when his fingers rest on the knots at the back. If I gave him the word to stop, he would, no questions asked. That was exactly why I didn't want him to stop.

"Yes," I said, and my voice did not so much as shake. I met his eyes and showed him how I felt, how badly I wanted him and nodded again. "Yes, please."

Rhys smiled and his eyes never left mine as he tugged the strings at the back of my dress, something akin to adoration blazing in his eyes as it all came loose. I braced myself as his gentle hands tugged down the material, letting it fall down my body and to the floor.

I was in nothing but my underwear now.

Rhys didn't look down. His eyes stayed on me. My throat bobbed, but I nodded to him again.

It was palpable, the shift in his eyes the second they lowered from my face. Down, down, down. Over my bare aching breasts, over my perked nipples, across my stomach and hips, over all the fat there, and down my thighs, dipping between them as I clenched them shut.

Desire. I felt it vibrating off him in waves. Like he truly thought I was beautiful.

"I hate the doubt in your eyes right now, in your mind," He said softly, and my body shivered when he trailed one finger across my collarbone, and down my chest. "I hate that you can't see how perfect you are, how fucking perfect your body is."

I shivered as he traced his fingers over my taut nipple, a moan slipping past my lips at the feel of his callouses against me.

“It’s not easy for me to feel like that,” I whispered, my voice shaking as he cupped my breasts, pinching the nipple and letting the weight and feel of them fill his hands. “But it’s easier right now. With you, it’s easier to believe.”

Something shifted in Rhysand’s eyes at my words. It was almost emotional, like what I said meant more to him than I could ever know. I lifted onto my tiptoes and pressed a slow, exploring kiss against his lips. It was the kind that I had read about books, that I had dreamed about, his lips moved against mine and felt right.

His hands are sure as he guides me down to sit on the bed and not for a moment does he break his lips free from mine. Rhysand’s hands explore my body, kneading my flesh as he kisses and suckles down my neck, my moans mixing with the wet sound of his mouth against my skin.

I’m not sure I’m breathing as he runs his hands along my hips and thighs, mouth smearing spit and scraping teeth against my breasts. His fingers hook under my underwear and within seconds it’s tugged down my legs and tossed to the floor.

I flutter open my eyes and something molten spreads through me.

Because Rhysand was on his knees before me. And it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

“Do you like me this, darling?” He muses, purely male satisfaction on his face as he drags my supple thighs apart. His eyes drop between my legs, to the swollen wetness there and he moans. “High Lord of the Night Court, bowed before the prettiest cunt he’s ever seen.”

I feel like I might climax just from his words. Just from how fucking feral he looks as he takes in my wetness, his hands at my thighs bruising as he keeps my legs apart.

I rest back on my hands, my arms shaking as Rhysand’s smug face inches closer and closer to the apex of my thighs, the violet in his gaze almost as dark as midnight as my arousal fills the air. I’m burning hot, everywhere and the anticipation is killing me.

But mercifully Rhys is no tease. He doesn’t have the patience for it tonight.

“Rhys,” I moan, my toes curling when his head dips between my thighs and he licked a broad stroke up the length of my cunt. Taking all the wetness from my entrance and smearing it up to my swollen clit. He does it again, growling, and I can hear how wet I am.

“Relax, darling,” Rhys murmurs and I gasp in surprise when his hands hook under my thighs, tugging me to the edge of the bed- and then he goes feral.

“Cauldron, oh my- Rhys,” My body is shaking as Rhys tastes me, his tongue flicking over my bundle of nerves again and again, so hard and fast I can feel the pleasure down to my toes. He groans as he does so, the sound vibrating through my core and making my head spin.

My eyes close, my arms give out and I’m lying on my back, arching against my sheets, Rhys holding my thighs and hips like a boulder. He doesn’t relent even as my cries grow erratic, his tongue slipping down to fuck into my hole, hot and warm and knowing exactly what he’s doing.

One finger slips in. and then another. And another.

Three fingers and I’m clamped around him like a vice, his fingers fucking into me, his tongue suckling at my clit, my moans, his moans- it was dancing through the room like a symphony. It feels like minutes before that pit in me starts to grow and I know I won’t last long; I don’t want to last long.

“Rhys, please-“ I don’t know what I’m begging for. But he does, he knows what I need. Because his lips close around my clit and those long, graceful fingers curl up into a deep, spongey spot inside me, hitting a button that makes me scream.

Searing hot light burns through me and I can feel Rhys grinning against my cunt as my orgasm hits me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I cry his name again and again, my body on fire as he buries his fingers inside me, still sucking and nibbling on my clit. Dragging out every last inch of my climax.

“Rhys, Rhys-“

He chuckles, like a smug bastard, lips plucking back from my swollen clit and those three fingers slipping out of my pulsing hole. I shudder, sweat coating my skin and when he finally unhooks his arms from my legs, I sag to the bed, panting.

My eyes are closed and all I can do is catch my breath as tendrils of my orgasm coil through me, disappearing inch by inch.

The bed dips around me and I feel the familiar power and warmth as Rhysand ascends over me, two hands braced on either side of my head, my thighs wrapping around his waist. I blink my eyes open, seeing a constellation above, and the sweetest smile.

“Hello, darling,” Rhys smirks and I chuckle as I take in the pleased expression he wore, loving me so strung. He lifts one hand, brushing the damp hair from my face and I croon when he runs the pad of his thumb over my mouth. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” I say immediately. Something almost terrifying drapes across his face as I take his thumb past my lips and into my mouth, twirling my tongue around the digit and staring into his eyes. He plucks it free, looking like he could devour me. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Alluring. Gorgeous. Seductive.” Rhys muttered, voice like gravel and my entire body purred when he knelt back on my bed and began to undo his shirt. “Definitely the words to describe you, Y/N darling.”

I stay silent as I watch him easily undo one button at a time, the graceful movements of his fingers almost sensual as more and more skin, covered with dark whorls is revealed to me. I’m breathless as he tugs off the material throwing it off the bed, captivated by the lean, hard muscle, and the slender dip of a v-line at his waist.

He grins down at me as my hands come up to his chest, muscles flexing as I claw down his pecs, teasing his nipples, scratching his abs, tracing the faint dusting of hair all the way down to his slacks. His eyes burn into me as I fiddle with the ties, tugging the front of his slacks loose to free his length straining inside.

I undo the last button and my pussy clenches as his cock springs free, slapping back against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen. Long and thick, veined and tan, small beads of pre-cum slipping down the head and dropping onto my thigh.

Not sure I’ve ever had a female tell me my cock is pretty before, darling.

The sound echoes through my mind and I jolt at it, surprised. My eyes meet his, see them twinkling and every atom in me throbs when his hands wrap around his length, and he pumps himself. I whimper, his eyes on mine watching me fall apart at the sight of touching himself.

Fuck me, Rhys.

I send the thought out to him through my mind, not knowing how it works but hoping he would get the message anyway. He did- I could tell just by how hard he fisted himself now, his pre-cum spilling down his hand as he stroked up and down.

You need it, darling? Need me? He teased through my mind, so arrogant it made me scowl at him.

Yes, asshole. I hissed, and he laughed aloud, eyes bright with amusement. I need you, fuck me, please.

He groans and I’m grinning as he leans forward, bracing his palms on either side of me, his powerful body atop of me now. I felt small under him, felt like I was completely at his mercy and that feeling seemed to make me even more wet.

“Wrap your leg around my hip, darling,” Rhys said softly, and I was more than eager when he guided my thigh up, wrapping it around him, fingers splaying over my flesh. “Wanna get as deep as I can into this sweet pussy.”

“Rhys,” I whined, my eyes fluttering as he dragged his tip through my folds, the pressure against my swollen lips and sore clit making me feel like I might explode. “Rhys- please-“

He slips his tip into me. And my eyes roll as he sinks and sinks and sinks into me. Inch after perfect inch. Stretching me so fucking wide that my head starts to spin. He stops when his hips meet mine, maxing out and I swear I feel the shape of him imprinted against my stomach.

“Fuck, you’re wrapped around me so tight,” Rhys curses and his fingers tighten around my flesh. I tilt my neck up when his lips meet mine, desperate and needy for the feel of him, the taste of him, as the pain between my legs slowly eases to mild discomfort.

“Move Rhys,” I claw up his chest and shoulders, burying my fingers in his hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He mutters, groaning as he slowly pulls his length out, my wetness making it so easy for him to move. I moan at the tendrils of pleasure that spark through me as he drags himself out and then in, again and again, barely moving.

“I can handle it, Rhys,” I force his eyes to meet mine and I know he’s holding himself back. For my sake. I roll my hips, and the moan that escapes him as he slips in deeper makes my toes curl. “Move, Rhys.”

Rhys snarls low in his throat. And then he pulls out to the tip before shoving his cock inside me in one full stroke until his hips slam against mine. I cry out and it’s almost euphoric how good it feels.

“That’s it,” He praises, jaw clenched and muscles hard as stone as he rolls his hips into me, hard and fast, tip brushing against my walls in a way that makes me endlessly moan. “Feel how good you fit around me, darling.”

I whine at the filthy words he snarls into my ear, canines nibbling at my earlobe as he fucks in and out of me. He lifts my leg higher up his waist and our moans sync when he sinks into me, so far, I can feel him hitting the back of me.

“Oh Rhys,” I cry his name again and again, his cock inside me feeling so full, every stroke stealing the breath from my lungs.

He ruts his hips up to meet me, the sound of him fucking in and out of me, so wild and demanding, is like music in the room, mixing with our moans, our low curses, and the way our hands wander over each other, unable to get enough.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Rhys commands, and I gasp, eyes fluttering open when his hand clamps around my jaw, tilting my neck to meet him. I see the darkness and depravity and need burning like fire through his eyes. Watching my face twist, my eyes roll as he fucks me, skin slapping skin.

“I’m so close, Rhys-“ I babble, back arching and my hand curls around his wrist still holding my jaw. My insides feel like mush as he hits that button inside me again and again. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come, darling?” He taunts, and I nearly start sobbing when his hand moves from my thigh, between our bodies and starts rubbing erratically at my clit. He laughs, like he fucking loves it, loves seeing me fall apart, “That’s it, come for your High Lord. Wanna feel you milk me dry.”

There’s something so commanding, so burning and domineering in his words, in those star-flecked eyes that when he dives his hips into me again, when his thumb flicks at my clit, my entire body erupts with my orgasm.

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys-“

I cry out, black dots blurring my vision and my body bucking and writhing against his hard muscles as release ripples over me like a tidal wave. Rhysand grunts as I clench around him, suffocating his cock inside me, the orgasm hitting me and lasting longer than I’ve ever had.

“Just like that,” He pants, and I feel his movements become sloppier, more erratic, more careless, driven to the edge by me coming around him.

My body trembles with the aftermath of my orgasm, edged on by the way Rhys still moved in and out of me, chasing his own high. And when his forehead rests against mine and he groans, guttural and heady and low, I know he’s found it.

My eyes blink open, desperate to watch him fall apart. And it doesn’t disappoint.

I watch, breathless, as Rhysand tips his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat and the sound that escapes him, the guttural moan, as he stills inside me has the walls of my room shaking. Pure, unfiltered power radiates from him and my pussy throbs as he spills inside me, hot and wet and endless.

I can’t tear my eyes off him as his orgasm fades and I’m smiling as he sags against my body, the both of us sweating and panting, melting into the other’s embrace.

He stays seated inside me and wraps his arms around my body, sinking into my warmth and softness and looking more than content. He sighs, pressing a kiss to my lips, once, twice, a smile curling his lips when I giggle.

“Darling,” Rhys whispers, his eyes tender as he lifts onto his elbow to meet my stare, “I meant what I said before. I want you to be mine. And not just tonight.”

There’s an ache behind my eyes as he stares at me, looking at me with so much adoration, so much love that I feel like he’s wrapped a hand around my heart and squeezed.

“I want that too,” I whisper back, cupping his jaw. He presses a kiss to the inside of my palm, grinning.

“As a gentleman, I should ask then,” He teases, inching his face closer to mine and resting his forehead against me. “Will you go out with me?”

I snort, eyes creasing as I laugh and Rhys beams at me, peppering kisses at my jaw and lips as I giggle.

“Yes, Rhys,” I say softly, drowning in those wonderful, tender, violet eyes. “I would love to go out with you.”

__________________________________________________

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen @nyotamalfoy @lewsnumerounofan @dreaming-about-fanfictions @sarawritestories @nottyourlover @bbycowboi @morganwdarius @marvelsmylife @justasillylittlegoofyguy @allyjoe755 @just-a-social-casualty-1 @eleventhboi @sfhsgrad-blog @glam-targaryen @firebreathingbishqueen @sindulgent666

Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest June warm-up round.

Eddie Munson's Corroded Coffin Celebrity Full Metal Upside Down Memorial Awareness Pro-Am Fun Run 5K Race For Hunger

Prompt: Band on the Run | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Future Fic, Middle Aged Famous Corroded Coffin, Established Relationship Steddie, Steve's Made Eddie Watch Too Much of The Office, Eddie Munson's a Runner, But Not Like This

"How did we get roped into this again? Who do I need to kill?" Goodie asks, lifting his leg into the air by the leg of his shorts, until Jeff catches his heel, resting it on his thigh as he ties Goodie's running shoe for him. 

"It's for charity," Jeff answers, cinching the laces, tying them.

Eddie's lacing up his own shoes, and he definitely shouldn't have bought new ones for this. Rookie mistake. He'd be better off with his vintage Reebok's that he wore into the ground.

He stands up and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks ridiculous. He doesn't know the last time his legs have seen sunshine, and they look like little chicken legs, under his baggy, black shorts.

This was a mistake.

Gareth is stretching, a foot up on the arm of the hotel couch, and Steve is all but laying over his back, pressing against him. 

"Um, do we need to let you two get a room?" Eddie asks.

Steve chuckles, and Eddie loves the sound. 

"You just want me to do this to you instead," Steve snarks.

"Well, yeah. Fucking, duh. Always, forever," Eddie answers.

"No, we don't have time for that," Jeff answers, looking at his watch, "it's twenty-three minutes until we have to be at the starting line."

"This is my worst nightmare," Goodie bemoans, "It's high school PE all over again."

And Eddie grins at him, because he feels exactly the same way. Goodie's hit it right on the goddamn nose. 

"Agreed," Eddie says, "and look, Steve Harrington is even here, bullying us freaks."

"I didn't bully you. You were the bully," Steve banters back, because they've had this disagreement a thousand times. 

"Agree to disagree," Eddie says, playing his part. Then he looks at Steve's back, still plastered to Gareth in a way that Eddie would definitely be jealous about if he were doing it to anybody else. "How much money is this raising, again?" Eddie asks, because that's the only thing that's gonna get him out of this room and onto the street. 

Steve straightens back up, "With what you've matched? Nearly fifty thousand dollars."

"That'll feed a lot of kids," Eddie says.

"It will. Your fans have really come through."

"They just want to see us in shorts," Eddie mutters.

"Well, that's at least ten thousand of it, yes," Steve says, and Eddie's pretty sure he's serious.

"Ugh, I'm gonna die," Eddie whines.

"You won't. It's a 5K, not a marathon. Over and done in under an hour, I promise, even if you walk the whole thing."

"I'm definitely walking the whole thing," Eddie insists. 

"And that's fine," Steve tells him, again. "But I'm not."

"And that's fine," Eddie mocks. 

"At least the route's along the ocean, so your casual stroll will have a view," Steve says, goading him.

He's still not running. He's walking.

Eddie doesn't walk. He's too competitive, and he should have realized that long ago. Goddamn Steve for getting him into this. 

So, when Steve, Jeff, Gareth and Goodie take off, Eddie matches them. So much for not conforming. He's embarrassed for himself right now.

Steve pulls away quickly, getting further and further ahead, and then Jeff and Gareth settle in beside each other, which leaves him and Goodie.

He thinks as soon as Steve totally disappears, Goodie will walk, and then he can walk, too.

Goodie doesn't walk. He's not fast, but he's in shape. They all are. Playing live shows like they do, even now in their forties, is more cardio than they even realize. So, they jog along together, and aren't even last.

"Are you dying?" Eddie asks, glancing over at Goodie.

"No," Goodie answers. 

"Me either," Eddie admits. 

Eddie was pretty sure he was gonna be last, and he's a little disappointed he isn't.

Steve is at the finish line, and doesn't even look like he's broken a sweat. Not a hair out of place, that asshole.

Eddie's drenched, and he feels like he just played a three-hour set in the sun. He and Goodie didn't finish fast, but they finished strong. And Eddie only stopped running to take a few pictures with fans along the route, as happy to get the breather as the fans were to get the picture, he thinks.

The volunteer hands the finisher's medal to Steve, letting him do the honors, and Eddie sees how hard Steve is smiling as he holds it up to put on Eddie. So, Eddie smiles back and leans his head forward to accept it, as cameras click all around. It's embarrassing, but he turns on the stage charm, bows and shows it off. Kisses Steve, lets them take pictures that all the tabloids will run with their own spin. Some good, some bad. 

Then, he poses with the rest of the band with the comically large check made out to the children's charity of their choice. 

It was worth it, he guesses.

"Rub my calves," Eddie demands, putting his legs in Steve's lap back in the hotel room, freshly showered, and already feeling more human again. 

Steve laughs, but he digs his fingers into the meat of Eddie's muscles, and they are a little sore. Goddamn new shoes.

"I'm proud of you, you know," Steve says.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie answers, brushing him off.

"No, I am. I always am, but extra today. I know this isn't your thing, but you did a lot of good today. You all did."

"Yeah, well…"

"And got some great press," Steve adds, and now he's talking.

"Did I look good?" Eddie asks, preening, flipping his hair.

Steve grins, "So good."

And then Steve moves, lowering Eddie's legs back to the couch, settling on top of Eddie, covering Eddie's body with his own.

He presses his lips to Eddie's, then pulls back and looks in his eyes, "This mean you're gonna start going on my morning runs with me?"

And Eddie feels no remorse, as he laughs right in his husband's face.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Obviously the title comes from the Michael Scott's Dunder Mifflin... race name from the Fun Run episode of The Office.

[googleitlol]

After Wukong rejoins the group, things between him and Dove get a lot better. Sure, it's more awkward at first, but a whole less violent. They can actually be… friendly with each other? Even though the others get used to it, the change in dynamic is almost unnerving at first. I like to imagine whenever two of them, maybe Pigsy and Sandy have a moment to talk on their own, they make sure what they're seeing isn't some hallucination. Kind of a, 'You see this too, right?' moment.

Anyway, Wukong is having a blast now. Not only is he back, but he also lets himself indulge in teasing/getting payback on Pigsy for the Bone Demon incident. One great example is when he goads Pigsy into patrolling a potentially dangerous mountain. When the pig demon goes to take a nap instead, Wukong makes sure Tripitaka knows just how much effort he put into slacking off before he returns.

And then… well, that's where the trouble begins.

Dove Masterlist:

Landscaping

“Wukong really is in a meddling mood today.” Wujing remarks from where he sits next to you, the two of you basking in the midday sun with Tripitaka and Ao Lie. Your group is stationed by a large tree at the base of a wide mountain, waiting the return of two of the monk’s older disciples. After being warned of the danger posed by the area you all were meant to trek through next, Zhu Bajie was sent to go and patrol the area.

Unfortunately for the pig, Sun Wukong decided to tag along. “It has been some time that we’ve been travelling since our last encounter with a demon. I think the lack of serious threat has left him bored.” You shrug in response to the river demon’s observations. “If anything that old woodcutter told us was true, his boredom may be coming to an end.” He hums, looking out towards where his brothers took off.

“I hope for the sake of my heart, it doesn’t.” Tripitaka shudders, his tired gaze turned skywards. “I have had my fair share of demons trying to eat me, this never happened back home. I just want to get past one mountain without being caught by any monsters or upsetting anyone we shouldn’t.”

You can’t help but feel sorry for the monk. In the time you’ve been in travel with him, the sheer amount of demons that have looked to make him their meal has been problematic. With how much farther you have to go, you feel like saying it won’t happen anymore would be a lie. “If you want, Tripitaka, I can use my gift for a bit while we wait for Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie to return.” You offer, getting up to offer him a hand.

The monk shakes his head, swatting at a fly too close to his face. “Thank you, I think I should be able to manage for now.”

You offer a polite smile, mimicking his actions when you hear buzzing by your ear. “Alright, just let me know if–” The insect grows bolder, fluttering about your face. “Ugh! This annoying little…”

You notice the tiny monkey’s tail before the fly lands on your nose.

Sandy’s head tilts to the side when you go silent. “What is it?”

“…Sun Wukong?” You blink, and in an instant, the monkey returns to his form with a jump into the air. The shock of the action is enough for you to shout, falling back as the demon lands.

The Monkey King cackles, crouching down when you sit up. “You caught on faster than Pigsy!” He smiles, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Maybe Sandy was wrong in calling him meddling. At the moment, ‘rowdy’ fit him better.

“Where is he?” You use your finger to push him out of your face by his forehead, the King cooperating and stepping back to let you up.

“Still rehearsing what to say.” He answers while you dust yourself off. “He decided to take a quick nap instead of scouting, like I knew he would. I left him once he finished practising what to say in case any of us ask what he found.”

The monkey shifts into his younger brother, muckrake and all. “‘There was a rocky cave, with three sections!” He imitates, albeit dramatically. “There are wretched monsters and wild animals at every turn! We better turn back and return home, I’m sure my wife and father-in-law have been missing me.’” Sandy chuckles a little under his breath while you cross your arms. “That’s a bit dramatic of him, don’t you think?” Monkey King shifts back, seemingly still struggling to regain his composure.

It’s only made worse when Pigsy returns, spouting about the very same words Sun Wukong had already shared. He seems quite confident in himself as he prattles on. “There are wretched monsters and wild animals at every turn! We better turn back and–”

“–return home, I’m sure my wife and father-in-law have been missing me.” Wukong finishes in unison with his brother, the pig frowning when he does. The Monkey King scoffs. “Practise really did make those lines perfect, didn’t they?”

“Wha–?! But how did you…”

“Lying about going on patrol?” Wukong crosses his arms, giving Pigsy a pointed look. “I’d say that’s worth three strokes of my trusted staff. What do you say, Pigsy?” The pig demon looks at him wide wide eyes, almost shaking when he mentions his staff.

Luckily enough for him, Tripitaka intervenes. “There will be no beating anyone today.” He looks between his disciples, Wukong looking a bit disappointed while Pigsy sighs in relief. “Bajie, please go out and scout properly this time?”

“Ugh, fine.” The pig snorts, grumbling before he turns to leave back towards the mountain. The disappointment on the Monkey King’s face melts into a smug grin as he watches his brother march back to do his job properly this time.

While he scouts, the rest of you find yourselves waiting by the base of the mountain. You admit, being able to sit for a while instead of marching through trails of wilderness for hours is a nice change of pace. However, it quickly becomes old the longer you have to wait. Sitting with the horse, then leaning against the tree for shade, to the idle conversations that would occur between you and the others, you were getting bored.

An hour drags by, and then another. One can only admire the clouds in the sky for so long before becoming restless. Taking the horse to graze helps alleviate the itch to keep going somewhat, but it doesn’t help for long. You half-wonder if Bajie decided to take another nap somewhere else, but would he really risk getting caught like that a second time? Maybe something worse might have happened?

After a third hour passes, Tripitaka begins to voice your concerns. “Bajie has been gone for a while now. You don’t think something could have happened to him, do you?”

Sun Wukong gives out a hearty laugh from his spot in the tree you sit by with Sandy, resting on a low-hanging branch. “That pig is such a coward, he’d run at the first sign of danger.” He falls back, his tail hooking around the branch to face his master. “If he’s been gone for this long, he must be taking his time patrolling the mountain.”

“Still… something doesn’t feel right.” The monk frowns, his eyes fixed on the mountain. You frown, understanding the uneasiness in your friend. If Pigsy really was fine, would he be taking all this extra time to comb through the path? You half-expected him to return with some haste after being exposed by Wukong, to make up for slacking off.

You look over to Wukong, the monkey quickly catching your eye as you nod towards Tripitaka. “What?”

“Maybe one of us could check on Bajie?” Your brows raise a bit as your suggestion is made.

The Monkey King rolls his eyes, looking back at the worried expression from Tripitaka and quickly letting out a sigh. “How about this? Pigsy likes to move at a snail’s pace on his own anyway, why don’t we all just go and catch up with him?” He suggests, though the annoyance in his voice is far from well-hidden.

Tripitaka hums, glancing at you. “With Wukong’s logic, whatever Pigsy has covered so far should be safe.” You shrug. Even if the path isn’t safe, if something happened to Bajie, Tripitaka still has Wujing and Wukong to protect him. Between the lot of you, whatever potential trouble the pig demon might find himself in can be dealt with swiftly.

The monk frowns, deep in thought, likely thinking over the situation just as you were doing. After a few moments, he relents. “We might as well, it will be better than sitting around doing nothing.” With his word, your group gets to their feet. With the monk mounting the horse and Sandy taking the lead, you set off to begin hiking up the mountain.

A tense silence fills the space between the group as you journey up the mountain. Everyone is on alert, watching for any movements in the shadows of shrubs, listening for footsteps. Each of you prepare yourselves for some sign of your friend, some sign you aren’t alone.

A shudder from Tripitaka makes you glance back at the monk. His eyes look from one side to the next, shuddering again with a worried frown. Sometimes you forget how on edge he can get, especially when told of nearby danger.

You make eye contact with Sun Wukong, nodding over to the monk. He looks back at his master while you shift into your dove form to rest on the man’s shoulder. You do your work, using your gift to put his mind more at ease.

He notices rather quickly, cracking a small smile before Wukong clears his throat. “Master, you needn’t be so worried. You know I will not let anything happen to you while I am here.” He jumps in front of the horse while he speaks, walking backwards so as to not stop the group.

“If any demons dare to show their wretched faces, it will only take a swing of my staff to send them down to the ten kings!” He boasts, taking his staff from his ear and extending it to spin the weapon in his hands. Facing forward, he scoops up a few rocks to throw into the air and uses his staff to bat them all into a tree further ahead. When he runs out of ammo, he throws the staff itself, impaling the tree through completely.

The monk blinks a few times as his disciple retrieves his signature weapon. “I really am fortunate to have him as my disciple, and not an enemy.”

“Take it from someone who has fought him, you are lucky to have never felt the pain from that staff.” Sandy laughs, and you find yourself amused as Wukong returns, flipping through the air.

He shows off a bit more as you continue on the path, showing off kicks and punching the air. At one point, he shatters a boulder you pass by with only his head. Is it a little over the top? Absolutely, but it does wonders to lift Tripitaka’s spirits. 

By the time Wukong is finished with his demonstration, the air is considerably lighter. He takes his place beside Tripitaka and the horse, looking up at you with a smirk. You give a quiet coo in response, thankful for his help in reassuring the monk of their safety. You have to say, with the jabs between you two being less frequent and of a more playful nature, working with the Monkey King is becoming easier than you ever thought it would be. Dare you say, sometimes it was even fun.

It isn’t as though you were unaware of his cleverness before– his more impulsive actions sometimes made it difficult to remember– but you find it easy for the two of you to bounce off each other’s ideas. Sure, there are times where his plans baffle you, but you found that trusting his plots usually works out well. Whether it’s in battle or in the midst of a ruse, even with something as simple as how you worked to help Tripitaka, the two of you are surprisingly good at coordinating together.

For some time, the hike is uneventful. There is still no sign of Pigsy, but before you can worry yourself with his whereabouts, you hear a distant cry further ahead on the path. Cries for help.

“That sounds like a man…” Wujing frowns, your group quickening their pace to find the source of the voice.

Up ahead, you spot a bush, an elderly man just behind it. “Someone, please! Save me!” He shouts, groaning in pain as he keeps a tight grip around his leg. The closer Tripitaka rides, the more you can see of him. He’s on his side, his clothing scratched and torn. His grey– almost silver– hair is a bushy mess. His leg looks mangled, twisted in the wrong direction and dressed in blood. “Please, you must help me! I cannot move!”

Tripitaka wastes no time in dismounting, crouching down to the man while you return to your human form. Sun Wukong is quick to join his master’s side. “What happened to you?” The monk frowns, inspecting the elder for any other concealed injuries.

“I am a daoist from the temple just west of here. I was travelling with my disciple before he and I were attacked by a tiger.” He explains, his breathing heavy from the pain of his wounds and spent energy. “It killed him and dragged him away. It left me for dead, but I am afraid it may return. I beg of you, please help me return to my temple, and I will be in your debt!”

���Of course we will help you.” Tripitaka offers the elder a kind smile, turning to call one of his disciples. “Sha Wujing, bring my horse here for this man to ride. We can accompany him to his temple together.”

The man hisses through his teeth, clutching onto his injured leg. “I cannot ride.” He is able to shift over enough to show a gaping wound on his inner thigh, a deep cut that runs down his leg and already looks to be infected.

Looking closer, you take a step to the man. “Here, let me have a look at it.” You move past Tripitaka to crouch down, but a hand grabs you by the arm before you can.

You look back to find Sun Wukong, his glare making you freeze. However, his eyes focus not on you, but the elderly man. He pulls you closer, leaning over to whisper. “The last time you healed anything physical, you were unconscious for hours.”

“You mean when you were blind?” You match his volume, the reminder getting him to actually look you in the eyes for a moment, just to give you an annoyed look. “Why are we whispering?” His eyes narrow at the question, though he turns his attention back to the injured daoist before you can get an answer.

“Don’t waste your talents, Dove.” Is all you get before he crouches down in front of the old man himself. “If he is not fit to ride, let me carry him.”

A chill runs down your spine from his tone alone. His previously relaxed posture is now rigid, hostile. His smile to the man feels more like a threat than an invitation. You, Tripitaka, and Sandy look to each other from the sides of your eyes, even the horse looks concerned.

If the man notices the clear aggression in the offer, he does not show it.  “How kind of you, hairy-one.” Despite how uneasy you feel, you hold in a snort of laughter at the man’s words and Wukong’s look of offence.

“Hairy-one?” He frowns, the old man smiling.

“Yes, please. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to carry me.” He responds, and the monkey demon lets out a short huff.

He reaches down, getting the daoist up and onto his back while Tripitaka gives you a look. You quickly put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll keep watch. If he’s acting like this, something must have tipped him off about this man.” You keep your voice low, the monk nodding in response.

“Thank you, I just didn’t want to leave him on the side of the road. Do you think he might be…” He trails off, looking back at the disciple and daoist.

“You just stay close to Sandy, I’ll call out if anything happens. If I do, ride off as fast as you can and hide.” You instruct, following his sight to the two before Tripitaka gets back onto the horse. You and Sandy were talking about how quiet these last few days have been, maybe some monster overheard you and decided to keep you on your toes.

It’s silent as you continue westward, unease wrapping around the group as you go. You make sure to glance over to the old man every now and then, keeping him and Wukong in your sights. Even when they begin to slow a bit to readjust every now and then, you stay by their side. Tripitaka and Wujing begin to get farther ahead, which is honestly a good thing if this man isn’t who he says he is.

You catch his eyes a few times, giving you a strange look. It gives you bumps along your arms, and you tell yourself not to reach for any of your weapons. He hasn’t done anything yet. You see him give the same look to Tripitaka, making you feel even better the further he and Sandy get from the stranger.

After some time, the monk and his disciple are so far off, they are no longer in your line of sight. Wukong pauses again to adjust his grip on the daoist before humming. “Dove, would it be alright if I bugged you for something?”

“What is it?” You frown, a little put off by his cautious words. It would be more normal if he just told you to do whatever it is he wants.

He matches your pace but keeps his distance. “Sandy is with Master, and they are already so far ahead of us… I don’t want to slow us down any further but I would really appreciate something to snack on right now.”

…Is this some ploy? A show for whoever this man is on his back? “Seriously? I am not your servant–”

“Please, Dove.” You look down as his tail wraps around your arm, looking back up to find a pleading look in his eye. “I think I saw some berries a little further back.” Alright, this is definitely an act. Some reason to be alone with the daoist, perhaps. Why else would he wait for Sandy and Tripitaka to be out of sight before asking? It’s clear that he knows more about the elder on his back than he’s letting on, but you trust that whatever Monkey knows, he can handle it.

“Alright, I will be back soon. Shout if you need me.” You nod, the monkey mirroring your action before you transform into a dove and begin your flight back. All you can do is hope the Great Sage knows what he’s doing.

Surprisingly enough, you do find the bush of berries Wukong mentioned. Maybe part of him really does want something to eat quickly. You start picking the berries, your thoughts drawing back to the strange daoist, the odd way in which he was looking at you and Tripitaka. Usually, it is your friend’s demon disciples that draw the eyes of strangers, not their human travel companions.

There has to be something wrong with that man. You’re embarrassed you didn’t catch it yourself, that it took Sun Wukong stepping in to tip you off. Part of you wonders how he can pick up on these things so quickly. He wasted no time in killing the bone demon when she was disguised. His ability to recognise danger on a whim is quite helpful, but you wish you knew how he did it.

You wonder how long you should take picking these berries, it’s obvious Wukongs wants time to deal with that daoist on his own. Just when you decide to head back, a thunderous boom sounds from the distance. The ground beneath your feet shakes and you stumble back, only just catching yourself. You barely have any time to regain your bearings as a second deafening crash echoes through the land, tremors shaking the earth beneath your feet even more violently than the first.

A tree crashes down to the ground, nearly crushing you in the process before you jump out of the way. What is going on?! What was that, two earthquakes under the span of a minute? Your head immediately swivels to the west, certain that whatever just happened is the result of a certain simian. That’s when you take a moment to blink, the sight before you confusing to look at. You see two mountains where the horizon used to be.

“What the…?” Did they just appear? How?! You could have sworn they weren’t there before, over where you left Wukong and the old man… There is no way this could mean anything good.

To add to your horror, a third mountain materialises before your very eyes, creating a third explosive boom. The ground shakes again, even more forcibly than before. It’s enough to knock you off your feet entirely. Once the earthquake stops, you’re able to sit up again. What the hell is happening back there?! Is Tripitaka okay? Is Sun Wukong fighting the old man now? Why are mountains appearing before your eyes?!

Your questions are put on hold when you hear his scream.

So loud, he’s yelling at the top of his lungs. Dropping whatever berries you had picked, you transform to fly back to where you left the Monkey King. He has to be in trouble, he would never shout like that if he wasn’t.

The closer you get to the spot where you left him, the closer you get to the mountains. The three are practically stacked onto one another in a cluster. They start to tremble, a flock of birds taking off from the trees on one of them when they do. Once the trembling stops, you hear his voice again, a furious howl coming from below.

Following his voice, you dive down. It takes a little while before you’re able to spot him, just his head. You land, rushing to his side before a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, or… what you can see of him. The Monkey King lays against the ground, his body pinned down by the newly-arrived mountains. Only his head and a forearm are visible. He’s bloodied and bruised, his head whipping around wildly and his breathing erratic.

He grunts, straining as the mountains once again shake. His hand digs into the ground for support, but his efforts are shown to be fruitless when the mountains remain, and he slumps back in exhaustion.

“Sun Wukong!” You call, rushing to his side and kneeling down. If he can hear your voice, he ignores it, his eyes darting frantically to and fro. They’re unfocused, panicked. His breaths are mercurial as he tries again to free himself, each attempt as successful as the last. He’s barely taking anything in. “Wukong– hey.”

You take hold of his swivelling head, working your gift into his mind. “Wukong… breathe.” It takes him time, each breath working to ground himself amidst his panic. He starts to slow, blinking a bit as he looks up at you. His head falls a bit, leaning into your hold as you continue using your gift. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“Dove?” He frowns, coming back to his senses.

“Sun Wukong, what happened? Where is that old daoist?” You question, looking back behind you to make sure you are really alone, that this isn’t some trap.

Wukong growls at the mention of the man. “That was no daoist, it was a demon. I wanted to get him alone so I could deal with him myself when the coward summoned these cursed mountains!” His fist slams into the ground, the earth quivering beneath it.

You frown a bit, hoping he doesn’t cause the ground to open up under you from unbridled anger. “Why not say anything before?”

“And risk another incident like with the bone demon?” He brings up a fair point, grunting as he plants his palm into the ground and attempts to free himself once more. He grits his teeth, straining with his eyes trained to the ground as he puts his all into lifting the mountains.

You quickly turn his head to look at you again. “Stop, you’re hurt.”

“I have to get out!”

“And we will get you out, but it’s clear that these mountains aren’t moving. All you are doing is wasting your energy.” You point out the obvious, making him groan with frustration. You can’t say you blame him in the slightest. Wukong already spent five centuries under a mountain, you can’t even begin to imagine how much dread and trepidation saturate every bone in his body in this moment, having to relive it all again.

“That demon must have Master by now, and I am stuck under here!” He shouts, clenching his fist.

“Sandy is with him.” You remind the sage, standing up as you begin to rack your brain for your next steps. “I am sure he won’t let anything happen to him. Just breathe, we have to get you out of here first before we can help Tripitaka.”

You try to think of what to do, but what can you do? If the Monkey King is unable to move the mountains, what can your mortal strength do to help him? With Sandy occupied with Tripitaka and the demon on his way to steal the monk away– not to mention the fact that Pigsy is still nowhere to be found– you can’t count on them to assist. You might have to go out and find someone that could help. If this demon summoned these mountains, surely there is a way to send them away, right?

Looking back down at the monkey demon, you notice his breaths becoming irregular and crouch down to once again hold his head. “Monkey, hey. Look at me.” He does as you ask, unable to hide the anxiety in his eyes. You can’t remember a time you have ever seen him like this. You’ve seen him concerned, for Tripitaka, for you, but this is different. This is fear.

You remember a time you thought the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, held no fear in his heart. How wrong you were, then. In his state, how could you go find help and leave him here on his own? “I’m right here. We’re going to figure this out together, okay? I’m not leaving you here, not even for a moment.”

Your words seem to help, his eyes softening. He reaches up to your hand holding the side of his face, taking hold of it with a securing grip. For now, it seems the best you can do is comfort the monkey demon, despite your own worries starting to eat away at you. There is no way you can just leave him here with his anxieties to eat away at him, but how else are you meant to find a way to help him?

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu OVA - Book 2, Ush [PART 6]

This goes very hard as a beginning for the first, liveblog I'm writing back home after my trip. (It's still running on scheduled posts because I realized I really like scheduling posts)

also: asset reusage for them falling spotted.

I need them to be in this amount of pain always.

FDGSDFGSDZFGJFDLJGVDFLKJGVSHFVDSFHGSJGUSFHVJDFGNSJKRHGDSRHBGFFGJHFGNFGHFGJTDJXGJ

Thank you OVA for this meal.

He's so fucking stupid and pathetic and I'm here giggling and kicking my feet because i love him so much because of these qualities.

Go girl give us nothing...

As was proven by season 4 of Wakfu, and the Remington comic: while Ush and Joris do hate each other, they can agree on helping people. Which is why Joris is hoping that maybe Ush will switch sides.

On a more important note than pointing out random character interactions: FANGS.

Joris in Remington comics: Ush how about you kill yourself for the good of Bonta. not like you don't have lives to spare. Ush here: You want me to be your third pet so badly that it makes you look stupid.

I need to know everything about their weird fucking rivalry. Like Ush tries to go for a multitude of low blows here.

Here's my translation of this interaction from Ush-speak: The person who takes care of Ush when he dies gets paid for it, while Cringoris has been doing this shit for free for two men who are far more stupid and entitled. AND somehow it makes Cringeoris feel entitled to Ush's cooperation or respect. While he's literally some guy he isn't even related to. (He's hardly related to Kerubim and Atcham even! Why the hell should they affect his relationship with the weird blue guy?? They're far younger than him, have a different family, maybe a different mother and different upbringing... The two of them, and all the other Ecaflip Demigods, are only related to him because of Some Pink Guy whom Ush hates and wants to get rid of. They are brothers only on a biological level. And yet to Joris, who is literally adopted, this means Something. Is he insane? Is he stupid?)

The CEO of liking people who try to kill him has spoken on his controversial yet predictable opinion on the whole "there are 13847234 "siblings" in our "family tree" because our "father" cannot stop having sex with mortal women. And we keep killing each other, not without our father's goading. What does this mean for our relationships" thing.

Yes, it's from a game that was decanonized, but:

Never forget what Ecaflip did to his demigod Yakusha and that demigod's mother.

Or everything he did to Kerubim and Atcham.

I think that Ush may have, like, very normal and understandable reasons to detest Ecaflip — and not being into the idea of getting buddy-buddy with Kerubim and Atcham just because of their shared relation to the god (whom he hates) is actually pretty rational.

A semi-canonical source (devlog for the de-canonised game Wakfu Raiders) points out that while Yakusha and Ush may not share a mother — unlike Atcham and Kerubim — they are united in being abandoned by their father.

While Kerubim and Atcham also suffered, except from, uh... too much presence of Ecaflip in their lives, I can't help but think that from Ush's point of view, they're the lucky ones.

He loves to bully his privileged loser little brothers who actually had a (horrible fuckawful) father figure while growing up.

(That, and his belief that Kerubim is stupid,,, isn't entirely unfounded.)

[onesidedradiostatic]

Personally I think they're both huffing a bit of copium about one another (Vox and Alastor) but Alastor is better at hiding it/maintaing his cool. We know that at least Valentino feels confident enough to goad Vox into taking the bait, that Alastor "almost" beat him last time. It's an interesting attitude compared to Vox's. Even Velvette doesn't seem all that concerned with Alastor, both her and Valentino are confident in the Vees current status and it's only Vox's personal insecurities that prevent him from sharing that mindset.

Vox's medium IS the victor in the grand scheme of things, he (along with the other Vees) ARE more relevant than Alastor/radio. And Vox is also capable of upgrading/improving himself over time in a way Alastor (from what we've seen) is not. It's so interesting seeing Vox unable to fully realize his strength/power - he can say it all he wants, but I don't think he really believes it. We the audience, however, know that visual media is king... case in point we are watching this series as a show on screens. Vox's hypnotism and electric powers are also pretty OP, he's got a good deck of cards (even though we haven't seen the full extent of how he can really leverage these yet).

And let's not forget Alasor BOOKED IT across town to get back at Vox during Stayed Gone. I think Alasor is (and should be) somewhat nervous (maybe "cautiously aware" is a better term) about the influence Vox and the Vees have regarding the future of media. He doesn't crack easily, as we've seen, but he cares enough to engage with Vox which he doesn't bother doing with outright "lessers".

In this way the dynamic is more even (in my opinion) than many give it credit for, which I personally prefer, but to each their own... for me, if it's not more equally matched, I struggle to see how the Vees will be worthwhile antagonists in the next season and that would be such a shame for characters that have so much potential. I just love the Vees!

(prev ask)

ehh I mean I do feel that they are on more equal level than some of the fandom may make them out to be but I still don't feel like they're exactly on the same level. like every time I see takes about mutual stuff between them I still can't fully agree cause to me, it's still on some level imbalanced. I do think they are of roughly equal power yes, but I think alastor being able to keep his cool is in fact a point towards him having the upperhand. it's the fact that vox is literally incapable of keeping his cool when it comes to alastor that spells more of his weakness when it comes to him I think. but yeah I mean how the vees, or rather vox will be a proper antagonist when he's so easily defeated by alastor is what I've been asking for a while LMAO.

and the thing is, we've seen instances like alastor being somewhat scared when zestial pops up, his mask slipping when starting stupid beef with lucifer (his eye is literally twitching the moment lucifer steps into the hotel LMAO), and of course with his fight with adam. we don't see any of that when it comes to the vees/vox, alastor waves them off as "nobody important" when niffty asks, easily tramples vox in stayed gone (and yes, he did immediately go back to his radio tower to bite back, but I don't think that's necessarily out of fear, could've easily just been he saw he was being insulted on live tv and HAD to bite back because he's a petty bitch), and gloated to him about having to "try harder than that" after failing to spy on him.

in my view, he doesn't see the vees or vox as a serious threat. HOWEVER, I do think that could easily be a point against alastor. his cockiness and not taking them seriously could very well come bite him in the back (JUUUUST like with adam!)

but when it comes to his current season 1 dynamic with vox, I do think he has the upperhand because of their different attitudes. if vox was able to keep his cool like alastor he wouldn't have caused a city-wide blackout over stayed gone LMAO. they're definitely more leveled power-wise though I think, the difference comes in their attitudes. if vox won the idgaf war a bit more they'd be more leveled, but he has chosen to obsess over him 24/7 so here we are.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - DD - May 9 & 11

I’m combining both of these entries into one since I have similar thoughts about both!

First off, yay we get our first time meeting Mina and Lucy!!!!!!!! And may I just say it’s great to see these girls being besties and chatting? You can tell just by the way they write that they have known each other a long time. Bram actually did a good job writing these women talking to each other. It feels natural and organic. Finally a “men writing women” moment where I don’t want to gag. I will still never get over the adaptations pitting these two lovely ladies against each other!! Why do we still feel the need to make them “compete.” Ugh :(

Mina’s Letter - I love how she starts right away with “forgive me for not writing you.” She already KNOWS Lucy is going to get on her for that, lol. Also her gushing about Jonathan is adorable and I love how she talks about writing to him in code. Those two nerds, they’re going to end me with their cuteness. Also, studying lady journalists to help with your journalism? What a queen doing that research. As she should! Again, it’s the bare minimum, but Stoker really did a good job with this one I must say. Seeing her be hopeful about Jonathan’s trip to Transylvania and the subsequent promise of seeing places like that together is a bit sobering. :( that is, until we reach her PS!

“You have not told me anything for a long time.” This line makes me want to laugh for some reason and I’m not quite sure why? Maybe it’s because I can hear a slightly scolding tone when she says it, or maybe because I can totally see me telling one of my friends this, especially to goad them into telling me the tea. Either way, it’s great.

“I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???”

I’m convinced Stoker read my texts or something because LOL that’s literally how I type! The idea of her writing “???” is adorable and I love it so much. Also by “rumors” does she mean Lucy’s mom? I’m pretty sure she means Lucy’s mom. I think it’s funny the first really descriptive thing we really hear of Arthur is his curly hair!

We can get a good glimpse of Mina’s personality just by this letter. We can already tell she’s genuinely excited to be married to Jonathan and help with his work. She is also very methodical, as she is thinking of several different ways she can practice her stenography and shorthand to help assist him. Like Jonathan, she does her research by reading up on how women in similar fields conduct their craft. She is obviously hopeful and in love with him, as she dreams of seeing new places with him after they are married.

However, she does not neglect Lucy in her missive! While her letter is mostly about Jonathan (which I assume is likely due to to Lucy asking after him and most engaged people do tend to talk about their fiancé — just look at Jonathan), she does take time at the beginning and ending of the letter to a) assure Lucy she misses her and b) tell her the latest news ASAP!! This shows that she deeply cares about her friend, even with her impending nuptials.

Lucy’s Letter - “I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. I wrote to you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only your second.”

Yep, sure enough, Lucy gets on Mina for not writing to both of her letters (I do wonder if Mina answered everything that was in both letters…). Of course, it’s in a good-natured way and it gives me the same vibes as Rarity from MLP:FIM fainting into a couch or something and I am HERE FOR IT (for those who don’t watch the show, I genuinely mean this as a compliment. I love Rarity -- also I could probably make a whole post about Dracula characters as MLP characters, hmm…).

“Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really nothing to interest you.”

*Proceeds to list the hottest gossip* I love this girl so much. She has my whole heart.

“Some one has evidently been telling tales.”

Yep, definitely Lucy’s mom! I would love to see the letters between Mina and Lucy’s mom tbh.

Also when talking about Arthur, it’s so adorable because you can tell at first she only tries to sprinkle in a little bit about him, like “oh he’s just someone I met” and then it quickly morphs into “we met this guy who would be great for you” (Seward mention!!!! Can’t wait to meet everyone’s favorite pathetic wet cat /pos) to “I’m already picking up his slang and using his first name and did I mention IM IN LOVE WITH HIM????”

You can already learn so much about Lucy from this first letter. She’s sweet and caring to the people around her, lively about everything and a bit unsure about love (since she doesn’t quite know if Arthur loves her back). I looked up her age (idk if that counts as spoilers but I’ll tag this as such just in case) and she’s 19!!! This is exactly the kind of letter I would expect a 19-year-old to write to her best friend. I just love how excited she sounds, as she should!!! She’s a young girl in love, perhaps for the first time, and wants her best friend to know. I do love how she tells Mina “write back to me IMMEDIATELY with your thoughts.” Same, Lucy, same.

Back to Seward. It’s so funny to me that he wants to make a psychological study of her while staring straight into her soul and she seems to be chill with it!! Like she still loves Arthur, but she’s also not put off by Jack, either. He’s just got that neurodivergent urge to study her under a microscope and honestly, who can blame him? I can also see why Lucy would ship Seward and Mina together; obviously, I’m a diehard Jonmina shipper (and I’m pretty sure Lucy is too, she just likes chaos), but I feel like Mina and Seward would totally bond over train schedules and other nerd stuff.

So, to sum it up, I love both of these girls and their friendship so much and I can’t wait to see more of them!!! Eeeee

[isa-ghost]

was reading through your q!phil hc masterpost and was wondering if you could add any of your codebreakers/etoilza headcanons into the fray…? :3

YESSSS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK THIS LONG TO GET ASKED /LH

qPhil headcanons masterlist

RESTATES for my and your convenience (heads up, there are a few suggestive/mildly explicit mentions!!):

--He's FWB with Etoiles. Extremely QPR, Etoiles is an aro king --He and Phil started out as friends and that has Barely changed if at all, but sparring matches get a little too homoerotic sometimes and neither of them can resist the other when they're popping off extra hard. Things have. Escalated a few times. If yknow what I mean. Of all Phil's harem members polycule partners, he & Etoiles have absolutely ZERO emotional investment in the Spicy(tm) things they do together. It's simply a very intimate way of showing each other their respect & admiration for the other. What they have going on is a "*spanks you* good game, let's hit the showers team" kinda deal. They're the type of mfs to finish in bed then shake hands like "gg." Casual sex is >>>> to these two, but it happens waaay less between them than it did Phil & Fit, Fitza was habitual (pre-Pac). Codebreakers is a once in a while thing --Etoiles has 100% asked Phil who fucks the best out of the polycule bc like everything else, it's a competition & he Must win, he Must have the best dick game. This amuses Phil very much --Phil is attracted to Etoiles the same way he's attracted to Fit, HOWEVER, the reasoning is different. Etoiles has raw skill and talent, but it's the way he wields it and demonstrates it that makes Phil wanna act up. Also Etoiles is fucking hilarious. Who can resist a good sense of humor? Those dramatics make Phil swoon --Etoiles is one of the people who is best at catching Phil's Tells for when something is wrong --Etoiles is one of few people who can convince (or goad) Phil into doing something he normally wouldn't, especially if he's drunk --Speaking of Phil being drunk around Etoiles, the way he can still absolutely body someone or snipe smth from miles away makes Etoiles want to kiss him stupid --Etoiles left a scar on Phil's back during Purgatory when he killed him Day 1. Phil didn't know for the longest time, but it took him a while to show him his wings after that. --Phil was genuinely afraid of Etoiles (& Fit) for a while after Purgatory --Sometimes Phil's laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles. --Phil goes back and forth on gifting one of his shed feathers to Etoiles --Technically all of the Polycule vs Ender King hcs apply to Etoiles in some way --Phil could listen to Etoiles teach him about French culture for hours

And now the new stuff :D

Etoiles's dramatics can get Phil in tears laughing. His sides and stomach will hurt before it's over, and Etoiles can go on for MINUTES. Sometimes he'll keep going purely because it has Phil dying so hard and he loves seeing what a kick Phil gets out of it

Etoiles is (playfully) salty that Phil is such a My Kids Come First kinda guy bc GOD does he want Phil to be down to do dangerous pvp and dungeon busting shit without the "euuu we gotta make sure it's safe" aspect more often. He wants that Angel of Death. Etoiles is the #1 Dadza (Derogatory) islander /lh

See, Fitza is more explicit and deadass about their,, Time together. Codebreakers is more subtle. Yknow that "media literacy is knowing when something that isn't gay sex is gay sex" post? That's Codebreakers. Sparring, dungeon busting, whatever high-risk high-exertion thing they're doing together. That.

It should go without saying how down Etoiles would be to throw hands with Ender King. It would be the most exhilarating fight he's ever had

Phil's still lowkey lost about the whole resistance thing. And schedules lately have not been kind to the two of them, so he hasn't had a chance to talk about it with Etoiles as extensively about it as he'd like to

Btw he's secretly concerned as hell smth bad is gonna happen to Etoiles if more of his body becomes corrupted by code :)

They 100% refer back to the time Etoiles said this regularly, and similar things like it. The same can be said for Fitza but my god the extent to which these two are more than willing to kill for each other. OUGH.

Phil does not realize how much pent up stress and emotion he can vent out via sparring or hitting something really fucking hard. Etoiles is going to fix that one day.

Phil's Etoiles impression has made Etoiles attempt to learn how to mimic Phil in retaliation but he cannot for the life of him get the hang of Phil's fuckass accent. Geordies stay winning to this man's dismay

Etoiles is frustratingly yet fascinatingly hard for Phil to clock sometimes. It's difficult to gauge exactly how he's feeling or what he's thinking. And yet as inconvenient that can be sometimes, something about it is incredibly attractive to Phil at the same time. Which is funny because unpredictability is usually not something his survivalist brain would like. Something about how he trusts Etoiles and therefore his being a wildcard is not so scary,,

Etoiles 🤝🏻 Chayanne - Wanting Phil to take them on a flight

I don't know if I'd call Etoiles an anarchist the same way I would Phil, but either way he is SO DOWN to fuck with the Feds if it entails any kind of pvp or the need to be geared up

Ok listen I have to call back to the gay sex subtext thing. Things that are more sex than gay sex to Codebreakers: Sparring, adrenaline, battles of wit, flexing powerful gear, thinking too much about what an absolute potential killing machine the other is, watching one another be in The Zone during a fight

Phil has more physical strength than skill with weapons and Etoiles has more skill with weapons than physical strength. Ok now imagine that while they're in a 2v# fight

I would not put it past Etoiles to pull a Missa and say smth wildly out of pocket and suggestive so fast in French that Phil doesn't catch it.