#means it could only cast wild magic on whatever it touched

[tavshortfortavern]

Companions with a Tav from Modern Earth

Modern!Tav who still has their things from earth

Characters: Astarion, Gale, Karlach

Astarion

Learns that you have never met another race other than your own and he was the first elf you've met outside of stories, he's all smug that he was the first one you've met and horrified of a world without elves.

"Well darling, how is your first meeting with an elf?" He asks, posing proudly. "Must be a momentous day."

You stare at him up and down. "I thought you'd be taller." He gasps and glares indignantly but you kept making fun of his height

When he mentions not being able to see his reflection, you take a picture of him with your phone. He's alarmed with whatever your doing with that strange device until you show him his picture

"Is that me?" he's stunned, reaching out towards where his image is shown. The curse doesn't take into account digital reflection.

You do your best to explain the cellular device but most importantly the camera feature. You've been using it to snap pictures of places, fantastical scenes in this fantasyland and documenting memories

He listens enraptured. You come to almost regret it bc now said phone frequently goes missing. Astarion having pickpocket it to take selfies or simply admire himself in the screen

Soon your memory is almost full thanks to the selfies he's taking. He remarks you should be thankful to have such gorgeous sights immortalized in your device. He's doing you a favor

You will admit he's gotten real good at taking photos of himself. He'd quickly become a popular social media influencer/model back home.

Found out your little hand mirror could also show his reflection. The way your world made mirrors was without silver and could reflect him. You give it to him freely, as long as it means your phone is stolen less

Genuinely thankful for the gift. Keeps it close to him at all times. You know this when you observe him gazing at himself thru the mirror, touching his face with a look that says he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Quickly earns you a lot of approval.

Asks for your handmade soaps and shampoo made from natural resources you scavenged and bought. It eases the experience of roughing it out in the wild

When he feeds on you the first time, its great but immediately notices something wrong. Your blood tastes different somehow.

You explain microplastics and he's horrified. (but if he canonically gets a taste for Gale's blood, he will for yours)

Gale

Can't wrap his head around a world without magic.

Listens to you explain you and the majority of the population believing magic was a fairy tale and never heard of this 'Weave'

Wants to hear about your world, its history and how its progressing having no magic and only containing humans.

He understands this must be a lot for you and is willing to teach you everything you need to know about Faerun

Always interested in whatever device you pull out. Asking plenty of questions. From your phone to a ballpoint pen. Once spent a day studying the taser you had.

Loves the look of childlike wonder on your face whenever a spell is cast. Even a simple cantrip. Gladly shows off and soaks in the rapt attention you give him whenever he talks about spellcraft.

Helps you out with your own casting, if you obtained the ability to use magic, he could provide a little insight in guiding a new power

Soon you'll be sharing your stationary items. Started with the pen, next the multi-colored ones and so on.

Usually protective over kitchen duties but welcomes you to make dishes from your home world. Some even become a staple in camp.

If you have any soda, don't let him drink without warning him. He'll startle when the fizz hits his tongue and maybe choke.

Understands your homesickness. Being torn from everything you've ever known to a dangerous environment must be a lot. Is very patient when answering your questions even if they seem inane.

Show him pictures and videos of your home and he'd be intrigued, the glass towers, structures that pierce the sky, streets lit with colorful lights, and flying machines. Some parts remind him of Waterdeep.

Karlach

Loves soda and whatever fast food you have. Could go months just eating that if Gale hadn't put his foot down.

Introduce her to rock music and heavy metal. Hypes her up for a fight. Even music that's nice to dance to. Will be dancing a lot in camp. And jamming out.

Also learns you're still new to meeting other races. Thinks its great how your willing to help people you might have been alarmed to see at first and being so open minded to befriend anyone

Sympathetic when your homesick. She has her own experience being sent off into a different plane for years with nothing to connect her to home

You talk about modern medicine back home and heart surgery. Both of you wonder if they could just get her engine out and replace it with a normal heart in a hospital. It's a frequent topic of conversation as you work out the logistics

Is also happy to listen to any stories from your world. From classic fairy tales to history. Asks for them whenever it gets too quiet

Wants to see your world some day. If her engines gets fixed wants to visit and see everything you've told her and places shown in the pcitures in your phone

Photobombs your pictures. Its especially funny when she does it to Astarion trying to take another pic of himself, he complains but never deletes the picture

Will go through your photo album and ask about them. Who are the people your with, what are you doing in this, where is this and whats it like there

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 30

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet you encourage me.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do, Professor,” Sirius throws his head back, stretches the tendons of his neck. Something in Remus says bite and he’d like to pretend it’s the moon phase, but he knows it’s more - it’s the hex he cast at a muggle (Statute of Secrecy be damned), it’s the dreams he still has of the jail guard, the steady collapse of the self control he’s spent all his life clinging to. Every silly trip to the market he can’t help but agree to, and every cup of tea he makes without being asked. It’s Ziggy, and the Potters’ owl, and the knowledge he’d let any other animal stay, too, if Sirius were to ask.

He wants to bite the way wolves do, not for dominance but for ownership. He doesn’t think Sirius is something to be owned, though, too wild and too unpredictable, and too beautiful in it to bear containing. Remus wouldn’t want to try, not even if whatever it is that he feels was to be accepted, returned to him.

Beloved of my heart, he thinks, of course it had to be you.

“The buildup of curses on this thing… it must have taken years to complete,” Sirius is contemplative, quiet, “they must have really loved the intended.”

“Would appear so. I wonder what it’s protecting.”

“Must be something to help with the lycanthropy. To ease the transition, maybe? They speak of the body, here,” he points to Remus’ translation, “I’ve heard its… well, I’ve heard its difficult.”

Remus doesn’t mean to sound bitter as he laughs, but difficult is such an understatement, it bubbles out of him by itself. Sirius looks contrite, mouths an apology.

“No, don’t. Don’t apologise. There is no need for you to know.”

“There is now. So, I’d like to. If you’re willing to tell.”

Remus looks at him – looks at him – Sirius’ expression is open and waiting. Like he’d asked about a bad day or an unfortunate trip, not about this. Even Remus’ mum didn’t ask, not so openly. In different ways, yes, in cups of tea and charmed-hot blankets, but not with words unfaltering and eyes unafraid.

“Have you ever broken a bone?”

Sirius pulls up the bottom of his shirt where a thin white line runs over the hipbone.

“It’s like that, just… everywhere and all at once. The transformation is only minutes, doesn’t leave a permanent mark. That’s all down to how the wolf is feeling on the night.”

“It hurts you?”

“Hurts itself. Gets bored, I think. Looks for something. Misses… I don’t know,” Remus hedges, “I don’t remember much, just snippets here and there. It’s not me in there, not really.”

Sirius turns to the replica scroll, touches the line of hieroglyphs where it calls the werewolf by endearments. “They really must have loved them.”

“Maybe. Not a good life, that.”

It’s an offhand comment. Remus doesn’t even really register what he says, already looking down to his translation to try and work out the rest of the riddle.

“What do you mean by that?” it’s the sharpest he’s heard Sirius’ voice. Something almost aristocratic, the kind of voice that could send people to their deaths.

“Loving a werewolf,” Remus speaks slowly, unsure of where he’d gone wrong, “it’s not something I’d wish on anyone.”

“Remus, I know you to be a very smart man. Don’t make me rethink that stance.”

It’s absurd, and Remus laughs, but Sirius is stuck in that space of haughty stillness.

“It’s alright, Sirius. Like you said, you don’t know about this. You never had a need to and now you only do on account of the work we’re doing. Don’t worry about it.”

The air crackles, just a little, Sirius’ hair raising at the ends like from an electric storm. Remus doesn’t want to have to deal with cleaning up the office again, not the day before the full moon.

“Sirius. Please, calm down. I’m tired, you’re tired. Let’s drop this and go home, alright?”

At first, it makes it worse. Remus can taste the magic like an iron bar in his mouth. Then, Sirius forces a breath, then another, and the air calms down.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need.”

“Just, hearing you talk about yourself like that…” Sirius looks straight at him, through him, “you’re a wonderful man, Remus. No matter what happens a night of a month, no matter even if it were every day.”

“Sure, Sirius,” he says, because it’s a nice notion, and Sirius doesn’t know any better. “Thank you for saying that.”

It’s clear that Sirius knows he’s lying – he always knows – but he doesn’t say anything more. There’s something like hurt around the edges of his mouth.

They venture out into the library, split up between shelves. It reminds Remus of being at university and he wonders how it would have been, had they met there, had Remus not been what he is – just two students going about their days, meeting across a bookshelf or maybe reaching for the same tome. How Sirius would have looked like, just a little younger but without the weariness of prison. If he was wilder yet, or instead maybe more cautious, before that caution had run out.

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@arasael

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[badassxbirdy]

Continued from here

@derschwarzeengel

“Not a tree-hugger,” he protested mildly before letting it drop.

Damon turned his head to look at her, hummed softly. “Trouble-maker from the start, were you?” he teased gently. Then his expression turned more serious. “My mother was a lower-level witch, my father a practitioner. Back home, in my universe, witches are born with an internal source for their magic, but the power level varies from witch to witch and family to family. Some witches don’t have much in the ways of innate magic or an active power, but sometimes a higher-level witch will be born into a lower-level family. Practitioners don’t have any active powers like premonitions, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, whatever or an internal source for magic. They have to draw on outside sources of power like amulets or wild magic, and even then they can only cast spells, perform rituals; they’re basically humans with an affinity for witchcraft and most outgrow it. Only a few practitioners have actual talent.”

He shrugged. “Me, I dabbled in what would be considered dark magic when I was mortal, not that I cared much. I didn’t go in for summoning demons or any of that, but…” Damon hesitated. “Even with what your mother did, it sounds like she still tried to protect you.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say.” She grinned, mentally adding it to her ‘stuff to annoy Damon with’ list.

“Yep, I’ve always been a rebel.” Ty continued to twirl her twig as he explained how magic worked in his home universe, watching as the leaves above them swayed in the breeze. It was always weird to discover similarities between worlds that were, for the most part, so very different. “Sounds like your world has about as many kinds as I’ve met in this world. People born with powers, people who are granted it by another being, people who draw it from somewhere else… there’s a bunch of ways people can get power, even if they aren’t actually witches. She told me I inherited it. The uh, the stuff I could do. Which I guess is like… technically true? She just lied about who I got it from.”

“Why am I so not surprised your gothy ass messed with the dark stuff.” She snorted, but all traces of humour immediately vanished at the suggestion that Victoria had been trying to in any way keep her safe.

“No she fuckin’ didn’t.” Tyler didn’t mean to snap, but oh boy had he touched a nerve. Enough to make her temper flare again. “You didn’t see her when he showed up. Once her job was done, she couldn’t give two shits about me.”

[niuttuc]

So I saw a post about this concept and thought it would make for a interesting ask. Magical damage, like a necromancers fingers slowly turning black and losing sensation or a wizard with lighting bolt scares across their arms. What dose it look like when Arnoss, Zarunpel, Sezashi and Dancing-Hands push their magic beyond what their bodies can handle?

I find this question funny because of all my characters you could have picked, those are probably the ones that can strain their magic the least! So instead, let's talk about why they don't really do that, and we'll touch on the question! But I do appreciate the effort of narrowing down your questions to some characters for the copy-paste when it comes to my inbox, it hasn't gone unnoticed.

Most of the magic for Arnoss and Zarunpel is passive.

Zarunpel's "blessing" from the Wilds might not even function under the same rules as traditional magic, it follows more narrative rules. It affects her body and hair in many ways, but when it comes to the limits of it, it often is more about what would make a better story. She's stronger than someone that looks like her should be, but depending on what she has to do, the exact degree to which this is true varies. As long as it's somewhat reasonable, in important situations she's often just strong enough or almost but not there, depending which tells a "better" story. Of course, she has no idea how that works.

As far as her spellcasting, it's mostly temporary protection spells, they're more likely to be cast too late or not last long enough than to hurt her when she overuses them. Which means she or whatever she's protecting gets hurt the way it otherwise would have been. When the Urborg panther living in her shadow gets "killed" or banished in some ways, Zarunpel can also be left without a shadow for a time while Vel reconstitutes.

Similarly, Arnoss's magic is mostly passive buffing and reinforcing his scales, when it is overstrained, he gets hurt the normal way. However, it also depends on how many people need and want his help nearby, and in some cases that can be overwhelming to feel during major disasters in populated areas. So many people needing help and he can't help all of them. And he's found that when he tries to help all of them in a city when it's not a disaster, he exhausts himself going from one to the other for hours and days, there's always something in large population centers.

Sezashi has a hard cap on the number of spells he can maintain at once, at four, represented by the floaty objects that orbit him. While some are harder to maintain than others (maintaining multiple charges of the same nature on someone else requires concentration and effort), the failure point is usually just that one or multiple of the spells slip and come back to him, and he probably isn't in a state to reuse them just yet. With that said, premature failure of magic that can manipulate sizes and create duplicates is generally not a good idea, plenty of unfortunate timings possible. Also duplicates that are ended in this way don't fuse back as cleanly to the original, which certainly causes headache and can cause the loss of memories the duplicate had.

Dancing-Hands's innate telekinesis can be overpowered or overwhelmed, but it's very difficult, and it generally doesn't strain the kitsune much to use. Using it on non-physical things is more relevant here. It only works on nonliving elements. Using it on eldrazis, even scions and briefly, made him feel sick and gave him headaches, and he couldn't sustain it for more than a few seconds. He rediscovered how to use it on magical effects not too long ago, and that has taken a lot more out of him, and could potentially replicate or redirect harmful effects to him if he's not careful. The telekinesis itself is invisible if not for its effects.

As far as his Kanji magic, well, he typically only uses ink, and on paper, but much more powerful and dangerous opportunities are possible when this type of magic is used with blood (or other living material) and on living tissue. Be it using his paper blade on himself or drawing with his own blood on paper, the result would be white paper and fur marred in reds. It's not something he'd ever want to do, but in theory, it's possible.

[cagemasterfantasy]

Barbarian: Path of the Wild Heart (Formally Path of the Totem Warrior) (5.5e)

Barbarians who follow the Path of the Wild Heart view themselves as kin to animals. These Barbarians learn magical means to communicate with animals, and their Rage heightens their connection to animals as it fills them with supernatural might.

Level 3 Animal Speaker: You can cast the Beast Sense and Speak with Animals spells but only as Rituals. Wisdom is your spellcasting ability for them.

Beast Sense is a level 2 Divination spell for Druid and Ranger. Casting time is 1 action or can be cast as a Ritual. Range is 30 feet Requires a Somatic component. Duration is Concentration up to 1 minute.

You touch a willing Beast. For the duration, you can perceive through the Beast’s senses as well as your own. When perceiving through the Beast’s senses, you benefit from any special senses it has.

Speak with Animals is a level 1 Divination spell for Bard Druid Ranger Warlock. Casting Time is 1 Action or can be cast as a ritual Range is self Requires a Verbal and Somatic Component and duration is 10 minutes.

For the duration, you can comprehend and verbally communicate with Beasts, and you can use any of the Influence action’s skill options with them.

Most Beasts have little to say about topics that don’t pertain to survival or companionship, but at minimum, a Beast can give you information about nearby locations and monsters, including whatever it has perceived within the past day.

Level 3 Rage of the Wilds: Your Rage taps into the primal power of animals. Whenever you activate your Rage, you gain one of the following options of your choice.

Bear: While your Rage is active, you have Resistance to every damage type except Force, Necrotic, Psychic, and Radiant.

Eagle: When you activate your Rage, you can take the Disengage and Dash actions as part of that Bonus Action. While your Rage is active, you can take a Bonus Action to take both of those actions.

Wolf: While your Rage is active, your allies have Advantage on attack rolls against any enemy of yours within 5 feet of you.

Level 6 Aspect of the Wilds: You gain one of the following options of your choice. Whenever you finish a Long Rest, you can change your choice.

Owl: You have Darkvision with a range of 60 feet. If you already have Darkvision, its range increases by 60 feet.

Panther: You have a Climb Speed equal to your Speed.

Salmon: You have a Swim Speed equal to your Speed.

Level 10 Nature Speaker: You can cast the spell Commune with Nature but only as a Ritual. Wisdom is your spellcasting ability for it.

Commune with Nature is a level 5 Divination spell for Druid and Ranger. Casting time is 1 minute or it can be cast as a ritual Range is self Requires a Verbal or Somatic Component and Duration is Instantaneous.

You commune with nature spirits and gain knowledge of the surrounding area. In the outdoors, the spell gives you knowledge of the area within 3 miles of you. In caves and other natural underground settings, the radius is limited to 300 feet. The spell doesn't function where nature has been replaced by construction, such as in castles and settlements.

Choose three of the following facts; you learn those facts as they pertain to the spell's area:

Locations of settlements

Locations of portals to other planes of existence

Location of one Challenge Rating 10+ creature (DM’s choice) that is a Celestial, an Elemental, a Fey, a Fiend, or an Undead

The most prevalent kind of plant, mineral, or Beast (you choose which to learn)

Locations of bodies of water

For example, you could determine the location of a powerful monster in the area, the locations of bodies of water, and the locations of any towns.

Level 14 Power of the Wilds: Whenever you activate your Rage, you gain one of the following options of your choice.

Falcon: While your Rage is active, you have a Fly Speed equal to your Speed if you aren’t wearing any armor.

Lion: While your Rage is active, any of your enemies within 5 feet of you have Disadvantage on attack rolls against targets other than you or another Barbarian who has this option active.

Ram: While your Rage is active, you can cause a Large or smaller creature to have the Prone condition when you hit it with a melee attack.

@doodl3

[beyondspaceandstars]

A Good Man

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS, angst, underlying anxious tones (happy ending, though!) Summary: Bucky calls you distraught after having to resume the classic role of the Winter Soldier again A/N: When I saw this scene in TFATWS all I could think about was how wild that had to be for Bucky to assume that brainwashed role again and idk maybe it isn’t that deep and i just went crazy with it but what can i say? i love a good sad/angsty one shot with happy ending :)

Masterlist

Your heart leaped with joy as your phone started buzzing beside you on your desk. Only one person would be calling you at such an obscure time and seeing your boyfriend’s name and picture pop-up as confirmation made your heart melt.

Hitting ‘accept,’ you happily greeted him, "Hi, honey."

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as you waiting for his answer. You two hadn’t talked for a bit after he went off, only giving you a brief rundown of his plans. He was a bit frantic, a bit worried about his actions, but you assured him you knew what he had to do. Not being much of a hero yourself, all you could do was support him and promise to be there when he gets back, arms opened, ready to comfort him.

"Hi, doll," Bucky responded but his tone absolutely did not meet your energy. He sounded a bit out of it, almost distant, as his words dragged out in a sigh. At first you thought maybe he had just gotten tossed around in a fight but there was something in his voice you had to inquire about.

"How’s everything going?" You asked, cautiously, as you leaned back in your desk chair. The late-night work you were doing was becoming abandoned as your attention turned to your boyfriend.

Bucky paused, the line practically going dead. You worried he had hung up, maybe thought better than to tell you what was going on, but you could still hear his uneven breaths. They were haunting and rigid. You started to get more worried as the seconds of silence went on.

Afraid he was going to drop the call, you wanted to change the subject when Bucky finally spoke up. "We teamed up with Zemo."

Your phone nearly slipped out of your hands. Sitting up abruptly, you did your best to contain your shocked tone. "Wow, um, alright," you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "How- How is that going?" The last thing Bucky had explained was going to see him in prison and now somehow, some god-damn way, the man was outside. The man who had done all that to your boyfriend. Had controlled and weaponized him. The terror, the fear, everything Bucky would tell you came rushing back-

"Doll," Bucky mumbled, cutting off your thoughts. You gulped at his weak, sad tone. "You still love me, right?"

Your brows furrowed. "I love you so much, Buck," you said, meaning every single word entirely. After a deep breath, you then asked, "What’s wrong?"

"If you see any videos tonight, please don’t watch them-,"

"Videos?" You gasped, "Bucky, what is going on?" Your jaw clenched as you sat on the edge of your seat, desperate for answers. You weren’t about to disobey him but he was also giving you nothing.

That silence came back but you forced yourself to wait patiently. No dial tone came, just the same haunting breaths on the other end of the line.

He spoke abruptly, nearly catching you off guard. "We needed to speak to an informant so…" Bucky coughed, sounding like he was covering any worry. You still waited, silent. "I had to take on the role of the Winter Soldier, that Winter Soldier, again."

"I- What?" You asked. What the hell did that mean? "What do you mean took on the role? What- Bucky, what did you do?"

"No, no, babe, it’s fine," His voice was frantic, making something twist in your heart out of sadness. "I- I had to just pretend but it was back in that headspace, that role, and… And it was a lot, doll. I felt like a soldier again, following commands, and I didn’t- I mean I’m fine, everything’s fine. I know it wasn’t real but I- I just needed to talk to you. It got overwhelming and…" Bucky took another deep breath. You sniffled, holding back some tears as you listened to the worry, the tragedy, in his voice. "I just needed to hear your voice. Remember who I am now. What I have waiting for me."

You couldn’t help the little sob that escaped you. You didn’t exactly think it was the end of the world but it was… alarming. Necessary, it seemed, but alarming, and you didn’t know how to really help. Part of you wanted to beg him to come home but that just wasn’t reasonable. You knew the stakes very well.

Bucky started mumbling your name trying to calm you down but you cut him off. "Bucky, you know that’s not you anymore. You’re no one’s soldier, you’re no one’s asset, okay? You’re a good man who just wants to make things right." You took a deep breath as the waterworks flowed. "It wasn’t real, honey. You did what you had to do for the great good. As cheesy as that may sound, it’s true. And I think the fact you’re worried about it means you’ve come a long way."

A shaky breath came through on the phone. You both seemed to be such messes on different sides of the world. All you desperately wanted was to take him in your arms, reassure him everything was fine, feel his touch and give him that comfort. But he was doing what he had to as a hero and you knew it didn’t come without its challenges.

"Thank you, doll," Bucky mumbled. "I really needed to hear all that."

You mustered a weak smile through your teary expression. "You’re doing good, honey, I promise. You’ve worked so hard and I’m immensely proud of you."

You could practically hear the smile finally forming on Bucky’s lips as he gave you another thank you.

"Now, if I may ask," you sighed, "what is this about videos?"

Bucky groaned. "Some witnesses had those genius phones or whatever."

"You mean smartphones?"

"Whatever," He scoffed. "I think they took videos of the fight."

You shook your head, moving the phone to your other ear for comfort, and leaned back in your chair. "Your therapist is not going to like that."

"Please don’t remind me."

You couldn’t help but give a little chuckle at his response. "Are you doing okay, now?"

Bucky hummed. "I think so," he said. "Sorry for bombarding you with all that. I got a little panicky when I realized…"

The trailing off made your heart break just a little bit more. In your time of knowing him, when he wasn’t speaking his mind could be wandering, filling with worries and horrors you just wanted nothing more than to magically cast away. But the best you could manage was to actually be there. To listen to it all, fully on the roller coaster ride.

"Hey, honey," you said, trying to pull him away from his thoughts. "I promise, you’re okay. You were doing your job and it might not have been ideal but that wasn’t you. You don’t even know that person anymore."

"You’re right," he sighed. "God, how are you always right?"

You giggled, wiping away some stray tears. "I’m just so smart."

Bucky gave a weak laugh. It wasn’t much but you’d take it. "That’s for sure," he agreed.

He sounded like he was about to say something else when a voice called in the background. Bucky let out an annoyed sigh then said, "I have to go, doll, but I can call you tomorrow."

"Okay, honey," you said, sniffling slightly. "Please be safe."

"Always," he mumbled, his voice cracking just a bit, but he seemed to quickly compose himself. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Buck," you sighed. "Come back to me in one piece."

"Doll, please, you cannot say that to your boyfriend who has a detachable arm."

You gasped, "Bucky, you know what I mean-,"

He cut you off with another weak laugh. You were slightly relieved his humor hadn’t totally abandoned him in his panic. You wish you could see the same for yourself but Bucky always knew how to break the mood.

"Of course, I do," he sighed. "Just like teasing you."

"You’re insufferable."

He scoffed. "You love me." You could practically see him shaking his head with that stupid but loving teasing grin playing at his lips, trying to overcome those sad eyes.

You chuckled as your heart absolutely warmed at the mental pictures of your boyfriend. There was no denying you were madly in love with him. All of him. Brain, body, heart, soul. The entire package. "Of course I do."

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Trying Something New - Fred Weasley

Title: Trying Something New Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!! Dom/sub, daddy kink, male receiving oral, dirty talk, teasing, pet names, sex toys, overstimulation, unprotected sex, after care Summary: Fred and the reader decide it’s time to spice things up in the bedroom A/N: this is for @le-weasley-simp​ who wanted some kink exploration and an anon who wanted some dom!Fred with daddy kink!! This is mostly just smut but if you look hard enough there’s some plot I guess haha. Feedback is always welcome!!

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“What do you think of this one?” Y/N asks, holding up another bra for Fred to examine. It’s a deep purple color with a little lace detailing on the cups. When all Fred does is shrug Y/N sighs and puts the bra down. “What’s wrong with you? We’re surrounded by lingerie and you’re acting like we’re at the dentist’s office.”

“I dunno, I thought shopping for lingerie would be more exciting, and sexy,” Fred sighs, looking around the store. “But in reality it’s pretty boring.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well if you would pick out some stuff you like I could try it on for you, Freddie. But if you’d rather just go and do something else I can meet back up with you later.”

“Try it on for me?” Fred asks, perking up. “Why didn’t you start with that, love? Wait here, I’ll be back.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly with a chuckle as she watches Fred move around the store. He starts to eagerly grab a few things off of the shelves, clearly more interested in their shopping trip than he had been before. This shopping trip is the first part in their journey to get a bit more adventurous in the bedroom. Their sex life is far from vanilla, but both Fred and Y/N expressed interest in taking their activities to the next level. So they decided they’d spend the day out in muggle London to do some shopping for some supplies that will hopefully turn things up a notch in the bedroom.

When Fred comes back to where Y/N is standing a few minutes later, he has quite a few things in his hands and there’s a cheeky grin on his face. He shoves them all into her arms before ushering Y/N towards the dressing room. “Go, go, go. I’ll wait out here.” Fred takes a seat on the chair outside the dressing room, giving her a wink. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Okay, okay. Keep it in your pants, Freddie,” Y/N teases before closing the curtain behind herself. She hangs up the few things Fred had shoved into her arms, deciding to try on some of the bras first. She gets her top half undressed before grabbing the first thing her hand lands on. She slips it on, before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

It’s a deep red color that compliments her skin tone perfectly, and it’s completely made of lace. It plunges low, so her cleavage is on full display, and her nipples are visible through the sheer fabric. She adjusts it so it fits just right before turning around and opening the curtain up. “Thoughts?”

Fred’s eyes widen and he bites his lip to keep from moaning. He lets his eyes rake over Y/N’s body, focusing on the way the fabric clings to the curve of her breasts. “Oh I have many thoughts and none of them are appropriate enough to be said out loud right now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she shuts the curtain. She takes the bra off carefully and sets it aside for her to buy. She tries the next few bras on, showing each one to Fred, but they don’t quite elicit the same reaction as the first one. Fred had picked out two fuller pieces as well, and Y/N turns to those next.

The first one is sheer with some lace detailing throughout, with high cut leg holes that leave most of her sides bare. It’s high cut up the back as well, and if Y/N didn’t still have her panties on practically her whole ass would be hanging out. Y/N sticks just her head out of the curtain, so she can beckon Fred closer. “Come here, I don’t wanna expose my entire ass to the store.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Fred gets up and stands in front of the curtain, blocking the rest of the store from view. “Come on then, let’s have a look.”

“It’ll look a bit weird since I still have my underwear one, but I’m sure you can use your imagination to picture what it’ll look like when I’m naked.” Y/N opens the curtain fully then for Fred to see what she’s wearing, suddenly feeling embarrassed under his intense gaze.

“Jesus,” Fred groans, reaching out to touch Y/N’s thighs. He lets his eyes slowly roam over her body, memorizing every inch of skin. “If you don’t buy that I will never, ever, ever forgive you, Y/N. I’m serious. If we were allowed to use magic around muggles I’d be casting a few spells and taking you right here in this dressing room.”

“Fred,” Y/N scolds, before pulling him into a brief kiss. “Okay go sit back down, lover boy. I’ll try the last one on and then we can head to the next store.” Y/N shuts the curtain again and gets undressed, placing the black piece with the red bra she tried on earlier. She slips into the white piece quickly, taking a few moments to admire herself in the mirror. This one is less revealing, yet somehow feels sexier to her. The material is lace, but not only sheer in the areas that sprawl over her stomach and the leg holes are only cut a smidge higher than a normal pair of underwear, leaving much of her sides and ass covered. But the neckline is a plunging halter top, which leaves much of her breasts exposed.

Y/N opens the curtain, giving a little twirl for Fred. “You like?” she asks.

Fred nods wildly. “Very much. You look so sexy in white, Y/N. So innocent, yet so dirty at the same time. You’re driving me wild, baby.”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Freddie. I already agreed to sleep with you,” she teases. “Now go wait outside. I don’t want you to see what I buy so it’ll be a surprise.”

Fred gets up and comes to stand in the doorway of the dressing room, pressing a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Such a tease, Y/N.” Fred pulls his wallet out of his pocket and places it into her hand. “Whatever you want is on me, baby. Okay? I’m spoiling you today.” Back when Y/N and Fred first got together during their Hogwarts years he used to dream about the day he’d have enough money to shower Y/N in presents and treat her like the Queen she is. Now that those days are finally here he takes every opportunity to spoil her, whether she likes it or not.

“Freddie,” Y/N responds before kissing him again. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to.” Fred winks at her. “And this way I don’t feel as bad when I inevitably destroy something ripping it off of your hot body.”

Y/N closes the curtain on Fred then, shaking her head as she listens to him laugh as he walks away. She gets redressed quickly, holding the three things she plans on purchasing in her hand. Y/N walks towards the till slowly, grabbing a few pairs of underwear on her way, including a red lace thong that will go perfectly with the bra Fred had picked out. Once her purchase has been made Y/N heads out of the store and meets back up with Fred.

“All set?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her waist. When Y/N nods he grins. “Perfect. To the sex shop we go!”

-

“Who knew there are so many kinds of dildos?” Fred muses as he stares at a wall covered top to bottom in different dildos. “I mean so many different colors, and shapes, and sizes. It’s truly remarkable,” he comments, turning to look at Y/N. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah sure, Freddie,” Y/N giggles. The basket in her hand is already quite full of a few things, but Fred insisted that a trip to the sex shop wouldn’t be complete without getting a new dildo. Y/N is quite familiar with a variety of different sex toys, many of them having been gifts from Fred, but those are tucked away in her bedside drawer for her to use on her own when Fred isn’t around. This is the first time they’re picking out toys to use together, and Y/N would be lying if she said it wasn’t turning her on.

Fred wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to his side. “Any one in particular catch your eye, love?” He leans over to whisper in her ear. “It’s your pussy it’ll be buried in after all.”

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine right to her core and she lets her eyes roam over the wall. There truly is a wide variety of dildos, and some even scare her a little bit. She turns to Fred and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You know what I like, Freddie. You pick one out, surprise me.” Y/N hands him the basket and gives Fred a stern look. “Don’t make me regret that decision, Fred.”

“Have I ever given you a sex toy you didn’t like?” he asks. “You’re in good hands baby. I promise.” Fred waits until Y/N has left the store before he grabs the dildo of his choice, making sure to grab a few extra things on his way to the checkout counter.

-

Y/N examines herself in the mirror, wiping her sweaty palm off on her bare thigh. She’s standing in her and Fred’s bathroom wearing nothing but the lacy red bra and thong she’d purchased earlier that day. Even though Fred has seen her in far less clothing, she can feel nervous butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Something about exploring new things with Fred has her feeling like a virgin all over again, nervous and unsure what to expect. Y/N had been mostly hands off when deciding what new things to explore, leaving the decisions to Fred. She trusts Fred with her life, but the uncertainty of where the evening is going to take them is making her a weird combination of excited and turned on.

“I’m ready when you are, baby,” Fred calls from the other side of the door.

Y/N takes a deep breath, before she opens the bathroom door and steps into their bedroom. Fred is sitting on the end of their bed in just his boxers, leaning back on his hands. She can tell that he’s already hard, and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach.

“Baby, you look ravishing,” Fred comments, letting his eyes take in every inch of her body. The red looks amazing on her, and the skimpy fabric leaves much of her skin bare, just how Fred likes it. Y/N’s hands move to cover herself up, and Fred drags his gaze away from her bare thighs so he can make eye contact with her. “Come on, Y/N. Be a good girl, let me see you.”

Y/N blushes and clasps her hands behind her back, so Fred can see all of her. His voice is deep and firm, and it puts her at ease. Fred dominating her is familiar, and it quiets the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Good girl,” Fred praises. “Now turn around for me, I want to see all of you.” Fred bites his lip as Y/N turns around, his eyes immediately drawn to her ass. “So pretty, baby. Do you like getting all dressed up for me?”

“Yes sir.” Y/N’s skin is burning from Fred’s intense gaze and she can feel the blush that’s creeping down her neck to her chest.

“Turn around,” Fred demands, smirking when Y/N instantly faces him again. “Listening so good tonight, baby. I might not even have to get that brand new paddle we bought earlier.”

Y/N shivers at the thought of Fred using a paddle to spank her. She’s no stranger to the feeling of Fred’s hand swatting her on the ass, but it’s usually purely for pleasure purposes, never to punish. And the thought of Fred taking her across his lap and spanking her until she cries makes her core throb.

Fred starts to palm himself through his boxers, trying to decide what to do next. “Get on your knees, kitten.”

The nickname is new, and it makes Y/N’s core throb as she drops down to her knees. “Yes, Daddy.” Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks up at Fred. It’s always sir or master when he dominates her, never Daddy. They’ve never talked about it before and Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to say it again.

“What did you call me?” Fred asks, wanting to make sure he heard her right. He tries to keep his tone even so that Y/N doesn’t think he’s angry with her.

“Daddy.”

Fred’s cock twitches at the name and he has to bite his tongue to stifle a groan. “Get over here, kitten and suck Daddy’s cock.”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N answers as she crawls over to Fred. She immediately settles in between his spread thighs and pulls his boxers down to his ankles, freeing his cock. One of her hands wraps around the base as she takes the head into her mouth, sucking on it gently. Fred’s moans encourage her to keep going, and Y/N starts to slowly move her head down, taking more of Fred into her mouth and down her throat.

Fred groans as Y/N’s lips squeeze around his cock, and he gathers her hair up into a ponytail. It’s a warning, that if she isn’t a good girl for him he’ll have to fuck her throat so hard she can’t speak tomorrow, and as she starts to slowly pull her head back Fred gives her hair a light tug. “Don’t be naughty, kitten. You know how Daddy likes to have his cock sucked.”

Y/N moans around Fred and starts to bob her head faster. Her hand twists at the part of his cock she can’t fit into her mouth, and she lets her tongue rub at the vein on the underside of his cock. Y/N’s hand starts to stroke him as she pulls off to allow her mouth to pay extra attention to the head. She looks up at Fred under her eyelashes as her tongue starts to lick and flick at just the tip, gathering up the precum that has started to bubble out.

“That’s it,” Fred moans. “Being such a good girl, kitten. That pretty little mouth of yours was made for Daddy’s cock wasn’t it?” Y/N moans as she swallows him down again, causing Fred’s hips to twitch, forcing himself a little deeper down her throat. “Where should Daddy shoot his first load, kitten? All over your pretty tits? Or do you wanna swallow it, like the little cum slut you are.”

Fred’s dirty talk is sending shocks of pleasure right to her core, and Y/N has to clench her free hand to resist the urge to start touching herself. She isn’t allowed to touch without Fred’s permission, and if she does he’ll spend the rest of the evening edging her but never allowing her to finish. After a few more bobs of her head Y/N pulls off, stroking Fred slowly, changing the pressure of her grip as she does. “Want it in my mouth, Daddy. Please.” Y/N presses a few kisses to the tip of Fred’s cock, before taking him back down her throat.

“Of course, kitten. How could Daddy say no when you ask so nicely?” Under normal circumstances Fred would keep Y/N on her knees for him for the better part of an hour, not only for his pleasure, but hers’ as well. The longer Fred waits to finally touch Y/N the more intense her orgasms are, and their sex is much more enjoyable for Fred when Y/N is screaming his name. Fred starts to thrust his hips gently to meet Y/N’s movements and his grip on her hair tightens when she moans around him again.

Y/N takes a deep breath and relaxes her throat, before moving her head until her nose touches the skin just above Fred’s cock. The tip of his cock hits the back of her throat and she gags around him. A few tears leak from her eyes and saliva starts to drip down her chin, but she stays there for a few moments before pulling back to wrap her tongue around the head and suck. She tilts her head back slightly so Fred can look at the mess she’s becoming, before she takes him all the way back down again.

Fred moans as Y/N gags again, the image of his cock between her red, swollen lips with drool dripping down her chin and tears leaking down her face still fresh in his mind. “Fucking hell, kitten. You sound so pretty choking on my cock. You like the way it fills up your mouth, don’t you?” Y/N hums as her lips reach the tip of his cock and Fred lets out a deep groan. “Daddy’s getting close, kitten. Gonna shoot into your pretty mouth so you can swallow it down just like you asked. Being such a good girl for me already. I bet your pussy is already dripping just from having my cock in your mouth. You’re such a little cock slut, aren’t you kitten? You always need Daddy’s cock filling you up, isn’t that right? Nothing makes you cum as hard as Daddy’s cock does, right kitten?”

Y/N moans as she continues to take Fred’s cock all the way down her throat, letting herself gag for a moment before pulling back and repeating the process. She can feel Fred twitching against her tongue, a telltale sign that he’s on the verge of climaxing.  Y/N focuses on the feel of his cock in her mouth to keep her mind away from her pussy and the way it pulsates. Fred has somehow managed to talk dirtier than normal, and each word that comes out of his mouth goes right to her core.

“Oh fuck, kitten. Such a good little cock slut. Love the way you gag on my cock.” Fred pulls Y/N off of him slightly, and shallowly thrusts his hips a few times as he feels himself about to cum. “Here it comes, kitten such a good girl. Making Daddy cum from just your mouth.” Fred lets out a long groan as he reaches his climax, his hips twitching as his cock releases thick ropes of cum onto Y/N’s tongue and down her throat. He grabs Y/N’s jaw as he slowly pulls out to keep her mouth open. “Let me see your tongue, kitten. Daddy wants to see how pretty it looks with all of his cum on it.”

Y/N looks up at Fred and sticks her tongue out. Once Fred releases her jaw she swallows his release, before opening her mouth again, allowing Fred to see that it’s all gone. “Did I do good, Daddy?”

Fred nods, and uses his thumb to wipe away the drool on her chin. “So good, kitten.” Y/N shivers at his praise, and Fred cups her cheek. “Always my good girl, kitten. Such a good mouth, always sucking me so well. And you look so pretty with my cock between your lips, kitten. That mouth was made to suck Daddy’s cock, wasn’t it?”

Y/N nods, preening under Fred’s praise. “Yes, Daddy. Made just for you. I love sucking your cock, Daddy. Thank you for letting me suck you off and swallow your load.”

“You’re welcome, kitten.” Fred pats his thighs to give Y/N permission to sit on his lap, and he chuckles as she scrambles off of the floor to straddle his waist. This is the first time he’s touched her all night, and he lets his hands run down her back, over her bum to her thighs, before following the same trail back up. “Daddy’s gonna touch your pussy now, kitten. But you’re gonna be a good girl and not move. Right?”

Y/N places her hands on Fred’s shoulders and digs her fingers in as she nods. “Yes, Daddy. Always your good girl, promise.”

Fred moves Y/N’s thong to the side and lets two of his fingers massage her wet folds, just barely brushing her clit. “Wow, kitten. So fucking wet already just from having Daddy’s cock in your mouth.” Fred sinks one of his fingers into her heat, just letting it sit there. When Y/N remains still in his lap he smiles and starts to slowly fuck her with the digit. “Good girl, kitten. Daddy is so proud of you.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” Y/N stutters as his finger curls inside her. Fred’s moving at a frustratingly slow pace, but with how turned on she is Y/N figures she could probably cum just from this one finger alone. “Can I have more, Daddy? Please?”

Fred pulls his hand away from her core, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s neck when she whines. “How about we get one of the new toys Daddy bought you, kitten? Would you like that?”

“Yes please, Daddy. Thank you Daddy. I love you.”

Fred pulls their mouths together in a slow kiss, his hands gripping her thighs as he stands up. He places Y/N down on the bed gently and pulls away. He chuckles when Y/N pouts at him, and he presses a few quick kisses to her lips. “I love you too, kitten. Now lay back on the bed for Daddy, okay?” Fred waits for her to get into position before he walks over to their dresser where a few of the toys he’d purchased earlier are sitting. He had hoped Y/N would be a bit naughty so he could try out the paddle, but he’ll have to save that for another time. He settles on the new pink vibrator Y/N had picked out. It’s not as long or as thick as Fred, but it’ll be a nice warm up for his cock.

“Here,” Fred says as he reapproaches the bed, handing the toy to Y/N. Instead of rejoining her on the bed, Fred grabs the chair from the corner of their room and placed it at the foot of the bed. It gives him the perfect view of Y/N and what she’s about to do for him.

Y/N swallows thickly as she examines the toy. Her pussy is throbbing with the need to be filled, so much so that it takes her a few seconds to notice that Fred hasn’t rejoined her on the bed. “Daddy,” she whines, propping herself up on an elbow to look at Fred. “You’re too far away.”

“Don’t worry, kitten. Daddy’s right here. He’ll join you in a bit.” Fred bites his lip, his cock twitching at how unbelievably sexy Y/N is. “Tonight is all about trying new things, right kitten?” When Y/N nods he continues. “Well tonight Daddy is giving you permission to touch yourself. I wanna watch you fuck yourself with that pretty pink vibrator, okay? And once you’ve come all over it, Daddy will come back and touch you. Sound good, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you Daddy.” Y/N keeps herself propped up on her elbow so Fred can watch as she takes the vibrator into her mouth, sucking on it just like she’d sucked on Fred earlier. Once it’s wet she pulls it out of her mouth with a pop and turns it on to its lowest setting. She trails it down her chest to her breast, moaning as the vibration stimulates her nipple. If she were alone Y/N wouldn’t bother with the theatrics, she’d just go right for fucking herself on the toy. But she wants to put on a show for Fred.

“Oh Daddy,” she moans as she moves the vibrator to the other nipple. She makes direct eye contact with Fred as she starts to trail the vibrator down her stomach towards her core. She takes a moment to push the fabric of her thong aside, before she presses the tip of the vibrator against her clit. It sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body and her hips jut up as she whines.

“Feel good?” Fred asks, his eyes trained on Y/N’s dripping core. He can already feel himself getting hard again, and he starts to slowly stroke himself with a loose fist.

“So good, Daddy,�� Y/N moans, turning up the vibrator up one notch. She presses it against her clit harder, her head tossing back as she groans.

“Does it feel better than Daddy’s fingers?” When Y/N shakes her head, he chuckles. “What about his mouth?”

“No, Daddy,” Y/N pants as she starts to tease her entrance with the tip of the toy. “Nothing feels better than your mouth.” Y/N starts to slowly push the toy into her, her walls clenching around it and sucking the toy in further. “Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, pushing the toy in as far as it can go.

Fred squeezes his cock, biting his lip to contain the noises he wants to make. Y/N looks ethereal as she fucks herself with the toy and Fred doesn’t want to distract her. “How does it feel, kitten? Talk to Daddy as you fuck yourself.”

“F-feels good.” Y/N increases the speed of the vibration as she starts to fuck herself with the toy slowly. The pace is agonizing, but the tip of the vibrator brushes her g-spot with every movement and she already can feel her orgasm building. “Not as good as your cock, Daddy. But so good.”

“Nothing is as good as my cock, isn’t that right, kitten? No toy or man will ever be able to make you feel as good as my cock does. That pussy belongs to me and no one else. Right, kitten?” Fred has to stop stroking himself to avoid orgasming again. The next time he cums it’ll be inside Y/N, and he still has a few plans for her before that’s going to happen.

Y/N’s toes curl as she increases the pace of her movements and she can feel her walls spasming around the toy. “Yes, Daddy. My pussy is yours. All yours,” she babbles. “Gonna come soon, Daddy. Can I come? Please. I’ve been such a good girl.”

“Gonna come already, kitten? You’ve barely even touched yourself,” Fred teases. “Do you like showing off for Daddy that much?”

Y/N moans and her back arches as her orgasm nears and she stats to slam the toy into herself harder. “Love it so much, Daddy. Love being your good girl. Always wanna be good for you.”

“You are such a good girl, kitten. You look so good fucking yourself with that toy. You’ve already got Daddy hard again.” Fred stands up, his eyes trained on Y/N’s face. “Go on then, kitten. Come for Daddy.”

“Oh, oh, Daddy,” Y/N moans as she finally reaches her climax. Her hips thrust down on the toy as pleasure washed over her and her thighs tremble from how intense her orgasm is. As she comes down from her orgasm the vibration of the toy is too much, but before she can pull it out Fred is sitting next to her on the bed and grabbing the end of the toy.

“We’re not quite done here, kitten.” Fred increases the speed of the vibrator and starts to slowly fuck Y/N with his, watching as her body writhes on the bed.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Y/N babbles as Fred starts to fuck her with the toy faster. Her body feels like it’s on fire, and she can already feel her next orgasm building. Tears have started to leak out of her eyes, and she collapses against the bed. “Too much Daddy, please.”

Fred slows down the pace of his movements for a moment. “Do you need Daddy to stop, kitten? It’s okay if you do, you just need to say the word and Daddy will stop.”

Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t stop Daddy, please. Wanna come again. Feels so good Daddy.”

Fred starts moving at the same pace as before, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s forehead. “Such a good girl, kitten. Come for Daddy on the toy one more time and then he’ll give you his cock, okay?” Fred grabs one of Y/N’s hands in his and intertwines their fingers, before pressing them down against the bed above her head. “Good girl, kitten. Come for Daddy.”

Y/N’s back arches off of the bed as she comes, an incoherent mess of moans and whines falling from her mouth as pleasure rockets through her body. Her whole body is trembling, and it feels like she can’t breathe as Fred turns down the vibration on the toy and continues to slowly fuck her as her orgasm rolls over her.

Fred watches Y/N’s chest heave with deep breaths as she comes down from her orgasm, and he slowly pulls the vibrator out of her. He leans down to kiss her forehead gently, squeezing their intertwined hands. “You did wonderful, kitten. So, so good. I love you so much.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you. I love you.” Y/N whines and tilts her chin up, silently asking Fred for a kiss.

Fred complies immediately and kisses her slowly for a few moments. He presses a few quick kisses to her mouth before pulling away. “Do you have one more in you, kitten? Are you ready for Daddy to fuck you?”

Y/N nods, letting Fred help her sit up. “Yes, Daddy. Need you so bad.”

Fred grabs the bottom of Y/N’s bra and pulls it over her head, kissing her again as his hands starts to massage her breasts. He lays her back down as he settles in between her legs, his hands running down her torso towards her core. “Can’t wait to bury my cock in your pussy, kitten. You always feel so good wrapped around me.” He slowly pulls her thong down, admiring her now naked body.

“Fuck me Daddy,” Y/N begs. “Want you to pound my pussy.”

Fred practically growls as he grips Y/N’s thighs and he pulls her down the bed closer to him. He braces himself on one hand near her shoulder, while the other wraps around the base of his cock and positions himself at her entrance. “Ready, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy, please.”

Fred slams his hips forward, pushing all of himself into Y/N’s dripping heat. He throws one of her legs over his shoulder and grips her hip before he starts to snap his hips into her hard and fast. “Fuck, kitten. Still so fucking tight for Daddy. How does my cock feel? Is it stretching you out?”

“Daddy,” Y/N moans, starting to move her hips to meet Fred’s thrusts. She clenches around him tightly, wanting to bring him to his orgasm. She’s still extremely sensitive from her first two climaxes, and from the way Fred’s cock is relentlessly rubbing against her g-spot she knows it won’t be long before she comes again. “Your cock feels so good. Feel so full, Daddy.”

“God, kitten. Love your cunt so much. Always feel so fucking good.” Fred starts to rub harsh circles on Y/N’s clit, hoping to bring her to her third orgasm. Her walls are like a vice grip around his cock, and Fred knows we won’t last much longer. “Who does this pussy belong to kitten? Is it yours?”

“No,” Y/N pants, shaking her head. She lets out a long whine as Fred lands a particularly hard thrust and she momentarily loses the ability to speak from the pleasure flowing through her veins. “Belongs to you, Daddy. All yours.”

“That’s right, kitten. All mine.” Fred’s rhythm starts to falter as his orgasm approaches, and he starts to apply more pressure to Y/N’s clit. “Come on, kitten. Come for Daddy. Give him one more and I’ll fill you up with my seed.”

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head and her back arches as she comes again, a low moan ripping from her throat. She relaxes against the bed as she comes down, her hands tangling in Fred’s hair and tugging on it harshly. “Please Daddy. Come inside of me, want you to fill me up.”

Fred buries himself completely in Y/N and his hips still as he comes, his cock twitching as it paints her insides with his release. He rolls his hips slowly before stopping his movements all together. He gently places Y/N’s leg back on the bed, and he leans down to kiss her softly. Fred slowly pulls out of Y/N and lays down next to her on the bed, pulling her into his chest.

“Love you Freddie,” Y/N  mumbles as she presses her face into his neck. She wraps her arms around his torso and presses a few kisses to his sweaty skin. “Love you so much.”

Fred chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, Y/N.” He just holds her for a moment, pressing her to his chest tightly. He looks down at her, noticing the slightly dazed expression on her face. “I’m gonna go run you a bath, okay? Stay right here, baby.” Fred kisses her gently before he climbs out of bed and heads into their bathroom.

Once the bath is warm and filled with bubbles, Fred goes back into the bedroom and slowly picks Y/N up bridal style. He takes her into the bathroom and places her in the bathtub carefully before getting in behind her.

Y/N relaxes back against Fred’s chest, letting the warm water flow over her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you.” Fred rubs his hands up and down Y/N’s arms in the water to soothe her and presses a few kisses to the top of her head. “So, Daddy, huh?” he teases after a few minutes of silence.

Y/N laughs and tilts her head back so she can look up at Fred. “You’re in no place to talk, kitten,” she fires back.

Fred smiles and leans down to capture Y/N’s lips in a sweet kiss. The angle is awkward, but neither of them seem to care. “Hey, I’m not complaining it was wicked hot. What about you, did you enjoy trying something new?”

Y/N hums and nods, kissing Fred again. “Let’s just say I think we should head back to that sex shop again sometime soon.”

“Does tomorrow work for you?”

[lostysworld]

My dar(k)ling – The Darkling x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: none in this chapter

Summary: You are a witch of old, who General Kirigan brings to the Little Palace to your greatest displeasure after his another attempt to find Morozova's stag. Despite your murderous behavior you are trying to find your place in the Palace's life. And maybe in the Darkling's heart.

Chapter summary: The first chapter, when you meet Genya Safin, and decide, that maybe it's not that bad in the Little Palace.

A/N: I don't now, actually, if should go on with this work, but I hope you'll like it, guys :D

For almost a week you spent in this carriage, that should deliver you to the Little Palace along with the general. The only thing you didn't know, is what for. For being a royal lap dog?

– Don't make that face.

You switch your grim gaze on the man on the opposite seat, who looks much more content than you. After six days of being watched constantly by him and his guard, you lost this feeling of privacy and security, that you was gathering while living alone in the forest hut.

– Maybe you want to leave me here and continue without seeing that face, general.

You are acting quite bold, giving that you are not grisha, which means, he's not your general.

– Gladly. You smell like a horse, - you roll your eyes.

– I wonder why?

The man switches his glance on you, smirking silently. Whatever rude you tell him, he seems to enjoy this short interactions. For the whole time you literally didn't say a word to him before this moment.

Kirigan sighs and leans towards you slightly, that makes you press into the back of carriage.

– Listen, Y/N. If you want it or not, but you'll be safer in the Palace amongst others. And tomorrow you will be called before the king.

– What for? - the anger slowly starts to overhelm. – I am no use for you in the war. You'd better leave me be.

– I just want every grisha to be safe in the one place.

– I'm not a grisha, - you slowly scan his smirking face. – Actually, I am much more better.

– Than it will be awful to abandon your talents then.

Abandon. Unbelievable. You spent fifty years living in the forest all alone, and everything you had is practicing your powers.

– Besides, - the man speaks again. – I know one person in the Palace who can make you more presentable.

His smirk starts slowly driving you mad. Your ancestors were powerful ageless witches, and now you are trapped in a box with a man who seems to have a God complex. And if everyone around you is charmed by him, you are definitely not.

You look behind the curtain and see the gates of the palace becoming closer.

– And you look good for fifty years of-

– Fifty six, - you cut him off, watching this interested sparkle in his eyes. – I can say the same about you, general.

His smirk drops and he clenches his jaw.

– What do you mean?

There is no way you can know the truth about him. You playfully wave your hand.

– You know, rumours...

– Rumours? In the woods? - he arches a brow in angry tension.

And then the carriage stops, and the next moment Ivan, one of Kirigan's heartrenders opens the door for them.

You shrug your shoulders, observing the man's body slowly relaxes. He makes his way out of the carriage, extending his hand for you.

This gesture is ignored, as you step on the ground finally. And now you see the Palace.

– It looks...nice.

– Nice?

The general arches his brows in surprise. Not that he wants to impress you, but after a lonely ruined hut, the palace should be a kind of miracle for you. The building is enormous, and the facade is really amazing, but you'll never admit it out loud to him.

– You should see the Grand Palace then, - you cast a glance toward Kirigan.

– I'm sure, it's nice too.

Giving up a short laughter, he finally leads you to the entrance.

Your room is huge, just...huge. After that tiny place you were living in, it feels like too much space for you only.

You can't get to the bed, when a group of people comes in. Well, too much people for you here as well.

– Saints, you look horrible!

It is a young woman with fiery auburn hair, who is hovering above you and scanning with curious glance. The way she looks mesmerizes you, as you can't take off the glance from her face.

Several girls in white uniform stand right behind her.

– But not as horrible, as I expected.

– Oh, thank you. Is everyone so polite here as well?

You raise a brow at her, seeing her eyes narrowing. It is strange for you, but her glance makes you feel secure. Like she knows everything and her confidence slowly switches on you.

– Genya Safin. I am a tailor, - the girl cocks her head, looking at your clothes.

– Y/N Y/L/N. I am not.

The girl in front of her chuckles.

– I've heard. You are not a grisha, right?

– Is that the thing, that everyone is discussing now?

Genya waves her hand at the nearest girl, and murmurs something to her, dismissing others.

After a moment you two are alone in the room. Without a word Genya starts unbraiding your long hair, when accidentally stops, that draws your attention.

– What's this? - her abashed voice makes her nervous.

– What?

– Your hair is...scorched.

Your hair is thick naturally, but their length is uneven and tips are thin and whitish.

You greet your teeth, turning back from her.

– Don't pay attention, just do what you wanted, - the girl comes out of your back standing directy in front of you. From the expression on her face you realize, she won't stop asking.

– What happened with your hair?

– Oh, and for as long as it's not my life, you're interested? - you chucke lightly, but she's still staring. – What? I am a wicked witch. Am I not supposed to have, I don't know...dark secrets?

Your sarcasm doesn't stop her.

– A forest witch.

– Excuse me? - you look at her in surprise, when a girl in white appears once again, carrying the clothes. After that she leaves them again.

– A forest witch. They call you like this.

God. You just want to come back home without a crowd of people, rumours and other magical stuff. Not your magical stuff.

– Perfect. Just perfect.

Genya smiles at you and heads to the bed, where several costumes lay. When the young woman shows you a white kefta, you slightly wince.

Decades of living alone didn't make you wild, moody or sacractic, but actually social awkward and your sarcasm is most of defense.

You know Genya wants you to look perfect, but the kefta seems so tight and uncomfortable, unlike clothes, that you used to wear.

– Maybe it's just pants and a shirt? - you look at her in slight hope, that the girl will agree.

– Maybe you'll listen to me, Y/N.

Your groan makes her smile, and then you smile back. You feel her. There is no light energy around this girl, but it feels like one. Genya is so natural and soft, that you instantly like her. Well, you at least have a company now.

Not to mention General Kirigan.

You slightly wince at the memories of him. Unlike Genya, he has something strange inside. He was the one, who could be mentioned, when you told about dark secrets.

– What about General Kirigan?

These words slip so easily from you, that you can't get to hold them back. Genya only turns to you, casting an interested look.

– What about him?

– Tell me something.

That time with him didn't tell you much about the man, as he kept himself closed from anyone.

– He brought you here against your will? - Genya makes herself busy with your hair. You try to shake your head and not to distract her.

– He was looking for Morozova's stag, which is hardly can be found in the place, where I lived, - the memories slowly show up in front of youe inner sight. – I was alone, and really didn't care much.

– Did he know, you were not a grisha?

– He didn't, but he learned. As soon as I told him, he offered me to go with him. To the place, where I would be safe, - you hesitate for a second, and a smirk lights up your face. – Not that I was in strong need of rescuing.

The woman smirks and comes back to the costumes.

– Kirigan is better, that he may seem, Y/N. That's for sure, - you turn your gaze to the window, when Genya touches your shoulder. – How about this?

You see a white long dress with golden embroidery, that is surely not a comfortable one, giving that you used to wear pants.

Genya just can't hold her laughter back, seeing you hiding your face in the palms, moaning.

[tigerkirby215]

5e Vex, the Gloomiest build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Horace “Hozure” Hsu. Made for Riot Games.)

Writing this build in a dark room late at night, super tired and stuff... Stuck inside cause of this dumb virus... AFKing in TFT for a Prestige skin like a tryhard... It’s kinda aesthetic, ya know?

GOALS

Another person to kill... Shadow? Can you handle it? - You don’t need best friends: you’ve got your Shadow. He’s the only cool one, because he’s basically you.

Ugh. Can we get some rain clouds in here? - No one likes a debbie downer, but everyone loves a good scare!

Man, walking suuuucks - Nowadays even the anti-dash champion needs a resetting dash. “Do the thing, Shadow.”

RACE

I could make Vex a Harengon to justify her rabbit ears, but she doesn’t really do much “jumping.” That, and I didn’t buy Wild Beyond the Witchlight. So Halfling still works good enough for a yordle. Your Dexterity increases by 2, and while your movement speed goes down to 25 you have Halfling Nimbleness to move through people who are bigger than you. You’re also “Brave” for advantage against fears (when you hang around the Shadow Isles stuff really isn’t that scary) and of course have good ol’ yordle Lucky to reroll Nat 1s.

Halflings are normally pretty cheerful but Ghostwise Halflings are perfectly dark. You’d normally increase your Wisdom by 1 but I’d recommend increasing your Constitution instead. But I mean, it’s not a big deal if you take Wisdom instead. It is only +1. You also get Silent Speech to keep to team chat with 30 foot telepathy. I mean, they have to understand your languages but at least you don’t have to tell everyone what you’re talking about. And oh yeah you obviously speak Common and Halfling.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Turns out when you don’t release any new yordles for (wait it’s been 5 years since Kled was released? Holy shit) people end up wanting them.

14; DEXTERITY - Just because you don’t like walking doesn’t mean you’re slow.

13; CONSTITUTION - Imagine dying like a normie.

12; WISDOM - Vex isn’t sad because she’s pessimistic. She’s just realistic.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You’re too cool for school. (And I needed everything else more.)

8; STRENGTH - Ughhh I don’t wanna lift heavy stuff! I’m tired...

BACKGROUND

I guess you’re technically a Haunted One, even if the black mist is the best thing that ever happened to you. You get proficiency in Arcana and Survival as well as two language of your choice to talk to your "allies.” (I guess one of them has to be exotic or whatever.) (I’d personally pick Sylvan as the language of yordles and whatever language the majority of your party knows as your second choice, but that’s just me.)

The thing that sucks about having a Heart of Darkness is that everyone keeps trying to help you, thinking that your sadness (and the living shadow on your back) is something to be fixed. I mean, at least you can get the NPC normies to help you, as long as you don’t spook ‘em. “No doctors! I told you: being sad makes me happy.”

(Artwork by @ToggleD0wnFall on Twitter.)

THE BUILD

or whatever...

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting as a Sorcerer for saving throws and stuff. Also proficiency in Intimidation and... Persuasion, I guess? Look, persuading people that you’re fine “no really” is a skill too.

I wonder what Sorcerous Origin we’ll pick... If only there was one based entirely on shadows and darkness... Oh hey Shadow Magic. As a Shadow Sorcerer you get Eyes of the Dark for 120 feet of Darkvision to see with your dumb Halfling eyes, and Strength of the Grave which will let Shadow take a hit for you. (As long as you make a good Charisma save.)

But of course the main appeal of a Sorcerer is the Spellcasting. You can learn 4 cantrips from the Sorcerer list and two level spells: For cantrips Mage Hand will let Shadow pick things up for you, Mind Sliver and Sword Burst will keep loud people off you both up close and from afar, and Prestidigitation will let you do all sorts of normie yordle magic. As for leveled spells Shield and Mage Armor are both kinda mandatory for some Personal Space.

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

What? Did you really think we wouldn’t get at least some support from adults? Work for that cool gloomy dude Viego and make a pack with The Undead. That’s because Undead are super dark and morbid and have a Form of Dread: as a bonus action you can turn on your Doom and Gloom for 1 minute. You get some temporary hit points, fear people when you hit them, and are immune to fears yourself. You can transform a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

You also get Pact Magic, which is different from normie Spellcasting because you get the cool stuff done with just a Short Rest. Anyways you can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Minor Illusion to have Shadow trick some normies and Eldritch Blast to Eldritch while you Blast. You can also grab some first level Warlock spells like Hex to mark people you don’t like, and Arms of Hadar if you really need your Personal Space.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get their Eldritch Invocations for extra stuff that you don’t have to put effort into. While Armor of Shadows does exist it’s honestly better for you to cast Mage Armor with a spell slot, so with that being said take Agonizing Blast to agonize while you blast and Eldritch Mind so you can keep your concentration around annoying people.

You can also learn another spell like Hellish Rebuke, because people just keep barging into your Personal Space!

LEVEL 4 - SORCERER 2

Now that you can agonize your blasts it’s time to go back to Sorcerer. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently don’t do much other than give you more spell slots. You can turn your Warlock slots into Sorcery points though, which is good because they come back on a Short Rest but the rest of your magic does not.

You can also cast another spell like Earth Tremor, to slow people down with Looming Darkness and sunder the land with your edginess.

LEVEL 5 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers finally get Metamagic! Empowered Spell will allow you to maximize your damage and retain your role as an artillery mage. Alternatively if you want to guarantee fears in your foes take Heightened Spell to give them disadvantage to resist Shadow’s influence.

If you want Shadow to stick around then Dust Devil will swirl around for quite awhile. Alternatively Shadow (Magic) also teaches you Darkness for free, and you can cast it with 2 Sorcery Points to see through it! Your friends can’t see through it, but you can team up with Shadow for some powerful combos when you can see them but they can’t see you!

(Artwork by @jpdiasarts on Twitter.)

LEVEL 6 - SORCERER 4

4th level Sorcerers get the first of many Ability Score Improvements, but I can’t take Fey Touched every time for Flash. That, and we won’t give into basic yordle society. So let’s get value out of our Halfling race with the Second Chance feat. Along with +1 to your Charisma you can also use your reaction to make an enemy you can see attacking you reroll their attack roll, potentially making them miss.

Don’t use this against an attack that you can Shield against, but if someone gets a really good roll you can use this to get your Personal Space back! You can only use this once per combat though (it comes back when you roll for initiative!) so make sure to use it when it matters to keep your spell slots in check.

Oh and you can also learn another spell, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Shocking Grasp will help you push people away if they get too close (folk tend to react poorly when zapped by a tazer!) As for leveled spells Web will keep foes from dashing around, and is also pretty flammable. Huhn; wonder if that’ll be useful.

LEVEL 7 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers get gifts from the Ruined Queen Tasha in the form of Magical Guidance. You can use a Sorcery point to reroll a d20 if needed, potentially squeezing a success out. Don’t use this all the time (even if Warlock slots means you’ll have plenty of Sorcery points to spare) but this can be very useful in an emergency!

You can also learn third level spells and hey: Fireball may be a normie spell, but it’s still pretty effective. It’s maybe a bit too flashy to be Looming Darkness but it’s a good source of AoE damage which isn’t as loud and annoying as Shatter.

LEVEL 8 - SORCERER 6

All this time being a Shadow Sorcerer and Shadow hasn’t even done anything for us! Well how about you go out there and get some work done, Shadow? For 3 Sorcery points you can summon a Hound of Ill Omen to target a foe within 120 feet of you.

Shadow is basically a Dire Wolf except he’s Medium, has temp HP equal to half your Sorcerer level, can move through stuff (but takes damage if he ends his turn in stuff), and automatically chases whoever you told him to go for. Shadow will appear 30 feet away from the person you told him to get, and will chase after him like I said. All he’ll really do is attack the target you told him to though; he won’t even opportunity attack unless it’s the person you told him to chase. But if Shadow’s near someone they have disadvantage on their saving throws, which is pretty cool. (Unfortunately it’s only against spells, not your Form of Dread.)

Speaking of saving throws: Slow is a really great way to keep normies from running around doing annoying stuff. And you don’t have to hit Shadow with it which is pretty cool.

(Artwork by @Lauriquess on Twitter.)

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon: if you want a really small Shadow go for Pact of the Chain, and if you want your cool necklace go for Pact of the Talisman, but we’ll be going for Pact of the Tome because you’re mostly a spellcaster really. (And we definitely don’t have enough cantrips.)

You get a Book of Shadows (See? Books can be cool!) with three cantrips: take Thaumaturgy to be extra spooky, Vicious Mockery for some sick teenage burns, and Sapping Sting to make normies fall over when you fear them. Some might say that 10 total cantrips by level 9 is a bit overkill but look on the dark side: you’ve now got a cantrip for basically every type of saving throw in case you can’t hit with Eldritch Blast!

Honestly none of the Pact Boons are particularly important for Vex so I picked the one that made the most sense. Feel free to take something more practical since 10 cantrips is admittedly overkill.

Oh and you can learn more Warlock spells, so now it’s time to finally take Misty Step. For Flash!

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: getting more Charisma for better spellcasting is probably a good idea.

You can also learn another spell, and hey look another cantrip. For your cantrip even if more damage options are kinda overkill by this point Chill Touch inflicts Grievous Wounds, which might be useful. You can also grab another second level spell and Blindness / Deafness (which is on the Undead list) is far more useful than any of the other normie options you’d have at this level anyways.

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation, and even if you’ve got a resetting dash you’re still a squishy mage. So grab Tomb of Levistus for Zhonya's Hourglass.

You can also grab third level Warlock spells now! Remember how I took Fireball and complained that it wasn’t a good replica of Looming Darkness? Well Hunger of Hadar takes your Concentration but it’s a lot edgier!

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Undead Warlocks have become Grave Touched by the mist, and can make mist of their own! Along with being able survive without eating, drinking, or breathing you can turn any of your damage into necrotic damage. If you’re in your Form of Dread however you can add one extra damage die to whatever you’re using to get people to buzz off, adding to that morbid and macabre aesthetic.

You can also add another spell and if you’re bored with Shadow being a wolf how about you make them a Summon Shadowspawn? Weaponize your Fury, Despair, or Fear (I’d honestly recommend Fury since it has good synergy with your Dreadful Aspect) and work together with Shadow to deal with all your annoying foes! I’d also suggest replacing Hellish Rebuke with Counterspell, because even if the former fits better the latter is way more useful.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks can finally activate Shadow Surge. Relentless Hex lets you mark a foe with Hex and then dash to them. And technically you can move Hex around after the fact to reset your dashes! And while you’re at it you may as well grab Dimension Door for Summoner Teleport.

You could also upgrade Summon Shadowspawn to Summon Aberration if you so desire, but Summon Shadowspawn is more than strong enough and far more fun and thematic.

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 8

Another Ability Score Improvement. Yay. Cap off your Charisma for the best spellcasting you can get out of Shadow. You can also learn another spell, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation: even if it’s kinda ineffective Ascendant Step is still pretty useful to have Shadow carry you around. I mean yeah it’s slow but not that much slower than walking for you, and Shadow can lift you up in the air. “Shadow; carry me...”

You can also learn 5th level spells. If one guy’s being particularly annoying Negative Energy Flood can get them to shut up and work for you. Alternatively if you want more Personal Space Antilife Shell is on the Undead List and will make sure normies keep faaaaar away.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 10

Are you ever so sick of everything that you just want to explode? Necrotic Husk has two benefits: for one you’re resistant to Necrotic damage, and immune while in your Form of Dread because being around Viego for so long means you’re used to his work.

But additionally when you are reduced to 0 hit points you can use your reaction to drop to 1 hit point instead and cause your body to explode! Each creature of your choice within 30 feet of you takes 2d10 + your warlock level in Necrotic damage. You do gain 1 level of exhaustion after using this, and after using it once you can’t do so again until you finish 1d4 long rests. So I’d perhaps use Strength of the Grave first unless you really need to lash out.

I hope you weren’t expecting more spells because you aren’t getting them from Warlock: just a cantrip. By this point we’ve honestly got far too many cantrips so I dunno maybe just grab Prestidigitation again and swap it out from Sorcerer when you get the chance.

(Artwork by @DukkoArt on Twitter.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 7

Finally back to our yordle roots: 7th level Sorcerers get 4th level spells like Storm Sphere for a sphere of darkness and angst. But I mean the real benefit is that you get more Sorcery points let’s be real.

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess. Spooky winds and stuff. Either this level or next level depending on your DM.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 8

Your last Ability Score Improvement... You’re gonna have to ask: what’s more important to me? More Metamagic, or more Eldritch Invocations? If Metamagic is to your liking take Metamagic Adept for Careful Spell and Distant Spell along with two more Sorcery points to use on them. If you like Eldritch Invocations though Eldritch Adept has a ton of options as a level 10 Warlock. I won’t tell you what invocation to take (they’re all great boosts but none of them shout out at me as something you should prioritize) as there are plenty of options to make your own Vex now that they’re all grown up.

I can at least tell you what spell to take: none of them! Wait until next level!

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells which means you’ve finally caught up to your Warlock slots. And look at that: the good wish Tasha gave you one last way to weaponize Shadow. Bigby’s Hand does a bunch of cool stuff and is pretty much the ultimate way to make Shadow crush some normies. (Most literally.) Alternatively if you want to borrow from Viego Enervation will let you heal from the mist and also do some damage. Great if you’re stuck in a corner with a bunch of annoying normies.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 10

Our final level is the 10th level of Sorcerer for one last spell, one last cantrip, and one last metamagic option! For your metamagic it’s honestly about time you take Quickened Spell to up your DPS. For your cantrip take Mold Earth to dig holes in the sand and brood. And as for your leveled spell? Honestly I just like Synaptic Static, and there isn’t much else I want anyways.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

We’re all doomed. But you’re more doomed - 5th level spells pack more than enough punch, and you’ve got plenty of them. Warlock slots will always be at your fingertips, and Sorcery points give you plenty of flexibility too!

I can feel it: someone’s happy over there! - Along with giving you a temporary hitpoint shield Form of Dread puts a nice bit of CC on all your abilities. Keep enemies scared and sad with tons of Doom and Gloom!

Ugh. Stop copying me Shadow! - Hounds of Ill Omen are cool. Summon Shadowspawn is also cool. Bigby’s Hand is especially cool. And hey: even your lower level Concentration spells like Hex? They’re pretty cool too.

CONS

Ughhhhhhhhhh this is gonna take foreeeever! - You’ve got limited fumes, even for a coffeelock. Form of Dread has limited uses and there’s only so much spell slot melting you can do to get your magic back.

I’m dancing... Happy? - You’ve got a really boring set of really normie skills... and if you’re playing Vex the way she’s meant to be played you’re probably not going to use any of them except for Intimidation.

Yup; the glass is half empty - Half your levels are Sorcerer levels, meaning you’re squishy. You’ve also got Mage Armor on which guess what: also means you’re squishy. People who hit teenagers sure are lame but it’s really not hard to Power Word Kill you.

But I guess you’re pretty cool overall. Shadow’s an alright partner and you can spread Ruination even without Viego. Trudge around and get people to frown for once. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting the world to be sad. But do try to at least be happy out of character, because we play games to have fun. I mean, who’d play a video game that just makes you depressed and angry?

(Artwork by @AzzylumArt on Twitter.)

[forcebewitht]

Maybe The True Poor Unfortunate Soul...Was Me Before I Had You (Aftermath Overblot!Azul Ashengrotto X Reader) 

It all happened too fast. One moment, Azul was going on a rampage and stealing the prized possessions of other students with his Unique Magic, and the next, he was Overblotting- and then kissing you? It was all rather sudden, to say the least. Azul's tentacles remained rather possessively wrapped around your waist after his lips had floated off yours. His eyes were wide and wild, a mad grin now tugging at his lips as he gazed at your expression. Some grunts from your previously unconscious friends were soon heard as they began to stir awake once more. Your friends were now rising back to their feet and glaring at Azul, preparing their magic pens for another assault. Azul soon locked eyes with Jade and Floyd after briefly tearing his piercing gaze from yours. He began to reach out with a hand to his childhood friends, his grin only extending further. "Let's make a deal, my friends...come on….make a deal with me…" Floyd was the first to speak up, now taking a step closer to Azul. "Ummmmm, normally, I'd be tttoootttaaaallllyyyy okay with a deal. But right now? Not a chance!" Jade gave an affirmative nod, now stepping up beside his twin. "I agree!" Leona glanced over to a nearby barnacle attached to a rock. The gazes of the lion prince and Ruggie met, the pair now beginning to gather them into a pile. The Savanaclaw duo began to smirk, Leona sharply whistling to gain Azul's attention. "Oy, calamari. Put the dumb Herbivore down, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Leona and Ruggie began to pelt Azul with the barnacles. You had to shield your head with a hand, one of Azul's tentacles assisting. However, one soon made bare contact with the male's forehead. He grunts out in pain and utter shock, now allowing his tentacles to unfurl from your form. 

You soon drifted back down to the ground, now making your way over to your group. Ruggie and Leona shared a chuckle and a high-five. "Shishishishi~.....that'll show him!" With Azul distracted from the barnacles and your retreat, Floyd and Jade move in with their own attacks in an attempt to calm Azul down. Azul's tentacles lashed out in an attempt to subdue the gang again, to no avail this time. Given how effective it seemed to be, Ruggie and Leona went right back to chucking barnacles at Azul once more and mocking him all the while. You couldn't help but to shake your head a bit at the antics. It didn't take too long for Azul to be overwhelmed. Now, the male allowed a hand to trail to his chest, gripping it tightly. He heaved out a breath, his eyes looking deeply pained. Already, you could see those odd sparkles emanating from the very heart of the octopus as you had with Riddle and Leona prior. "Whyyy….why….why does everyone bully me…? Because I'm just a stupid….clumsy octopus? I….just wanted to be strong and show them all that they're wrong…I-i...I just..." Your eyes widened as you glanced behind you. Leona was the only one who fully met your gaze. An encouraging nod from the prince was all you needed. You swam over to Azul, now slightly bending your knees to get to Azul's now rather shrunken level upon the ocean floor. Azul had tears streaming down his cheeks, a few light sniffs being heard. You extend your hand to the male, casting a shadow over Azul. The octopus allowed his head to tilt up, a light from up above lighting up your features. You looked beautiful…like a stunning little mermaid-like angel…Although it took Azul a moment, he soon wiped away a tear with a tentacle. His hand lightly shook as it reached out and soon interlocked with your own. You lower yourself down to the male's level, now bringing your arms around him in a hug. Azul's body shook as he gripped you tightly, the tears now flowing as his sobs increased. A bright light began to shine over the both of you, your friends having to shield their eyes from the massive glare. And just like with Leona and Riddle before, your vision soon began to turn as white as the light around you and Azul…

Your vision slowly began to return as you found yourself being surrounded by memories of a younger Azul. You could soon hear Azul's voice echoing around you as scenes from his past played out. "I was only ever meant to be inside an octopus pot." You turned your head to a memory directly in front of you. Some mer-children seemed to be teasing Azul and calling him names for being an 'ink barfer'....you also couldn't help but notice that Azul was the only non-mer-child in the room...your lips thinned into a line at the names. You couldn't stop your heart from clenching at one of the children mentioning Azul's 'creepy legs'. It clenched even further once you saw the baby version of Azul, rather tiny and a bit chubby, crying at the remarks. "Unlike other merfolk, I had legs covered in suction cups. I was an introverted child who could never speak his mind…no good at school or sports, I was left all alone." You turned your head to stare at Azul, who was now standing directly beside you and watching right along. His gaze was pained yet cold and relaxed as he went on. "...A dumb...clumsy octopus." Your head turned back to bear witness to even more accounts of Azul being bullied. Azul had placed his hands upon his hips at the mention of him being 'lame' for not being able to play tag as easily as the others. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, his tone taking on a slight growl. "...Ohh, really? Then why don't you just leave me be and go run around playing your pointless games!" Azul seemed to take a moment to inhale, then went on once more. "...I lack the tail to swim quickly. But, instead, I have 10 arms and legs that I can move at will. That means that I have five times the ability to write than those two armed fools. I can spit out the ink needed to write spells at any time." Azul's voice began to increase in volume as his rage flared. "Just you wait. Someday, I'll put you insolent mers in YOUR PLACE!" Your head soon whipped back to watch as you heard a familiar yet slightly higher pitched pair of voices. It was the Tweels. Just from seeing his friends appear, Azul seemed to relax a little more beside you. Floyd swam up to Azul first, Jade following. Their paired gazes were curious, and maybe even a little concerned. "Heeeyyyyy, little octo~ why are you holed up in there?" The child Azul seemed to curl up into a little ball even further, yet partially turned his head to the twins. "Go away….shut up and leave me alone…" Jade swam a bit closer, now glancing around in wonder at what Azul was surrounded with. "Wow...amazing! All those shells are covered in spells and curses. Magic to shapeshift, magic to steal someone's voice...Have you been using those 8 legs to write all these this whole time?" Though the child version of Azul's gaze seemed to soften lightly at Jade's words, he soon curled up protectively once more. "Don't touch them! You wanna get inked?! I'm gonna keep studying and become just as powerful as the Sea Witch! So don't get in my way! Just- go away!" Azul was allowing his tentacles to curl around his lower body in a self-hug, his eyes flared with a great passion as he turned back away from the Tweels. Floyd elbowed Jade, motioning to Azul. "Jaaaddeeeeee...that octopus kid is pretty funny!" Jade turned his head to Floyd and nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, Floyd. He is very interesting." You felt your heart melt a little bit at the warm smiles Floyd and Jade had when staring at the back of Azul. 

"I kept studying like that until several years later…" The scene began to shift to Junior High. Floyd was the first to begin to speak in this memory. "I heard that a kid in another class got sssuuuupppeerrrrr skinny and even got a girlfriend!" Jade nodded at his twin's statement. "And in exchange, his beautiful tenor tone has gone completely silent. In another class, someone with frizzy, unruly hair suddenly became a silky blonde." Floyd nodded, now chatting away in his own bit of curious excitement. "In exchange, she lost her tail that swam so fassssttt~" The Junior High version of Azul glanced up every now and then, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips. "Mmm...you don't say?" Floyd and Jade shared a look, Jade arching a brow at Azul. "And, Azul...isn't this all your doing? I can't imagine any of those airheaded fish being able to pull off such impressive spells, after all." Floyd nodded again, now leaning a bit towards Azul. "Yeeaaaahhhh, and you've been studying magic fooorreeeevvveeerrrrr!" Unable to hold back his own mischief any longer, Azul covered his mouth lightly as he erupted into snickers. "Hehehehehe...ahahahahahaha! Is that so? Aaahhhh, I can't believe I've been found out already. You two are correct, nonetheless. I finally perfected it! All I need is for someone to sign this magic contract...then I can take whatever ability I so desire from them...I call it- It's A Deal! With this, I can make them all kneel before me...everything you've ever taken pride in..its now mine!" The Azul in the memory erupted into cackles as the scene began to fade out, Jade and Floyd both smirking at each other and Azul's triumph. The Azul standing with you took a moment to adjust his glasses, his gaze lightly trailing over to meet yours. "...I haven't forgotten what happened for even a moment. Those who made fun of me. The faces of those who bullied me. I bid my time, closely observing them from a distance. Their weaknesses, their desires….I know it all! Press on their weak points and I can take their little fast tail. If I know what's bothering them, I can take their beautiful singing voice." Azul soon fully turned to face you, his eyes growing rather crazed once more. "With those golden contracts, I am unbeatable! I am no longer the dumb, clumsy octopus left all alone!" A sense of calming seemed to wash over Azul as his eyes flickered up and down your form in silence. "...Everything is under my control with this power. All those who ever made fun of me...will now kneel before me." A rather warm, sweet smile graced your lips. You calmly stepped towards Azul, whose eyes lightly widened at the sight of you growing nearer. You soon brought your arms around him once again, removing the fedora from his head to pat him soothingly. Azul allowed his eyes to flutter shut at the sensations, and both of your visions soon faded to black as you remained in each other's arms…

"Aaaazzzzzuuuuulllll, Shrimmmmmmmpppppyyyyyyy~" You soon heard Floyd's voice directly above you as Azul startled awake beside you. Your eyes flutter open as both you and Azul sit up, now sparing a glance down to your still interlocked hands. A swift blush seemed to overtake Azul's features at the gesture, already gently removing his hand from yours. Jade and Floyd both began to smile at Azul and tell him just how happy they were that he was okay. Your own friends, along with Ruggie and Leona, checked you over. Floyd began to tease Azul as to what he had said and done, to which Azul seemed rather worn out and confused. You and Jack soon began to tell Azul just how intelligent he was for his notes. After a few more remarks from the others, a geek out from Azul over his old elementary photo, and Grim devouring another odd black stone that had appeared after Azul's Overblot, you and your group soon went your separate ways. 

A few days later, you all met back up again to head back to the museum to see the sights and return the photo you had stolen for the deal. Floyd and Jade began to rattle on about dinglehoppers amongst other things. Azul took the photo in his hands, now turning the corner to return it. You soon follow, allowing your hands to tuck behind your back. The octopus soon stopped, turning his head to face you. "Ah….[Y/n]. First of all, may I formally apologize for my….rather odd outburst. And secondly, there is no need to doubt me….I will properly return it." Azul placed the photo back onto the wall. He placed a finger onto the section where he had used to be on it, now letting said finger slowly drag down the painting. "....I thought that if I could erase all of the photos from my past...my time spent being bullied as a 'dumb, clumsy octopus' would fade along with them. The Sea Witch never hid her dark past but faced it and worked to overwrite her reputation. I kept saying that I wanted to be like her, but...in the end, I couldn't even accept who I was and tried to act like it never happened." Soon, you smiled, tilting your head to the side at Azul. You gently took one of his hands in yours, now gazing into his eyes. "You have a strength greater than any magic. I honestly think you're pretty great without having to steal from others! We cannot change the past, Azul. We cannot change the harsh words that those children pelted you with in your youth. But...we learn to keep our heads and move on. And look at you! You do it in spades! You're intelligent, savvy, have a literal business that you're running within the school...you don't have to steal anything to be a great person. You just keep being who you are." Azul seemed taken aback by your sweet words. His eyes began to water, a swallow being seen that the male took in. A soft, relieved smile soon graced the lips of the octopus as he held your gaze. It was the most genuine you had seen him yet. "...There is no need for you to flatter me, dear. I...only wanted to get back at those who had made fun of me for so long." You tilted your head to the side as an eyebrow perked up. "Can no one say anything without you thinking it's some sort of trick? Hmmm. Anyways, I thought you were pretty cute in that form, anyways." Azul choked, his eyes widening. A blush had taken over his face again, to which he raised his hand and mockingly adjusted his glasses in the hopes of hiding it. "C-c-cute?" 

You couldn't help but giggle at Azul's reaction. Azul's lightly coughed into his arm. "Right. I….must admit, [Y/n]. You are certainly more sly than I took you for originally. Though I am not pleased with the result, that plan with Leona and Ruggie was a work of raw genius. I am almost a bit peeved that I did not come up with it myself." Your eyes roll as you meet Azul's gaze once more. "Yeah, and I didn't need to steal anyone's Unique Magic to do it. Just grab some pots and pans and start banging them while he's trying to sleep- and you're set." You and Azul began to laugh in unison at the image, Azul nodding his head. "Mmmm...mental note, swiftly close doors when you spot [Y/n] with a pot or some pans." You jokingly raise your free hand and begin to swish it in the water to illustrate your point. That got Azul cracking up all over again. "Mmm Mmm Mmm. Keep that up, [Y/n], and I may have to kiss you for such underhanded methods." "You already did." Azul chuckled and hummed, allowing a finger to tap at his chin. His free hand seized you by the waist, now pulling you towards him. His gaze was locked onto you below him with a devilish smirk now tugging at his lips. "Mind if I jog my memory for a moment, Angelfish~" Your lips met, Azul sweeping his opposite hand that held you over your hair to brush it out of the way. Some baby seahorses suddenly swam into the museum and swam in a circular motion around the two of you, sweeping both your hair and clothes up around you. Azul's lips soon floated off yours as he met your gaze once more. Right as he was about to speak, a wolf whistle was heard from behind the two of you. "OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH SNNNAAAAAPPPPP, AHAHAHAHAHA! AZUL AND SHRIMMMPPPPYYYY SWWWIIIIMMMIIINNNGGG INNN THE SEEEAAAAA~" Azul's face erupted into a blush as he released a startled grunt at Floyd, who was now making hearts with his hands. Jade soon chuckled and swam up beside him to finish the line. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Heheheh~" Azul was quick to facepalm and now regrab his fedora, placing it upon his head to cover his blush. He released you and set you upright, clearing his throat. He muttered under his breath. "...They will never let me live that down." You giggled once more. Soon, you were called over by Ace and Grim, who were now all marveling at some sort of sea dragon. As you swam off, Azul puffed out a breath and watched you swim off, a warm smile gracing his lips. "...Maybe I was the true, poor unfortunate soul all along...before I met you." 

((Hey Hey Hey, everybody! The second part to the Overblot!Azul x Reader is now here! I hope you all enjoyed! Next up is the part two for Leona, so stay tuned and stay awesome~ 💖🌹

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.  

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

[nincompoopydoo]

PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

-

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[prose-for-hire]

The greatest gift of all

[Bonus 12 Days of Christmas fic]

Pairing: Giles x reader

Request: Hello 🥺 so I was thinking of this scenario where reader and the scoobies had Christmas dinner at Giles' house and they all leave for the night, cause it's no secret that reader and Giles have been subtly 👀 at each other for a while. So reader stays behind to help clean up after the meal. And they're both just in a good mood, and maybe a lil tipsy cause they drank a little and basically feelings are accidentally revealed and perhaps a kiss and they're both just- OKAY 😳

Requested by: @korinainspace​

Warning: A tiny bit of alcohol consumption mentioned.

A/N: This is a little bonus christmas fic, I always intended to include this (it was saved in my inbox!) but I didn’t end up putting it on my list for whatever reason !! Hope this is okay !! 💖

You worked at the Magic Box and there was this guy. He was deeply understanding and he spoke with such meaning and wit behind his words. He had a heart of gold that you were sure was more precious than any of the costume jewellery you had ever owned.

I mean, he was technically your boss. This man. Giles.

He spoke to you as if you put stars in the sky. As if you were the one that had created goodness and light.

But you didn’t recognise this, you supposed he was just like this. You watched at how he cared for the younger people in his life. A father’s love. Something that didn’t extend to you. But there was certainly love there. Reverence. A timid affection that was starting to grow more bold.

He was a really kind person and he was always very understanding if you needed time off. Which, was barely ever. You didn’t like to take much time off, your favourite recent memories all had him in them. And you just wanted more.

You assisted him and the rest of their group in saving the world many times. Without the long evenings you had given up to research you would have surely be in the middle of some desolate wasteland trying to barter your last vial of dragon’s blood for food.

He insisted that he wouldn’t have been able to solve or translate as easily had you not been there, but secretly you were being selfish. So, very selfish. You didn’t stay behind so often because you wanted to save the world from impending doom, you had faith in Buffy that she would have figured it out some way or another. You recognised she was protected by the powers in some way.

No, you stayed behind to be by his side. The cosy nights where you fell asleep over the research. Where his hand rested on your shoulder blade and he told you that he was pleased you were here. To share these moments with you. To share

You tip-toed around your feelings. Keeping your cards close to your chest, never sharing your hand for long enough for the other to fully comprehend the implications. You caught yourself staring at him a lot. When he was doing seemingly insignificant things. But everything he did just made you swoon.

He was strong, but embraced his emotional side – especially with you. You didn’t realise, but he watched you as you zipped around helping customers. He couldn’t help himself, he adored to watch you that way. Your form pleased him immensely and he lowered his gaze whenever you looked back at him. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

He loved your personality. Your intelligence and the way you held yourself. He found himself making excuses to spend time with you more and more. You drove him wild. His feelings were growing stronger and stronger.

You were spending Christmas in Sunnydale this year, you hadn’t had any plans to travel back to your hometown. As soon as he heard this, he decided that he was doing Christmas for everyone this year. He hadn’t even mentioned it to the others yet (because there were no plans of this sort until he realised you would be alone).

You smiled, looking at the ground. Did he really want you to spend time with him, for Christmas? Your heart sped up and your mouth became dry. Of course you wanted to spend the day with him and the others, but mostly him.

So, the day came. Buffy, Xander, Anya, Tara and Willow happily arrived with gifts and food. They greeted you, hugging you and making you feel as if you were one of their family. It felt nice, to be included. To have real, well-intentioned friends all around you.

They had all noticed the way that you and Giles seemed to stare longingly at the other when you thought other people weren’t looking. They were looking and gossiping all about you. They were obsessed with the pair of you getting together and they had tried so many plots before without success. Willow had even checked to see if there had been a curse cast on your both to keep you apart when you so obviously were meant for each other.

They decided though seeing as it was Christmas, to just leave it today. Let whatever happened, happen. Giles had overheard them discussing how obvious his affection for you was and it had embarrassed him to no end. He had politely but firmly told them not to. So, they started to whisper quieter and not discuss their love for your love in front of anyone.

Giles soon noticed the hushed looks and the way the younger people’s eyes danced between the pair of you. He held his head in concern, he really didn’t need them to be so wrapped up in his feelings.

The meal was divine and the conversation was good too. Everyone appeared to be in good spirits and the gifts were very kindly thought out by all. You enjoyed spending time with your friends and especially him. You only wished you had been seated closer to him.

There was music and games. Everyone had such a wonderful time without having to worry about demons or saving the world. You and Giles had shared a drink or too through dinner. The warming liquid creating courage where it hadn’t been before. As you drank, your tongue became a little looser. You didn’t have too much, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him. But it was pleasant.

You swapped gifts and thanked everyone. You were pleased when Giles practically started gushing about the gift you gave him. It made a heat rise in your cheeks, you were afraid he would notice.

It was eventually time to leave and the Scoobies all made their excuses before looking between you and Giles and grinning at each other. They made sure to give you some time alone together.

“I can help you clear up, if you like” You offered sweetly to Giles, a hand lingering on his shoulder as you spoke. You had become more bold. You felt so at home here, you couldn’t help it. He agreed, thanking you and smiling. You were always so thoughtful. He adored this about you.

They all shared looks with each other, stifling their excited giggles over the gesture. They gave Giles a look that made him cough and reluctantly move from your touch to show them out. Make sure they weren’t lingering outside, watching through any windows.

As he said farewell to the others, you stared to clear the plates away and bring them all into the kitchen, letting them soak for a moment.

After a moment he walked back in, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. You watched him, your eyes not able to move from the action. You eyed the forearms he had now exposed. He was so attractive you thought you might cry. To even be so close to him.

You turned back around, averting your gaze. Trying to focus on washing the dishes. He had walked towards you, your breath catching as you heard him.

He leaned in, his hand hovering over your waist as he leaned in behind you. The proximity without being able to touch him the way you wanted was almost painful. His face was beside yours and you closed your eyes. He was leaning to pull the blind of the window that was in front of the sink.

He inhaled slowly as he stood so close to you. He never usually got the chance. You smelled so good to him, he wished that he could tell you just how deeply he felt. How he wanted to take you and pull you into a passionate embrace.

You didn’t realise that you were holding your breath until he moved back again. He offered to take over the washing in the sink and you could dry instead. You smiled, moving from the sink and taking the drying cloth.

It was really nice, as if you were long since married. The simple domesticity was beautiful to you.

“Thank you for coming, Y/n” He said softly, handing you a plate he had just cleaned.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else” You admitted with a little smile as you watched the plate you were drying rather than him. He glanced at you from his place beside you, your words fluttered softly and landed upon his heart. Making a home there. It made him say something he had only ever thought.

“I adore you” He said it quietly, but you heard it clearly. It had slipped from his mouth, the alcohol had made his constant thoughts trickle down into his mouth.

You were clutching a plate when he said this and his expression was so sincere. So loving. Your grip loosened, could this be true?

The plate slid through your hands at his words, the plate crashing to the floor with a loud crack. You looked down and winced. You started to apologise profusely and leaned in to clear it away.

He moved in, swiftly scooping you back to your usual height. His hands held yours as he scanned your face. Your delight at his words hadn’t been missed and now his heart was thumping dangerously out of his chest. You appeared to want to say something and he couldn’t bare wait any longer to hear your thoughts.

He needed to know, now. It was more important than the plate. When you didn’t say anything, finding yourself instead lost in his eyes, he began to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I-I-” He damned himself for his words. Giles had wished so much to have confessed in a much more profound way. You deserved swirling romance and rising music as a beautiful confession was laid before you. You deserved perfection.

You didn’t have any words for what he just said. Your brain was working in overdrive. You caught his eyes again, before your eyes slowly reached his lips. Instead of speaking, you leaned in. The moments leading up to this kiss were agonizing. It had been so long and these few seconds more seemed to last even longer than that. You were so close you could feel his breath on your face. It was so excruciating. You wanted him. All of him.

You crashed your lips against his, desperately. This was all you could do to show him. Spurred on by your long-held emotions and a little by the alcohol you had with dinner. You grasped at him, pulling him into you further. Sliding a hand through his short hair as he moved to cradle your head. His lips moved against yours, this was urgent and propelled with everything he knew you deserved. The feelings that he had allowed through the cracks didn’t amount to the true nature of his affection.

It was a release, this kiss. A revelation. The kiss deepened. There was nothing in his mind anymore except you. You were in every breath. Every thought. He only ever wanted to touch you for the rest of his days.

It was desperate fumbling as he pressed you against the kitchen counter. It was feelings that you couldn’t even begin to explain. Only show to him. Your passion for this man was beyond words. Beyond anything.

His lips were demanding and soft at the same time. He wanted to cherish you, wanted to take you to his bed and worship you the way that you deserved. There was so much he had thought about.

But the powers had other ideas. The crockery that had been balanced precariously had been your undoing. They slid against each other making a noise that made you jump apart.

You stared hard at the object, both realising there was no threat. You were both breathing heavily, this had been all you wanted for these past months and you could barely recover. Your chest was heaving. You could feel yourself flushing.

It made you realise what you had just done. That kiss, it had been amazing. Better than you could ever wish. But neither of you could speak.

You had just kissed your boss. He saw you worrying and couldn’t find the words. You just stared, the silence stretching before you. The kitchen was closing in on you and you just didn’t know what to do.

“I-I had better go” You rushed the words out, regretting them as you left for the door. You just bolted and walked out onto the street. It was deserted, most people were in their homes. Probably celebrating. Not running from the man you loved. Frightening yourself into escaping rather than talking to him.

Your feet stopped down the street. You stood under a street lamp, shivering slightly as the temperature had dropped since you had arrived.

So many stupid thoughts ran through your mind.

He was your boss. You had just kissed your boss. Why did you do this to yourself? It could never work.

No, you had just kissed an attractive man. Who you had feelings for. Of course it could work. Your feelings were so real.

Oh God, you had just run away. He was going to think you didn’t like him. You never wanted him to have that impression. You loved him.

As you came to this conclusion, you heard him. His voice. As if you had manifested him there yourself. You turned, seeing him rushing towards you with your jacket in his hand. You had left it.

“Y/n!” He called the concern evident in his voice, “Y/n, I apologise if I made you feel as if you, ah, had to-”

“No! No, you could never make me feel like that. I-I was just overwhelmed, I needed air… this is all I’ve ever wanted. You, I mean…”

“You truly mean that? I have never felt this way about another, Y/n. This wasn’t just a kiss to me, it was much beyond that”

“I always tend to sabotage myself this way” You shook your head at yourself, barely registering his words until after you spoke. You looked up to meet his eye, “It meant more to me too that’s, uh what scared me”

He nodded, understanding your actions. Your reservations. The dynamic had concerned you, but he would never use you that way. This was love, not power or mere lust.

He didn’t say another word, he just presented his hand for you to take. You watched his hand, staring at his palm for a moment. Before you smiled. It was a small smile, but it made his heart soar. You reached for his hand and took it in your own. A bond that would last the rest of your lives. Beyond, even.

You were the greatest gift you both could have hoped for that year.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 55

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The aftereffects of the ritual hit you both harder than expected.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Explicit sexual content

AO3

You sprang from the bed, slipping on the hardwood floor with only your socks as traction, but you caught your balance as you raced across the room. Barely pausing as you threw open the door, you ran, guided by…

…by a thin golden thread, faint but present if you concentrated and focused on the feeling of an other connection. One that was familiar, yet different. It was strong enough for you to follow, something that had only happened when Bucky had been in supposed danger.

But this time, there was no rage, no blinding anger and hatred. You were anxious, terrified of what you would find at the end of that thread.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to go far. Only to another guest bedroom barely twenty feet away, and you burst through that door with just as much urgency as the last.

Two healers and four guards were stationed around the room. The healers you recognized by their pale blue robes, and they were both standing to one side of a bed, a bed you knew you had to quickly reach.

The sorcerers on guard didn’t stop you. In fact, they gave you something of a berth, stepping out of the way in your haste to get past them. The healers, too, didn’t block your path, and you didn’t question any of it. All you could think about was getting to Bucky.

As soon as you saw him, you knew something was wrong. Bucky looked exactly the same, but he was too still. His breathing too shallow and slow. You placed your hands on his bare chest, his skin too pale and cold.

Closing your eyes, you reached out, feeling for the demon energy within him. You found it after pushing your concentration further, so faint you almost couldn’t sense it. Whatever the ritual had done, it had drained him of too much energy.

Perhaps for the first time, you were truly grateful for your particular brand of magic as you kept your palms pressed to his chest, letting the energy seep from your hands into the core of his own magic. Your hands tingled pleasantly and your eyelids fluttered, but before you could give him any more of the energy he needed, Bucky shuttered beneath your palms and bolted upright.

You took a single look at his face, slightly turned your head, and over your shoulder said:

“Leave.”

The sorcerers didn’t need to be told twice. Pheromones were already cloying in the air, heavy with enticing perfume.

The door barely shut behind the last guard before you were pulled off your feet. Bucky’s face was at your neck, tasting and licking your skin, his claws tightly gripping the thick cloth of your robes.

You didn’t bother speaking; Bucky was too far gone to hold a conversation. He was starving, ravenous, and even if you couldn’t sense it across the bond, you would have known it in the pitch black of his eyes as he’d stared at you like a meal he wanted to devour.

As he pulled you down onto the bed, pressing you into the covers, you welcomed it. You did make a noise of protest when he ripped off the silver robes, his claws making quick work of the soft material.

All thoughts of your ruined outfit fled as Bucky gripped your thighs and spread them, his sharp teeth scraping against your throat, his breath heavy. You weren’t much better, your body thrumming with anticipation as you attempted to touch every inch of him you could. It was the kind of desperate, wild hunger Bucky hadn’t felt in a long time, and getting a taste of it across the bond was going to drive you mad.

Bucky didn’t let it get that far. There was no patience in him, his need was too strong for that, and when he rubbed the head of his cock across your entrance, you nearly saw stars.

Your breathing stuttered and you wrapped your legs around his waist, angling your hips upward until the tip was pressed against your soaking entrance.

Bucky lowered his hands to your hips, gripped tightly, and pushed.

You cried out sharply, in pleasure or pain, it didn’t matter, but you squeezed tightly with your legs, refusing to let him stop or slow down. Bucky, for his part, didn’t do either, and the burning stretch was nearly too much to bear.

But you bore it, and you begged for more in unintelligible words, and Bucky pushed further and further until he was buried up to the hilt and you almost couldn’t breathe. He filled you so completely, in a way that was more satisfying and fulfilling than it had been before. Was this what it was supposed to be like?

“Yes,” you gasped into his ear, twining your fingers in his hair. “Yes, please, Bucky, yes.”

He gave a groan that almost sounded pained, but when he pulled back his hips and thrust, you were the one crying out as if tortured.

But he didn’t stop. Whatever you were feeling across the bond, Bucky could feel it too, and he knew exactly how far he could push you. With each roll of his hips, the pleasure echoed between you, and it wasn’t long before he was fucking you hard into the mattress.

You clung to his back for purchase, mindless from each spark of heat that ignited with each thrust, and your orgasm hit hard and fast without warning. You arched your back and cried out, your muscles seizing up around him, and Bucky shuddered to a stop, his moans buried in your hair.

The energy drain was intense, pulling at you so hard it prolonged your orgasm. Thankfully, you had a lot of energy to give, pulling it from the magic inside you. It was more than Bucky could ever take from one person, and you gave it all, gasping and shuddering until he finally stopped.

Bucky practically collapsed on top of you, careful of his weight but just barely by propping himself on his elbows. Not that you minded. Having two-hundred and forty pounds of demon on top of you would, hopefully, be something frequent in your future.

Without speaking, you rubbed your palms down his back, subtly moving your fingers and casting a minor spell.

Bucky groaned against your neck, slightly shifting his hips, which almost made you drop your concentration.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking to make sure you’re all right.” Your fingers next traced up the back of his wings, since they had come out at some point. You hadn’t even noticed, not with how preoccupied you’d been a moment ago.

Bucky pushed back far enough to meet your eye. His forehead was still beaded with sweat and his hair looked exactly like he’d just had wild sex. You couldn’t help but smirk.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice graveled and scraping up your spine in a pleasant shiver. “Better than fine. Also, that tickles.”

Before you could make good on that delicious tidbit of information, Bucky leaned down and kissed you, so sweetly at first that you couldn’t take a breath. And then he deepened the kiss as he always did, as if he had only meant to have a taste and couldn’t stop himself from taking more.

You parted your lips, opening yourself to him, and his long tongue rolled over yours, grasping it in that indecent way he could do. You wrapped your fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, squeezing him with your thighs, and being rewarded by Bucky’s deep moans.

And then he grabbed you by the hips and rolled you both over, breaking off the kiss and grinning up on you from where you were now straddling him.

“Round two?”

Any thought of telling Bucky what had happened during the ritual, of your impossible meeting with the Ancient One, of doing more extensive tests to make sure he was truly okay, were washed away at his charming grin. Not to mention the more needy part of him throbbing between your legs.

You groaned and bit your lip, more from surprise than trying to be seductive. Bucky still followed the movement with a hungry eye, anyway.

“How can you still be so hungry?” you asked in a whisper. And he was, you could sense it across the bond. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it was before, but Bucky still wasn’t completely full.

“Maybe because you’re just that delicious.”

“Bucky.”

He sighed and had the grace to only mildly roll his eyes.

“I’m fine. Really. Whatever you did to me… yeah it drained the hell out of me, but it worked. I can… I can feel the bond like, like before, but somehow different.”

“Yeah.” Your answer was quiet, the smiles vanished. “What… what do you remember, Bucky? From the ritual?”

He winced only slightly, but it was enough to make you regret asking and making him remember.

“A lot of pain, and blood. And my sigil being opened. You… joined us together at the same time, right? Cut open both our sigils, and hands, and did like a… double-pact kind of thing? Where did you even think of that?”

Your smile was back, this time a tad shaky.

“Uh… not sure. I was just kind of… grasping at straws. Going on instinct and intuition.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

You gasped as he sat upright, and it was the last full breath you took, because you were seated firmly in his lap. Meaning his cock was now fully embedded in you again.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t react except for his fully blown pupils and the hint of desire flickering across your bond.

“Are you telling me… you took a dangerous, never-done-before, demonic ritual and… winged it?”

You winced, bracing yourself for the riot act that was surely coming, the one you probably deserved for doing something so dangerous in a snap decision. But it never came.

Bucky gently took your head in his hands and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“That’s my girl.”

You face went so hot you were surprised you didn’t burn him.

“I… well…”

Bucky watched you sputter. His expression was serious enough, but his eyes were sparkling with humor.

“You’re… not mad?”

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Warmth spread across your bond, mirrored in his eyes. “You accomplished something no one’s done before, despite the obstacles in your way. Strange or Wong or myself be damned, you did this. And I’m proud of you.”

You had no idea what to say, you’d always been bad at accepting compliments, so you leaned forward and kissed him hard.

Bucky made a noise of surprise but returned the kiss without missing a beat. You would have been happy to let it continue and take him up on his offer of a second round, but there was something you had to say first.

Regretfully breaking the kiss, you didn’t go far, meeting his blue eyes and stroking your thumb across his jaw, the always-present stubble brushing against your skin.

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you, so… Thank you for trusting me, Bucky. I can’t imagine what it took for you to do that.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to flush, the tips of his pointed ears turning pink. Had you ever noticed that before?

“I would trust you with anything, sweetheart.”

He pulled you in for another kiss, this one reflecting the warmth and love flooding across your bond.

Your tail went stiff as goosebumps ran down your arms and legs, and you gave a muffled moan of surprise when Bucky’s tail wrapped around yours. As entwined as you were already, the added sensation on your tail was almost too much, and you buried yourself into the kiss.

“Come here,” he said, smiling against your lips.

This time Bucky pulled you down, and you followed him onto the bed. Touching, reaching, and connecting in ways that you had never thought possible, and in other ways, felt as old as time.

Next Chapter

[lunarthedragon]

Blind!Jaskier Idea

I don’t think I’m going to write a proper fic about this but the idea just had to come out. If anyone feels inspired and wants to write it? Please be my guest!!! Otherwise, hope you enjoy my excited rambling.

So, Jaskier is born blind. His eyes are still blue, but they’re clouded and blank. His parents, being wealthy nobles, want to fix this and go in search of a mage, paying anything they can to find a fix for this.

Unfortunately, this is destiny’s will and no magic can fix the baby’s eyes.

Though, one mage, a bit eccentric, and very creative, offers a spell that will permanently enhance little Jaskier’s other senses. His parents accept, because it might be the best they can do, and the spell is cast.

And it works far better than anyone could ever imagine.

Jaskier’s hearing rivals that of a bat, his scent like a hounds, taste like a snake’s, and, if he focuses really hard, he can FEEL changes in the air.

At first he screams as a baby, the new senses like torture, but he is young and adaptable and soon he becomes used to it and grows up extra sensitive to the world around him.

He learns how to ignore stimuli that hurt and how to focus until he can taste a fresh-baked pie in the air one town over. He wears silks and soft clothing, anything scratchy too painful on his skin, and wears perfumes that gently ease his scent.

And he falls in love with the sweet, sweet sound of music and cannot get enough of it! Learns how to play many, many instruments through touch and sound alone because a lute isn’t enough to sate how the music makes his sensitive ears feel. Give him a drum. Give him a piano. Give him a harp. Give him a flute. The list goes on and on, but lute is definitely a favorite.

His journey takes him on a very similar one as canon (I’m basing it off Netflix btw) and he meets Geralt, can tell he is different by his scent, and that he doesn’t comment on his singing in Posada.

He follows Geralt like usual and it takes the Witcher a far longer time than he’d like to admit to realize the bard is blind.

(”There’s no such thing as devils.”

“Right, well, whatever it is I can hear it’s heartbeat just around that rock, behind the two rows of bushes, and 40 degrees up.”

“...How...?”

Jaskier proceeds to push his low-hanging bangs out of the way and wave his hand in front of his sightless eyes.)

Jaskier spots things before even Geralt does. Things that can be helpful. Things that aren’t at all. He knows when an attack is coming... but that doesn’t mean he knows how to dodge or fight back. He’s still pretty useless in that regard. And just because he can smell a kikimora from a mile away doesn’t mean he knows how to track it across the land in between.

Still, he turns out to be far more helpful in everyday endeavors than Geralt expected.

And Jaskier has the easiest time reading Geralt’s emotions.

Witchers have feelings, everything does, it is a reaction of the brain when presented with particular stimuli that will hopefully lead to a longer, happier life. It is survival. Witchers, however, learn how not to EXPRESS their feelings. Namely through facial features.

But Jaskier can’t see facial features. He listens to people’s hearts. Their breathing. The shift of their muscles. Readjusting feet on the ground. Smell of particularly powerful emotions on the air.

Geralt can’t hide those. He’s an open book to Jaskier. Even his fainter scents are loud and clear to Jaskier.

(Jaskier is also incredibly talented at telling when people are lying, thanks to these things.)

Geralt and Jaskier also, as they become closer through the years, use Jaskier’s blindness to their advantage in other ways.

Jaskier is 100% down with making people feel bad for him so he can get things. He’ll milk the fact he can’t see, pretend he’s constantly struggling, hold Geralt so he can “lead” him where he needs to go, and even when the Witcher is around people are still more willing to lessen the price of rooms or food or get Geralt paid more for his contracts.

Geralt, at first, hadn’t been sure about it, but then Jaskier began claiming Roach was emotional support for him to the stablehands, which ended up getting the horse even more spoiled than before.

Geralt changed his tune after that.

And Jaskier will joke about being blind. He’s comfortable with it. Think this kind of attitude.

(Geralt, without Cat, dead of night: Careful. It’s gotten dark out. Can’t see a thing.

Jaskier: Oh no. What a nightmare.

Geralt: ...Sorry...)

Jaskier is GREAT with memorization, too! He’s educated and a singer, but he can’t write or read and braille hasn’t been invented, so he has to memorize EVERYTHING. It’s great for studies, for working on songs, and for winning arguments!

He’ll memorize the shapes of things, too, for later. Memorize the layout of a room for if he feels like not paying too close attention. Memorize the shapes of people’s faces when they allow him to touch and feel and understand.

It takes a while for him to convince Geralt to let him feel his face, but eventually the Witcher relents. Jaskier is soft and gentle and reverent when he feels out Geralt’s features, marveling at his beauty, coming through his hair that he knows is “white” only because people have told him so.

(Edit: I did not realize this was not, actually, a thing, but instead imagine Jaskier pretending it is, because he totally would. “Oh, you sound so beautiful, may I map out your face? It is a common thing for those like myself to request.” “Sounds legit.”)

And that’s the only thing... He doesn’t know what colors are. And the only time he cares to look good is when he’s performing since it’s a pain to correct his hair when he can’t actually see it, or feel through his clothes for the doublet and trousers that have a veeeeeery particular threading on the sleeves and pant legs that tell him they are the same color because the person that sold them told him so.

So, usually,  he still looks great because he’s Jaskier, but when he’s relaxing or in the wild his clothes don’t match and his hair is tussled and messy. (until Geralt begins fixing it, since Jaskier WILL take the time to comb out his white, long hair, make it perfect, and feel out how it should look while not doing it for himself.

“You deserve nice things, Geralt! I can’t even see my hair and nobody’s around, so who cares?”

“Hmm...” and he continues to fix the bard’s hair until he’s nearly purring.)

He still wants to know about colors, though, but no one can define them to him the way he needs.

Until Geralt, who realizes if a color is to be described to the bard, it has to be done using the other senses.

At first, all he can manage is “Red feels... hot. Yellow is... happy.” but Jaskier is still pleased by it and keeps asking, sightless eyes sparkling with excitement And Geralt vows to try a bit harder.

It’s the most he ever talks, explaining the part of the world that his bard can never experience, loving the way Jaskier leans towards him, even more than when he’s talking about a hunt, and memorizes every word.

It’s the most Geralt ever smiles, too, but Jaskier can’t see that.

[the-melting-world]

Strength | Side B: "Colder Heavens"

art by @ ligiawrites

~ In which a former Count breaks a very important rule…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Colder Heavens” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: language, alcohol, blood, violence, mild gore

~ 3.3k words

***

~ 17 years ago ~

Hans von Heine shrugged the heavy sack of potatoes off his shoulder as he arrived at the door of his small flat. He unlocked the door and shortly after letting himself inside, he was met with a very tired, “Careful. There’s glass on the floor.”

Hans looked up and locked eyes with his wife, Magda. She was still busy sweeping up the remains of broken ceramic bowls in the kitchen.

“What happened?” Hans asked, gracefully sidestepping the uneven shards. There was no alarm or urgency in his voice, only concerned curiosity. After dropping off the potato sack, he began to help Magda by collecting the larger pieces.

“Khlee.” Magda sighed. “She had another headache and panicked.”

Hans grunted as he stood up. “It’s been a while since her last one. I’ll go talk to her.”

Magda got up too and touched his shoulder. “She’s finally up and moving but…” The skin around the woman’s clear blue eyes wrinkled slightly. “She can’t lift her arms, Hans.”

He covered her hand with his larger one and used the other to gently massage a little tension out of her shoulders. When she relaxed some, he nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Magda. We’ll come help you with dinner soon.”

Magda looked around. “What did you bring for me this time?”

Hans’ dark beard stretched over his toothy grin. “Kartoffeln.”

Magda rolled her eyes. “Wieder, Hans?”

He chuckled as he disengaged from her and popped a kiss to her brow. “Yes. Again. Khlee likes them and they’re cheap.”

Magda drifted back to her task. “Hm. I can see what you’re doing. You want to take her to the beer garden this weekend.”

“The festival is in town,” Hans said. “And I’m willing to bet that wherever Khlee came from, she’s never been to one quite like ours.”

When Hans left the kitchen, he didn’t have to walk very far to get to Khlee’s room. He found his child sitting on the edge of her cot, swinging her legs and glaring at the wall. Though she hadn’t been a part of their household for very long, Hans still felt like they had brought her up since birth.

“Mama says you’re walking now,” He said as he closed the door behind him. “I’m very proud of you.” He took a seat beside her.

Khlee tensed underneath the warm poncho Magda had quilted for her. It was large enough to allow her arms to hide away unless she wanted it otherwise.

“Mama helped me.”

Hans lowered his gaze to Khlee’s knees, which bore fresh cuts from the broken dishes.

“Oh? So is that how you thank her? By breaking all of her kitchenware?”

Khlee drew in sharp breath and leaned over as if to cradle her head, but she couldn’t.

“Papa, I didn’t mean to, I swear! I… I was trying to remember something, but I–”

Hans cursed himself for taking it too far. “Khlee, calm yourself. No one is angry with you.” He gathered her head under his chin and held the wheezing child until her breathing was back under control.

“Now.” Hans sat her upright and pushed some of those wild curls out of her dark eyes. “What about your arms? Show me the progress you’ve made.”

Khlee puffed out her cheeks once, twice. Then she strained hard enough to grow veins in her neck. The only evidence beyond that of her effort was the rigid tension in her shoulders.

Hans smiled fondly. “That’s all right, Khlee.”

She gave a violent shake of her head and clenched her jaw against the resistance. “No. Wait, Papa. I can–”

Hans placed his hands on her shoulders. “That’s enough for now. You’ll grow into them…. Now come with me.”

As he pulled Khlee onto her feet, he glanced down at her knees to make sure she didn’t aggravate her cuts. Oddly, the cuts were still there, but no longer weeping. They looked more like scabs now, as if they were halfway done healing.

“Papa?”

Hans put the thought out of his mind before Khlee could notice the concern in his face. He looked down at her and ruffled her hair. “First we’ll help your mother in the kitchen. Then I’m going to show you how to use those legs.”

Khlee shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to adjust her poncho. “What do you mean?”

With a smile, Hans gently guided her towards the door. “There’s a few folk dances from the Heine that I want to show you. You don’t need your arms for those.”

Khlee grumbled something about how dancing was stupid.

Hans only chuckled. “Trust me, meine kleine Khleo, a dance will come in handy the next time you feel like you want to break something.”

*

*

*

~ Present Day ~

“Hey, Basil.”

Lucio beckoned the mixologist over. As soon as he found out that Khleo’s coworker with the cropped salt and pepper curls and cool blue eyes was helping out that night with the club’s activities, he took the opportunity to catch the barhand’s attention.

Lucio couldn’t tell if the look Basil shot him was wary or friendly or a little bit of both. But he came down to his side of the minibar anyway and started cleaning a fresh glass.

“Montag, right? Did you need something?”

Now that Basil was closer, Lucio could count the dark marks scattered about his olive-toned skin. Lucio, who was feeling a lot more confident these days, let his eyes linger a little longer than average before speaking again.

“Enjoying the view?” Basil whispered, his eyes still on his task.

Lucio cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from the barhand’s tanned forearms.

“Say, Basil. Do you know why Khleo never fights?”

Basil finally looked up, but instead of locking eyes with Lucio, he cast his gaze over the former Count’s shoulder at the rest of the members mingling about the basement.

“Sounds like that’s not the first time you’ve asked that question.”

Lucio surrendered his hands. “I’m just curious is all. Trust me, I don’t have any plans to challenge Khlee in a fight. I’m no fool.”

Basil’s eyes finally met Lucio’s. “Khleo doesn’t fight that often because they don’t bleed. Or at least, not for very long. I have a feeling they keep out of the ring just to make everyone else feel comfortable.”

Lucio made a curious sound. “They cast some sort of regenerative spell before the fight or..?”

Basil shook his head. “It’s not magic. They’re blessed or... bewitched. Whatever you want to call it. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Hefe.”

Lucio glanced over at the fireplace and shuddered. “I am. Not. Doing that.”

He was briefly reminded of a few days back when he woke up in the hearth with no clue of how he got there. He remembered most of everything that happened the day before up until after the fight club had let out for the night. The very edges of his memory contained snippets of Khleo pouring themself a drink and asking Lucio if he wanted some. After that it was just a haze in which Hefe’s face sometimes showed up. She would lock Lucio into her amber stare and somehow amplify the space around his head with headache-inducing vibrations.

“Like you said,” Basil smiled a bit more openly than before, “you’re no fool.”

They laughed together and after that, their conversation flowed with much more ease. Lucio managed to ask Basil on a date before getting dragged into club meeting activities. He walked out of the bar with fresh bruises and a split lip that suffered even more under his wide, content smile.

Lucio hardly noticed the days passing him by. By now he was a pro at reserving himself a place to lay his head at night and grab breakfast in the morning for free. On the days where he didn’t have fight club to look forward to, he spent his time volunteering at the very centers where he stayed. Most of the work was boring and the people who passed through made his gut twist in sympathy, but it kept him busy.

One day, Lucio was enjoying a late breakfast of grits and sardines when a rough-looking bunch filed in. After they got their food, they collected around Lucio, who couldn’t help noticing their stares.

Some things never changed with Lucio. He still enjoyed attention. Whether he was happily getting his ass kicked in the ring or peacocking around at a masquerade party, something stirred pleasantly in his abdomen whenever all eyes were on him.

And he knew exactly why the rough newcomers had gathered around to stare at him.

“Those are some gnarly war wounds.”

Lucio grinned quietly to himself as he finished the rest of his food. “Thank you.”

One of them scooted close enough to him to bump elbows. “Tell us where you got ’em.”

Lucio coughed in order to hide a burp before looking up at the twelve or so individuals.

“Well, see here’s the thing,” he said with a sly grin. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

The curiosity on their faces immediately turned into intrigue, which got Lucio’s pulse quickening. He was enjoying this.

Several of the group glanced at one in particular. The leader, if Lucio had to guess. He was a big fella with about a dozen rings decorating his ears, creating frills of copper and obsidian glass.

“Look, we get it. You’re no rat. But me and my friends, we’re uh… a restless bunch.” He leaned over the table in order to whisper to Lucio. “We’re not looking to cause any trouble. We just need a place to let off some steam, you know?”

Lucio hesitated for a moment. “I do. I know what you mean.”

The one who had brushed elbows with him earlier, slung an arm over his shoulder and said, “So, you don’t have to tell us anything, but maybe you can point us in the general direction?”

Almost immediately after he had, the group of friends took their food and abandoned the table. Lucio sat there, a little bewildered. A part of him had expected them to stay a while and chat him up a little more.

He tried to shake off the sour feeling and just focus on looking forward to fight club. By the time evening had rolled around, Lucio’s skin was tingling with excitement. He was one of the first to arrive at the tavern basement. Khleo hadn’t returned from her delivery shift yet, but it seemed she had already set the table with bread and pilsners. These days, there was a large sign propped up on the middle of the table that read: Clean up after yourselves or no bread ever again!

The rest of the members started to file in not long after Lucio sat down. The companions he had made greeted him and gave him the attention he had been craving since that morning. At some point, Khleo swept in, looking sore and sulky from a long day’s work. But the club members knew how to lift her spirits and very soon all of them were barefoot and clustering around the center of the room, trying to decide who would be fighting first.

The friendly atmosphere, however, turned cold the moment the door that led out onto the street opened and a new presence entered the space.

“You’re telling me that there was a fight club right here under the Chandrian this whole time?”

Lucio, who was positioned near the back wall, strained to look over all of the heads between him and the new voice. Whispers broke out among the fighters.

“Who the hell are those guys?”

The intruder stepped into the light and repeated himself. “Who’s club is this? We want to talk to the manager.”

Lucio blinked suddenly as he recognized the man from Temple District. It appeared that he had brought along his whole flock from that morning and then some.

“Heard you had a friendly little club going and we wanted to see if the rumors were true. See we’ve just stolen a brand new ship and we need a bigger staff. So I’m here to recruit.”

Finally, Khleo separated herself from the sea of members. She scanned her crowd and said coldly, “Which one of you ran your damn mouth?”

Lucio felt the blood drain from his face as he drifted back and back and back into the shadows. When his spine collided with the wall, he edged to the right towards the little hallway nestled under the stairs.

His skin jumped as he heard Khleo repeat her question in a sterner tone. Lucio scrambled over crates and stumbled through racks of costumes until he was sure he was safe.

“Hello, Lucio.”

Lucio swung his fist at the sound of the voice, missed, and tripped into the brick wall hard enough to split his lip back open.

“Interesting... that they let you stay in this club.”

Lucio steadied himself against the wall. “Quaestor. W-what are you doing here?”

All that was visible in the dim light was the silhouette of Valdemar’s mummified horns.

“Bringing my tuna home of course. It’s been fourteen days. Or have you in all your frolic not been paying attention?” They came closer and drew a deep, wet breath. “Not that I’m complaining. Your blood smells more rare and ripe than I could have imagined. Well done.”

Lucio swallowed. “Wait. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to the Lazaret!”

It wasn’t in Valdemar’s nature to care what their experiments desired or craved. They unhatched a portal behind Lucio for easy transportation right before lifting their heel and kicking him square in the chest. Lucio stumbled backwards into the gooey blackness. Valdemar followed shortly after.

***

“You?” The challenger snorted. “You can’t be the one in charge. You’re just a squirt with freakish arms.”

“I bet they’re not even real,” one of his companions drawled. “Probably just some parlor trick glamour.”

“Get lost. You’re not recruiting anyone tonight.” Khleo said as they looked up into the eyes of the challenger with the frilled earrings. Without hesitation, he stepped up to Khleo and gave their chest an easy shove.

“We weren’t asking for permission. If your people don’t want to come with us, we’ll just take the ones we need.” He and some of his crew gestured vaguely to the weapons fastened to their hips.

Khleo lifted their chin. “If you weren’t looking for permission, why in the hell did you ask to speak to the manager?”

A couple of snickers erupted from Khleo’s side.

Earrings gave a nasty scowl before spitting by Khleo’s foot. “You got a lot of mouth for someone who calls themself the damn manager.”

“Meet me in the ring and I’ll show you how I got that title.” Khleo said. “If it ends in a KO or I tap out, you can take whoever you want.” They stretched out their hand. “And if I win, you leave us the fuck alone.”

The challenger snatched their hand up. “You’re on.”

Khleo could feel the eyes of all of the patrons. They knew what they were thinking. This wasn’t the first time some low life had found out about the club and came in trying to shake things up. The patrons must have been wondering why Khleo had chosen to fight.

I need this. I need to do this.

< I’m here. >

Khleo felt the soothing presence of their familiar across their mental link. They wished they could reach out and stroke her.

~ I know, Hefe. Thank you. ~

The challenger met them in the ring and didn’t hold back. He was a street fighter before this, that much was certain. His familiarity with Khleo’s style made them go into the defensive. He was much bigger than them and knew how to grapple correctly.

But Khleo wasn’t about to hold back. Not this time.

They gave the challenger an opening. With a sure punch, he knocked Khleo’s head back, filling the air was a short, sickening crunch. The challenger’s followers whooped in excitement while the fight club members gasped in disbelief.

Khleo staggered, but instinctively raised their elbows around their head.

“See?” The challenger scoffed. “I knew you were all talk. You practically let me hit you.”

Khleo stopped swaying and firmly planted their feet. They lowered their arms and pulled themself out of the hunch so everyone could see what happened to their face.

The challenger sneered in distaste at what he was seeing.

Khleo stared right back at him, refusing to cradle their unhinged jaw, seemingly unaware of the blood leaking from where teeth and jawbone had torn their skin apart. Khleo snapped their head hard enough to seal off the gaping chasm. The crowd’s disgusted groans turned into gasps of disbelief at the sight of Khleo’s jaw stitching itself together.

“Go on,” they said, wiping the leftover blood on the back of their hand. “Hit me again.”

The challenger didn’t look like he wanted to do anything of the sort, but it was clear that the approval of his crew meant a lot to him. Khleo hoped he would walk away, she really hoped he would. But all he did by staying was make himself a target. For their anger, their frustration, every weight that had been added onto them in the past few weeks.

Khleo didn’t hold back her strength as she fought. The challenger was no match for her and this fight was not fair. But Khleo went over the edge a long time ago. She didn’t care.

There were so many things she couldn’t fight back against. So she fought the challenger. She fought and fought and clawed at his decorated ears with her blunt fingernails. She emptied out all her kicks and elbows to his face until it was unrecognizable.

Khleo wrestled their opponent to the ground and fired a right hook to his cheek. All the bystanders were screaming now. This was no longer a fight. It was bloodsport. And Khleo knew better than anyone how silly with delight a crowd could get from it.

In an attempt to regain some control, the challenger roared in defiance and cracked his forehead against Khleo’s nose.

The crowd erupted with excitement.

Khleo slowed down, bringing the challenger close enough so that he could see her nose render and heal with his own eyes. The incredulous terror in the challenger’s eyes made Khleo break into a wide, blood-stained grin.

“You should kill me and see what happens.”

He tried to tap out. “Okay, you win. You win!” The longer he looked at her, the more his lip trembled in fear for his life. Tears and snot soon mixed with the blood leaking from his contorted face.

Khleo ignored their own rules and snarled, “What the fuck are you crying for? You’re the one who came up in my house! And for what? To intimidate my friends into joining your disgusting crew?”

“I’m sorry! I said I was done!”

The tapout had served its purpose – to snap everyone else out of their bloodlust. They tried to talk Khleo down, reminding her that it was over. When they started to pull her off of the man, Khleo thrashed.

“No – Let me go! If he wants to cry, I’ll give him something to cry about!”

She lunged. The challenger begged for his crew to help. The seconds that followed were simply pandemonium. Patrons and the intruders clashed, wrestling each other to the ground. Several fighters dogpiled Khleo at once in order to protect the challenger. She wheezed under their crushing weight.

Then the sounds of fighting were interrupted by a wild, guttural roar. The cacophony of screams that followed caused Khleo to twist in agony.

“There’s a fucking lion in here!”

Khleo drew in a ragged breath as the weight lifted from her back. She scrambled to her feet. Not long after she righted herself did she hear something that made her blood run cold.

The door at the top of the stairs flung open and a booming voice filled the space.

“What in the gods-damned fuck is going on down there!”

People were already running and tripping over each other, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the lion. Khleo tried to reach out to Hefe through their link, but it was too late. Otto was already at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the mess of the basement as well as the enormous lion terrorizing all of his potential customers.

~ Hefe. He saw you. Go! ~

Hefe didn’t argue with her human. She stole out into the street, chasing off the last of the challenger’s crew. Once she was gone, Khleo turned to face their boss. They took a deep breath because they knew they were in for it.

Khleo needed a miracle. Because she was certain that after tonight, there wouldn’t be any more fight club.