#poly grand slams

[lilacs-stash]

Ship swap Grand slams!

look at my guys I love them so much. So I know most of the swaps in ship swap haven't been explained so I'll explain these guys here.

Balloon 🔄 Test tube

Suitcase 🔄 Fan

Nickel 🔄 Paintbrush

Baseball 🔄 Lightbulb

This AU belongs @maxphilippa (And also maybe me and @burgycreeper405-blog I do not know)

[inanimateinsanityships-rated]

Characters: Balloon, Baseball, Nickel, Suitcase

Other Names: World's Worst Polycule (...I think.)

Vote on your opinion on Polyam Grand Slams as a romantic ship.

Please reblog to spread! /nf

[xinnamonbun]

A Peak into my Future Au #2

Thinking of you...

[agerecoded]

II17 very slight spoilers

There was a baseball and balloon positive interaction i can now die in peace

[ellecdc]

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.” 

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore. 

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you. 

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy. 

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about. 

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right. 

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet. 

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet. 

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion. 

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off. 

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near. 

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them. 

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely. 

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you. 

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly. 

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you. 

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together. 

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no. 

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms. 

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper. 

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face. 

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month. 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Vampire!Rhysand x reader: Mercy, Devil

A/N: I meant to write this for October since it sounded spooky, but honestly I’m happy I didn’t because now I get to write something supernatural in the lead up to Christmas!

Warnings: blood, vampirism, eventual poly relationship

Word Count: 5,064

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve always had a strange fixation with the phantasmal night of all hallows eve. Something particular about the thought of ghastly apparitions being freed to sew discord and chaos through the monotony of everyday life entices your pulse to spike dangerously. Blood thrumming in your veins.

Clouds seal the full moon to the sky, casting shadows throughout the already dense and dark woodland. Twigs snap and crackle beneath your feet as you continue along the path through the ancient forest. Gnarled branches reach into your way, like talons of some malignant beast stretching to grasp you in its claws. Heart bumps against its cage, pale robes swishing provocatively in your wake, a pale glow of white contained within the darkness of night.

Before you, the abandoned castle looms, cutting a towering silhouette as it’s lit by a crack of lightening, splitting the heavens in two. Ravens caw and crow, taking sudden flight to the stormy skies, wind picking up as it whips the leaves from branches, thunder and rain coming on in an abrupt onslaught, seemingly out of nowhere. The water lashes at your skin, thoroughly soaking your robes, slicking the thin fabric to your skin.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow the tug toward the old castle site, a chill running up your spine as you’re lured closer, path quickly muddying beneath your feet as you stumble through the howling wind and screaming rain, reaching the base of the entry way. Hurriedly trample up the carved steps, passing by the large carved gargoyles hunched either side of the case. Lightening crackles again, bursting across the thundery sky and you dive for the cover of the hewn-rock archway, seeking shelter from the torrent of heavy droplets.

Plaster yourself to the looming door, the skull knocker digging into your shoulder as you rest against it. The wood gives way, and you yelp as you stumble back, tripping up over your feet, cloak getting caught as you’re sent falling onto your ass. A stray wind whips through the interior, door slamming shut before your very eyes, locked in darkness. Tendrils of hot breath curl before your face in the low temperature of the castle, and you hurry to your feet.

Flinch as the room comes alight, allowing your eyes to sweep across the grand entrance: rich, polished floorboards bathed with blood-red rugs, a glass chandelier hanging like an abnormal spider above the room, the two sets of large winding staircases, and the dark figure at their peak. Candle light warms the castle hall, and you press back into the locked door, breathing heavily.

“My, my,” the character calls softly, “what has the storm brought in?”

Blink quickly, returning to your senses as reason and rationality are returned. You hadn’t known the castle was occupied… “I’m so sorry, Lord,” you call, hoping your voice carries to his looming perch. “I was out in the forest when the rain came on out of nowhere,” you explain, “I came seeking shelter, but the door wasn’t closed properly, and I fell in.” Heat flushes your cheeks, and you self-consciously step back from the rich rugs, trying to keep the mud from the spotless fabric.

“Fell in?” He echoes, and you could swear you hear the faintest laugh. “There’s been many a grand entrance in these halls, and yet none quite as theatrical as your own.” Suck in a quiet inhale of embarrassment, smoothing down the cloak in attempts to look vaguely presentable for the young aristocrat. “If it’s not too much to ask,” you call out, thankful for the evenness of your voice. “I would like to request shelter until the storm passes, then I promise I will be on my way.”

“Of course,” he replies, “be my guest.” His arm sweeps across the grand hall, encompassing the room with a deliberately relaxed gesture. “What’s mine is yours. Stay as long as it pleases you.”

Almost immediately, your shoulders lose their tension, relieved to not be forced back out into the horrific storm—it really had broken out of nowhere. You dip into a light curtsey, the least you can do to demonstrate your gratitude. “My deepest thanks, lord…?”

“Rhysand,” he calls, voice smooth as velvet, sinful as silk. “You may call me Rhysand.”

————

Strangely, you hadn’t seen another soul since you had arrived, which can’t be right, since the place was clean enough you might have thought it unlived in. Missing the mess of life, a strange deathlessness stalking the flame-lit halls.

Perplexities aside, the lord—Rhysand, as he’d informed you with that strange smile—had been more than welcoming, offering a spare bedroom larger than your home, with clothes to change into. You’d had to fight to keep your mouth from parting in awe from the decadent luxury at his fingertips, the sheer mass of wealth he’s shrouded in. How blasé he is about the display of opulence, immune to the shock and wonder of it all.

“You are free to stay as long as you please,” he’d reminded, glancing over to you from where he stands on the threshold. “Dinner will be served at eight. I’d be delighted if you joined me,” he says, offering the invitation graciously. Brows raise on your forehead, grateful for your stroke of luck. Dip your head in confirmation. “That would be wonderful,” you answer sincerely, “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, my lord.” He waves his hand dismissively, yet it comes across as charming rather than arrogant. “Rhysand will suffice perfectly,” he replies, sharp eyes cutting to you, lips fashioning themselves into a distinctly feline smile. “Rhys if you feel otherwise inclined.” There’s a suggestive lilt to his honeyed voice that has your hairs standing on end, toes curling in spare slippers.

Dip your head again. “Thank you, Rhysand.”

Something pleasured passes through the darkness of his gaze, but it’s quickly covered as he nods, turning to leave, but pausing. “Feel free to adorn yourself as you please,” he adds on, framing it as an after-thought, despite embodying the antithesis of someone who would speak without thinking. He inclines his head toward the vanity, various sparkling gems strung together, contained within the jewellery armoire. Lips part to politely refuse—he’s already offered so much, it would feel wrong to take advantage of such an opportunity.

But he beats you to it, giving you a smile that suggests he knows exactly what you were about to say. “God turns a blind eye to my castle,” he purrs, lips sinfully curved. “Indulge as you like.”

Then he’s gone, striding away down the blood-red corridors, disappearing out of sight and leaving you alone in the offered room. Completely out of your depth, on unfamiliar ground.

Glance at the grandfather clock—you have a quarter hour to swiftly change into clothes of his taste. You waste no time, hastily closing the door before heading to the armoire provided. He’d told you everything was already prepared, which had initially drawn some questions, but you suppose someone with such a vastness of wealth would always have his doors open to passersby—a different way of displaying opulence.

You settle on the simplest gown you can find, still obscenely intricate, with tiny detailed patches of embroidered lacing the hem and sides. The bodice fits nicely, easy to change into and resting comfortably over your now-dry skin. The skirts are held up by an in-built petty-coat, giving the illusion of shape by flaring out past your waist, grazing your ankles. While the rest of you has been ridden of the lasting effects of rain, your hair remains damp, so you decide to allow it to hang at your back—you’d hate to sleep on the crisp pillows with wet hair.

A single look to the clock reveals you have five minutes before dinner is served, so you decide to peer at the jewellery, making sure to leave time for finding the dining hall. Within the small armoire are a menagerie of necklaces, but you pick out a small string of pearls, the clasps rendered in gold to match with the cream of your gown. Heart beats with infantile excitement at getting to adorn yourself in such expensive clothing, enjoying the cool brush against your skin, the weight of the pearls as they skim your breasts—plumped by the front of the bodice.

The clock ticks, and you turn for the door, leaving no time to change from the slippers that had been offered as you swish out into the hallway, returning the way you had come. Surely the dining hall would be located upon the ground floor…

You head for the swirl of stairs, pausing at their peak—where the sharp-featured lord had stood, surveying his lonely kingdom. The glass pendants suspended from the chandelier glitter and gleam like diamonds, and you span your hands delicately across the polished wood of the banister, taking the time to drink in and admire the antique beauty of his home.

Startle when a palm slides around your waist, spinning fully upon turning to see who’s approached. The banister presses to the base of your spine as you lean to it, his hands lightly holding your sides, resting without squeezing. “I’m glad you were able to find your way,” he says lowly, no need for volume with the proximity you are to one another. “I had worried you might find yourself lost in my halls, and I would have to go searching.”

A polite smile plays on your lips, attempting to calm the flush his silken words inspire beneath your features. “I was admiring your home,” you murmur, one hand pressing atop your breast to calm your heart—maybe also to direct his attention to the softness of cleavage. “The chandelier is wonderful, with how it catches the light. For a moment I thought it was winking at me,” you laugh quietly, demurely ducking your head, casting your gaze away from the sharpness of his own.

Rhysand chuckles lowly, “you have the eyes of a magpie.” Hand lightly raises to the set of shining beads at your throat. “Seemingly the taste of one, too.” He threads his fingers with those atop your breast, bringing your knuckles to the softness of his lips. “May I say, you look positively regal,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your skin. You’re surprisingly relieved at the coolness of his mouth, soothing the fire that’s thrumming wildly in response to the delightful liberties he’s taking.

This time you can’t bring yourself to look away. Enchanted by the swirling depths of violet.

“If I look regal,” you breathe softly, “it is thanks to your exquisite taste in dress.” He raises a single, neatly groomed brow, and you’re rather glad to have the banister to lean back on. “A raw gem is beautiful even before it’s refined,” he purrs, cool lips skimming your knuckles with each word. “The clothing merely enhances what was already there.”

Open your mouth to deny his flattery, but once again he beats you to it, as if able to read minds. “Now,” he says, standing to his full height, “shall we?” He guides your arm to link with his own, hand pressing to the firmness of muscle beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. All you can manage is a dip of your head in acquiescence before he’s gracefully guiding you to the stairs, leading the way to the dining hall.

“In the mean time,” he says casually, “why don’t you tell me what you were doing, traipsing through the woods on such a morbid night?” Clasp your skirts in one hand, descending the case on his arm, quietly enjoying the gentlemanly mannerisms even if you’re undeserving of them. “It’s all hallows eve,” you answer, honestly, “I found myself yearning the company of the forest.”

“So you decided to play at red-riding hood,” he drawls, mirth coating his teasing words. You manage to shoot him what you hope is a playful glance. “There are no wolves in these forests, Rhysand,” you smile, returning your gaze to the steps. “Besides, these robes are white, not red.”

The two of you reach the base, and he moves to escort you through the archway on your right, leading away from the entrance hall. “That’s the lovely thing about white though, isn’t it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So open to change.” Your brow dips in a subtle show of confusion, narrowing. “What do you mean by that?” Lips carve themself into something distinctly vulpine, sharp canines gleaming beneath the warm light. But he shakes his head, murmuring a “never mind” before continuing through the ornamented room.

“Tell me more about this so-called yearning for the forest,” he goads, drawing you through yet another exquisitely decorated hall, rugs a shade darker now you’ve strayed from the entrance. It’s your turn to shake your head, unsure how to describe it without sounding utterly off your rocker. “It’s hard to say really,” you say truthfully. “The temperature was crisp but not biting, and the sky was overcast without promising a storm— well, I had thought not, though I was clearly mistaken,” you smile, though there’s an intensity to his gaze you hadn’t noticed before. You quickly avert your eyes, peering instead at the large banquet table you’re swiftly approaching.

“I think, if I’m being quite plain, the quiet suited me in that moment,” you admit softly. “I didn’t know those forests were capable of being quiet,” he mutters, “they must like you.” You shoot him a questioning look, but he simply smiles, again shaking his head. “I was merely thinking out loud,” he clarifies, pulling out your chair. You politely take the seat, smoothing out your skirts as he tucks you in. “I’d be interested in hearing more of your inner thoughts,” you say, “they sound quite intriguing.”

Rhysand pauses, hands resting atop the back of your chair, “would you now?” Spine stiffens when you feel icy air brush your temple, tilting your head to figure where the stray breeze came from. Freeze when his lips graze the shell of your ear, fingers halting in your lap. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking right now?” He inquires lowly, startling heat simmering in your lower abdomen. Manage a slight dip of your chin in tense confirmation. Lips trail lower, ghosting below your ear, brushing your neck. But then he pulls away, standing straight, offering a charming smile. “I’m thinking it would be a shame to be seated so far apart from you, and that I will have to move to be at your side.” Then he’s striding to the end to retrieve the crockery laid out, cutlery held in his free hand.

While his back is turned, you take the moment to try and calm your racing heart, startled by the vivacious beat being drummed against your ribs. You should be better equipped to face him, yet he’s seamlessly pulling you apart, stitch by stitch. All effortless charm and debonair grace. By the time he’s returned, you’ve managed to reach a state of near relaxation, just an edge of tension still gnawing at your spine.

“So, Rhysand,” you say quietly, nervous to intrude too deeply into the air of the castle. “Does your family live with you?” When he begins taking food to his plate, you follow suit, assuming the dinner has commenced, and that it will be fine for you to now start on the delicious meal laid before you. “Occasionally they fly by,” he answers with that playful smile, its reflection mirrored upon your lips. “I have two brothers who will visit from time to time, though they have their own hunting grounds to preside over.”

He hunts? You would have thought someone dressed as finely as he is would have little interest in such a superficial task. Particularly if there’s no one to converse with during the process. An image of him dressed in hunting leathers flashes through your mind, as if put there by an encouraging hand. “Preside over?” You ask, raising a forkful of food to your mouth.

Rhysand nods, smiling faintly as he watches you. “Indeed. They require a surprising amount of attention. Making sure the game are well-kept so none are driven from the lands,” he elaborates, and you nod along, surprised to find yourself interested in the subject. “What counts as being well-kept?” You ask once done with the food in your mouth, eagerly moving to the next piece. “Making sure they are well-fed,” he answers with a playful smile, “that generally keeps them happy.”

You blink, then smile. It’s nice to know he takes care of the animals on his land. That they’re looked after before their death. More humane than some of the things you’ve seen in your small hamlet. “I take it you hunt for pleasure?” You asks, eager to learn more about the charming lord. But he shakes his head, “not regularly. Or rather, not as regularly as some others I know.” A frown seems to dip his brows, and you wish to change the subject. His knife slices through the meat on his plate, carving it up into neat little squares for polite, bite-sized snacks. “Besides, I fear if my game notices it’s being picked off, it will run for the hills.”

Laughter bubbles across your breast-bone with his little quirks. The idea that his prey would be at all self-aware is rather amusing, while also strangely heart-warming. “If hunting is not a hobby of yours, how do you spend your time?” You ask, relaxing into the pleasantly stimulating conversation. “Welcoming rain-soaked women into my castle, of course,” he drawls, a wide smile spreading across your lips, quickly raising your hand to cover your mirth-filled grin. “You’ve given me no reason to doubt, yet I haven’t laid eyes on a single other soul here,” you reply, peering at him.

Lips quirk, and he reaches for his glass of red wine, thoroughly opaque, darkened in the flame light. “Everyone else has gone home for the night,” he answers, sipping at the thick liquid. “It’s just us, my lady.” Flush at the title, returning to concentrate on the meal. “I am no lady, Rhysand,” you respond softly, cutting into the rich meat on your plate. “And yet if I were to walk through those doors and find you dining alone, I would not think you looked even a spot out of place in my home,” he says, equally hushed.

Cutlery stills in your hands, raising your eyes to swirling violet. It strikes you then what a spectacular colour it is. Manage a shy smile, “your flattery is outrageous.” He’s quiet for a short spell, before also lowering his cutlery. “Do I look like I’m lying to you?” You’re surprised by the sincerity of his tone. Throat rolls as you observe him, head still lowered shyly. “I’ve known you for not even a night,” you murmur, unable to quite pull your focus from him. “You could,” he answers lowly, voice pitched down a few keys.

Blink, taken aback. You must be misunderstanding. Swallow thickly, making to return to your plate, but— “Don’t look away,” he instructs softly, coaxing your eyes back to his. Mind swims through heat, the world dimming around him, as if blanketed by a thick fog. “I…I couldn’t say,” you manage, a strange wariness prickling at the nape of your neck. Hairs rising with the intensity of his gaze.

The lord is quiet again, watching you with those strange, wonderful eyes. But then he pulls away, spearing a sectioned piece of meat with his fork. “Forgive me,” he says, “I shouldn’t have been so crass with you. I find myself so rarely with civilised company my manners are often forgotten.”

You shift in your seat, a bout of cold icing your skin in the absence of his attention. “No, it’s fine,” you say, finished with your meal, gently setting down the knife and fork. “I was simply caught off guard. The truth is I would feel as though I was taking advantage of your generosity, Rhysand.” You notice he’s also finished, but are unable to recall at what point. “What’s mine is yours,” he reminds lowly, eyes glinting.

Pulse spikes in response, something dark in that look that has you urging to run. The question is: in what direction?

“You seem tired,” he observes, glancing at the grandfather clock. Brows raise as he reads the time. “Appropriately. It’s nearing midnight,” he drawls. Lips part in surprise, how has it been that long? It feels like you sat down to eat less than an hour ago, yet it’s already beginning the ascent into morning. “Nearly midnight?” You echo, following his gaze. The clock indeed reads twelve, the hour hand raised as if poised to strike down.

Rhysand stands from his chair, refolding the napkin before stretching out his hand. “I would hate for you to sleep poorly because of me. Allow me escort you back to your room,” he asks quietly, all traces of previous heat removed, replaced by well-mannered charm. You manage a nod, arm once again overlapping with his own, making to follow him through the labyrinthine halls.

It hits you then, the vastness of his castle—how desolate the space must be. Especially with how rarely he apparently gets to meet with anyone he cares for. “You know, before tonight I had thought your castle was abandoned,” you say absently, taking in the elaborate decorations with more appreciation. “I’ll admit, it sometimes feels that way,” he replies, deep voice tracing down your spine. Push the heat aside for the moment, turning to glance at him. “Do you ever get lonely?” You ask quietly, aware of the ice you’re treading.

He hesitates, momentarily meeting your gaze before continuing onward, reaching the stairs. “Quite possibly,” he answers, “it would certainly be reason for my appalling lapse in manners earlier tonight.” His lips are lifted at their edges, yet you can’t quite manage to return the smile. It must be difficult, having all this space with only his self to fill it. Then again, with the intensity he’s occasionally pinned you with, that doesn’t seem like a particularly hard task.

“Tell me about your own hobbies,” he requests, breaking from your inner thoughts. “I feel as though I’ve spoken more than enough for tonight.” But you’re shaking your head before you can help it, speaking before you can stop it. “I like the sound of your voice,” you admit quietly. Violet eyes flick to you, weighing on your cheek…your neck. “It’s soothing. Like a lullaby.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you.

He stares, and heat blossoms beneath your skin. That was incredibly uncalled for on your part.

“I hope not,” he says at last, humiliation burning at your insides as you hastily look away. But then he comes to a stop, hand reaching for your jaw, drawing your helpless gaze to lock with his own. “Because putting you to sleep right now is the last thing on my mind,” he breathes lowly.

Oh.

Chest rises and falls steadily, becoming aware of how breathless you feel, how utterly bare you are beneath that look of his. Tongue flicks out over your lower lip, mouth parched. “Tell me…what’s the first thing on your mind then, Rhys.” Attention pierces to the plushness of your lips, and you’re suddenly in need of that banister from earlier. “You want to know what I’d do with you if you let me?” He asks, voice rougher than it was moments before. Pulse spikes beneath that intensity, breath shallowing, but you manage a nod.

He groans lowly, hand dropping to your waist, lightly resting along the seam of the bodice. Cool fingers stroke away a lock of hair, pads grazing the heat of your cheek as he stares down at you. “I’m not sure such things are for your ears, magpie,” he grits out, applying a light bit of force to your waist. “Tell me anyway,” you breathe, hands raising to the fine lapels of his jacket, more eager to put them in his hair.

A rough sound of conflicted pleasure rumbles in his chest. “Such lovely things,” he promises, violet darkening with desire, swirling and dancing as he drinks you in. “So lovely you wouldn’t be able to pull away once I’d started.”

Heat numbs rationality, mind melting as the words warmly splash over your bones, sinking into marrow as you become soft and supple beneath his touch. Step into the lines of his body, feeling as his fingers press to your sides with tension. “Do it,” you breathe, quietly. “Please.”

Cunning satisfaction releases through the male, pleased with how quickly you changed your mind once he applied himself to the task. He’d gotten a sense of your taste before dinner, when he’d pushed you in, and it had been enough to convince him even though he’d fed not even a week ago, he would have to sample you. Now here you are, head tilted, eyes having fluttered shut, offering yourself to him for an entirely different set of wants. Maybe he will indulge your desires—if you satisfy his, that is.

You’ll be on the floor colder than ice if you fail to do so.

He moves in, hand cupping the nape of your neck as he lowers his mouth to yours. Lamb had been served over dinner, and he finds the taste pleasant on your tongue, stoking the embers of his hunger as he presses himself against the soft shape of you, partially hidden by the blasted dress and pearls. A small sound gets caught in your throat, and he revels in the feeling of your fingers tightening on the lapels of his jacket. As if you’re experiencing even a fraction of the hunger he has for you.

Works his way down your jaw, taking his time as he descends to your neck. Nosing at the pronounced pulse, liking how you tilt your head to one side, freely gifting him access. Lips graze the spot he’s chosen, tongue flicking out to drag along hot skin—so hot it practically burns.

Razor-sharp canines scrape, and he feels the exact moment you go rigid in his arms. But by then it’s too late, his teeth piercing your throat, injecting his philtre-laced venom into your bloodstream. The familiar taste of adrenaline and arousal spills on his tongue, bursting from the small puncture marks he’s made, quick to heal over with the aid of saliva. Drinks you down, savouring the richness of your blood, sealing his lips over the incisions, taking more, and more, and more—

He forcefully drags himself away, vision turning hazy, the scent of your life-force spinning his mind. Breathes heavily, the rich and spicy tang still prominent in his mouth, sapid and hot. Tongue darts out to wet his lips, gathering up faint traces that remain there, and then he’s being pulled back, already so deeply enamoured.

Canines re-pierce that same spot, reopening the incisions as your blood burns his throat, inspiring heat in his long-dead body. It’s as if he’s returning to life, having it shot through his veins, snaring him in the addicting flavour. Lips seal over the puncture marks, drinking deeply, swallowing down more and more.

He should stop.

He knows he should stop—he’ll bleed you dry, and then he’ll never have another taste. Arousal coats his tongue, and heat spreads across his skin, bone-deep aches making themselves apparent, as if forcefully dragging him to you. Your hands have dropped from his jacket, instead weakly rubbing at his shoulder and chest, unable to do much more than hold yourself up.

But the taste—the sheer heaven you’ve put into him again. If he stops drinking, it will pass, and he’ll return to that permanent state of death, cold and solitary. But you’re bleeding sunlight into him, sunlight that’s dappled and controlled instead of the unrestricted blaze that would incinerate him in the blink of an eye.

A quiet gasp slips from your lips, fingers losing their grip on his clothing, beginning to slip, but just a little more…one more gulp…one more sip…

“Mercy, devil,” he breathes onto your neck, as if in pain. “What God-damning angel are you?” He growls, trembling hands cupping your cheeks, sharp violet eyes locked on the small marks to your throat. “You’ve bewitched me. I must…” Then he’s surging forward, slamming you against the wall with inhuman force, hand gripping your jaw as he roughly tilts your head to the side. Groans, hot tongue licking over the soft skin, elongated incisors pricking as they again pierce.

Pulse spikes beneath his grip, growing dizzy as he drinks deeply, hands pressed to your shoulders to pin you still. Vision blurs, lips parting as you raise your arms in attempt to push him away, but end up desperately clinging to the finely spun fabric cloaking his back. Limbs go weak, turning limp in his hold as he feeds, a pleasurable spin overcoming your mind, turning pliable beneath his teeth.

He groans, pulling away only in favour of going lower, suctioning now-hot lips over a new, unmarked patch of skin. Blood bursts on his tongue, rich and spicy, not yet too ripe but void of the sour bite that’s present in the young. Heaven and hell blend together in his mouth, mixing so appetisingly he could never—

“Rhys…” you whisper, pleading. Less than a breath left before you—

Your body slumps, and his is trembling so violently the best he can do is go with you as you slide down the wall, blood trickling down onto the pure, white pearls. He knew they’d get in the way.

He hauls himself away, shocked at the utter lack of control you had subjected him to. How his discipline shudders in your presence, practically brought to its knees for a single drop more.

Earlier he had considered making a bottle or two out of you to send off to his brothers, ready for consumption.

Looking at you now, he can hardly stand the thought.

What’s mine is yours…and what’s yours is mine.

Your blood is his, and his only.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure! Finale Part 2

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! - 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACKS, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES , ALCOHOL

Tag List - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas gooses-pond  rhiamaymay  scaraskzzs darkangelchronicles 

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Finale Part 2

“You’re Fired y/w/n..... You're fired, with immediate effect.” 

In that moment, in that very moment… I could say it was as if the world just fell away. As if the entirety of time stood still, as if silence was the only thing that existed on earth… but that could not be further from the truth. All hell had broken loose. 

The entirety of Judgement Day had completely lost their minds, they were screaming & shouting, demanding answers from Triple H who had now been surrounded by security in an attempt to hold back the furious group. Paul was trying to have his voice heard over them all but every word he got out, he was interrupted again. Liv Morgan had been quick to disappear out of sight choosing to wait in the wings of the ramp to enter the match. The Wyatt Sicks had already made their entrance to the ring and were now pacing their territory both inside and out of the cages. The monitors in Gorilla showed them playing up to the audience while many fans were chanting for The Judgment Day, for Mami, for Y/W/N big entrance. Abby the Witch, who had already entered the cell was sat in the middle of the canvas smiling, chanting to herself in hushed tones, her painted China mask glowing in the spotlight gave such an uneasy feeling to those in the front row. Meanwhile those further back in the cheap seats had been more than happy to begin poking fun, trying to stir up the Wyatts. 

“Y/W/N is gonna kill you…. Y/W/N is gonna kill you!” They sang, arms waving in the air as Dexter had jumped up onto the barricade alongside Huskus, shouting abuse back at the spectators. But the fans were just as quick to jump on them instead…

“Rhea’s gonna kill you… Rhea’s gonna kill you!” The audience chimed together. Out in the arena the atmosphere was really building for what everyone believed was going to be an incredible match. 

Meanwhile, backstage chaos was still at full peak. Anxiety was kicking in and I stood back from everyone in silence, I wasn’t entirely sure what to say, what to do. How do I even begin to process what he had said, what was going on? I couldn’t hear any of them now, my brain had turned into a cloud of fog. All I could focus on was a high-pitched alarm going off in the corner of the room, it was flashing on and off with an LED screen that displayed the words ‘ON AIR’. 

The main event of WrestleMania had been replaced last minuite with this Ten Man grand slam match. When it had been announced the crowd were beyond excited, they screamed and chanted ‘THIS IS AWESOME’ so loudly the ring announcers had struggled to be heard, even with a microphone. 

And yet I was not going to be in it? Pfft, over my dead body. 

I’m not sure where it came from, or indeed what bought me back to reality. Maybe it had been that alarm indicating that the show was live, and the production team were now running behind, given that The Judgment Day were still stood in Gorilla arguing with Paul and every member of the backstage crew. 

I took a deep breath and proceeded to walk over to the production crews table, picking up a steel chair and launching it across the room into the adjacent wall. The loud crashing sound echoed throughout the room as everyone fell silent and stared over in my direction. Rhea looked so concerned for me as her eyes scanned over my body for any sign of injury or upset. Meanwhile the boys were all far to angry to fully regulate their emotions at that point. 

“Enough…” I stated plainly, holding my head up high and slowly walking over towards Triple H. 

Rhea, Damian, Finn and Dom all took a step back to allow me to pass by them as I stopped in front of my boss. Security was quick to regroup and reform behind him while Judgment Day stood directly behind me, Dom reached out his hand to squeeze my fingers, desperate to make sure his girl was okay. Though I am sure he himself needed a little grounding too. 

“Why?” I questioned Triple H as he readjusted his suit shirt from Damian’s firm grip, making sure to fix his tie where Finn had attempted to throttle him with it. 

“Why am I fired? You have to tell me why. You can’t just fire me, walk away and think no one is going to question your decision.” My voice was plain, strong and confident. If I hadn’t been so focused on dealing with the situation in hand, I might have noticed Damian getting a little hot under the collar at his little lady dominating the problems at hand. I may have noticed Finn smirking with pride at the self-confidence I was displaying, or even Rhea with her arms folded and eyebrow raised, she knew full well her girl could handle business. 

Hunter cleared his throat as he placed one hand in his pocket and the other over his mouth, wiping the sweat of his chin and taking a breath. 

“This company, Y/W/N…has a strict no tolerance policy when it comes to fraternizing with other wrestling companies. You signed a contract young lady; you know the rules…. And you broke those rules. So…” Hunters words sounded almost humorous, like the situation to him was funny. 

“What are you talking about!?” I said, frustrated and confused at everything that was going on. 

Triple H very quickly got frustrated and ran his hands over his head, taking another sharp breath. 

“Look, we don’t have time for this right now. You lot…” He said pointing to Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn. 

“Get out to the ring, the match needs to start! Liv Morgan is waiting; she will be taking Y/W/N place. GO!!” His voice was harsh, he was not happy, but neither were my loves. I turned on the spot to face them all and smiled. 

“Finn, you always told me the show must go on, no distractions. Remember? All of you, go! Kick their asses, Ill fix this, I promise! I’ll see you out there” I held out my hands and they all quickly rushed in, sharing a warm group hug before they made their way out. Rhea turned before she exited through the curtain as The Judgment Day’s music played out in the arena, blowing me a kiss and offering a half corner smile. 

I watched as the monitors showed them all entering the ramp and making their way to the ring, the crowd cheering and chanting their names. But the front row quickly noticed it was Liv Morgan there and not me. And when Samantha Irvin announced Liv would be my replacement, the thousands of spectators were not happy. 

“BOO! BOO! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! WE WANT Y/W/N! WE WANT Y/W/N! THIS IS BULLSHIT. . . . . THIS IS BULL SHIT!” 

Liv smirked without a care in the world and made her way into the cell. 

The cages were locked, the bell was rung. 

The War began. 

“Ok!” I shouted facing my manager once more. 

“You are back on schedule, the production are happy and the show is running to time again! So, take a bloody chill pill grandad and explain to me what the hell you are talking about?!” I demanded standing in front of Hunter. 

He sighed, frustrated by my words and turned on the spot, taking an envelope out from the desk behind him and handing it to me. 

“Liv bought this to my attention after your match earlier, just shortly after you and the rest of Judgment Day went back to your locker room, I wanted to discuss it with you, but you were all…….. obviously busy.” He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at me, his tall figure looming above mine as I rolled my eyes at his words and proceeded to open the envelope. 

We must have been loud enough for Hunter to hear us! 

Tearing open the envelope I pulled out a handful of photographs but before I could take a look a sudden flurry of cheers from the crowd had me distracted for a moment. Both Triple H and I turned our heads to the monitor as Samantha Irvin’s voice ringed through the sound system. 

“Joe Gacy has been eliminated!” 

Dominik and Damian had managed to pair up while the others fought and with an assisted South of Heaven-Frog Splash Dom had pinned Huskus! A huge grin was plastered on my face as I turned my attention to Rhea who had Howdy pinned in the corner, pounding him with continuous punches to the face. That glint in her eye showed me she was fighting for love and her passion for revenge had completely taken over. 

Liv and Nikki were in the midst of a brutal scrap, exchanging punches and body kicks with neither showing any weakness, but my heart burnt deep and heavy. That should be me out there fighting! That is my title shot! 

Frustratingly I could also see Rowan had gotten back to his feet after a brawl with Finn, who had been sent over the top rope and into the steel cage. My poor Irish prince was in agony, then within the blink of an eye Rowans giant frame had flattened Damian with a hefty forearm, swiftly followed by a chokeslam to Dom who was now out for the count. 

“Dominik Mysterio has been eliminated!” 

“Shit…” I whispered under my breath, turning my attention back to the photographs. My heart ached for Dom, I needed to be out there. I need to sort this shit once and for all! 

“So, what is this?! What am I looking at?” I demanded taking a closer look at the photos. They were blurry, it looked like countryside landscape, but I recognized something in it. There was a vehicle in them, it was a white transit van, hidden slightly by some large branches hanging from the trees above. On the side of the van in large letters were painted ‘A.E.W’. And there I was, standing at the back looking over my shoulder. I don’t remember any of this though. There’s no denying it was me but… why do I look so…odd? Positioned so strangely? So lifeless? So?...

Then it hit me. 

This was the day the Wyatts had snatched me from my run, I didn’t look odd or strange, I wasn’t even conscious!

“I know how this may look H, but I promise you I have no connection to AEW whatsoever! Look…” I pulled the photo out to show him in closer detail. 

“Yes, it is me. But look you can see! My eyes aren’t even open and my hands… they are tied behind my back! I know its blurry, clearly this camera man they paid off is shit at his job! Look, I have a long history with the Wyatts, and one I don’t want to bring to light. I made some serious mistakes in my past and I learnt from them, Bray Wyatt helped me see that and I was a firefly. Howdy he, he can’t accept his brother has gone. And we all know when love cannot save you, evil is quick to thrive. This day, this day Finn had me training and I went for a run, the Wyatts grabbed me and took me to this old barn to try and scare me. I didn’t think much of it, Howdy’s always playing games but…..” My voice trailed off into a silent whisper as something caught my eye. 

“I never knew…. Why… they….” My voice was broken, barely audible as Hunter rushed to my side looking closer at the photograph in my hands. I was trembling as I only now realized the true ring master behind it all. 

There…

in the photograph….

Driving the van. 

My shaking finger moved to point at the driver’s seat, a blurry but prominent head of hair was clearly visible and we all knew who it was. 

“But.. that’s Liv Morgan?” Hunter questioned, taking the photo from my hands. 

“I never knew why they took me that day, it all seemed so strange. But it was, it was all so strange because it was a set up. She planned it right from the moment he set her free. Despite both of us being guilty for that night we took our revenge to far she had always blamed me. She set me up!” My voice more dominant then ever as I turned to face hunter. 

“I understand you cannot pull her from the match now, but you have to see this was all a set up! The idiot she is must of thought the photos being such a poor condition you wouldn’t of taken notice of her in the van when you could clearly see me. I deserve to be in this match, I deserve to fight for that Championship! HUNTER PLEASE!” I was begging him at this point. 

Triple H turned his head to the monitor as Samantha Irvin’s voice rang through the arena once more. 

“Dexter Lumis and Finn Balor have both been eliminated in a double pin!” Samantha sounded panicked as the referee had opened the door to the cage and Finn and Dexter had come out still swinging for each other after managing to get each other in a double shoulder down pin. Neither preparing to stop the fight they were still going until they were pulled apart by security and Dominik who was quick to check on Finn. He led him over to their opposing side of the cage as Rhea rushed to put her hand through the grate to Dom. She looked exhausted and Damian was clearly running on fumes now too. 

“HUNTER. PLEASE!” I threw my hands up to the screens as Liv was setting up her finisher.

Hunter said nothing, he simply reached over and flicked a switch on the keyboard. He nodded his head to me as my music drowned out the stadium and the crowd erupted into complete chaos. 

The lighting scheme changed to full on Judgement Day colors, flashing LED’s and stream spot lights illuminated the runway as I appeared at the top of the ramp. 

Inside the first cage remained Damian & Rhea vs Rowan and Uncle Howdy, meanwhile Nikki Cross and Liv Morgan were battling with what they had left in the second cell. 

Dom and Finn leapt up at the sound of my music, grappling the side of the cell and shouting at the top of their lungs as I ran at full speed down to the ring, the referee opening the cage door and allowing me entry. 

Locking eyes with Liv Morgan she grinned evily and hit her finisher on the witch, pushing her out of the way and to the floor below. 

And so there we stood. 

“We were friends Liv, we were family. How fast you were to sell me out...” I spoke.

“I didn’t sell you out… I bought in to a new way. You were weak, we could have finished that scumbag off for what she did to you. But no… Y/W/N always breaks, you were to soft.” Liv’s voice was full of spite.

“I wasn’t soft Liv, what we did was wrong. He taught me that, but it seems you never took his lessons to heart. A firefly always….” I tried to reason but she cut me off. 

“SCREW THE FIREFLIES!” Liv lashed out grabbing my hair and the fight began. Blow after blow, swing after swing, punch after punch. 

The crowd erupted and their chants could be heard the other end of the city. 

“Y/W/N! Y/W/N! Y/W/N! Y/W/N!”  

We tore each other apart in that ring, destroying every last piece of who we were and what we wanted to be. Nothing was off limit, and we knew it. Kendo sticks, fire extinguishers, chairs, tables and more. To the point of two broken women standing in front of each other, blood dripping and bruises across every part of the skin. The fans loved it, but they had no idea we were both prepared to destroy each other to secure victory. 

Rhea and Damian had Howdy and Rowan on their knees as they both set up for their finishers, taking a quick peek over to my match before sending these two scoundrels back to where they came from. 

“RIPTIDE! SOUTH OF HEAVEN! RIPTIDE! SOUTH OF HEAVEN!” The announcement desk was going wild, unable to comprehend the absolute madness of this match. 

“1……2…….3!!!!” THE CROWD CHANTED AND CHEERED! 

“Erik Rowan and Uncle Howdy have been eliminated! The Judgment Day win the first battle of Hell in a Cell!” Samantha Irwin announced, cheering as she did. 

Finn and Dom ran around to the side of the cell I was fighting in, Nikki cross was out for the count on the floor of the cage while Liv had me up against the ropes. My vision starting to blur as she laid her fist into my face repeatedly before getting off and picking up the Kendo stick by her feet. She swung it into my ribs again and again and again, Blasting any remaining air from my lungs. 

Liv then threw the stick to the side and turned to celebrate to the crowd, preparing her run up to the ropes for the final Oblivion. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” I could hear Finn’s voice coming from behind me. Turning my head I could just make out his silhouette. 

“Come on lass, you can do it!” Finn shouted, over the sounds of the crowd. 

“Come on my girl! Finish this!” Dom yelled. 

From my right I could hear two gentle voices calling out, trying to ground me back into reality. 

“Mi Vida, Mi Vida! Por favor, listen to me! You can do this!” Damian’s voice was gentle and full of love. 

“Bunny, you are our champion already, no you need to be theirs!” Rhea was right. 

I dragged myself back to my feet, Liv racing towards me and without a seconds thought I lept onto the rope before catching her off guard. 

“Y/W/N/F! Y/W/N/F! MORGANS DOWN MORGANS DOWN!” The announcement team went wild as I found myself laying next to Liv, she was out and I could see it. 

“PIN HER LASS! PIN HER!!” Finn screamed as I reached out, dragging my broken body towards the bitch, falling flat on top of her. 

1!!!!

2!!!!!

3!!!!!

The entire stadium flew into a chaotic celebration, with screams, cheers, chants and more! Confetti cannons blasted off down the entire ramp runway and fireworks set off, filling the night sky above. 

“She’s done it! Y/W/N has done it! We have a new champion! We have a new champion!” 

The referee unlocked the cage door and Finn, Dom, Damian and Rhea came bounding through tackling me to the ground. Their smiles, cuddles and kisses were almost enough to block any pain signals my body was sending, instead a flood of emotion took me out in waves as Damian hoisted me up onto his shoulders, parading me around the ring. 

Rhea was quick to take Liv Morgan by the scruff of the hair and send her headfirst out of the cell, dusting her hands off and turning away. 

“Get out of here, Puta!” Rhea’s accent had such a way when she spoke Spanish, I could feel my inner core heating up and Damian knew it. He bent down and Dom helped me off, grinning and planting a soft kiss on my lips. 

Finn came over, kneeling down in front of me and held out the ‘Women’s World Championship’ belt. 

“You did it Lass, our champion” he smiled, standing and pinning the belt around my waist. 

Finn put his arm around my neck, waving the others over to join us. 

There we stood, a full family hug in the light of the full moon under the glow of a million fireworks and the love of a million adoring fans. 

But no love as true, no love as strong… as theirs. 

“I made you a promise Y/N, you are a champion. Our champion…” Finn smiled, “Now, bring on those distractions!” 

I did it. 

I was their champion. 

‘To get over the past, 

You first have to accept that the past is over. 

No matter how many times you revisit it, analyze it, regret it, or sweat it, it’s over. 

It can hurt you no more’ – Mandy Hale

The End. 

[oscconfessions]

Poly ships exist on a continuum from poly bright lights to poly grand slams. Poly branches represents the middle of this continuum

(Poly branches is firey coiny leafy pin in case that isn’t clear)

.

[ask-ii-bfdi-shipkiddos]

I need to know, for the poly grand slams I have two questions 1. what is the sir names, do you just have 4 sir names? 2. what is your bed like, do you have 2 king beds pushed together or do you just have two sepearate beds?

"Yep, we just have 4 last names since we're not married. Our full names are Suitcase Chana, Balloon Cerda-Faraday, Baseball Wilson, and Nickel Cooper.

BJ has Baseball's last name."

"We have one, really big, custom made bed."

[starry-night-author]

Hello hello to an amazing writer!

I had an idea and you don't have to do this *at all* but...June of Doom Day 11 snippet continuation, poly edition???

No worries if not, just heard that you like writing the poly snippets, and I like reading them, so..win-win? :)

Have a cupcake, you deserve it! 🧁

OH HELL YES

Ty for the cupcake!!! and the excuse to write more of this dynamic ever <33333

June of Doom Day #11 (Pt. 2)

(Part 1)

"Alright, so who's the good cop and who's the bad cop here?" Villain asked, leaning forward in their chair. "Of course, all cops are bad, but speaking in references here-"

"Enough," Superhero growled. "You're the one being interrogated, not the other way around."

Supervillain leaned over to stage-whisper in Villain's ear. "They're the bad cop."

"Enough!" Superhero shouted as both of the villains burst out laughing. "You will either cooperate or face worse consequences!"

"There's two bad cops?" Villain leaned back in their seat, lifting their untied feet from the ground to fold their legs up underneath them nonchalantly. "I don't know if that's how this is supposed to work-"

"We'll separate you two," Hero stood on the other side of Superhero, not intervening until now. This kind of argument had been going on for ten minutes already.

They didn't like interrogations, all the villains acted like this and it only ever served to make the heroes more frustrated. Despite having been kidnapped only earlier that day, Hero was already bored and annoyed.

"Oh go ahead and try," Supervillain kicked their feet up on the table between them and the heroes. "See what happens."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Superhero's eyes narrowed.

Villain snickered. "You'll see."

Fed up, Superhero slammed their fist on the table, making the whole thing shake. "Will both of you stop it?! We could've been done already if you'd just cooperate! We need information on where you got that car-"

"The car?" Villain asked. "What's that got to do with anything?"

It'd been ten minutes, and they'd finally gotten to hearing the actual interrogation questions. Hero held in a groan as they dropped their head in their hands.

"The model is one that's always been specifically used by a secret vigilante group throughout the state." Superhero explained. "They've been on the... morally darker side of things lately, and we need to find out what their alignment is. So we need information from you two about where you got it so we can track them down."

"The car." Villain stared at them. "You care about the car."

"Yes-"

"Not that we kidnapped Hero?"

"Well-"

"Or led you on a crazy high-speed chase throughout the whole city?" Supervillain chimed in.

"No-"

"You don't care about our scheme?" Villain's tone seemed rather hurt, they were very obviously pouting. "Just about the car we used?"

Supervillain mirrored their partner's pout.

Superhero dragged a hand down their face. "In the grand scheme of things your little escapades..." they trailed off, noticing how hurt the villains looked. "...Don't... matter." They exhaled the last word, as if it pained them to say it. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Villain sniffed, leaning sideways in their chair to rest their head on Supervillain's shoulder. Supervillain rested their head on top of their partner's. "We know our plans aren't always the most attention-grabbing."

"Or detrimental to society." Supervillain added.

"So where did you get the car?" Superhero cut in before one of them could start crying. They certainly looked upset enough to do so.

Villain sat back up and Supervillain shrugged. "Outside of a grocery store in the south edge of town." They lifted their feet from the table, putting them back on the ground. "It's a smaller area there, less crime, bigger false sense of security. Someone left the engine on when they ran in, we broke a window and stole it."

"You don't know who's it was?" Superhero asked. "You didn't see the owner?"

The villains shook their heads.

Hero sighed. Of course this lead went nowhere. Life at the agency had been so boring and repetitive lately- this vigilante case was finally something that had pulled Hero from their humdrum everyday routine.

And now they still had no idea where to start with it.

Well, the vigilante case and being kidnapped for a few hours, that was. That didn't happen every day.

Just as Hero was trying to figure out where else they could follow this case to, Villain leapt onto the table.

They'd been sitting with their feet crossed on their chair, and in a moment they'd pushed themself up into a squat before jumping to the plastic folding table between them. It wobbled, and despite their arms still being tied behind their back, Villain immediately found their balance.

Hero and Superhero started back from the table. "What are you- get down!" Superhero shouted. Hero was more used to Villain's antics, and they knew to back as far away as they could.

"If you insist," Villain shrugged.

As they leapt down their foot lashed out, connecting nicely with Superhero's skull. The crime-stopper was sent flying sideways, the other side of their head hitting the wall.

They slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Before Hero could react Villain lunged at them, and in an instant Hero found themself on their back, pinned to the ground by Villain's foot. The criminal's arms were still bound as they used their head to motion to Supervillain. "Get the door, they'll have seen that. They'll be in in three... two... one..."

Right on cue, the door flew open, narrowly missing Hero's head as it slammed against the wall. Supervillain threw themself at the other heroes, even with their hands tied behind their back they were clearly skilled enough to keep the other heroes at bay.

From the ground, Hero couldn't see much of the fight. All they could hear was thuds of impact and occasional yells, Villain's foot was too heavy on their chest, they couldn't shift it off.

Villain paid no attention to Hero, a wide grin on their face as they watched Supervillain. Their hair was wild from their earlier car chase, their eyes lit with a special kind of affection while they watched their partner. They cheered the Supervillain on, and despite their situation, Hero couldn't help but realize how sweet that was.

Eventually a pair of dark soulless shoes landed next to Hero's head. "That's all of them for now," Supervillain was out of breath. "There'll be more soon though. Wanna get out of here?"

Villain smirked. "I thought you'd never a-"

"Wait!" It took the hero a moment to realize they were the one who had shouted. The villains looked down at them, as if just remembering they were there. "Take me with you."

Villain bent down closer to them, pressing more weight on them and making the hero gasp. "...Why?"

The crime-stopper's voice was strained as their chest was constricted. "I-I'm tired of everything here. You kidnapping m-me was the most exciting thing tha-ats happened in the last six months. Please take me w-with you."

"You fight villains every day and you're bored?" Supervillain was intrigued.

Hero nodded.

"Poor thing, you really do need a thrill." Villain leaned closer, bent so their face was inches from Hero's. Hero couldn't keep the blush off their own face- if anyone asked the redness was from lack of oxygen. "We'll let you come with us if you can uncuff us."

Hero nodded again, now unable to form words.

"Deal!" Villain got off of them, and Hero gasped for air. "Now come on, we don't have time to waste! Get up get up get up-"

Hero was nudged to their feet before they could even catch their breath, and was only given an opportunity to do so after they'd pulled the keys to the cuffs out of their pocket and given it to the villains. The two undid their cuffs in mere seconds, and then Hero was whisked out of the room and off to their new life.

Villain ran on Hero's left side, Supervillain on their right. The two caught Hero looking as they ran together down the hall, and simultaneously threw them devilish smirks.

Hero quickly turned their gaze forward.

If anyone asked, the redness from was the exertion of running.

[burgycreeper405-blog]

Rank 5 best ii ships

well sh1t

uhh

1. Metallic Salad (Knife x Mic x Pickle x Mp4)

2. Limegold Jokes (Trophy x Cheesy x Tissues)

3. Polyam Grand Slams (Baseball x Suitcase x Nickel x Balloon)

4. Hotel Trio (OJ x Paper x Soap)

and uuhhhhmmmm

5. i dunno Poly brightlights (Lightbulb x Paintbrush x Test Tube x Fan) i guess

had a bit of a hard time thinking of 5 lmao

[lilacs-stash]

Sharing this Nickcase edit @maxphilippa made for me a month or two ago cuz brainrot real

[br1ghtestlight]

best possible ending for the grand slams poly shipping whatever is baseball and nickel happy and in love and hopefully working thru their issues. aroace balloon with all his hotel oj buddies. suitcase has a licensed therapist and gets the fuck out of that nightmare hotel

[xinnamonbun]

Hold up...

I randomly saw a shit post that was joking around saying that in order for all of the contestants to revive they need a true love's kiss...

So like...is Nickle screwed? And no not for the reason you're thinking. You see the problem is that he has MULTIPLE true loves so like would he have 3 separate opportunities to get revived OR would all three need to kiss him at once-

[alexissara]

THE Comics Of The Year 2023

I'm Alexis Sara, and if you don't know me then you should know I am an Eisner [among several other award] winning comics writer and I eventually kinda left behind comics because of a massive feeling of burn out and a lack of hope for the industry. However, I utterly adore the medium and I do enjoy comics still even if mostly in indie form or Manga. Manga of the year is a separate post since I just read more Manga and I wanted to talk about more comics overall so this section is all non manga stuff from Webcomics to graphic novels to single issue type deals, everything I read is up for consideration.

Extreme Venomverse #4 Necroko story 

This story makes me even more mad than I am every day about the state of the public domain. Stan Lee is dead, he doesn't need Spider-man money but Marvel will for many many many more years hoard the amazing ideas made by so many other people that relate to spider-man and even when Spider-man enters the public domain Disney will sue people for using any part of spider-man that doesn't come from the debut time and is still with in their copyright. So an amazing character like Nercroko is stuck at the whims of some editor to see if the creators can bring her back, for how long they can bring her back, they get to decide how gay she is allowed to be, how violent, if the story fits their brand image and if a random event has her erased from the timeline or something to fuel a mans pain or something. Which is to say fuck Marvel comics, don't buy their stuff but I read this story and it's really fucking good, 12/10 it's not really worth buying Extreme Venomverse cuz the other stories are mid but as fuck but this little short story if you could find it at retail value for a single issue of Venomverse #4 pick it up for sure. It's a venom magical girl who is gay, just great, perfect, brilliant, inspirational.

IDW Sonic 

You expect to see the sapphics from me and there here, for real, but I really enjoy this series in general. Whisper and Tangle are my main draw but I did enjoy Sonic video games a lot when I was younger so the characters, designs, etc are always something I just like seeing. The IDW comics bring a great consistent art style that makes the world of sonic feel very alive, stylish an cool. The new characters are all people I want to show up as playable in new sonic games and the story lines all feel like they would be exciting to see in a video game. These comics are really well done and while it could be more explicit in allowing it's original characters to be queer [I understand main game characters not being able to have romance to give the game devs space] it's still a good time.

Ladykillers

I love when the lesbians are on an adventure, when they are poly, when they are silly, and we got it all here. Ladykillers is a silly D&D inspired webcomic that has these cute little dumbasses go on quests and get into trouble. It starts pretty one shotty and eventually gets into a continuous narrative. If you loved Bauldr's Gate but wished it was just about like three homoerotic girls getting into silly trouble, this one is for you.

My Dragon Girlfriend

My Dragon Girlfriend every year is a top series for me. The release format of release makes each update a very small dose of a larger narrative but these little romances are all compelling and sweet and fun filled with silly little sapphics. While the newest couple added in is the one I am least compelled by I still enjoyed them. The art is really cute and sweet, the way emotion is portrayed is handled really well, Country really knows how to capture emotion within the medium and masters making good use out of all the little details.

Grand Slam Romance

I don't like sports but if lesbian magical girls played soft ball I would have to convert to being the number ones sports girly. The messy lesbian drama here is so good and the jokes are really great, when I grabbed this I kinda worried it be YA toned which typically doesn't sit well with me but luckily this is in fact adult fiction for adults that just has a strong sense of whimsy. It's a really great read and I hope a lot more people check it out because it's super good and even has a follow up book coming out.

SpellAstra

These lesbians have issues and I am so fucking here for it. We got a trio of queer witches casting spells, fighting monsters, etc who are all also teachers for a school of other witches. One of the party turns into a demon if her seal is broken which causes her to get all violent and feral, one has a magical artifact tied to a bigger play happening across the universes of the world and the final is holding secrets she doesn't want to share. From there their issues run into each other, they deal with new problems they cause, their love lives get complicated and we find out the truth of all the messy lesbian fun that is unleashed between them. The translation is sometimes a little wonky but if you can forgive a self published self translation to English for sometimes saying words a little wrong but still understandably then damn there just isn't really a story like SpellAstra I've read.

Mage & Demon Queen 

After following this series for so many years it finally finished. This action comedy yuri series is fucking amazing from start to finish a fun time with some of the best jokes across all of comics for nerdy little sapphics like me. I do think near the end of the series we spend too much time with the men of the cast who simply were not the draw for me at all but they got a lot of panel time but outside of that small preference so much of this series is so perfect it's hard to even fault the parts that are a little less great.

Pink Sugar 

What a fucking book, what a queer gift that this exists, that we live in a world where this is being released on webtoon [and a ton of other places] gives me hope for queer art and art in general. This story is lesbian in the deepest ways, with the diversity of lesbians that I want to see. Masc Non Binary Lesbians, bigger fem lesbians, trans lesbians, all falling in love with each other in these gloriously sweet ways. This series is truly queer in the most real sense. The presentation of the afterlife is innovative and fun. the comedy is great, the chemistry between all four of this polycule is great, the romantic moments are super sweet, the art's fantastic, the pacing is great and all of that lends to some really fucking heart breaking moments to as we get into the deep feelings of these dead women. This is one of the best stories being told right now and maybe ever. I love Pink Sugar, I beg of you to check it out. It's currently kickstarting a physical version if your reading this near release of this post then you should go back it. You can read it for free, if you like it, back it.

If you want to help me enjoy more art then consider checking out my Patreon or Ko-fi and giving me a little bit of cash so I can do more of this kind of writing but also like make lots of my own art, art is hard to make and costs money and like maintain my chronically ill and trans body also takes money so anything helps, thank you. If you want more details on any of these I do have reviews for many of the pieces of art above but you can also let me know you want more and maybe I'll write more.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

Zedaph! And Grian too if that’s okay for the Blaseball AU

It should be noted that I fucked up on this one, Zedaph was supposed to have the blood type psychic and coffee style anything, but this mistake was funny enough that I left it. Anyways.

Zedaph Plays is a pitcher for the Yellowstone Magic. Worm Man, who is definitely a different person, ignore that they have the same exact soulscream and fate, don't worry about it, is a pitcher for the Ohio Worms. Zedaph spends the time he isn't playing (which isn't much) investigating the ever-expanding, ever-stranger depths of Yellowstone National Park, trying desperately to discover a new Blagonball, and spending far too much time in Arizona for a man who plays for teams located in Yellowstone and Ohio respectively.

Zedaph joined up with the Magic in season 1 as an excuse to get into Yellowstone and investigate the park. When the Expansion teams fell from the sky, he proposed to Skizz that it would be really funny if somebody who was already playing tried to sign up for one of those new teams, just to see if the league would let them. Skizz didn't talk him out of it, so Zedaph created an unsubtle alias and signed up to pitch for the Worms. The league let it happen, so he now pitches for two teams. He's been extremely lucky and only had to pitch for both teams on the same day once. Thankfully, the game in question was between the Magic and the Worms, so he was just running between the two dugouts and hoping no one noticed.

Zedaph is a shapeshifter. He usually defaults to a sheepy guy, and Worm Man is just a pinker version of him with pure white eyes. He also wears a mask but that's not apart of the shapeshifting. The rest of the Hermits know that Zedaph is a shapeshifter, and they all have some amount of suspicion that Worm Man and Zedaph are just the same guy, but most of them aren't willing to call him on it. Impulse and Tango are the outliers here because they get husband privileges, so they know. (ZITS polycule is cannon because duh) (poly hermits is ALSO cannon but no one else has husband privileges, you understand)

By the way, Worm Man and Zedaph don't actually have different blood types, though he could do that with his shapeshifting, he just lied on the intake forms so it wouldn't be as wildly suspicious that two players had the exact same soulscream.

Grian H. Dreamslayer is a right fielder for the LA Unlimited Tacos. He spends most of his time not playing Blaseball playing pranks, abandoning robot children ala Frankenstein, and trying to talk Pearl in to using her precognition abilities into helping him cheat at card games.

Grian was a season 1 player for the LA Tacos. He'd played community Blaseball in college and thought "hey this will be fun" and now he's stuck here. During the Grand Unslam, he was one of the few players to get his name fully restored because the fans thought "Dreamslayer" was a sick as hell name. He also got a middle initial on his paperwork as a side effect.

During the Grand Siesta, Grian got really weird and really bored and hosted Demise, which I've talked about a fair amount in the tag. He convinced himself that he was going to make the top 5 at least because of "plot armor" and got beaned in the head by a pitching machine Cub set up while he was monologuing about this to Tango.

Grian is an avian who mostly avoids using his wings during games in the name of fairness, but he's not immune to panicking when an umpire lights up and trying to fly away. Also he used to be a Watcher in this world but that means basically nothing in this universe, it was just this weird, stupid gang he was in when he was a teenager. Sometimes they show up on his doorstep and go "quit your emo band, re-join my gang" and he just slams the door in their face every time.