#bane and dash where have you been

[grackles-hoard]

OMG THE BABYGIRLS ARE BACK GUYS!!!

I MISSED DRAWING BANE AND DASH SO MCUH ASGDFRG

[strangerstilinski]

𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It's like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

You huff, “Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you guys 're hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and his chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I'm not sure any of us were that invested hearing you drone on about the ‘big tip’ some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve. C'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugs, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet, alright? It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just because you're a jackass, that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you. The rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background, the rest mist of your rage yet again blinding you to anything that isn't Steve fucking Harrington. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“So what, if I don't care that some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “Sue me. If that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, except I'm able to do so without acting like such a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? He'd been the highlight of your god-awful day. The rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. Subsequently, you'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks that squelched wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit for the whole mess, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd proceeded to burn yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had little choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what?” You grumble in defeat, “Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your half-finished beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of your own emotional state.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, as if he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are scattered protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

You're not sure why, but Steve's voice makes you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around to face him. He calls out to you again as he finally catches up with you. He all but throws himself into your path and at the risk of running straight into him, your steps finally come to a stop.

“C'mon, honey. Wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that's begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back. You nearly lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. Warmth seeps into your palms from beneath the thin cotton of Steve's tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from back inside the house. Your eyes are level with Steve's chin, your wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You're still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly — unexpectedly earnest.

It's only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face, smelling of the gum he's always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he's leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can't think, and you're not entirely sure you're even breathing, but Steve's lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You're gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve' arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes warmly against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when you separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you're gasping almost comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve's quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the nape of your neck.

“You kissed me.”

The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — Casual and tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he's kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve's breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D'you want me to stop?”

“No, no, I- Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The streetlight light at the end of his driveway catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to get you to shut up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Yeah.. Yeah, Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it's ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It's like there are hearts in his eyes.

[shhh-secret-time]

hello ^^, i saw your secret soulmate au about craig, i don't have the words to explain how much i giggled, twirled my hair and everything XD! well, when you have the time, could you do a craig x clyde x reader smut? of course, if you feel comfortable with it! reader can be female or gn. it's practically normal smut but just craig fucking the reader from behind and clyde from the front, so that's it! tysm for reading, i love your writing too! <33 -✨️ Anon (I'm still new to tumblr so i might get confused on some things sometimes!)

Completely understandable, I too am confused with how tumblr works and I've been on this godless site since fucking Dash Con. I'm glad you liked the way I wrote those dorks! And thank you for fueling my Clyde agenda!

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Sub/Dom dynamics, blow jobs, orgasm denial, threesome

Pairing: Clyde x Fem!Reader x Craig

The sweet air of the votives swirls around the empty church. Empty except for the dim orange and red light that illuminates the book in the man's hand.

A woman at his feet, clothed in fine silks. A mix of reds and whites that twine together. Beautiful patterns of stars flow across the dress.

She dips her head in prayer alongside the man. The father of the church glides his fingers across her cheek as her mouth closes. Reciting scriptures of one's devotion for an unseen God. Everything in that moment was peaceful.

The warmth in the Father's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, the greens darken with a desire that he knows better than to have. It's difficult to hide the growing ache in his pants. More so when the woman's lips curl into a mischief smile, the warm glow of the candles makes them shine with an otherworldly glow. She looks up at him and her eyes fall deep into those pools of lust. Her hands break apart from that folded prayer and onto his black dress pants. They card up further against his thighs where they settle and clutch the material.

"Father, bless me...", a whisper that makes the Father groan.

Temptation never looked so sweet. This woman made his chest pound. Unholy thoughts flood his mind and go straight to his-

You let out a loud groan. Your forehead drops and hits the table beside your keyboard. The forgotten mug with now cold tea rattles.

Writer’s block, the very bane of any author’s existence. It's been haunting you for weeks now, making it impossible to get anything done. You've been stuck on this part of your romance novel the entire time. A part you were so excited to get to!

The buildup was perfect! You had calculated, plotted, and carefully crafted a budding romance between a witch and a holy man. A forbidden romance that took place within the walls of the church, the furthest outside the walls it went were the gardens that surrounded the area. The two fell in love after he saved her from the townsfolk claiming sanctuary.

Inspiration struck you like lightning after you fell in love with your partners. After publishing a sci-fi series, that honestly changed the name of how science fiction would be written forever, you met two fans at a book signing event. You had made a surprise appearance at a local library in some little town called South Park. Coming from the big city yourself, it was a huge surprise that anyone in the little town would actually be a fan of yours.

Apparently, you had quite a few. A man with bright red hair who had a black-haired man following alongside him. Both gushed about how the story inspired some kind of board game they played with their friends. A sweet blond woman who had the cutest southern accent you've ever heard. She gave you a piece of fan mail that had the most adorable sticker on it. Another black-haired man who dressed as Spock for some reason. He went on for a solid thirty minutes about a fanfic he wrote regarding the main character of your book and Star Trek's very own Captain Kirk.

Finally came the oddest duo you had ever met. The two were like day and night, a cat and a dog, fire and ice; the whole nine yards. A bright smile with baby brown eyes on one, and an ice-cold deadpan look with amber eyes to match on the other. At first you thought the brown-haired one was your fan and the man with the blue hat was just along for the ride.

"Haha! No way! I'm not into that..." He paused as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't, "...kinda stuff."

"That kind of stuff?" You repeat back at him, raising a brow.

"He means reading. He doesn't know how." The other spoke putting a hand on top of his head. With a little push he forced the brown-haired man's head down.

You giggled at that. The protests coming from the poor man was comical. You almost felt sorry for him, watching him struggle to move the taller man's hand off.

"Then I take it I'm signing this book out to you?" With a click of your pen, you look up at him.

The NASA jacket on the bright blue sleeves of his jacket should have given it away honestly. There's was a small tinge of a blush on his tan cheeks, almost hidden under the skin tone but you were able to make it out under the light. He looked away for a moment before nodding at you.

"Yeah."

"Name?"

"His name is Craig! He's a huge fan of yours by the way! So, if you could write something sweet for him that'd be awesome!" His friend chirped at you as he broke free from Craig's grip.

Craig's face twisted, those piercing eyes of his narrowed down. Before he could reach and grab him, the brown-haired man slid behind your chair. Putting his hand on your chair, he bent down to your level and tapped the blank white page.

"As you can see my big guy has a baaaaaad case of resting bitch face."

"Clyde..." the warning that slipped out of Craig's mouth made a shiver roll down your spine. It was even directed at you, and you felt threatened.

"So, you gotta imagine my surprise when he came home smiling! I was shocked! He didn't even smile when we started going out!" Clyde ignored him, an attest to his bravery. Or foolishness. Either way he continued, leaning down next to your ear. "Your book made him so happy, so it makes me happy. Think you could do that for me? Because he'll never ask you to do it for him."

You look up at him for a while, not even bothered that he had gotten closer to your face as he spoke. The browns in his eyes flickered with mischief but there were layers of love behind them. Chocolate that seemed to melt into tiny hearts when he spoke about Craig. It was honestly sweet, even if he was trying to tease his partner.

"How can I say no to that? I'd love to." You smiled at him and began writing on the empty page.

Yeah, who would have thought that fate would tie you to those two like that. Falling in love with Craig and Clyde was nothing like what they wrote in books or movies. It was a tornado of events that landed you in the eye of it all.

Despite their polar opposite personalities and looks, the two worked off each other well. Then when you got thrown in the middle, you filled in a little spot they desperately needed.

Clyde was social enough for the three of you. He was the one who reminded you and Craig that you needed to get out of the house. When you lock yourself away in your office, he would drag you out with a fun date idea. Movie nights, football games, arcade dates, and his favorite late-night walks. Doing the same to Craig who always seemed buried in work.

Craig gave off such scary dog privilege that you and Clyde never felt threatened. You could take those late-night walks with Clyde because you knew nothing would touch you with Craig following close behind.

That was nice sure, but under that scary looking shell was a soft teddy bear of a man. While he wasn't vocal with affection like Clyde, he was observant. Craig remembered everything, everything about you and Clyde's interests. If he saw something you mentioned in passing it was yours. Clyde needed new shoelaces because the ones on his favorite pair of red shoes were tearing? There was a new pack waiting for him on the table. You complained about the shift key on your keyboard sticking too much? An adorable keyboard that looked like a typewriter was found on your desk the next morning.

Then there was you. You have no idea how these two survived this long without you. Truth be told they don't either. Craig and Clyde couldn't cook to save their lives. Their diet consisted of diner food and Chinese takeout. While their house was clean enough, laundry was never put away or folded. Clyde was horrible at putting his dirty laundry in the bin and Craig was too tired most nights to even make it to bed. The final straw was when you took a shower, and their only soap was 3 in 1.

Absolutely not.

So, when you moved in things changed. When Craig was at work, you would take Clyde grocery shopping. Slowly you started him on simple dishes, working with him until he was comfortable in the kitchen. What was surprising was that he took to it quickly. He was a natural and before you knew it, he was cooking things you had never heard of. He had gone as far as looking up Peruvian dishes, practicing with spices and techniques that had your mouth watering. When you asked how he learned to do all of this, he gave you the biggest grin and told you it was YouTube.

When Craig came home that night to Chupe de Camarones it was the closest to crying you've ever seen from him.

Clyde really stepped up after that, feeling a sense of pride in taking care of you two. Seeing as you worked just as hard as Craig did. Clyde proclaimed something about being more than happy to be a malewife.

In return Craig started taking better care of himself, actually starting to care about his health. He stopped staying up so late and made use of the giant bed. Clean sheets and blankets that felt good on his skin. Even better that you and Clyde would be in it waiting for him. Clyde long passed out on your chest, a bit of drool sliding down the side of his face and onto your shirt. Not that you seemed to care as you just continued to read next to the little bedside lamp. Only pausing when you felt Craig's presence in the doorway.

Craig's smiles were rare, little treats from the universe to you. Ones like these where he smiles with love in his eyes. Where he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers, crawling into bed next to you. Arms wrapping around Clyde and with a hand settling on your hips. A silent squeeze lets you know it's time to put the book down and join him.

How can you say no to a smile like that?

Of course, not every day was perfect. Your relationship took time to hash out. It was different being with two individuals at the same time, but you made it work. The three of you were committed to one another.

Now if only you could commit to this fucking scene.

Your head’s little meet and greet with the table must have been louder than you thought because whatever Clyde was yelling about in the living room stopped. It was one of the rare weekends where Craig was home and off work. Choosing to spend it watching some show with Clyde, listening to the man ramble on about something.

So wrapped up in your thoughts, you let out a scream when you finally lift your head and Clyde is right there beside you. His body bent over just like the day you met him. With his hand on the back of your chair and his face next to yours. Except instead of using, you as a shield from Craig, he's reading your computer screen.

While he doesn't understand what it takes to be an author, he sees the effect it has on you. Days like this where you take on the posture of a shrimp, forgetting to come out to eat.

His lips start pursed, but as he continues to scan over the screen they break out into a smirk. He covers his mouth in a fake surprise, a gasp with widened eyes.

"Babe! This is...scandalous! Spicy, naughty even! What are you doing writing something like this?" His dramatic act continues, forming some feign surprise.

"What are you doing using words with more than one syllable?" You shoot back with a little smirk.

It takes everything in your power not to laugh at the actual pout on his face. Try as you might, the giggles escape your lips, and it makes him smirk. He leans down and nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me babe! I'm getting smarterer with you around!" You know he said that word wrong on purpose, just to get under your skin.

But he kisses you quiet before you can say anything. Holds your face in his hands so you can't pull away. You can taste the cherry chapstick on his lips, and the growing smile along with it.

"So, what's got you bashing your head into your desk baby? Craig and I heard a thump and got worried." He moves the kisses towards your forehead.

"Was it that loud?"

"Heard it over the tv." Craig's voice almost makes you leap out of your skin.

You bite your lip, looking down at the keyboard with a distant stare. The faded green and blue, spots where your fingers had smudged away the paint from typing so much.

"I'm just having trouble with this scene. I've been stuck on it for weeks now." You exhale softly.

Craig raises a brow and leans down on the other side of you. Both Clyde and Craig bent over to take a look at your screen. You're not sure why the fact both men reading your unfinished work makes you feel nervous, but it does. Or maybe it's the fact this is your first time writing a spicy scene like this.

"It's good. Never would have thought you'd go the Priest kink route." Craig says it so matter of fact, there's never hesitation in his voice. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him flustered, and even then, his tone is flat.

"I-I’m not into it! I just- you guys are only reading a snippet of my book! There's been a romance blossoming between the two the whole time!" You try to defend yourself, but it only makes Clyde's lips tug into a smirk.

The temptation to tease you was too great, it was being handed to him on a silver platter. Clyde leans up and walks next to Craig, leaning into his chest. The man wraps his arms around himself and lets out a dramatic sigh.

"A forbidden love! A tale as old as time! But what I wanna know babe-" Clyde stops and lets the tension build. It makes you glare at him as you turn in your office chair. "-is why the witch's descriptions are reaaaally close to mine."

"That's a woman Clyde! She's got short brown hair because it was cut off when she was running from the townsfolk! Brown eyes are common and beautiful! There's not enough representation for them!"

"Aaaaaand her dimples?" He points to his, the little spots in his cheeks that sink in when he smiles. "Plus, my eyes are totally beautiful."

"It's not you!"

"Oh, and the Father isn't Craig. Tan skin, black hair? You gave the Father green eyes but other than that, it fits Craig to a T." Craig actually nods along with what Clyde is saying. He's got his eyes closed as if this is some kind of philosophical debate.

"Are you serious right now Clyde?! This is why you two aren't allowed in my study!" Your face was burning now, hot and flushed from his teasing.

"What did I do?" Craig breaks the little fight with a simple question.

"Nodding your head along! You know what he's doing and you're encouraging it!"

"So, you took inspiration from your partners in your romance story. It's cute." He responds with a shrug. He looks down at Clyde who's still smugly leaning against his chest.

Your mouth falls open, you go to respond but nothing makes its way out. Your brows furrow. Arms crossed under your chest in a pout.

Had you unintentionally based your characters off your partners? Is that why the romance novel was easy to write up until this point?

Whatever the case may be here, you didn't like being called out. So, you do what you always do when they get like this, you turn in your chair and ignore them.

Usually this works, let's them know that you're not in the mood for their games. That you'd rather be left alone than entertain another minute of their shenanigans. But this time Clyde wasn't going to let you go. He grabs the back of your seat and wheels you back towards him and Craig.

"Baaaaabe don't pout. Look I'm sorry~." No, he's not. "But hey I've got an idea."

You let out a little huff, enough to where he knows you're not actually mad at him. If you were you would have picked your chair up and walked it back to your desk. Instead, you sit there and wait for him to continue.

"You're stuck on that scene, but I think you need a break. Sitting here and bashing your head against the table isn't going to fix that. Soooo..." He trails off, moving to stand in front of you.

His fingers glide across the side of your face, cupping your cheek so gently. Clyde guides your face up to look at him, behind that cocky smile of his he's got such love for you in his eyes. The way his thumb brushes across your cheek, making your heart flutter so slightly.

"What do you say Craig and I help you out a little babe?" Clyde guides your face up towards him. He presses his thumb against your lips just as his voice dips into that playful whisper.

You raise a brow at him in response. It's not until Craig puts his hand on your shoulders, that you piece together this wasn't just his idea. Thumbs pressed into your muscles working out the knots and tension. For such a hard worker, somehow Craig's hands always stay so soft. The worn-out oversized t-shirt you stole does little against his hands. The material is thin from how often it's been washed and worn.

His hands pull a soft moan from you, it feels too good to keep yourself silent. Clyde pushes his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, the digit presses down on your soft pink tongue. He all but purrs when watches you wrap your lips around it.

"See...let's work out some of that tension. We'll make you feel real good and give you a little inspiration." Clyde hums as he pulls his thumb out, smearing the saliva across your lips.

When he doesn't continue, you realize he's waiting for your confirmation. Waiting for you to agree to their little plan. But that doesn't stop Craig from bending down and placing a kiss on your cheek. He trails the kisses down to your jawline, using his nose to nudge your head to the side. Lulling your head to the side, you gave into the feeling. Craig's lips move to capture the exposed skin. You can feel just how eager he is from the way the kisses turn to nips then to full on bites. His teeth sinking into the soft parts of your flesh pulling another sharp gasp from you.

"Come on honey. Let us take care of you." After he's done leaving small love bites on your neck, Craig moves to your ear nipping the shell.

"Y-yeah that sounds...that sounds good." You move your hands up towards Craig, running your fingers through his hair. One of the rare moments he's not sporting his blue hat. "I could use a little break..."

"That's our girl." Clyde's praise goes straight to your core. He lifts you up from your office chair, hands cupping the back of your thighs for support. They give your thighs a little squeeze, digging his fingertips into your flesh.

Craig moves out of his way and goes to push your office chair back towards your desk. Clyde chuckles softly seeing the confused look on your face. Instead of protesting you wrap your arms around the brunette lazily throwing your arms around his neck.

"We're supposed to be relaxing, we're gonna get nice and comfy on the couch." He drops you down on the couch, making you bounce a bit. He laughs when you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You ass." Your grumbles fall on deaf ears. Clyde just runs his fingers through your hair and gives it a harsh tug. It makes you cry out, craning your neck up towards him.

"Sweetheart, that's not very nice. You're being a brat right now." He tuts, feigning disappointment.

"You dropped me on the-" You suck in another cry when he tugs your head to the side, that firm grip on your roots sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hm? You were saying something? I did what?"

Clyde's smug little smirk made your blood boil. But his fingers in your hair felt too good to protest further. Especially when he switched between tugging and massaging his fingertips into your scalp. You watched his eyes flicker from yours to behind you. Before you could turn around to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, Craig's hands slid down your back.

Gently, much more than Clyde, he pushes you down towards Clyde. His other hand comes down to grab your ankle, pulling your leg back towards him. Once your knee is tucked against the couch, he does the same to the other leg.

If your face wasn't burning up before it certainly is now. Just as you go to hold yourself up with your hands, Clyde removes his hand from your hair and takes you by the wrist. Guiding you up towards him, he places them on the hems of his sweatpants. The grey university sweatpants do little to hide his hardening cock, you watch it twitch against the fabric.

"This is about where you left off right? She was about to take the Father's cock out of his pants?" Clyde says watching as you slowly pull his sweatpants down. He lets out a low chuckle that turns into a moan when you slip your fingers around his cock. "That's it, now keep your eyes on me baby."

There's a moment of hesitation as you bring the tip closer to your mouth. The bright red tip glides across your plump lips begging for you to open. His hand returns to your hair, smoothing down your locks from his earlier manhandling.

The gentle touch makes you look up towards him, just like he requested. There really was something so intimate about those chocolate brown eyes of his. Past that smirk and layers of darkened lust, there was devotion. The feeling of your hands on him alone made him weak in the knees. You put that to the test, pressing just a little kiss on the tip. Dabbing your tongue against his leaking member. Just from that alone he's letting out the prettiest moans.

"Sh-shit, c’mon don't tease me." That cocky attitude of his melts. You almost laugh at how easy it is to break him down. He was puddy in your hands.

With a little hum you move your hand up and down his shaft, creating enough friction to make him buck his hips towards you. He nudges his cock further into your mouth, pushing past your lips. The underside of his cock glides down against your tongue, smearing the pre-cum along with it.

So caught up in your little game, you almost forgot about Craig behind you. Almost. It's hard to forget him when he's got his hands all over you. Large palms cupping any exposed skin. Craig takes his time exploring every curve he can get ahold of. His nose nuzzled into the back of your head. His breath tickling the shell of your ear. Just the sight of your mouth around Clyde's member alone is enough to make him growl.

Neither men are patient when it comes to you. Craig shoves whatever is left of your pajamas down and off you, he doesn't bother with your shirt as it'll pull you away from your lover. Instead, he decides it'll make the perfect handle. He bunches it up until it collects at the collar. His hands grip the shirt and tug it backwards, making your hips rock back into him.

Somewhere along the way he stripped away his pants. The barrier between the both of you was the thin material of your underwear and his dark blue boxers. While Craig wasn't as vocal as Clyde was, with his teasing and little whimpers, he could be just as unfair if not more.

Grinding against your cunt slowly, grabbing and groping at your ass the entire time. He digs his nails into your skin, leaving little crescent moons. Craig rewards good behavior not with sweet words, but by giving you what you so desperately want.

He waits until you've got all of Clyde's cock in your mouth before he finally shoves your underwear down. It makes it to your knees before he just decides to leave them there. Too many times he got impatient and just ripped them off, and too many times you scolded him for it.

The hand in your hair pulls you back from his cock. Clyde moves your head back just enough to where only the tip remains, then slowly he brings you back down. Pushing you all the way down his length until your nose hits his stomach. You watch as his muscles flex under his skin like he's trying to resist letting his head lull back. He needs so badly to keep his eyes on yours, loving the attention you're giving him.

"Your mouth feels so good." He whines when he reaches the back of your throat. You gag around him, and it pulls another whimper from him.

Your hand slides down his thighs, using it to hold you up. The other hand is still being held by Clyde's grip. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding it up near his shoulder. Craig waits until Clyde rocks you back again, using the momentum to slip inside your wet folds. A pleased hum rumbles from his chest. You can feel it from how he's pressing his entire body against yours.

Just as slowly as Clyde moves your head, Craig pushes further into your cunt. The two find a slow and steady rhythm with one another. When Craig snaps his hips against you, it pushes Clyde's cock further down your throat. Your moans vibrating around him causing him to moan loudly in return. Clyde's whimpers and whines get louder when you dig your nails into his thighs. In return the grip on your hair is tightened. Creating this delicious cycle of pleasure.

"Baby, please. I wanna fuck your throat. You gonna let me? I need it so bad, please." Clyde's begging spurs something in you. Gives you the feeling of control even if you’re physically stuck between the two. From the beads of sweat that trail down his body and the way his body is shaking, you know he's at his limit.

You're able to pull back just enough, his cock springs up with a little bounce. Craig slows down just enough to let you talk, but you can tell he's not happy about it. The way his grip on your shirt tightens, you're sure he'll rip it soon.

"If I snap my fingers, you stop, okay?" You say giving him the okay. He caresses your face and presses a kiss onto your face, letting you know he understands the boundaries you've set.

At first, he's careful when he pushes his cock back into your mouth. You reward him with a swirl of your tongue, rubbing against the veins that are popping out.

"He's so needy." Craig huffs as he leans back up. The assault on your neck stops, but he's left it covered in bright red and purple marks. No amount of makeup will cover up what he's done.

You don't need to see him to know that he's smirking at it. Taking pride in the fact that he's marked you up. Or the pride making Clyde blush from his comment.  Craig's hips snap back into you, the force much sharper than his previous lazy thrusts. They're calculated, each time he pushes deep inside you he hits that spot that has you seeing stars. Clyde's hips take up the same pace, shoving his cock into the back of your throat.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. Moans turn to muffled cries, yet everything feels too good to stop. They're rough paced fucking brings your mind to a haze. All you can focus on is feeling good and making them feel good.

Craig's close, you can tell from the way he starts to lose rhythm. He's having a harder time controlling those grunts and growls. A hard time not leaving bruises on your skin from how rough he's holding onto you. He's long since let your shirt go, instead grabbing onto the back of the couch. But he waits until he feels that familiar clench around his cock. The way your walls clamp down around him as you cum. The only warning being the high-pitched muffled moan that gets swallowed by Clyde.

His hips slam into you one more time before he pulls out. Grabbing the base of his cock, he shoots that hot thick load onto your back. Heavy amounts of cum drip down your spine making you whine and shiver. Clyde can't take his eyes off the way his partner paints your backside. It makes a trail of drool slip down his chin.

The poor man can't do it anymore, he can't stop his eyes from rolling up to the back of his head. Not when your moans vibrate up him and your throat tightens from choking on him. He needs this release.

"I'm gonna cum baby. Please, let me cum. Let me cum in your mouth." Clyde all but cries in between panting. His begging dissolves into your name and the word please over and over again.

His flickering eyes catch yours again. It's when you give him a little wink and a hum, his cock violently twitches and cum spills from his tip. His cum is sweeter than normal, it makes it easier to swallow.

Slowly he pulls out of your mouth with one final whimper. It isn't until Craig swipes his thumb over his cheek that you realize he had tears streaming down them. Clyde presses his cheek into Craig's hand and lets out a pleased sigh. Once he knows Clyde is okay, Craig stands up and goes to get a towel to help clean your back. He does the same to your face, swiping away the left-over tears.

"Feeling better?" Clyde asks as he helps pull your underwear up. "Nice and relaxed?"

You nod and rest your head against his chest. "You've got good ideas sometimes."

"I've got wrinkles on my brain." He smirks to himself, taking your little praise miles.

Craig comes back after tossing the towel in the dirty laundry with a large blanket. He throws it over both of you before climbing in next to you. He lays his head down on Clyde's and grabs the tv remote.

"Kitchen Nightmare or Hell’s Kitchen?"

"Kitchen Nightmares! I need some petty British accents after my orgasm denial!"

You scrunch up your nose at Clyde’s comment. Almost wanting to pull back. "Smooth brain behavior."

"Smooth brain behavior." Craig chimes in.

The three of you relax into the couch, almost ready for the group nap that comes with the afterglow of love making. That is until inspiration strikes you again. Your eyes light up and you go to wiggle out of their hold. But Craig's arms are faster, they keep you firm against his chest. Clyde's hands come down a moment later, cupping your hips.

"Nope. You're staying right here."

"Guys! No! I just figured out how I'm gonna get that chapter finished! You gotta let me go! I gotta do it!" Your pleads are wasted, like they're not even heard.

"No. You're warm and I'm tired."

"That's not my fault or my problem."

"I'm making it your problem. Sit still."

"You know Tucker bear isn't going to let go. You're fighting a losing battle babe." Craig at least has the decency to let Clyde finish before pinching him. You know Clyde's nickname for him makes him grumpy. His little yelp makes you giggle.

"Fine....at least until you fall asleep."

"Look if you think you can get out of his hold, then be my guest. You earned it at that point." Clyde's smirk returns. He throws his leg over yours and tucks it in between Craig's knees.

"Fuck you." Your eyes narrow up at him. He's not as slick as he thinks he is, trying to cage you in with a sleepy Craig.

"Again? So soon. You're insatiable babe. Let us recover first." Clyde presses a kiss into the top of your head, pulling back before you can headbutt him.

His hand guides your head back down onto his chest and he just chuckles. It doesn't take long before Craig is passed out with his head nuzzled into the curve of your waist. Holding you like a teddy bear against his chest. Clyde's smile grows when he sees you trying to fight off sleep. But it eventually takes you and you lose the battle. He turns the tv down just a bit, deciding to join the both of you.

That chapter can wait another day.

[buckybabieboy]

You’re five are so good!! EXACTLY what I’ve been looking for!!! I just read your list of headcanons and I would LOVE a full length fic about what happened the first time he got overstimulated and used his safe word (and all of that lovely aftercare that followed). If you have time of course, no pressure!

I'M BACK!!!!! and you are so sweet babie, made me smile🥹. thx for your request and I hope you like ur fic <3

Plum. (Pt. 1)

⚠️TW: (please read!): SO MUCH NSFW!!! LIKE 2 AND 1/2 ROUNDS LMAO, sub!inexperienced!bucky, dom!fem!reader, a little bit of a mean!reader, thigh riding!!, overstimulation(m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, mentions of subspace, mommy/mama kink, use of “y/n”, bucky calls you "babe" once or twice, use of safeword, TONS of aftercare <3

☁️Summary: After a bad day outside and an incident with Bucky, you catch an inexperienced!bucky pathetically humping your pillow. Your sadistic thoughts cause you to get carried away. Bucky's up to it at first, just wanting you to make him feel good. But as the night goes on he begins to realize he was in over his head. (Bucky’s first time being overstimulated and uses safeword!!)

📝 Important A/N!!: I exceeded my character limit (lol). I had to divide this whole fic into two parts, so pls stay tuned for part 2 (dropping soon)! Part 2 will be where the actual overstimulation takes place. Also I added thigh riding because it just made the whole plot imo😩. THERE IS SO MUCH FUCKING DETAIL IN HERE I LOWKEY OVERDID IT LMAOOOO

Traffic is the bane of your existence. You’re usually a very patient person, but when you’re stuck behind ten cars and a red light that just won’t seem to turn green, your patience suddenly becomes none.

There were a million things you wanted to accomplish before the day was finished. Your laundry and Bucky's still needed to be washed, and no matter how many times you reminded Bucky how the washing machine worked, he would continue to give you that bewildered and helpless face, leaving you to do it by yourself. On top of that, you left the apartment a mess. You secretly hope Bucky cleaned around the house while you were gone, though you weren’t counting on it.

Horns blow from different cars amongst the street, as if that would speed the agonizing waiting process up. You let out a huge sigh of relief when the light turns green, finally making your turn to your apartment complex. Once you’ve parked the car, you trudge your way to the apartment. Before unlocking the door, you make an effort to collect yourself so you don’t take you anger out on Bucky.

You can’t stop yourself from letting out another sigh in relief; you were finally home from your long and rough day outside. And to your surprise, the apartment is now squeaky clean. The floor had been swept and vacuumed, and was shined from being mopped. Dropping your purse on the kitchen counter, you kick of your shoes and let your hair down from the tight ponytail it’s been in all day.

“Bucky, I’m home!” You call out as you scavenge the pantry for a snack. Not even a second later, footsteps were coming towards you, and before you can even open your bag of chips, Bucky has dashed to your side and was holding you tight in his arms.

“y/n, your back!”

“hey, Jamie!” You plaster on a smile, trying to reciprocate his energy. His face is still buried in your neck, his hands tangled in your hair.

“missed you.” Bucky whines as he inhales the scent of your perfume. “why’d you have to leave me every day?”

Bucky was clinging to you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. His clinginess was undoubtedly caused because of Steve. He hadn’t been the same since he left, and you understood this better than anyone. You try to relax in his embrace, and allow him to hold you for as long as he needed.

“I'm not even gone for that long, Bucky.” You giggle as you try to enjoy the one good part of your day. “c’mon, let me get changed. I’m tired and had a really rough day.” You whisper to him softly. He nods and begins to free you from his arms.

“ow!” You wail suddenly, scrunching your face in pain. Multiple strands of hair had gotten caught on Bucky’s vibranium arm.

“sorry! let me just-” Bucky tries to disconnect your hair from his fingers, but only makes the situation worse by tangling them deeper towards your scalp.

“Bucky, just stop it!”

You drop your unopened bag of chips on the counter before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bathroom mirror. You begin untangling his fingers from your hair slowly, letting out a wince every so often, but finally managing to free his metal fingers from your hair.

“Y/n, didn’t meant to-”

“s’fine. just gonna brush my hair now.” You exhale before grabbing the brush and detangling your hair. Although you’d never show it to your very oblivious Bucky, this was your last straw today. You slam the bathroom door in his face in a fit of anger. Ignoring how badly you immediately felt afterwards, you attempt to calm yourself down.

“It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault.” You tell yourself as you struggle to comb out the knots in your hair. After you finished with your hair and wash up, you quickly pass through the bedroom, catching a quick glance at Bucky before you pass. He’s sound asleep on the bed, sprawled out like a dog on your sheets. Clad in only briefs, his pale and plush thighs were exposed just for you to see.

Trying to stop your mind from wandering into other places, you decide to use this time for yourself to forget about the unfortunate day you’ve had. Without another thought, you throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave and turn on some Adult-Swim, doing your best to cloud your mind.

You must’ve been there for over an hour, because before you knew it, it was already 8:00 pm. A yawn escapes from your throat as you clean up and head to your bedroom.

You’re about to open the door when you hear what sounds like faint moans coming from the other side, along with rhythmic creaks from the bed.

As you lean your ear against the door and listen for Bucky's pitiful whimpers, filthy and nasty thoughts start to flood your mind. You open the door a crack, just enough to see Bucky frantically rutting his bare cock against your pillow, which cemented your suspicions. The sight was truly pathetic. His boxer briefs were slung around his ankles, and his brown hair clung to his sweaty forehead. He continues to fuck your pillow without noticing you, obviously too concentrated on trying to cum.

You enjoyed your Adult-Swim, but this, this was a show for you. A sight for your extremely sore eyes. You were honestly at a crossroads here, almost not wanting to intervene. Just let him fuck himself on the pillow you sleep on every night, even though he obviously didn’t know what he was doing. His movements were sloppy and lazy, indicating that he’d been at this for a while.

“dammit!” He whines as he falls lip onto your pillow, finally giving up. He continues to whine and whimper into it, still grinding ever so slightly onto the sheets. You watch him closely, noticing how desperate he looks, exhausted and frustrated because he just couldn’t seem to make himself cum.

“awh…poor baby.” You interrupt as you open the door and enter the room. Bucky immediately stops his movements and stares at you like a deer in headlights. “couldn’t do it by yourself?”

“tryin…” Bucky whines, head faced down at his painfully hard cock which was twitching against your pillow. “shit… just can’t do it like you can, babe..”

Bucky picks his subtle but noticeable thrust against your pillow again, looking at you with teary eyes. You slowly make your way to the bed and grab his face with both hands and kiss his plush lips. His big blue eyes look up at you as he gives you a meek smile.

You give him one more kiss. “I’ll bet I could do a better job than this pillow, don’t ya think?”

Bucky nods in agreement, immediately throwing the pillow to the side and kicking off his briefs as you settle yourself on the bed and against the headboard. Bucky stares at you with anticipation, waiting for you to tell him what to do next. With two flicks of your pointer and middle finger, he’s crawled to your side in an instant.

“on my lap, lovie.” Your sultry voice commands, and Bucky does exactly what you tell him. His plush thighs have settled against both sides of your left thigh, and he settles his bum on your lap.

You graze your fingers lightly up and down his red and stiff cock, causing a breathy whine escape his throat.

“m-mommy, please don’t tease me like that… been w-waiting f’you all day…” Bucky whimpers shakily, hips bucking up at your movements. “hah- n-need more!”

A smirk creeps it’s way onto your face. He was so fucking adorable when he’s begging you to make him feel good. So adorable that you couldn’t help but tease him a little before giving him what he wants.

“how bad, hm?” You tease, fingertips dragging down to his balls, giving them a tight and sudden squeeze. Bucky’s mouth falls agape, and his eyebrows furrow upwards as he yelps at the sudden sensation.

“s-so bad, f-fuck!” His voice only gets whinier after your taunting.

“hmm… I don’t think you want it bad enough, darlin.”

Bucky watches your face with watery eyes, noticing your sadistic smile never disappear.

“n-no! please babe, want it- need it so bad!” He bucks his hips towards you, desperately searching for any sort of friction. His cock pulses under your fingertips, which are still softly grazing it up and down. Your face remains cold and unamused, as if his tears weren’t enough to convince you.

Bucky shakily takes your fingers, rubbing them on the tip of his cock, gathering as much precum he can with your fingers.

“s-see? d'you see, mama? l-leakin' so much for you. jus' gimme somethin', anythin' please...”

You knew you were being cruel by making him wait this long, but he looked so pretty begging for you to make him cum. The fact that he only depended on you to make him orgasm made your pussy throb. And as he so pathetically told you before, he just couldn’t do it like you can. He definitely didn’t have half the sexual experience you did, and still couldn’t even jerk himself off enough to get himself to cum.

“and what if it’s too much f’you? don't want you to get overwhelmed.” You question, placing your hands on both of hips, receiving a pleading look from Bucky.

“I asked you a question, Jamie.” You shoot him an alluring and voluptuous look with wide eyes, but Bucky just couldn’t meet your gaze. His eyes were shut closed, his face contorted in desperation.

“hah- d-don’t care… just do somethin’- nngh!”

Bucky starts, but interrupts himself with a pathetic whimper when he feels you grip harder onto his hips, slightly nudging them back and forth. His cock twitches as all of his pre-cum leaks onto your bare thigh, creating a slick and pleasurable mess for him to fuck himself on.

“a-ah, f-fuuckk…” a long whine makes its way from Bucky’s throat, his eyes rolled back. “please, mommy… can’t keep doin' this to me…”

“you wanna cum?”

He immediately nods his head up and down.

“go ahead then, pretty boy. fuck yourself against mommy's thigh.”

“wha..? n-no I-I can’t-”

“It’s my thigh or nothin’ Jamie.”

Bucky remains quiet for a little while but softly nods his head in agreeance.

You release your hold on his hips, curious to see how he will do on his own. Bucky starts to frantically rutt up against your thigh. His lack of rhythm causes you to think back to how you found him earlier. Your helpless little baby was in too much of a hurry to cum to get himself there.

“goddamit, I-” Bucky whimpers as his movements come to a stop and he punches the bed in defeat. “I don’t know how… please show me…”

Tears are streaming down his cheeks as he does his absolute best not to make eye contact with you. It was humiliating enough to have to ask you to make him cum.

Finally deciding to have some mercy, you begin to rock his hips back and forth, slow and steady against your thigh.

“ha-d-don’t stop, please…” His eyes are rolled back, little grunts escaping from his pink, parted lips. His metal hand holds onto your shoulder while the flesh one grips harshly onto the white bed sheets.

“you look so pretty fucking yourself on my thigh, baby. that’s it…keep goin’, don’t stop…"You coo at Bucky, who continues to desperately go at it on your thigh. Once he’s found rhythm, you let go of his hips and watch him.

Your praises must have motivated him some more, because his thrusts increased in speed, causing the whole bed to rock in unison to his frantic movements. His dog tags do the same, clashing into each other and swaying in tune with him.

The way Bucky's cock twitches and pulses against you is almost as if it is pleading for release. Even though it feels incredible, being inside of yourself will always be superior. The comforting, smooth feeling of your walls is unrivaled by anything. However, he keeps rutting against you in an attempt to get the relief he has been chasing all day.

Bucky’s grunts and pants above you. The sounds coming from him become more high-pitched with each jerk of his hips. The feeling of his warm pre-cum against the smooth skin of your thigh was driving his aching cock insane. He was so desperate for release—and he was almost there. Almost about to cum all over you. But his thighs were burning in pain.

“oh, fuck! I can’t, p-please, mama! please help me, I’m almost there!” Bucky cries, tears streaming down his extremely flushed cheeks.

His thighs tremble and spasm, his movements slowing down. He couldn’t do it anymore. Your baby had been at this for hours before you found him; it was only a matter of time before he would become completely exhausted. Your supersoldier definitely had super strength, but there were certain things he just couldn’t do by himself.

Such a poor little baby.

You latch your hands onto his hips again, more than willing to help your baby boy. With a slight nudge backwards and forwards, Bucky becomes a whining mess, his hips stuttering under your hands as you guide him closer to his orgasm. He thrusts frantically against your thigh, but this time in a perfect rhythm of back and forth movements (he has you to thank for that).

“good boy, Jamie. almost there, you can do it, baby.” Your words come out soft and smooth, coaxing him even further. He pants and whimpers through gritted teeth, muttering an almost incoherent string of curses.

“a-ah, shit-please… lemme cum, please lemme cum! m’ so close, so fucking close!”

You hum in response.

"go ahead, baby, you've been such a good boy for me."

A fraction of a second later, Bucky throws his head back, violently spasming on your lap. Loads of his white cum spurt out all over your leg as he cries out pathetically for you. His large, veiny hands desperately grab at the sheets, as his eyes roll back in pleasure. The veins in his cock are more than prominently bulging as it twitches and pulsates up and down against your now cum-coated thigh.

You watch him intently. His eyes have closed shut, and his heavy panting causes his loose brown hair to blow up with each breath. A few moments later, he falls limp against your chest.

"you okay, Buck?"

Bucky swallows for a moment, then contiunes to pant heavily. You fawn over his cuteness.

"answer me, baby boy. mommy asked you a question."

He softly nods his head against your chest.

"good," you reply with a whisper. "'cause I know you can give me another one."

STAY TUNED FOR PT. 2!!!

[sirenlulls]

sweet → r. keating (b. skeetz)

pairing —robert keating x fem!reader social media au

summary —where your boyfriend loves annoying you online and people lose their minds

it's so sweet, knowing that you love me. though, we don't need to say it to each other

liked by evehewson, ryanmcmahon_15, and 20,917 others

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bobbyskeetz oh don't worry about it lad i'm gonna take one for the team. saving the general population and all that

ryanmcmahon_15 you're a very beautiful lad yourself

evehewson a very pretty homeless woman*

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liked by gracieabrams, lilamoss, and 1,106,723 others

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sirenlulls mother and father fr

whoetoshaw will never forget seeing them out of the gig last year

sirenlulls OMG WITH HER GIVING HIM THE FLOWERS I NEARLY FORGOT THAT WAS SO CUTE

whoetoshaw literally made me believe in love.

username she's a 10 but she calls you a bassist twat

bobbyskeetz still a 10 tbh

liked by graciebrns, shayrudolph, and 20,981 others

bobbyskeetz can't believe it's been 7 years and you're still too cool for me. 💔 happy anniversary to the most beautiful person i know. you're my favourite person to play bird bingo with, my forever hiking partner (no matter how much you might complain), the only person i ever want to boot off the bed in my sleep, my homeless woman. please never realise you could probably bag a model and just stick with your bassist twat instead ❤️

yourusername WHAT TJE FUCK

yourusername my post just seems like shit now

yourusername i actually hate you wtf

yourusername no i don't

yourusername you might be a bassist twat but trust you'll always be my favourite

bobbyskeetz nicest thing you've ever said to me

sirenlulls @whoetoshaw THE CAPTION?? GIRL THIS IS SOME FANFIC SHIT WTF

whoetoshaw babes im crying and it's not even for me what is going on 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username "MY homeless woman" "YOUR bassist twat" im actually going to jump in front of a train

username shutting up the bitches who says they're together for coult real fast

username no you don't understand you guys are so special to me

username they're my babies (they're 23 and im 16)

[shivering-isles-cryptid]

Durgetash AU Oneshot

I need you all to know that this is a very short, very rough, outline of an AU backstory where Durge survives the attack by Orin

Gortash entered his office, a deep scowl on his face. He ripped his coat off, throwing it onto his desk before bringing a hand to his hair. “Hello, my Beloathed.” Gortash’s head snapped to the window, now open and with a Drow staring at him with a wide smile, twirling a dagger in his hands. “Belil, how may I help you?” Gortash asked, dropping his hand. The Bhaalspawns smile instantly dropped and he jumped off the window, approaching Gortash. “What’s wrong? Who do you need me to kill? I’m your blade, all you need to do is point.” Belil said, grabbing Gortash’s hand, his other resting on the Lord’s face. “That damned Faceless wench came to me today.” Gortash said, Belil retracting his hands. “She wore your face, told me you hated me, used me for amusement. Said it would be doing you a favor by killing me.” Gortash growled the words, sighing as Belil’s hand rested on his face again. “I’ll speak with her.” He said, Gortash’s eyes opening. “‘Speak’ with her? Belil, Dearest, Orin is unstable. Even for a Bhaalist. And she’s getting worse! She threatened me directly while wearing your face.” Gortash said, Belil stepping away from the man. “Belil, I know she is your sister, I know that you care for her. But she can not be allowed to get away with this!” Gortash followed Belil to the other side of the room. “Gortash, I know that Orin is… Orin, but she’s still my bloodkin. I get that you don’t see family the way I do, but I won’t kill her.” Belil said, standing in front of Gortash’s dresser. “For Bane’s sake, Belil! She doesn’t love you! She does not see you as her brother, she sees you as an obstacle.” Gortash said, Belil shook his head, stabbing a dagger into the dresser. “I don’t care! Gortash, you know my past. I’ve never been without family. I’m not throwing away the only one I have left!” Belil turned around, his red eyes burning brightly. “Dearest… I understand, but…” Gortash reached out to Belil, who pulled away, scowling at the man. “No, you don’t! You have no idea what it feels like!” He shouted, Gortash, pulling away and frowning at him. “Don't understand what? Having a family?” Gortash asked and Belil’s eyes widened. “Wait, no, Gortash… I didn’t…” Gortash scowled at the Drow. “No, you’re correct, Belil. I don’t know anything about families. But do you? You slaughtered your last family, why is this one so different?” Belil stepped back as if he were struck before growling and dashing forward. Gortash stumbled back as Belil grabbed his shirt. “Tough talk for a devil's pet.” He spat, His red eyes burning with an anger that Gortash has never seen aimed at him. “I won’t take criticism from a bloodthirsty beast.” Gortash spat back, Belil snarling again before throwing him at the wall and walking towards the window. “If I ever see you again before the next meeting, Bane will have to find a new Tyrant.” He said, before launching out of the window and disappearing into the night.

Belil stabbed into the flesh like wall of the Mind Flayer colony, slashing and carving the organic material, smirking as he heard the uncomfortable sounds of the Elder Brain. His head tilted to the side when he heard squishing sounds as someone approached him. Taking a deep breath, Belil tried to ignore the pit forming in his stomach as he turned to Gortash. “Hello, Enver.” He said, nervously pressing the tip of his dagger into his hand. “Belil, you asked to meet me?” Gortash said, stopping a few feet away. “I… I want to apologize. I said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. There is no excuse. And… you were right about Orin, I wanted you to be wrong, by Bhaal I did, but you were right. I should’ve killed her the day she entered the temple.” Belil scowled, looking down at the ground, before his expression softened and he looked back up. Gortash stared at him with a blank expression before smirking, which then grew into a large grin that wasn’t his own. “Oh, Bloodkin, such sweet words for the Tyrants ears! Did you practice your speech? Reciting words as you carve out tongues?” Gortash asked, his head tilting to the side before his bones started to bend and break in every direction, before, finally, he snapped his own neck and revealed Orin the Red. “Orin? Where’s Gortash? What have you done?” Belil immediately took an offensive position, daggers at the ready as he glared at his sister. “Oh, nothing! The little Lordling remains untouched and unharmed in Baldur’s Gate, utterly unaware of your blashphemous meeting.” Orin giggled, stepping closer to Belil, who snarled at her. “Your little letter never reached the Tyrant's eyes. My Doppelgangers intercepted it before it even left the sewers.” Orin giggled again, before dashing forward, slashing at his throat. Belil moved to the side, the blade connecting with his arm instead. He made his own attack, but Orin was quick, quicker than him. It seems he barely blinked and he was on the ground, multiple wounds covering his arms and chest, Orins dagger held over his skull. “Gortash… was right… I should have killed you… years ago.” He spat out, Orins grin growing wider as she raised the dagger over her head. “Lord Bhaal, accept this offering and name me your Chos…” And then, his vision went dark.

Belil’s eyes snapped open, sitting up from where he was laying before wincing and falling back down. “Belil? Belil, you’re awake! Imp! He’s awake!” Belil blinked his eyes, looking over to see Gortash rushing to his side, grabbing his hand. “Gortash? What’s going on?” Belil tried to sit up again, but Gortash pushed him back down. “That bitch attacked you. She cornered you in the colony and tried to lobotomize you. What were you even doing down there, Dearest?” Gortash brushed hair off of Belil’s face, frowning down at him. “I… was waiting for you. I wanted to… apologize. I had… an entire speech planned too.” Belil laughed before wincing slightly. “Of course you did.” Gortash sighed, kissing Belil's fingers. “Oh, Milord! Happy day, happy day!” Belil looked over at Sceleritas Fel, smiling softly before laying back down on the bed. ‘Fel, where’s Orin?” He asked, closing his eyes and feeling as Gortash’s hand tensed. “That pretender is being kept in a cage where she belongs. Waiting for your preferred punishment.” Fel said, Belil humming. “Cut out her tongue while we wait for me to recover.” He said, Fel cheering before going silent, Belil assuming that he had teleported away. “What will you do?” Gortash asked, Belil sighing dreamily. “She wore your skin, so I’ll flay her own.” He said, peeking one eye open to see Gortash grinning down at him. “Good. I assume there is more, but we can go over the bloody details later.” Gortash said, going to stand, but Belil refused to let go of him and instead dragged him down to the bed. “No, you’re not leaving.” He said, pulling Gortash against his chest. “So demanding.” Gortash said, but his face and tone gave away his true feelings. Belil buried his face into Gortash’s chest, sighing heavily and holding him tighter while Gortash ran his fingers through his hair.

[mommy-thot-speaketh]

Headcannon #1 (Trobed shippers and non shippers alike this is up to you how you wanna interpret this)

Troy returns, experienced but not particularly more wise. He apparently has not travelled the world like Pierce wanted him to, realising halfway that perhaps it's no use running around giggling without someone to giggle with, no use searching for his place in the world if it means sacrificing his comfort and tearing away from where he had sunk roots in. In a way, Pierce's boon felt like a bane, and so he made his way back to home, to Greendale, to Abed. His return was an emotional one to most. Annie cried and embraced him, her sobs genuine this time, her clear voice wavering uncharacteristically. Shirley had just flown down to see everyone again, and Troy's appearance was a surprise that delighted her endlessly; the mother hen pecked at him with happy tears welling in her eyes as she enquired about his wellbeing. Britta was gleeful, but her enthusiastic greeting was quelled by a "Shut up Britta!" To be fair, she did just say some absurd things about Troy finally being there to help relieve the burden of being the funny one in the group. Jeff had dashed over once he had heard, but will not affirm it, choosing to step into the group study room with a smirk as he spouted off some cool tagline. Troy fistbumped him, telling him how cool that was, as the nostalgia began to flood his system. However, just one person was missing. Troy looked around, hiding his disappointment as he looked around the blue walls of the study room. Everything was as it was, just slightly different. The table had more scratches, the chairs were slightly different, the Dean was chuckling off to one side, a hand on Jeff's arm that Jeff has not swatted away yet. As he looks to Annie for more details, Annie winks at him and mouths "they're not together that way, but Jeff is.. bi." Troy's eyes widen as his jaw slacks. All that does not change the fact that Troy still was missing someone. Someone he had formed an inseperable bond with, who had yet been torn from him by everyone, from the Air-Con guys to Pierce. He gave up. After all, if Abed wasn't still here after Britta's obnoxious Twitter post, perhaps he did not know, or perhaps he did not care anymore. He decided to say his thank yous to his friends and embark on a journey to see just how much Greendale has been saved from ruin when- "TROY!" "ABED-" A thin frame stood in front of him, dressed in a comfortable long sleeved shirt and a sweater vest, his shoes seemingly new. Brown eyes met black, and an unspoken pattern arose. Four hands rose up in the air, and one of each thudded against each chest, whilst the other connected in the middle twice, a resounding echo each time the two met. The rest could only stare in unbridled wonder as the two continued to stare into each others eyes, appraising the other for any signs of distance. With none, arms wrapped around each other, Abed stood in silence as Troy's eyes finally gave way to the emotions that had been threatening to flood out of him. "I thought you'd have forgotten me." "Never. Not when the Dreamscape is there to remind me of what I had lost every single day." Together, their voice echoed as they sung. "Troy and Abed Back Together~"

[gamecoob]

I’m as vulnerable to shipping brainrot as much as the next guy and absolutely no hate, but you really have to wilfully misread the “Prayer for Forgiveness” note to think Durge has to beg their father’s forgiveness because they admire Gortash.

It’s because they admire Gortash who is the Chosen of Bane - not because they admire him full stop...

[Spoilers for The Dark Urge/Act 2 incoming]

The thing is, Durge isn't afraid of Bhaal in that prayer... They're positively reverent. They're acknowledging Gortash is impressive despite being Bane’s Chosen, but assuring their father they will take the reins in the end and steer this master plan where Bhaal wills. If you're picking up any desperation in that prayer then it's very simply how desperate Durge is to please daddy-dearest, to live up to those insanely high expectations that have been put upon them since the day they were "born".

Hence Balthazar's wry note at the bottom: "Yep, there's the delusional daddy's boy Orin won't shut up about."

There's really no evidence (in that particular note) that Durge has guilt over feeling fondness (in the general sense) and has had to crawl on their knees begging their disapproving father to forgive them for it. More like they perceive Bhaal will be disappointed that it's a plan borne of Bane's Chosen they're latching onto. You know, as opposed to Durge being able to brag that the genius was theirs alone (and by extension, Bhaal's).

Durge's apology to their father in that prayer is very simply, 'I'm sorry I'm not good enough. Allow me to show you how much better I can be.' They're assuring Bhaal that their admiration for Gortash will not deter them when that crucial moment comes, yes... But that's not the only take away.

The really devastating thing about that prayer has nothing to do with Gortash in the end. The true tragedy is that Durge now gets to read over what was a pure and personal outpouring of their devotion to the one they loved and adored beyond all else - the one who made them believe they were His everything, too - and see Balthazar (in a comment aimed towards those who might have originally rallied behind Durge) now wryly making fun of them for it. Everyone remembers them as a pathetic lapdog. They all read Durge's true emotions, their purest beliefs, and if it wasn't already bad enough that they hurt and betrayed them and cast them aside, they are now laughing about it.

It's clear that by the point you come across the "Prayer for Forgiveness", your Durge is at a crossroads. You may have already done terrible things before you came across this note. You may have made some gut-wrenching sacrifices... Perhaps your Durge is beginning understand now that they deserve better...

After all, where was Bhaal, where was father, when his precious messiah was gored beyond recognition? Where was Bhaal when Kressa, in perverse obsession, tormented and tortured them again and again? According to Bhaal, this Chosen child of his wasn't born to be a mere "warrior for the Absolute" - they were supposed to shepherd in the end of the world. They were the prophesied harbinger, nurtured and primed for that job alone. And up until Orin made her move, Durge had been indulged and treated as such. In return, they faithfully played their role - they did everything they were told, they were even willing to kill people they admired - friends, even - all for Bhaal to repay their devotion by leaving them to rot on the floor of the Mind Flayer colony.

Or perhaps in the spirit of betrayal, your Durge may fall further into their desperate need to embody Bhaal's will, and become murder incarnate...

Because how dare these pretenders laugh. They thought the "usurped one" subdued, but Durge now knows they did not give up under Kressa's ministrations - they fought, and they fought, and they fought again, through the literal hells even, because Orin dashing the memories from their brain was still not enough to distract them from their true purpose. It is written in their very blood. A primal, instinctual driving force. And like Balthazar, anyone who ever doubted them will end up in the ground. All Orin and the lackeys she swayed to her cause ever really achieved was delaying the inevitable. As Bhaal prophesied, Durge will take their place as the last soul standing in a world steeped in blood. Then they will submit themselves in one final act of devotion and take their own life. For father. For their God. They will have finally proven themselves worthy.

Unlike Shadowheart who was manipulated into believing any disappointment or disapproval from Shar was a test, some new exciting opportunity through which to prove herself, I don't think Durge - before Orin's betrayal - was even able to imagine disappointing Bhaal. They lived for him entirely.

This is why Orin could usurp them so easily. Bhaal tells Durge they will be the last soul alive, that they are the Chosen - the one who will bring about the true end of the world once and for all - and Durge doesn't even consider the option that anyone would defy this, Bhaal's doctrine, because they certainly won't (which is no doubt why this is all so hilarious to Orin - she sure showed them how to truly be devout to the God of murder - you murder his supposed Chosen, and you become even more Chosen in their stead...)

The "Prayer for Forgiveness" is more than an admission of admiration to one man - it is the absolute epitome of Durge's relationship with Bhaal. It was supposed to be a prayer to him alone. Now, all can see these words out of their original context. Even Durge themselves.

So how will they reinterpret their prayer now they have the benefit of hindsight? How has their adventure so far - away from Bhaal's direct influence - shaped them?

Because when it comes to Bhaal, Durge will always be praying for his forgiveness. Why else does one commune with a God like that? It's certainly not to hear that he loves you, unconditionally... You get down on your knees to beg him for forgiveness, no matter how trivial the slight. You plead for as many second chances as he'll let you have. You promise you're going to do everything right this time. You offer to give him everything you have - even your own life and the lives of those you care for - to do as he wills. That was Durge's existence before...

What the "Prayer for Forgiveness" really asks of you, the player, is... what will be their life now?

[dreamofmysoul-tsc]

James and Matthew headcanons because TLH is over (;-;) and I adore them and miss them everyday

Matthew calls James "darling" because he knows it "annoys" James but mostly because he adores Jamie (I mentioned this in a previous list of headcanons but y'all will hear it again because I love it)

Harry Styles' cover of Juice by Lizzo is how I imagine Matthew's voice to sound

Matthew tries to convince James to be more adventurous with his fashion choices,,,it never works tho

James rarely cries; Matthew can probably count on one hand how many times he's seen his parabatai cry, but when he does, it breaks Matthew's heart into a million little pieces and he inevitably will start sobbing as well

If they lived in modern times and had cell phones, Matthew would absolutely send James a million pictures of things he sees and people he meets on his voyage. It wouldn't be cool landmarks tho, or like pretty scenery, no, it'd be like photos of a rat he saw stealing a donut, him almost falling into the canals in Venice because he stood up too fast on the boat, Oscar chasing a flock of swans, etc

James, Matthew, and Tom all gather at the Lightwood family tomb on Kit's birthday and the anniversary of his death. They bring lemon tarts to share, though they rarely ever eat one themselves, and talk to him about how much the world is changing, how Kit would've been so excited to learn that the mundanes invented airplanes and televisions and they'd even share with him the scientific contributions Grace has continued to share with Nephilim society (i refuse to believe she stopped being a woman in STEM after she figured out the fire messages)

Matthew is the only person allowed to cut James' hair

they both suck ass at cooking but sometimes James will attempt baking cookies or muffins for everyone; Matthew "helps," and by help I mean he sits on the counter and critiques James' technique until James inevitably throws flour at Matthew's very expensive and one of a kind waistcoat how dare you James

I will die on this hill because I've imagined James like this since his first introduction in The Bane Chronicles: his eyes glow, ok. Not like, very noticeably, but if it's very dark in the room his eyes will let off this iridescent glow kinda like the scales of a fish when they shift in and out of the light. People who don't know James very well or are seeing it for the first time can find it a little unnerving but Matthew never once felt afraid. He likes to call them his own personal north stars ✨✨

James and Matthew will share books back and forth. One will read and annotate it and then give it to the other who does the same. They love seeing each other's little notes as they read

Where Matthew is bright colors and expensive jewels, James tends to stick to the same four colors (black, white, navy, and gold) Occasionally Matthew will convince him to wear heavy gold rings inlaid with precious gems or a dashing emerald waistcoat embroidered in gold because "it will look absolutely lovely on you, Jamie" (and of course it does, in fact, look lovely on him)

They of course have that bestie telepathy that I think most people have with their best friend; when you witness something ridiculous and just give them The Look and they know exactly what you're thinking? Yeah, that's definitely resulted in plenty of instances of James and Matthew bursting into laughter for seemingly no reason while everyone looks on in confusion

Similar to James rarely crying, James doesn't strike me as someone who laughs often. That isn't to say he's unhappy, I just think he only laughs when he genuinely finds something funny. James doesn't do pity laughs, ok, if you say something ridiculous he'll just look at you like ._. Matthew made it his personal mission since they met at the Academy to make James laugh at least once a day. Like a full, unbidden, genuine laugh. Matthew could probably write a 10 page essay on how much he loves James' laugh, how to make him laugh, what never fails to make him laugh, etc

Matthew's love language is physical touch (we all saw him clutching onto James' wrist for dear life throughout this series right?); James' is acts of service.

Whenever Matthew has bad days, days where he struggles to be kind to himself, days when it's difficult for him to feel present, he tends to ask for James. James takes this as the blessing that it is, seeing as a younger Matthew would've bottled it up until it boiled over, and spends all day with him. Sometimes they sit in silence, Matthew simply needing to feel grounded with James' presence; other times, James will read to him, tidy his flat, fix that wobbly table leg Matthew keeps putting off (James is surprisingly handy) and on the really bad days James will hold him, rests his cheek against Matthew's head and reminds him of all the reasons he loves him, why he chose to become his parabatai, and that nothing Matthew could ever ask of James could ever be a burden

James gets Oscar a new collar with a matching doggy bowtie every year on his adoption day; Matthew obviously keeps every collar and switches them out so Oscar can feel like a dapper little gentleman

Anyways I adore these two and I'm still manifesting a Matthew short story collection because no amount of James and Matthew parabatai content will ever be enough

[alexanderlightweight]

Prompt: If Alec got a magic tattoo for Magnus what would it be and what would it do?

this ended up being (because each alec would be different) this eldritch delight au because i couldn't pick and when I can't pick i ask @saeths and they mental roulette for me.

i hope you enjoy

-

Alec is just finishing up when his door opens and Mirai’s voice comes through with a “sir, your video call with the clave has been postponed for another two months. Apparently, the Inquisitor wasn’t expecting your latest accessory and the reason why the meeting ended was she accidentally overreacted and stabbed her tablet.”

Alec snorts because he can’t help it and Mirai makes an agreeing term that immediately turns into a, “by the angel. Commander, what in Raziel’s name are you doing?”

Alec pauses from where he’s about to tap the very last of the marks he needs to complete the design he’s painstakingly stabbed into his chest.

“A present for Magnus—” he explains as he carefully pours out another small dose of phoenix ash and then carefully adds five drops of Magnus’ blood and a thick, dark tar-like substance. It’s the corrupted essence of Magnus’ most heretical magic and Alec carefully grinds the ingredients together. He’s been at it for hours now, forgoing sleep to get his project done.

“Don’t touch it.” He orders, because Mirai looks ready to dash across the room in some misguided attempt at protecting him and is something she hasn’t done since her second month under Alec’s command.

“Sir, why?”

“I think he’ll like it.”

—

Mirai wants to stab herself so that she doesn’t have to deal with watching her commander tattoo himself with a vile concoction that has the hair on the back of her neck rising and her spine curdling. It’s with a deep wish for some kind of sanity that she retreats. Shadowhunter tea is more potent than mundane coffee, especially the kind grown in the ‘safe’ greenhouses. Mirai doesn’t normally indulge, it’s a terrible habit to find yourself half asleep and chugging down an entire pot of tea after a hunt, but she does now.

It takes four mugs before she feels like she’s not about to run back and try to unnecessarily save her Commander. Instead, Mirai plans on how to get herself and the rest of an Institute a break. It’s been two weeks of Alec’s latest accessory and Mirai is running out of excuses for why so many of their younger hunters are running into walls. Alec just doesn’t understand how terrifying and wrong the animals from Lake Lynn are. They aren’t corrupt, it’s almost worse than that and their commander wears one as if it’s a mundane hair clip.

So Mirai tries not to panic, cuts Inaya out of the process and goes straight to Andrew because at the moment, he’s Alec’s favorite.

“Stop breaking yourself when you break other people.” Mirai mutters, rolling her eyes and grabbing Andrew’s shirt. She pulls the backup, ignoring his startled, half-asleep squawk and iratze’s his back and then activates his speed runes and a few others before she slaps the shirt back over them for good measure. Andrew hisses and sends her a hateful glare that withers into panic when she smirks.

“Oh no, what is going on now. What do we need to do, do I need to hide? I’m off Commander duty for two days. Why does it feel like you activated half of my battle runes?”

“We are getting ourselves a vacation, by getting the Commander to take one.” Mirai says with a dark gleam to her voice that she doesn’t bother trying to hide.

“You hate vacations.” Andrew says, suspicious and eyes squinting up at her from where the light is undoubtedly blinding him. “You said it’s a crime to unleash Alec on the rest of the world and it’s our sacred duty to protect everyone else from him. And you want him to take another one? After the Bermuda Triangle Weekend?”

Mirai said every single word of that, and she doesn’t mind admitting she’s changed her mind.

“We’re not unleashing him onto the unsuspecting public or causing Alicante’s paranoia to build. We’re sending him to Bane, because Bane will contain him if only so that he doesn’t have to share him.”

Andrew seems to consider that for a minute and then nods, “okay and how are we getting Bane over here again? Last time it worked because the Commander was planning a surprise. Which, between the engagement and the snakes, Alec’s going to stop telling you things so you can’t ruin them for him.”

Mirai rolls her eyes because that would require their Commander to be upset that his plans are upstages, instead of simply delighted that he doesn’t have to spend as much time without seeing Bane.

“I’ll deal with that. In the meantime, we do have a reason. I just need you to clear the halls because Bane’s going to come in hot.”

Andrew pales and runs, socked feet slipping as he decides the protection of shoes aren’t worth the time it will take to pull them on. His speed rune

Mirai wonders when her Commander’s strange penchant for courting death influenced her so greatly and then she picks up her stele and sends a simple fire message.

Commander seems tense. Favoring chest and side - Mirai Lakecastle

—

Magnus doesn’t remember the time between getting the message and portaling to the Institute.

The moment he read the words that meant Alexander could possibly be injured in a way that Magnus didn’t create, Magnus felt his world crashing down around him.

How dare something exist that can harm his beloved that isn't Magnus.

It’s a tragedy Magnus is unwilling to suffer because Alexander deserves to be poisoned and bitten and coaxed to tremors by only Magnus’ hands and magic.

Not by whatever inferior existence has harmed his lovely boy.

The halls are empty, which Magnus only notices because there is a lack of charred flesh as he passes through them, and the rot and decay of bodies doesn’t hinder his way. Alexander is a dark presence, cold like the bottom of an icy mountain lake and Magnus’ fire demolishes the door parting them.

Alexander looks up with delighted surprise and Magnus has to deprive his darling of a welcoming kiss, too concerned.

Magic twines around Alexander, binding him tightly as Magnus strips him and lets his magic sear through Alexander’s body as it checks him over.

The thin, delicate lines that form a familiar cluster of flowers on Alexander’s skin cause Magnus’ knees to wobble and he lets himself crash down.  Alexander follows him and Magnus reaches out and pets over the tattoo freshly inked into his boy’s skin. The familiar bite of Magnus’ own magic stings his fingers as it greedily tries to protect Alexander from all outside touch.

“Mine—” Magnus reminds it, asserting his dominance over the portion of his magic now greedily attached to Alexander. The bouquet on Alexander’s chest is a perfect replica of the one he first brought Magnus, down to a particularly petulant lily.  It’s ravenous maw is open, as if it’s about to take a bite of Alexander’s heart and Magnus leans forward and presses his own s. p teeth to the delicate skin and nips it.

The magic thrums in pleased, ravenous delight and Alexander hums contentedly in Magnus’ arms, “you can call my heart back to you now.” Alexander tells him, like the permanent representation of his fervor wasn’t enough. Like he isn’t giving Magnus the lightning strings of his life with a kiss and a smile and Magnus has to create a portal and pull him through.

“Three days—” Magnus demands, “minimum! I won’t be able to spare you a minute sooner, my darling.”

Alexander laughs, delight in his voice and he presses close, and Magnus hungrily places one hand over the tattoo and holds his boy close with the other.

“I’ll send a message.”

[paigemathews]

if you could give prue kids (in an au where she lives), who would it be with (can be anyone dead or alive) and could you tell us a little bit about them?

Okay, so this might be a bit of a boring answer, but canonically, I think that Prue really only ever would've ended up at a place where she was comfortable having kids with Andy, if he had survived. Obviously, if she hadn't died, I think that they'd have given her another love interest, but looking at her canon love interests for more than an episode: Andy (dead), Bane (jail), Jack (...c'mon), and Justin (literally got dumped for no personality.) And while I'd love to spin up a Prue/Bane kid (not a Jack kid bc quite frankly, @phoebehalliwell has got that on lock already), I think it's gotta be Prue and Andy, assuming that they both survived.

The rest of this kind of have to go under the cut because I finished it, checked how many words it was, and went 'oooh, fuck.' In case you're wondering, the answer is over two thousand, so. I'm gonna get blocked if I just drop that on people's dashes lmao.

So, in this 'verse, I think that Prue would've actually been the first to have a child, for several reasons. Firstly, we actually do see her express a desire to have kids at a few points in the show and she doesn't seem to have as many as the same hang-ups of her sisters. Her issue seems to just be the good dad part. Secondly, she'd be the one with the longest and most stable relationship, since she and Andy have known each other for so long and were pretty much on the verge of committing to each other anyways when Andy, y'know. Got dead.

That said, I don't particularly think that it would have been an intentional pregnancy. This is kind of dependent on where we're at in the show, but I think that it'd probably end up at a point where the danger is ramping up and the Source is becoming more of a threat. I don't think that Prue would be initially willing to a) step back from the front lines of the fight b) bring a child into the consistent danger of the household and c) risk orphaning her child like she was. I can see it as a plotline where demons are constantly attacking and frazzling the sisters and we see her miss her meticulous birth control pill or something and then a few episodes later assume that it's because of stress, only to find out that, surprise! You're pregnant, and probably a bunch of dangerous stuff is happening.

But anyways, I think that Prue and Andy would go with the P tradition, because Andy seems like the type of family guy who'd be all for it and I think that Prue, having seen this kind of different continual line of her family, would be into it. (Also, I don't really see any reason why she'd be against continuing it either, tbh.)

So our firstborn daughter is Perri Christina Halliwell, and I'm now realizing the obvious connotation of that lmao. I'm just trying to look at P names that have not been taken by any of the sisters themselves or my main next gen, and Christina is actually a reference to two different female writers that my brain initially thought was the same person: Christine de Pizan, a medieval feminist writer (responsible for The Book of the City of Ladies), and Christina Rossetti, a Victorian writer whose works were often viewed through a feminist lens (at least in my class). I like the name flip thing though, so now I'm keeping it. As for the first name, I think that Perri has this almost rebellious feel to it, which fits for her.

But anyways, Perri, our firstborn witch! I think that because of the circumstances around Perri's birth, especially with Prue having lost her own mother at such a young age, she's incredibly protective over her. (God forbid if Piper or Phoebe died in this 'verse, because it'd multiple by ten.) Perri is also the first member of the next generation, so she's kind of the test child on "Training Your Magical Child 101." And the thing is, I'd genuinely argue that the sisters not being raised with their powers both endangered them as they tried to figure everything out and kept them from reaching their full potential, and I think that Prue's biggest goal is keeping Perri safe, so she goes. kinda hard on the training witch thing. And Andy kind of sides with Prue on this because he doesn't have the magic to help or protect Perri, so. It's not just Prue, but Piper and Phoebe (and Paige? idk if Paige is in this AU or not yet tbh) are also training her, so it's a little less harsh than it could be.

Perri grows up to be a powerful witch with a pretty thorough background on all of the different aspects of magic (spells, potions, powers, demons, etc.) Like her mother, she's a telekinetic witch. I think that under her mother's tutelage, her powers also actually advance relatively quickly so that she develops advanced telekinesis. Lastly, she also had this combination of levitation/limited flight in that she can lift herself and other things off the floor but can't go Superman-ing around. (Is this half because I want to imagine a scene of Perri mid-air wrecking someone's shit? Yes. I fully admit to my utilization of the Rule of Cool here.)

Beyond powers, however, she's a bit more like Phoebe or Paige than Prue as a teenager. She rebels against her parents a lot, but a lot less of the punk teenage rebel thing and more like the artsy creative checking out the art exhibit at the local rec center or whatever. She loves her parents but chafes at the protectiveness. She's very independent, vivacious, bold, etc. She's actually a lot like Prue in that tbh, very popular in high school but with a less "Student Council president, head cheerleader, straight A-student" type of vibe. She's a lot fun. I've kind of bounced between a few different job ideas for her, but I think that she'd love to work in fashion, probably as a designer. Her vibe is very much just nicely saturated colors and colorful modern art.

After Perri's birth, shit probably hits the fan at some point and we get a dark point where all seems lost, maybe a death from someone close (not Prue or Andy obviously and I hesitate to kill anyone else, so some character that they got close to in this rewrite that wasn't in canon. What do you want from me, this is about the kids not the show.) Or maybe just struggles with the Elders and trying to buck that control, especially since we'd have the Piper/Leo and Phoebe/Cole relationships at some point here. But they persevere, and there's probably been another little Halliwell kid running around this point with Perri, but this ain't about them.

Next up, we have Presley Artemisia Halliwell! Now, if you haven't seen that Tumblr post about Artemisia Gentileschi, it's metal af and I have no clue where it is, but short story: girl got a shit deal for quite awhile, including being raped then tortured to give evidence during her rapist's trial, but she was also an amazing painter that focused on women from myths, allegories, and the Bible. Okay, actually, I really gotta find that Tumblr post to explain it, gimme a second. Here it is, high key recommend reading it but trigger warnings but discussion of the previously mentioned rape and torture. Okay, but the point for the middle name: a) I think that she's a fucking cool ass painter and b) seeing as I've mentioned that something awful has happened, the element of surviving that pain and refusing to bow down, especially to a male-dominated society, for someone like Prue. And Presley is because it has this almost academic vibe about it to me, a little cold in a way. (Idk how to explain this, it's one a.m. and I've been at this for two hours, y'all.)

Now onto our second Prue/Andy daughter: Presley! At this point, they've been raising a daughter in the house, maybe even another of the sisters' kids, so there isn't as much of a strictness on her at all points. Don't get me wrong, there's still a level of protectiveness, but Peri's continuing survival has proven to Prue and Andy that magic isn't an instant death sentence. But I'd say that it's Presley's powers that shape her so fundamentally here.

Presley ends up with molecular immobilization initially, but her powers don't advance to molecular combustion. Instead, her next power is an extension of slowing down molecules to freezing them entirely (molecular inhibition, the freezing power that warlock!Piper temporarily had when the sisters were turned evil in Prue's Dark Wedding to Zile). So she ends up being able to freeze things metaphorically and literally. Over time, the molecular inhibition grows to be a bit more versatile, specifically in regards to hand gestures. I'm trying to decide if there's another logical advancement here, but I think that makes her powerful enough for now at least.

With the ability to temporarily freeze everything around her, Presley utilized it to give her time to think. She's very analytic, observant, and intelligent. Unlike her sisters, she's more quiet and introverted but has no issue interacting with people. She's just more content to observe the people around her than be as social as her sisters but is perfectly fine with other people approaching her. Like her mother, she can be a bit prideful and bossy, and Presley can sometimes assume that she knows best because of her observations and intelligent. She actually works adjacent to her dad as a forensic specialist because I knew I wanted her adjacent but not actually a cop. I'm not sure what her specialty is yet though! Her vibe is a lighter neutral Sherlock Holmes and a park on a nice day. (I know that doesn't make it sense, I am simply trying to translate the vibe in my head.)

I think that the last daughter is probably after the craziness has finally died down for the sisters so maybe after any Ultimate Battles or something. They're finally able to just live their lives how they please, with not so many demon attacks, which is when Prue has her last daughter.

Our youngest witch is Pamela Dorothea Halliwell! Dorothea is a shout-out to Prue's love of photography, specifically to Dorothea Lange. Considered one of the most influential photojournalists of the 20th century, Dorothea Lange is known for her work during the Great Depression. Pamela is actually also a shout-out to Pamela Barnes, a psychic in Supernatural! It can also be considered a shout-out to Pamela Bousquet, a Warren ancestor in one of the spinoff novels, who had telepathy.

Pamela rounds out our trio as the resident psychic. While her primary power is premonitions, she's fascinated by divination as a whole, including her powers expanding to show her the past and future, reading palms and tarot cards, and whatever else you'd count that as. Beyond just seeing the future, she also has astral projection, telepathy, empathy, and dream leaping. Her family is pretty sure that at least some of this is magic that she learned instead of naturally possessed, but neither she nor they could tell you which is her own natural power and which she gained through studying the craft. Technically, Pamela could be a threat if she was interested in fighting demons, but she's much more interested in the study of magic and her specific branch of it to wield her powers offensively. She's a threat despite not because of the way she studies.

Continuing with the psychic vibes, Pamela is best described as somewhat dreamy. She's an absolute sweetheart but can get a bit lost in her own head sometimes, which can be dangerous with her powers. Despite what you may initially think, she is voracious when it comes to learning and wants to know everything about everything. She pursues her passion with relentless abandon, which can sometimes bite her on the ass. Honestly, a lot of her dreaminess and kookiness is because of her powers, which are going to cause her some problems soon if she doesn't figure out how to not get lost in them. So of course she works in a witch shop reading palms and tarot cards, basically a more legit "The Amazing Phoebe!"

In my head, I think that Perri is about 26, Presley is about 24, and Pamela is about 21 maybe. The girls are all still in California but maybe spread out a little. Perri is probably in some more fashion-y city that I'd have to ask my sister to pick (but not tonight bc she'd kill me for waking her up at 2 a.m.) while Presley may still be in San Francisco but Pamela definitely is.

Okay, so this definitely ended up taking and being a lot longer than I thought it would be, but this was so much fun! I'm always a sucker for the next gen, and I love thinking about how it may have turned out differently with different characters, relationships, or plots. It's especially fun because there's so many possibilities in the Charmed 'verse for the kids and I'd love to spin out some of the ones that unfortunately just didn't fit for my "canon" kids. (I used to do Charmed roleplay on Tumblr and actually have a new blog that I'm probably never going to actually use, and it has the entire set up of an alternate next generation stemming from Pandora, Paige's daughter, in the Warren Witches spinoff novel. Pretty much all of Phoebe's kids were designed to utilize some of the interesting power ideas I couldn't make my canon girls get.)

But if you have any other suggestions like this, definitely drop it in my askbox! This was so much fun! (Granted, it's two a.m. and I have to be at work at 8:30 tomorrow but whatever.)

[blueraineshadows]

Heart Breakers: Chapter 3A - When Seb wins

I strongly advise you read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 if you haven't already. Written from a request from @simpy-slytherin F!MC is called Leina in honour of her MC

Sebastian x Leina x Garreth

This is 1 of 2 alternate endings. In this chapter, Sebastian is end game 💚 Chapter 3B will see Garreth get the girl.

He wasn't in the Undercroft or in the clock tower. Leina avoided the spot where she had seen Trixie all over Sebastian, hurrying on in her search for him. Eventually, she found herself standing outside the Slytherin common room, students wandering about giving her curious looks.

Maybe they were hoping more drama was about to kick off. She really hoped not.

After about 15 minutes of waiting and hoping Sebastian would appear, Ominis came down the staircase, wand out flickering. He headed for the door but paused, head tilting slightly. "Leina, is that you?"

"Yes," she said, stepping forward. "How are you, Ominis? I feel like we haven't spoken in a while."

"You have had your hands rather full it seems, no time for chit chat," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to catch Sebastian. Do you know if he is around?"

"Hmm, yes, you two do need to sort out this new mess of yours," he sighed. "He has been an absolute monster to be around lately. I'm growing rather tired of it."

He paused in thought and then moved a little closer. "You won't find him here. He mentioned needing to catch up on some Astronomy assignment work and headed that way after dinner. I would assume he is still there in the tower."

"Thank you, Ominis, I will give it a try."

"Before you dash off, may I say something?"

"Of course."

His brow pinched and a glimmer of sadness washed over his face. "I know he has upset you terribly, but please, don't go too hard on him. He is the bane of my life sometimes, but he is also like a brother to me. I know when he is hurting, and he is definitely suffering. He still hasn't got over the events of 5th year. And as for Trixie, well, her behaviour has been disgusting to say the least. Sebastian was in a very bad place that night, and roaring drunk to boot. She took advantage of him. Had the roles been reversed, a boy would have been reprimanded within an inch of his life. I do not believe he set out to hurt you. In his own stupid way, he thinks he protects people with his wild ideas and protective nonsense. Anne being a case in point. I think what I am trying to say, is that he feels deeply for you, and that is why he tangles himself up in knots."

"Feels deeply for me?" Leina felt like her lungs had been squeezed at those words. "He has never said such a thing to me."

"He would never admit any of this to himself, or anyone else for that matter, he is far too stubborn for that. But he doesn't fool me."

Leina stood there taking this speech in with her eyes wide. She took a long, shaky breath as she tried to process all of it. She reached out a hand and placed it on Ominis' arm. He flinched a little, but didn't push her off.

"I understand," she said. "Don't worry. The last thing I want to do is hurt Sebastian. I just want to try and make things better because they can't go on as they are."

"Then we are agreed," he said with a smile. "I wish you luck."

.....*.....

Sebastian rolled up his parchment now that his ink was dry and put a stopper in the ink bottle. The Astronomy Tower was now deserted and quiet and he liked it that way. It was peaceful.

He sighed and moved towards a railing to look up. It was one thing to stare through the telescope and mark the detail of the stars, but when you stood and took in the whole blanket of them across the sky, it just hit you differently. It was huge, beyond comprehension, and you remembered that you were one small thing before it. Your troubles a mere wisp against the great, and therefore, should be more manageable to carry on your shoulders.

He wished that were true. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and gingerly moved them to his neck. The bruises there were less tender, the sticky salve on them seeming to do the trick. He scowled about the how and where of the salve, hating that he had to go begging to Leander Prewett, of all people, to ask for help. Wiggenweld just didn't seem to budge the dammed things and he hated the way people were staring at them, sniggering behind their hands.

Most of all he hated that Leina had seen them. His heart wrenched at the way her eyes had dimmed, losing their usual spark and fire. He hated that he hadn't been able to take her hand and try to soothe away the hurt. But, it was on him. He had nobody but himself to blame.

And now, he owed fucking Leander Prewett a favour for bailing him out with a Herbology trick for getting rid of bruises. The smugness on the idiot's face made his wand hand itch something terrible.

But he had been desperate. Desperate to hide the marks that had left him feeling dirty, stained. He shivered at the memory of her tongue violating him. It made his skin crawl. Never mind the stares of others, he needed to scrub all the evidence away that she had ever touched him in the first place.

Footsteps on the stairs signalled the end of his peace and quiet. He sighed and turned to gather his things, not really in the mood to stay for small talk. He froze when it was Leina that appeared at the top of the stairs, though. Alone, and looking right at him.

"Hello, Sebastian,' she said softly. "I've been looking for you."

.....*.....

Now that Sebastian was there, right in front of her, any words she had been trying to piece together on the way up here slid right out of her mind. He stood stock still, eyes wide and fixed on her like she would startle if he so much as blinked.

She stared at him in the moonlight, drinking in the sight of him, that heavy feeling in her chest shifting, feeling as though it might shrink a little. It was just him, and her, just like she was used to, and that had never been a bad thing. Not really.

She pressed her lips together, tears burning the backs of her eyes and then she was running, crossing the gap between them and throwing herself at him. Her arms wrapped about him and she buried her face deep into his neck, breathing in his scent like she had been holding her breath since the last time she had touched him.

He had stiffened at first, shocked perhaps, but then his arms circled her waist and crushed her to his chest.

"You're such an idiot, Sebastian Sallow," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"I know," he said. "I know. And I'm sorry."

His voice cracked on the last word and she pulled back to look at him. He gulped, a hand reaching to swipe quickly at the tear that rolled from his eye. He tried to look away from her, but she wouldn't let him. "Its alright," she whispered. "It's just me. You're alright."

His lip wobbled and she pulled him in tight again, her fingers sliding into the hair at the back of his head as the dam broke and he cried into her robes.

The moment wasn't lost on her. It was the mirror of what she had done to Garreth, and Garreth had not questioned her need for comfort. She would not question Sebastion either, not if he wasn't ready. But she could hold him, she could soothe him and, maybe, it would help.

"I'm alright, honestly," he said. He pulled back and wiped his face. "I don't deserve your hugs, as lovely as they are."

"Everyone needs a hug at some point, Seb," she said. "How could I not comfort you if you need it?"

"I should be the one comforting you. I...I've been a fool, Leina." He hung his head. "There aren't enough apologies in the world to make up for it. But, I would like to try."

"Then, let us try," she said.

Her eyes drifted down to the marks on his neck and she swallowed, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the goop covering them. "Blimey, Sebastian, what on earth have you smeared on your neck?"

He groaned. "Don't ask. It's some nasty salve to get rid of bruises. I can't wait to be rid of them."

"You and me, both," she said, grimly.

An awkward silence filled the air and Leina shivered, the cold evening breeze cutting through the dampness of her clothing. Perhaps she should have changed after all.

"You're cold," he said. He rubbed at her arms.

"A little, unfortunately my clothes are a bit damp," she said. She tugged at the front of her jumper, wrinkling her nose, and he frowned in curiosity. "There was an incident during my Potions detention, I got a bit soggy."

His frown deepened. "I assume Weasley is just as damp?"

Leina stepped back out of reach of his arms. They dropped to his sides, fists clenched. She wrapped her own arms about herself, maybe because of the chill, maybe because she felt like she needed to protect the soft feelings she was harbouring in her chest for Garreth.

"I didn't come here to argue with you, Seb," she said. "But, let me make one thing very clear. I won't hear a word said against Garreth. He doesn't deserve it, not one bit."

She could see the clench in his jaw. Clearly, there were words fighting to get out, but he held his lips firmly clamped. Let them stay there. She didn't want to hear it.

"If we are going to have any chance at moving forward from this point on, then Garreth is non-negotiable. He is someone important to me and I won't give him up. Not even for you."

He processed that. He didnt like it, his eyes flashed, but he nodded. "Okay, so Garreth is off the table," he said slowly. "What did you want to talk about? Why did you seek me out?"

Her heart pounded. Yes, why did she seek him out? Did she want his confession of undying love for her? Now that she was here, she wasn't sure if she could handle it. It felt too huge, too all encompassing a thing, and she felt her chest tighten. It didn't feel heavy anymore, although she definitely hadn't forgotten the image of him wrapped up with Trixie. She wasn't sure if she ever would.

But, was that fair? He didn't owe her exclusivity. They weren't a couple. She had clearly spat the words into his face that a few kisses didn't lay a claim on each other. Also, how would he feel to see her wrapped up with Garreth? Livid, thats how, if his rage in the Undercroft was anything to go by.

Even here, in the chill wind cutting right through the tower top arches, she felt her cheeks warm. What if she had kissed Garreth on the floor of the Potions classroom? What if Sebastian had walked in on that? If Sharpe hadn't caught them, she thought it was quite likely she may have kissed him, and the thought threw her into a spin.

It was all too much. Her mind was fudge, and she didn't know what on earth her body was trying to tell her. He was there, waiting for an answer and she didn't know what to say.

She backed up a step, two, her lungs burning for air but she was gasping it in.

He frowned. "Leina, what's wrong?"

"I...I..." She threw a look towards the stairs, the exit, escape. Coward. "I accept your apology."

Inwardly, she cringed. Gods that was so formal. So cold. She didn't mean to be, and the flicker of uncertainty on his face made her want to run.

He took a careful step to the side, slowly lifting his hands. All the times they had been in a duel, fought dark wizards, trained together, it had given them a bond, an understanding of each other. He knew she was going to bolt just as much as she knew he was going to try and stop her. Their bodies were in tune, they could read each other in a split second.

She stepped back and to the side, one eye on him, the other on the exit. He stepped as well. Her heart hammered right up into her throat, her ears roaring with it and she forgot about the chill of her clothes.

Tension, electric and hot, sizzled. To her shock, she felt it in her abdomen, curling like some wild thing. Would he chase her? If she ran for those stairs, would he chase her? What if he caught her? Unbidden, a small sound came from her throat at the idea.

What the fuck was wrong with her??

He lifted an eyebrow at that sound, she was so distracted by it, and the slow curving tilt of his lips, that she had let her guard slip. He was closer than before. Damn him!

"I will catch you," he said. His voice was low, dark. Filthy.

She swallowed, her throat working double time. She shook her head in denial, but it was a pathetic shake, weak. Gods, he made her weak and she couldn't be. She had to get a grip on herself.

Her eyes darted to the exit and back to him. Where would she run to? That was a lot of fucking stairs to get down, she would no doubt end up tumbling to her death, if his smile didn't kill her first. Look at him, his smirk, that wicked, wicked mouth. Fuck!

She ran. Her feet bounded across the Astronomy deck and into the stairway, cloak and hair flying as she took the stairs in a leap. He was right behind her, feet pounding on the wooden steps, she could hear his excited breaths.

She ignored the shooting spear of fire that shot through her, if she didn't she would falter, and if she faltered then it would be too late. He'd catch her.

Oh, but what if he did?

Legs trembling, she skidded across the landings on the switch back steps, hands shoving off from walls for momentum, before hitting the next flight of stairs, curving down, and down, to her inevitable doom.

Leina was almost at the Room of Requirement. For a split second, she considered it an escape, but the door needed to form, it would take too long, and he was gaining on her. Was that the brush of finger tips on her cloak?

A cry left her lips, a cry that sounded far too excitable for her liking, and she pushed harder, feet slapping against wood as she hurtled down the corridor past her secret haven.

The corridors were getting smaller, portraits and statues whizzing past as she ran, legs beginning to burn, every breath now a fight, and still, he was right behind her.

He wasn't going to quit, it wasn't his style. He could be near death and he would keep chasing her. Now, that thought nearly made her stumble as she burst out into the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower.

She barely had time to glance at the shocked faces of the students in the seating area as she made a desperate sprint for the switch back stairs going down, down, down.

She hadn't planned on it, but her feet were carrying her closer and closer to where it all began. That Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom where she had knocked him on his arse on her first day. And, what was underneath it? The Undercroft.

She risked a glance back, he was so close, face flushed but determined. A laugh, rasping and breathless trailed behind her as she kept going, on and on until she thought her legs might just give out from under her. She was flagging as she passed the rhinoceros skeleton and she felt fingers catch hold of her flapping cloak.

He had her.

They both stumbled to a stop, his hands tugging her closer and she braced her hands against his heaving chest. They barely had the breath to laugh, but somehow, they did.

"So...now what?" He puffed. "I caught you...what's...what's my prize?"

She stared at him, fighting for every breath. This was crazy. Stupid. Reckless. How very them.

She smiled and grabbed his hand. A quick glance told her that the coast was clear, no prying eyes to see as she tugged him towards the secret entrance of The Undercroft.

He did the spell to open it, she watched him, couldn't tear her gaze from him. She remembered how she had realised how alive he made her feel, living life on a dangerous edge. It was exciting. Was it enough? What was enough?

She needed to know, her heart and soul had a choice to make. Was this love?

.....*.....

Leina was holding his hand. He stared down at their interlocking fingers as if to fully confirm that he had her in his grasp. All he had to do was keep her there.

He was fucking knackered. Chasing her down all those stairs had damn near killed him, but he would do it again, in a heartbeat. He would run after her until he dropped dead if he had to. She was worth every burning breath, every screaming muscle.

She led him in to the centre of the Undercroft. The last time they had been here, they had fought. How many times had he gone over it? He wished he could turn the clock back.

But they were here now. The anger was gone from her face. He looked at Leina, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright, her hair was some kind of chaotic right now, but he didn't care. She was beautiful!

He asked her again, his breaths more regular now. "What's my prize?"

He gave her his best smirk and watched her gaze drop to his lips. She was trying to pretend she wasn't looking, but she definitely was. He loved that. When she had done it up in the Astronomy Tower it had turned him on, the force of the burn overwhelming. How could he resist chasing after her?

She let go of his hand. Disappointing, but she wasn't turning away from him. "Alright," she said. "Your prize. But first, a truth for a truth."

"What?" He frowned. "Play fair now. I've already won, I caught you."

Her lips twitched. "Maybe I let you."

Dangerous smirk. "You wanted me to."

Her lips parted, little pants of breath slipping out. He wanted to make that sound come out of her with his touch, his mouth on her, her mouth on him.

"Alright, I'll play," he said. He tilted his head, thinking. She wanted a truth. He grinned. "When I was six, I stole Anne's favourite doll and tried to cast charms on it with my Father's wand. I accidently made it explode. To this day, she still doesn't know it was me."

She gaped and then frowned, folding her arms. "That's just mean, and totally not the kind of truth that I meant. And you know it."

Oh, he knew it. He just got a kick out of the little huff she did when he wound her up. He leant towards her, smirk in play. "Your turn."

She hesitated and damn if a little flush didn't colour her cheeks. He lifted a brow, waiting.

"I...I punched Trixie in the face. And I liked it.' She winced.

"I know," he said. "Have you seen her since? That was quite a punch, Leina. I'm impressed."

Impressed and so fucking turned on. Beautiful, and she could throw a mean punch. He tilted his head thoughtfully, still playing the game. "That wasn't a truth I didn't know, you're supposed to tell me something I don't know. So, spill it. What's your deepest, dirtiest secret?"

Wow, now that was a glorious blush she was sporting now. She pressed her fingers to her cheeks, her eyes darting away from him.

He hesitated. Something slippery, cold and sickening filled his gut. Gods, no. Surely not. Would she? Did something happen with her and Garreth?

His fists clenched, her warning up on the tower coming back to him. She said Garreth was important to her, that she wasn't prepared to give him up.

Suddenly, this game didn't seem so fun anymore. Not when he was terrified of what might come out of her mouth.

"I...oh, Merlin," she whispered. She touched her fingers to her lips. His stomach clenched. "I can't believe I'm going to say this..."

Don't say it, don't say it. His hands ached they were clenched so tight.

She looked him right in the eye, cheeks crimson. "I touched myself in the bath while I was thinking of you."

Her fingers clamped over her mouth and the silence that followed seemed to swallow him whole. His eyes burned because he was so frozen in shock, he didn't think he could blink. She did what, now?

Well, fucking hell, he was speechless. He asked for her deepest, dirtiest secret, and she had delivered. That was definitely dirty.

Her saw her begin to regret the words and snapped himself out of his stupor. Come on Sallow, bring the charm. Somehow, he pulled a quip out of nowhere. "Why didn't you just ask? I could have leant you a hand."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, her fingers twitched. He smiled. This was back to being fun.

"Your turn," she said, quickly. "And you need to better mine."

Oh, you clever girl. Nothing like throwing a challenge down in front of him. Although, his heart skittered at the thought of speaking these next words out loud. But she wanted the truth, and he always wanted to be able to give her what she desired. He tried and failed not to imagine her, naked and wet in the bath, her name on his lips...yep, definitely worth running after.

He nodded. His mind was made up and he was terrified. But he hid it well. "I love you."

.....*.....

I love you.

Three little words. One, two, three. So simple, and yet so big. Earlier, she had been too scared that he would say it. And now he had.

He looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him, even more so than that day he had been slumped on the floor of the catacombs after taking out Solomon.

She swallowed. They had been through so much. The webs that surrounded their lives had thickened and strengthened, and how could it be anyone else?

Garreth. He flashed up behind her eyes and her heart squeezed. Oh, she loved him, she really did, but it wasn't like this.

It wasn't running so fast, waiting for him to catch her, wanting him to catch her, it wasn't knowing each other so well that when one moved, the other did, like a dance. It wasn't covering up murder so you didn't lose them. It wasn't punching a girl in the face because you couldn't stand that she had touched what was yours.

Yes, that's right. He was hers. Sebastian Sallow was hers, for better or worse.

She walked up to him, slowly, savouring every step. He watched her, lips parting, eyes darkening. Smirk for me baby, show me that wicked mouth, she thought. Better yet, let me taste it.

She stared at that bottom lip, swiping her tongue over her own as she reached up on tip toe. He didn't move an inch, watching her as she slowly kissed that bottom lip, teasing it ever so gently.

And then, there it was. His delicious smirk. She gave him one of her own. "So, you love me?"

"I do," he said. His voice was deep, silky dark, full of promise. "I love you. I always have."

She could drown in those eyes. If she wanted. And, oh she wanted to. "I love you, too," she whispered.

He looked like he was afraid to believe it. Her Seb, so smooth, so cheeky, and yet so vulnerable, so deep and dark, so passionate, if only one cared enough to take the dive and see.

"Kiss me, Seb," she whispered against his lips. "Make me burn."

His kiss stole her mouth, and this time it wasn't about making a point, this time it was making a fire, and she was ready to burn. His tongue slid over hers, dominant but sensual. Her toes curled in her shoes and she let her body melt into his hands.

Her robe slid to the floor, his hand slid under her shirt, fingers grazing the skin of her back with trails of fire. Her head fell back, a soft sigh escaping as his mouth slid to her neck, tongue swirling up under her jaw. Her hands luxuriated in his soft hair, trailing against his scalp, drawing a moan from his lips.

Impatiently, he tugged her collar loose, his mouth dipping lower. Her hand skimmed down from his hair and slid through the sticky balm on his brusies. She froze.

She winced. She couldn't help it, she could see that bitch sucking his neck and her chest twisted.

"Don't," he said. He shook his head, voice strained against her throat. "Don't say it, please."

She released him and looked at those bruises. The balm had made some effort to erase them, but they were still there, taunting her. She took a deep breath and flexed her fingers.

She had promised herself she wouldn't use it. It was too powerful, too dangerous. People died when she threw that much power around. But, she had been practising. She was getting better at controlling it.

She took another breath and placed her fingers on his bruises. He stared at her. "What are you doing?"

His lips were damp from her kiss. Nobody gets to kiss that mouth but her. Her mouth, and her mouth alone gets to taste him.

"Trust me," she said. She focused, careful, controlled, and a delicate wisp of blue curled from her fingers.

He gasped as they swirled against his skin. "That's cold."

"Hold still." He did. She traced his bruises, erasing them, wiping every last trace of her. She had to fight to focus, to keep a lid on the fury that tried to awake at the thought of her. But then, all the marks were gone. She drew her fingers back and he watched as the delicate, blue wisps were absorbed back into her skin.

"There, much better," she smiled.

He put a hand to his neck, eyes wide. "They're gone? You...you healed them?"

"You look like my Seb again," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "If she touches you again, she will live to regret it."

If she wasn't mistaken, she thought she saw a flicker of fear in his gaze. She couldn't blame him. She scared herself sometimes.

She took his hand. "Now, I don't know about you, but I could do with a bath. You coming? I might take you up on that offer of a hand."

His smirk was perfect. "I fucking love you, Leina."

"I know," she said, grinning. "Let's go."

Notes: You guys are awesome, thank you for reading! And, yes, I admit it. I went in to Hogwarts and had my MC run down from the Astronomy Tower for that scene 🤭. This got so long and I didn't get to the smut (angst came first, sorry 😏) However, I might do a bonus Smut part for Seb and Leina. For now, let's get to 3B and give Garreth some love. ❤️

[theofficersacademy]

　　　 　 　Happyland: Week Four

"This past week pit a lot of you against each other, didn't it? How thrilling! ♡" Diana exclaims. "But in being pit against your rivals so directly, you got to be tested on your bonds with others too. Do you feel like you got to know you and your competitors better? Do you see them in a different light? Oh, how sad so many of them will go then!!"

She giggles.

"This'll be our biggest elimination yet, but it wasn't for nothing! You all worked really, really hard after all, so let's see what their blood, sweat, and tears got everybody~!"

　　　　　　　　GAMES: RESULTS

Stone Cog II: Sheep: 24 Rats: 0 Snakes: Doubled team score with Trophy Weasels: N/A

Lost and Found: Snakes: 7 Rats: 6 Sheep: 6 Weasels: 5

Fiend's Crawl: Rats: 14 Snakes: 5 Sheep: 5 Weasels: 2

All Aboard: Rats: 10 Weasels: 5 Snakes: 5 Sheep: 4

Week Three Totals Rats — 93.5 Snakes — 56 Sheep — 52 Weasels — 23.5

　　　　 　 　 OBJECTIVES: RESULTS

Yunaka — Did not meet Objective | FAIL Hilda — Score: 7 | FAIL Bernadetta — Score: 15 | PASS 　　prize: bring back one chosen eliminated teammate before Week 4 begins Edelgard — Score: 11 | FAIL Etie — Score: 12 | PASS 　　prize: transfer a large portion of a chosen team’s Week 3 score to your team Andrei — Score: 11 | FAIL Diarmuid — No Objective submitted | FAIL Edward — No Objective submitted | FAIL Michalis — Score: 10 | PASS 　　prize: three of sabotee's teammates gain sabotee's bane for Week 4, chosen randomly Lukas — Score: 11 | PASS 　　prize: three of sabotee's teammates gain sabotee's bane for Week 4, chosen randomly

　　　　 　 　WEEK 3 ELIMINATIONS

                  　　  　   Yunaka   　　Hilda   　　Edelgard               　　　     Andrei 　 　Diarmuid   　　Edward             　　    Alcryst　   　Ethlyn  　　Poe   　　Veyle               　　 Maria　   　Byleth (F)　   　Lapis　   　Laslow  　

Eliminated parties are escorted to Sadland for the remainder of August, where they will no longer be taking part in the main course of Happyland events. You will still be required to make your 12 total event posts if you wish to claim the Grand Prize — plan accordingly with your fellow fallen.

　　North Island: Stone Cog Remastered

"Hmhmmm~ You've all been hunting treasures for so long, but there's still the biggest, super duper best treasure waiting for you all to take it!" Diana announces. A gargoyle flies up ahead through the sky to which the maiden waves towards before she turns back to you all. "Of course, the monsters are preparing their best to defend it too! Heehee. How couldn't they after everything else was taken?"

The final temple looms behind her, grandiose and imposing.

"One last time, it'll be a test of bravery, and stealth! ♡ Some caution is important, but at this point, you gotta take some risks to get the things you really want, don't you? Or else you'll just end up empty-handed and sad. Boohoo~!"

She pantomimes crying, but nothing comes out. No, the thing she gives you all after this is her biggest, brightest smile yet.

"But you're not in this alone! It's your group against the traps, the monsters, the dangers, for the very best!"

What to expect:

Suitable for those who favor feats of stealth, perception, dexterity, and athleticism

This game will have its major decisions take place in the Discord server but players can decide whether they want to write dash threads or chatplays.

Players will report to the North Island location at the start of the week and will be restricted to interactions within North Island.

　

　　　　　　　　　　 East Island: In or Out

"How... How do you like this!!" With an energetic flourish, grander than any of hers in past weeks, Squawky unveils the resplendent castle behind you—fit for a queen of the highest order, certainly. How she made this overnight is a mystery.

"This... this is where... hah... you'll have your biggest stage yet! The queen herself has asked to see you!" An excited flap that lifts her a couple inches off the ground, then settles again. "And she has gifts she wants to give everyone!"

"But! Um, she can't just give them to any old person! To get the queen's gift, you have to be... be... um, oh no, um... what's the word... net... networked, something? Connected? Um, yes, we'll say ' connected '! Well-connected! You have to know a lot about others!"

If a crest beast could blush, you suspect she would.

"Th-The queen wants to see just how well you all know your friends and foes on Happyland, um, the ones here and gone! And if you're not sure, you'll have others you can talk to to help. But... I don't know. Sometimes things can get messy with so many heads. Maybe one calling all the shots is just better?"

What to expect:

Suitable for those who favor feats of authority and charm.

This game will have its major decisions take place in the Discord server but players can decide whether they want to write dash threads or chatplays.

Players will report to the East Island location at the start of the week and will be restricted to interactions within East Island.

　

　　South Island: Champion of Fiends

"Ahem, ahem!" Stood on a podium (thanks Squawky!), Chevy clears his throat and straightens. "Everything - that is, all of the effort you've put into taming and training your fiends these past few weeks - has led to this! This is where your fiends will get to prove themselves, and maybe even get to strut their stuff a little, hehe. This…"

Drumroll, please!

"… is your tournament arc!!"

Small boy raises his arms parallel to the ground, and then goes for the double flex. Impressive, right? "You'll have no choice but to fight if you want to reach first place here. And really - does anywhere but first matter, in the end? Hmph!"

Hands on hips, Chevy nods to himself. "Right! But! Keep in mind, your fiends won't be the only ones doing battle!! You'll be fighting right alongside them, just, maybe not in the formal way you're accustomed to… Hm, hm! All right." Satisfied, he nods again. "That is all! Best of luck!"

What to expect:

This game will have no boons or banes.

This game will feature PVP.  Please consider your comfort level with this before signing up; any OOC competitiveness should not strain the atmosphere of the game.

This game will have rolls conducted in the Discord server but all writing will take place through dash threads.

Players will report to the South Island location at the start of the week and will be restricted to interactions within South Island.

　

　　　　　　　　　　　West Island: To the Top!

"Are you a fixer-upper? Do you like DIY projects? Have you ever thought about flipping hovels for the market? Well, this just might be the game for you!" Emcee announces with a flourish. "Handy muses will find themselves right at home here. From gathering materials to designing a structure, you'll be competing with determined artisans from the other teams to see which of you can put together something strong enough to quite literally destroy your opponents."

Emcee laughs a little, tinny laugh. "Doesn't that sound fun?"

They pat their book emphatically. "You'll need equal parts muscle and wit to succeed here. Good luck, and may the best craftsman win!"

What to expect:

Suitable for those for favor feats of dexterity and insight.

This game will be guided in the Discord server, but all writing will take place through dash threads.

Players will report to the West Island location at the start of the week and will be restricted to interactions within West Island.

"Annnd that's that!" Chevy dusts himself off, then claps his hands together. A job well done, if he might be so humble as to say. Of course, it's not over yet but... ... well, he has to hope that the competitors will be able to go it on their own this week. After all, Squawky, Emcee, Diana, and he have somewhere important to be to work their magic for the remainder of this week, and that somewhere is unfortunately not at their precious contestants' side.

"... Good luck and have fun, everyone," he whispers. "Put on a good show, okay?"

And with that, off he goes to meet up with the other three - and their beloved Ringmaster too!

How to Play:

Week 4 begins on Monday, August 26 at noon EST and ends on Friday, August 30, at midnight EST.

Rules for each game will be explained in the respective channels at the start.

The main IC game events for the duration of the week will count for one thread mastery upon meeting the usual requirements.

　

If you have read all instructions, your muse may make their week 4 selection here.

Signups will close on Sunday, August 25th, at 11:59PM EST. Priority on each game will be given to muses who were not on that island in the previous week.

Signups may not be altered once they are submitted. Be sure of your choices before you submit.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

I'm glued to my screen, begging you to infodump to me about lol professionals doing bad builds (also lol item optimisation in general)

The thing that inspired me to make that post was this screenshot a friend sent me of an LPL game. I don’t know which game or which player is the offending person here and I don’t care:

Look at the Leblanc’s items. For those who haven’t been keeping up with LoL meta, Statikk Shiv Leblanc is really popular right now because the ap scaling on statikk shiv gives Leblanc a way to finally clear minion waves without using her W and putting herself at risk. Additionally the statikk shiv proc’s ap scaling gives her enough burst on auto attacks that when paired with items like Night Harvester and Lich Bane it makes her a legitimate threat, despite the fact that you are building an ad marksman item on an ap assassin.

However if you look at the Leblanc in that picture you’ll notice she doesn’t have any ap, she built full ad. Most people would write this off as completely troll because Leblanc has no ad scalings, but I am not most people, I got m7 Ahri by playing exclusively ad Ahri, I like off meta builds that use champions in unique ways. Ad Leblanc has been an off meta build for years because her ranged auto atttacks combined with absurd mobility of her W and RW lets her stay in range to do serious auto attack damage. The Leblanc player in the picture seems to be taking ad Leblanc and statikk shiv Leblanc and trying to fuse the builds. However their build fucking sucks for reasons I will now get into.

Statikk Shiv only scales with ap and level, so without any ap this Leblanc can’t even one-shit backline caster minions. With Statikk Shiv, Essence Reaver, and Stormrazor, the purpose of this build is clearly to front load as much damage into the first auto attack as possible, which is a strange but understandable goal for a build. But even disregarding the question of the viability of ad Leblanc, the mythic item choice of Duskblade of Draktharr is an objectively terrible choice for this build. Said 3 item combo of Shiv, Reaver, and Razor are all attack damage + critical strike items designed to deal frontloaded damage, which give Leblanc a total of 60% critical strike chance. With so much invested in ad and crit you would expect them to go for a critical strike mythic item like Navori Quickblades (ad, crit, cooldowns, ability damage amp), Infinity Edge (ad, crit, crits do more damage), or Galeforce (ad, crit, a dash that deals execute damage and gives you even more mobility). But they picked Duskblade of Draktharr, a lethality item for ad assassins that gives armor penetration, cooldown reduction, a temporary untargetability on takedown, and increase on ability damage against low health targets. Duskblade gives no critical strike, doesn’t help frontload damage on auto attacks, doesn’t help leblancs magic damage abilities penetrate armor, and amplifies the damage of Leblanc’s abilities even though this is an auto attack based build. If Leblanc wanted her abilities to hurt more, she would just build ap. So why did the pro player pick Duskblade of Draktharr? Likely because Duskblade used to be an item that frontloads damage on auto attacks by increasing the damage of your first attack after exiting stealth or the fog of war. Duskblade was reworked completely about 4 patches ago in the same patch that made Statikk Shiv into the item that Leblanc currently loved for ap scaling waveclear and burst. While I don’t know exactly why this player chose to build the way they did, I can make a decent guess that they didn’t know Duskblade got reworked.

As I said in my original post, LoL pro players got to where they are usually by having mechanical skill, not game knowledge. This is especially true of the LPL (Chinese league) and LCK (Korean league) where scouts will watch VODs of players throughout their regions massive playerbases and look solely for those who have good mechanics, because the coaches can just teach them everything else. The players learn how to play their champions and use their fast reaction time and hands to pilot them expertly, while they don’t have to worry about what to build or what is meta because their team’s coaches and analysts tell them what to pick and what to build. This makes sense in terms of creating a league of the best LoL players possible, but it also creates the bizarre current scenario where you will frequently see pro players that don’t even know exactly what their character’s abilities do or don’t understand what items they should build in what circumstances, because they can usually get by with building whatever is the most strong build of the current patch. It’s not just one guy building ad Leblanc and buying a mythic item that is effectively almost useless on his build, it’s players buying grievous wounds items against team comps that don’t have healing, players buying void staff against comps with no tanks or magic resist stackers, players purchasing armor items against magic damage lane opponents, and just hundreds of other small mistakes that very rarely affect the overall outcome of the game but are objectively bad decisions that drive people like me insane. This is less of a problem when their teams have good analysts and coaches with a good understanding of the game, but understandably they are usually focused on things like team decision making, coordination, teamfight callouts, and a hundred other things that are just as important to winning a game as buying the right items. I don’t envy pro players with all the things they have to do and the absurd number of games they have to play to stay relevant, but I reserve the right to harshly judge their itemization choices, as they are supposed to be the best players at this game in the world. I’ve honestly only scratched the surface of bad pro builds but I don’t have any other specific examples to point out right now so

One last thing: there are soooo many pro players who don’t know the details of their champion abilities and how they interact with other champions, and they are frequently unaware of the optimizations people who play their champions have made. The smart pros will talk to one tricks of the champions when they become meta and will learn tips and tricks from them, but very few actually bother. Poppy is my most played champion of all time, and now that she’s meta I have to suffer through watching pro players that don’t seem to know that you can cancel Poppy’s ult channel to put it on its reduced cooldown by recalling, instead of waiting for the full channel duration to time out or just throwing it out and missing. Poppy’s ultimate is an absurdly powerful tool, and if you don’t see an opening for it after you start charging it up you can literally just press the b key and it’ll be back up in just a few seconds

[niraff14]

Steamy Relaxation

Erick strode into his bedroom after having almost dashed in, while he wasn't technically running from his Personal Aid Yesuntei. He was also trying to avoid her, as she'd had a stacked folder in hand while talking to Dark Autumn. They'd been exchanging pleasantries, but that folder meant the odds that Yesuntei had something for him to deal with was rather high. She was a boon and a bane, the Xaela was an extremely efficient aide which could be rather bad sometimes when it came to business. She still hadn't quite grasped some of the intricacies of business, of not immediately replying to every contract request, how that sometimes running the clock down was needed to acquire a more lucrative deal for the company.

He let out a more relaxed sigh before heading to the attached bathroom in his private quarters. The hyur turned the shower on before undressing and slipping inside closing the glass doors to let the steam fog them up. Private showers were not a common household utility, they were a luxury item due to the plumbing and cost of setting them up, not to mention the cost in ceruleum to run the generator to heat the water. However, luxury was something Erick would always enjoy when given the opportunity.

Erick made sure to take his time and enjoy the hot water, since when he was done, he'd have to try and duck back out of the company house without Yesuntei catching him. Eventually he shut the water off, the valves creaking slightly as they were closed, and the rush of water turned into a dripping dribble. He stepped out of the shower and started to reach for a towel before he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He closed his eyes and sighed, "No Erick, you're being a fool, she isn't behind you right now because that'd put her in the shower."

"No, I'm not behind you Erick, I'm in front of you." Came a soft-spoken voice.

Erick's eyes opened and he had to resist the urge to jump straight up as Yesuntei was indeed standing in front of him. The shorter woman had her head tilted upwards, her blue eyes with their bright limbal rings gazing up at the soaking wet and very nude Erick. Despite this Erick did manage to only slightly jolt in surprise. "Seven hells! Yesuntei, you can't just walk into my bathroom while I'm showering!"

Yesuntei quirked her head to the side slightly, "Why not? Everyone hangs out in the company hot tub together some nights." Her tone indicated that the xaela woman really did not understand what the issue was at all.

"That's different, people are still somewhat clothed." Erick stated, not quite knowing where to start with this one as sometimes he still didn't quite get if it was just a cultural thing or if Yesuntei was just being extremely coy.

"Yes, I do find it odd that you insist people wear a, -bathing suit- in the tub." She replied while air quoting the last part.

"I'm not the only one that would, I'm just the one that went out to relax in the tub and found you using it."

"You really didn't relax all that much that night, after your eyes got really big you nearly ran right through the door to the company house." Yesuntei remarked wryly a rather small smirk on her lips.

"You were naked!" Erick shouted out a bit too loudly in hindsight. Thank the gods he had invested in some sound proofing for his bedroom to keep out prying ears.

Yesuntei shrugged, "That is how I normally bathe, even if it is for relaxation. Nudity isn't inherently sexual."

The Xaela's words made Erick blink, suddenly realizing that not only was he still naked, but that he'd gone from trying to chastise Yesuntei to debating her on the propriety of nakedness. He paused and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly as he grabbed the towel he had been reaching for earlier, wrapping it around his waist. "Nevermind all that, what do you want?"

She smiled cheerfully back at him and raised up a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, "I need you to sign these."

"These are the contract forms for the antique buyer in Ul'dah." Erick stated after glancing over the front form. "We're waiting on that."

"But he's extremely eager to purchase those vases, and you really want to sell them, so it can all be resolved without delay." Her voice was still cheerful but there was a certain amount of confusion in it as well.

Erick pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought for a moment, "Look, Yesuntei, I appreciate your work ethic. But in business, some things you don't want to resolve immediately. If I wait a few days, and make him think someone else is maybe giving a higher offer, he might raise his own."

The pale skinned xaela tapped her chin with the pen briefly, "But resolving a situation to the mutual benefit of both parties allows both to resume their other activities. That is generally how things were on the steppe."

"Yes, but on the Steppe your deals involved food, needed resources, if you didn't resolve them then your tribes would end up fighting, right?"

"That's right, yes." She nodded.

"Right, critical resources, these are Vases. If they get bought, we make Gil, if they don't get bought, we don't make Gil but we don't go to war or anything. I just end up sad from the lost opportunity." He elaborated, hoping his explanation would help.

"I see, but the company not making gil in a sure thing would be bad, and you being unhappy would made Meya unhappy. So it is better to resolve it as soon as possible so everyone can be happy!" She replied holding the clipboard up again.

Erick sighed and scratched the back of his head, "We'll deal with this in a couple of days, Yesuntei, not right now in the middle of the bathroom with me almost naked. What would Meya think if she walked in and saw this scene right now?"

Yesuntei just smiled brightly, "That you're finally getting down to business?"

Erick just stared blankly at the young xaela woman. One could almost hear his brain crashing from that sudden line that had been spoken so innocently yet could have several different meanings, meanings that he was positive the Kagon was aware of. He blinked after a moment, "You did that on purpose."

"I don't know what you mean Erick," Her tone was very much one of sunshine mischief now.

"Anyway... as I said, we'll deal with the contract later. Now please, I'm not going to get dressed in front of my aide."

"Of course!"

Erick closed his eyes and sighed, half debating getting back in the shower so he could relax again. When he opened them Yesuntei was gone, having left without a sound. "How in the blazes does she do that?"

@erickgage , as well as @autumnslance ,@healerstail for the mentions.

[theyhaveacavetroll]

Tagged by @pazithigallifreya. Thanks, I love doing these!

Tagging @partiallypearl, @imfunnyandrude, and anyone else that wants to!

1 How many works do you have on AO3? 90 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 585,148

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Cure for Sorrow

Cup of Their Deserving

As a Stranger Give it Welcome

Reclamation

To the Upper Air

Obligatory disclaimer: I'm only proud of three out of these five, but I'm glad that people are still getting something out of the other two. Cure for Sorrow and As a Stranger were written when I was a different person and well before the finale of Black Sails. 'Nough said.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, yes. I sometimes run out of time and energy because I work a full-time job where I'm out of my apartment 12.5 hours a day during the week.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't write fics with angsty endings. Battle Raven comes the closest and even that isn't angst, it's just not sunshine and roses. If you want dark fic or real angst, I'm not your girl.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think most of my fics have happy endings. If I had to pick a "and then they all lived happily ever after" fic it's probably most of the stuff in my Fate The Winx Saga works.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, when the idea occurs to me! I'm particularly fond of You Steele Know My Name, which I WILL finish, I swear.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate. I've received weird comments and "when will you update" no other feedback given comments, but nothing truly mean.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! I've written kink and what I'd consider vanilla, or at least nothing to write home about. I've gotten better at it over the years.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of and that is NOT a challenge.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yep! I have quite a few co-written fics with various people.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

In terms of what rewrote my DNA? Probably Flinthamilton but in terms of a ship that I always come back to where I have no negative fandom associations and endless, endless need to fix canon? Bagginshield.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

And the Sea With Its Deepness, aka the Black Sails fic where I faked everyone out with the first chapter specifically to enjoy the screams of "wait, that's WHO that got nabbed?!!" I want to come back to it but... yeesh, the fandom. I left for a Reason, and then there's the fact that I just can't with writing a certain character anymore.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Plot and dialogue. I'm one of the best damn mimics of character voices you'll ever meet and that's just facts.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. Action scenes are the bane of my existence, and I have a tendency to end paragraphs on an em dash too often that I've been trying to curb. A few is fine but there is such a thing as excess.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like to do it but only in short bursts and for languages I can be confident I'm getting right.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Probably Star Wars when I was very, very, VERY young indeed.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Does it count if I have an unpublished WIP already? If so, then Downton Abbey and The Hobbit. If not, then honestly I have no idea.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Ironically, arguably my favorite is one none of you have even seen and might not because I have no idea if I'll ever finish it. It's long, it's sprawling, and I've worked absurdly hard on it but it's just. so. much. As to finished fics, though - probably Reclamation. It's got Themes and everything.