#prism trap anon

[celestial-thoughts]

you drew stars around my scars

Pairing: Bayley x Dakota Kai

Word count: 1.6k

Set after the 04/17/23 episode of Raw. Some angst and self-hatred, plenty of fluff and comfort. One (1) hint at a praise kink, but nothing even remotely spicy happens anywhere in this fic. Based on this idea that my lovely prism trap anon shared.

Her first singles match in five months. Against the Raw Women's Champion. So much has changed since the last time Dakota and Bianca stood across the ring from each other, one on one.

But some things just stay the same. Once again, Dakota has failed to capitalize on an opportunity. This time, however, it hurts so much more. The look on Bayley's face as Dakota rolls out of the ring reminds her that she's failed. Bayley fought so hard for her to get this match against Bianca, and she couldn't get the job done.

Bayley just holds Dakota's head to her chest. She wants to speak, but she knows that she can't. Not here, in front of the cameras. So instead, she helps Dakota up the ramp, Iyo following behind as she stares the champion down.

The next couple of hours are a blur. Dakota manages to pull herself from her spiraling thoughts long enough to get through their backstage segment. She nearly bursts into tears as she speaks, but manages to regain her composure when she turns to Iyo. Passionately tells her tag team partner that she has to be the one to beat Bianca.

They bring her to the trainer's room to get ice and checked out. Bayley tells Iyo to stay with Dakota, before giving Dakota's hand a squeeze and slipping out of the room. Dakota doesn't say a word aside from answering the questions that the medical team asks her.

Eventually, Bayley returns with all three of their belongings, and the medical staff tell Dakota that she's free to go back to the hotel. Bayley is adamant that she's going to drive, until they pass Candice gathering her things to leave.

Candice takes one look at the trio, and holds out her hand to Bayley. "Give me the keys," she says. Bayley opens her mouth to protest, but Candice doesn't let her get that far. "You're far too worried about Dakota to drive safely and we both know it. I'm already going back to the hotel anyways. Now stop being stubborn and give me the damn keys." Candice is so fiercely protective of Dakota, almost as much as Bayley is. So Bayley drops the keys to the rental car into Candice's open palm.

Sometime between Bayley handing Candice the keys and when they reach the exit of the arena, Asuka pulls Iyo away from the group, saying something about going out to eat. At some point, Mia falls in step with them.

Which is how they find themselves in a rental car, driving through the streets of Little Rock, Arkansas. Candice drives and Mia sits shotgun, and they make small talk in low voices. In the backseat, Bayley holds Dakota's hand and strokes her hair. Even without words, Bayley knows just how to comfort Dakota.

When they arrive at the hotel, Bayley takes both her own bag and Dakota's. Dakota starts to protest, saying she can carry her own stuff. But Mia is right there with pictures of her dogs, and the two former roommates walk into the hotel side by side.

Bayley and Candice walk a few paces behind, watching their tag team partners obsess over their pets. They don’t say a word to each other until they’re halfway across the hotel lobby, on their way to meet Dakota and Mia by the elevators.

“Hey,” Candice says as she stops walking, putting a hand on Bayley’s shoulder. ”Take care of her, okay? Make sure she knows how loved she is.”

“I will,” Bayley promises. “Don’t you worry, cupcake. I’ll take care of her.”

Candice rolls her eyes at the nickname, but smiles nonetheless. “Thank you,” she says, giving Bayley’s shoulder a squeeze before letting go of her. They reach the elevators, and Candice hands Bayley the keys to the rental car.

Dakota is silent during the short elevator ride up to their floor. Bayley can see her fighting back tears, her hands shaking. They reach their room, and Bayley swipes her key to unlock the door. She sets down the bags in her hands as the door closes behind Dakota.

Suddenly, a sound escapes Dakota's mouth, a sob that jolts her body. She feels her legs give out beneath her. She's expecting to hit the carpeted floor of the hotel room, but the impact never comes. Instead, she feels Bayley's strong arms holding her up, not letting her fall. Dakota lets out another choking sob, and all she can think about is how much she hates this, hates herself.

"You're okay baby," Bayley whispers, her voice soft and soothing in Dakota's ear. She wraps her arms around the smaller girl's body, holding her close.

Dakota buries her face in Bayley's shoulder. Her entire body is shaking now, and she's crying uncontrollably and she wants to stop but she can't.

"It's alright, I've got you. Just let it all out." Bayley says, continuing to whisper soft words of encouragement and reassurance, holding Dakota tight in her arms until she is no longer crying.

With slow, careful movements, Bayley manages to guide her into the bathroom. She strips Dakota of her ring gear, and gently helps her into the shower. She gets Dakota washed up, drying her off with a towel before dressing her in warm pajama pants and one of Bayley's sweatshirts. Dakota is silent. Her eyes don't focus on anything, and she barely registers what is happening.

Finally, after what feels like hours, she pulls herself out of her own head, realizing that she's crying again. She doesn't know when it started, but silent tears roll down her face, and she finally manages to choke out the two words that she has wanted to say since the match ended.

“I’m sorry,” Dakota whispers, her voice as unsteady and weak as she feels.

Bayley reaches out and wipes away the tears on Dakota’s cheeks. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” she insists.

Dakota shakes her head. “I let you down,” she says, fresh tears filling her eyes.

“Oh Kota,” Bayley whispers, pulling her sweet girl close to her, holding Dakota’s head against her chest in the same way that she did after the match. “You could never let me down,” she says, stroking Dakota’s cotton candy pink hair. “I’m so proud of you baby. Win, lose, or draw. I’ll always be proud of you.”

"But you shouldn't be," Dakota whimpers. "I failed, Bayley. I had a chance and I failed. Just like I've failed at every other opportunity I've been given."

Bayley feels her heart break a little at Dakota's words, and she wants so badly to interject, to tell Dakota how wrong she is. But she knows that Dakota has to get whatever she's feeling in this moment off her chest.

"You shouldn't have chosen me to return with you," Dakota continues, tears still falling. "You should have chosen Mia, or Candice, or Tegan. I'm the dead weight, I'm the reason we keep losing."

"No." The single word bursts from Bayley's lips, and her voice is more aggressive than she had intended. She takes a deep breath, softening her tone before she speaks again. "Listen to me," she says. Dakota lifts her head from Bayley's chest, slowly meeting her girlfriend's eyes. "You are not a failure. You are not dead weight. I chose you to return with me at SummerSlam, because I saw the things in you that everyone else didn't see. And I have never once regretted my choice."

Slowly, she guides her over to the bed, sitting down and pulling Dakota onto her lap. "You are worth so much more than you know," Bayley continues, running her fingers through Dakota's hair, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Dakota lets out a flustered whine, burying her face in the crook of Bayley's neck as a blush fills her cheeks. She's never been particularly good at receiving compliments. "You're just saying that because you feel bad for me," she protests, her words muffled but still clear enough for Bayley to hear.

"I'm saying it because it's true," Bayley insists. She gently lifts Dakota's head from her neck, taking her flushed face in her hands. "You are my everything, Kota. You are my entire world."

Bayley can see the doubt in Dakota's eyes, and she knows that her sweet girl is trying to fight it, that she doesn't believe what Bayley is saying. She knows that Dakota spent so many months hearing those same words from past tag team partners, only to have it all come crumbling down every time.

So she takes it one step further, pulling Dakota's face closer to her own, until their foreheads are touching. "You are my princess. My king. My warrior." As she speaks, her voice low and soft, Bayley can feel Dakota starting to melt into her touch. "You're the light of my life," she continues. "You're my good girl."

It's those two words that finally break through the negative thoughts that have been playing on a loop in Dakota's head. "Even though I lost?" she asks, her voice small, still not fully believing the words that she's hearing.

"Always," Bayley says, brushing a piece of hair away from Dakota's face. "No matter what happens."

Dakota curls into herself, resting her head on Bayley's chest. "Thank you," she whispers, just loud enough for Bayley to hear. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Well," Bayley says, leaning down to kiss the top of Dakota's head. "You'll never have to find out. I'll always be right by your side."

Dakota looks up to meet Bayley's eyes. "Promise?" she asks.

Bayley smiles down at her girl. "Promise," she says, and Dakota knows that she isn't lying.

She's going to be okay.

[alexanderlightweight]

Can we get a peak of the next chapter of Like real people do? Because I do love Dragon!Alec

I hope you have a great day and I just wanted to let you know that every time I see you have posted it makes me smile!

anon i knew exactly what i was going to write for this, because Magnus has needs and sometimes that means he really needs to be able to admire Alec. i am having a great day btw thank you and this ask is a part of why it's so awesome! and your ask made me smile so i'm glad there are mutual smiles all around! i hope you enjoy

lumine

-

Magnus finds himself back in the room of ice and secrets so priceless that sometimes he shudders to learn one. Magnus provided breakfast, marveling at Alexander’s delight at being introduced to chocolate and insisting on sharing his tea because while Alexander’s own brews were interesting and good, there were things that couldn’t be found in Alicante.

Like a nice delicate oolong or the delightful burn of ginseng, which Alexander seems to have immediately taken too.

He stole Magnus’ cup when his own ran empty and then he’d fallen to the ground and pouted until Magnus procured another cup. Like an overgrown cat taking advantage of its big, sad eyes to lure its person into a trap.

Alexander didn’t join him, which while Magnus resents a little, is also helpful because it’s much easier to concentrate on books when you’re not distracted by six-feet of gorgeous and human-shaped dragon.

It also gives Magnus time to browse the books and see if there is anything helpful concerning Alexander’s species.

There is a decided lack of what he seeks, for both Alexander and Lilith and Magnus trudges out of the room, grumpy from a lack of Alexander and progress

A roar tears him from his thoughts and Magnus runs to the nearest balcony, the wards keeping it shielded from the snow and weather and he throws the doors open and walks out.

The storm is gone, he realizes numbly.

The storm that he fought for days upon end is nowhere to be seen, even though Magnus’ magic warned it would continue for weeks upon months.

Magnus barely has time to register this before the roar sounds again and he watches, awestruck as a giant, black dragon crests the mountains, rising higher and higher until what he can only assume is Alexander is no more than a speck.

Magnus watches the sky, heart in his mouth as he wonders, foolishly, if he’s been abandoned and then Alexander is not flying, but falling. A controlled dive no doubt, but it makes Magnus’ magic itch to reach out and create a safety net for his giant form.

At the last possible moment, he snaps his wings out and Magnus watches with shock as what he thought was a valley of snow when he walks around it, explodes into ice and water that crystallises and shatters upon contact with the air.

It was a lake. 

A frozen lake whose thickly layered surface tore from the mere pressure of Alexander using his wings. 

His dragon glides towards him and Magnus knows the exact moment he’s noticed, because Alexander begins to dance in the sky. It’s a glorious sight and the sun dapples across his scales leaving it to dance with the colours of a prism awash over the black.

“Magnificent.” Magnus murmurs and he wishes he were closer, that he could see and touch and feel Alexander in this form and then his dragon is landing above him and Magnus reaches out for his signature and, uncaring of how this will turn out, forms a portal taking him to Alec.

The roof is wide and flat and doesn’t shiver even with the bulk of Alexander’s draconic form nestled on it. Magnus runs because he doesn’t want to wait, can’t bear it if Alexander transforms back before Magnus gets to appreciate it.

“Oh, aren’t you lovely like this—” He whispers, because it’s true and Alexander gives a pleased rumble and nudges him, nose pressing against the whole of Magnus’ body in greeting. 

“Sweet boy,” Magnus croons and he pets Alexander’s nose and runs a hand over scales half the size of his palm and getting bigger as they climb Alexander’s form. “So beautiful, incredible,” because Magnus doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to woo or compliment someone whose very existence is such a marvel.

Whatever he does seems to work because Alexander is purring, his entire body vibrating with delight, as though Magnus has stroked a livewire inside of him just with his rambling words. 

“Come back to me?” Magnus asks, because as much as he wants to explore Alexander like this, he wants the one that fits into his arms more, the Alexander that he can keep close and claim with kisses. 

Though, he does lean forward and press a soft little kiss to the great expanse of Alexander’s muzzle and then he has an armful of frigid, naked and delighted Alexander. 

"What were you doing?" He asks, because he's curious if it was something like checking the territory, or figuring out how Magnus got in or even hunting.

“I drove the storm off." Alexander says proudly, like he’s making any sense and Magnus realizes that perhaps, he is. 

“Did you?” Magnus hums, like he’s proud but unsurprised and hides how actually surprised he is. "Tell me about as we go inside, darling?”

[sailorrhansol]

Hiii it's tuxedo mask anon 🌙🥀 !!! This is random asf but have you seen the recent clip of Mingyu breaking the zipper of his hoodie? It immediately made me think of Mingyu in Prism Power hahaha peak loser trapped in a hot boy's body moment

🌙🥀 HI HI HI HI 🌙🥀 but oh my god you're so right lmfaoooo. He's so osidfjsdoigjrt I literally adore him so much. Honestly writing loser trapped in a hot man's body Mingyu inspired me to add a cheeky lil idea to my 'want to write' list where it's loser stuck in a hot boy's body demon hunter Mingyu 🫡

[jelliyfishlight]

Wednesday October 23rd 2024

I decide to re-animate the baseball bat for help on this mission. I decide to decide him using the dynamite woman as a lure.

It all goes smoothly, This bat guy is really good at intercepting security systems. kept yapping about his college degree in cybersecurity.

We get to her cell. I explain what must be done, the bat tries to bargain, but the dynamite inturrupts.

"How's about we forget this prism guy, huh?"

"How can i trust a crook like you? I know what you've done."

I blast her with my self imprisonment spell, her limbs disappear and body falls to the floor. This aggrivates the bat as he successfully knocks my cap off. I blast him as well, taking their bodies into my storage room.

2 to go.

I notice the briefcase woman attempt to ambush me guerilla style. I blast her. I guess now she can be trapped in her own mind, just like the others.

Once my mission is complete, I'll make them all forget any of this ever happened. I'll probably eliminate the basket, she might know too much, especially after the whole anon incident.

As for my deal.

I'll make sure my lackeys know their place.

Mic on the other hand, shall be spared. I'll send him somewhere safe.

This concludes my Diary Entry.

[fungaldeity]

ok now thoroughly convinced that i am receiving bait asks to trap me in some sort of problematicity prism. yknow normal ppl don’t have to send foreboding questions on anon it’s only the cowards who know they’ll get in trouble who do

just going to assume that the anon sent to me abt discourse is bait because i have no clue what point there would be in my responding to it

[qqueenofhades]

your recent fivan picture reblogs and tags make me realize that its a tragedy that there’s not a royalty rivalry au (ivan and fedyor being part of feuding families? Ivan being all business and Fedyor being the sunshine one who always goes out in the town?? Both of them find the other irritating but together they’d be a power couple?)

also how are they so cute???

Anon, I truly love how you remark upon it being a tragedy that there is not yet [insert AU premise here] while pointedly fluttering your eyelashes at me like we all don't know exactly where this is going. Also, I don't know why they're so cute, but I hate them.

Fourteen hours ago, Fedyor Kaminsky was absolutely not planning on being trapped in a coat closet in an uber-exclusive London nightclub in the company of his sworn nemesis. (For that matter, he wasn't planning on it an hour ago either.) Fourteen hours ago, he was on board his family's private jet on his way home from a wild party weekend in Dubai and congratulating himself that he had managed not to think about said sworn nemesis for the entire time, aside from checking his Instagram forty-six separate times to see if Ivan could possibly be doing something this fabulous. Of course he wasn't. His page has 6,402 followers (Fedyor's has 545,300) and mainly consists of black-and-white photographs of urban decay with terse Russian captions. Ivan Sakharov has so many problems.

One of those problems, however, is that Fedyor is currently stuck in a coat closet with him, and he doesn't know how it happened but he doesn't care. Ivan is wearing his usual black-leather-jacket-and-jeans getup, and he's not even trying to text somebody and order them to come get him out of the closet. (Yes, the irony is blinding, but shut up.) He's just leaning against the wall and watching Fedyor with a judgmental expression (or in other words, how Ivan customarily looks). "So," he says sarcastically. "If you actually wanted to talk to me, Fedyor Mikhailovich, there were easier ways."

"You think I did this on purpose?"

Ivan shrugs. "What kind of moron follows me into a coat closet and then proclaims he can't open the door?"

"Open the door yourself, then!"

Ivan just laughs. Then he says, "How was Dubai? Don't they arrest you for having sex in public?"

"I did not have sex in public."

"Oh?" Ivan looks at him goadingly. "Then what do you call that display?"

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it, reminding himself that the only thing worse than being stuck in a coat closet nemesis etc is then having an utterly absurd limp-wrist slap fight. It occurs to him to wonder if Ivan has been Instagram-stalking him too, but that's crazy. For one thing, while it's not quite Montagues and Capulets, the Kaminskys and the Sakharovs definitely don't get along. They're both moneyed Russian families settled in "Londongrad," as it is now known for the concentration of oligarchs who have snapped up luxe properties and set up house, and they're usually butting heads. Fedyor is the outgoing, photogenic playboy heir to the Kaminsky fortune, and Ivan... well, presumably he does something besides sulking in corners, but if so, Fedyor has never seen the least sign of it. He may be a little (okay, a lot) more obsessed with Ivan than he wants to admit. For example, he kept seeing Ivan with an equally gorgeous and judgmental woman, twisted himself into knots wondering if they were dating, and scoured social media until he determined that she was Zoya Nazyalenskaya, girlfriend of fellow Russian Rich Kid (tm) Nikolai Lantsov, and she and Ivan just like to stalk around and stare at you angrily when you're not expecting it. Or whatever.

Nonetheless, there is more to Fedyor than just racing Lamborghinis through Kensington (that was once, and he was seventeen, but of course the tabloids will never let it go). His family is best buddies with Roman Abramovich, which means match-day Chelsea tickets whenever he wants them, and he flits among nightclubs and influencers and hot vacation destinations while definitely absolutely not thinking about Ivan and how hot he is while he's being a jerk. Ugh. Why him. Why this closet at a nightclub called Prism. Why.

"You know," Ivan says, stepping closer. "I think you want this, Fedya."

"I do not." If he was going to make anyone believe that, Fedyor should probably have at least attempted to step away, rather than reaching up to grip hold of Ivan's biceps. He hates that stupid jacket. He hates how goddamn good it looks on Ivan. "You're the worst."

"Sure," Ivan says. "We'll go with that." And then, even more outrageously, he leans down and --

Fedyor tries to moan, but Ivan bites it away, pushing him into a lot of obscenely expensive overcoats and grinding his hips into Fedyor's. They kiss savagely, break apart for air, glare at each other, and kiss again, as Fedyor shucks off that stupid jacket and thinks dimly that Ivan looks even better without it. He's going haywire with the lust he has unsuccessfully repressed for three years, since he first laid eyes on this idiot, and every nerve ending on his body is afire. He wants nothing more than to do this until he dies. Until he is nothing but dust and ashes. But not right now. Right now he's burning.

They're pressed up hard (in more ways than one) against the wall, uttering incoherent noises of need, when the door flies open. "Fedyor?" his assistant, Nadia, demands. "Is that you in there?"

At that moment, she catches sight of what is going on. Her jaw drops. There is really no way to pretend that he wasn't just caught red-handed passionately making out with his sworn nemesis in a closet, so Fedyor wipes his mouth and summons up a winning smile. "Ah," he says through gritted teeth. "Nadia. Excellent timing."

She looks at him, at Ivan, then back at him. Then she steps back, says, "You know what, I'm going to give you five," and slams the door.

[simplyclockwork]

Well seeing as you are actively inviting prompts - and I certainly don’t mind waiting at all - I’d be honoured if you wrote me something. It would be great to have a fic where Sherlock gets stuck in something (you choose what and how or why, a cupboard, a trunk, a scold’s bridle he was experimenting with!). Anything. It’s embarrassing and uncomfortable. Lestrade is amused, Donovan is mean but John is, protective and helps Sherlock keep calm and get out. Crack or serious. I’m over 18.

-----

Hello, Anon! This prompt made me laugh with delight and drove my muse to inspiration. Hope you enjoy the fill! You can also read the fill here on Ao3. The rest of the fic is beneath the page break.

-----

John is used to being left behind. Sherlock never waits for him, no matter how hard John tries to keep up. But it’s fine. As long as he follows, that’s all Sherlock expects.

So he really doesn’t mind when Sherlock insists that the fire escape will have evidence integral to the case. And he isn't bothered when Sherlock rushes out to study the steps for tracks of some mud found outside their suspect’s flat. And he really shouldn’t laugh when Sherlock tries to shimmy back into the room through the open window and is promptly caught in place by the jam sliding shut.

And sticking.

It locks in place and refuses to budge, no matter how wildly Sherlock squirms or how crossly he curses at the wood digging into his lower back.

“John!” he snaps, glaring daggers across the room where Anderson is doubled over with silent laughter, and Sally is smirking. “Get me out of here!”

“I’m trying.” John heaves at the sill, but the bloody thing won’t move an inch, and Sherlock’s vigorous wriggling keeps knocking his hands away. “Dammit, Sherlock, stop moving!”

An angry growl of John is the only response, and Sherlock keeps up his bid for freedom. He’s like a well-dressed snake caught in a trap, worming about without gaining any forward progress. When he finally falls still, he sags into a slump with his arms hanging straight down to the floor. “Get me out,” Sherlock whines pathetically, and John feels his chest tighten in silent sympathy.

“Alright,” John replies, sounding more than a little helpless and trying to ignore Sherlock’s despairing groan. “Just… gimme a moment, yeah?” He taps at the windowsill, checking the sides for a locking mechanism, for something caught, and finds nothing. The building is old, the frame wooden, and John bets that the recent wet, soggy weather, followed by an unseasonal heatwave, made the wood expand. It’s a wonder the window didn’t stick when they slid it open, and it's a genuine turn of bad luck that it chose to do so just as Sherlock ducked back into the room.

Sally’s sneering voice pulls John out of his thoughts. “Look at that. Finally, a case that even the freak can’t solve.” Anderson snickers and John shoots a sour look over his shoulder, the noise only emboldening Sally, who adds, “The Great Sherlock Holmes, defeated by a window.”

Scowling, Sherlock’s mouth pops open, but John beats him to the punch, snarling, “Sod off, Donovan.” She shoots him a glare, but John narrows his eyes until she subsides. Anderson’s mouth closes with a click of teeth, and he slinks off into the hall, no doubt to share the story with everyone else on the team.

Lestrade enters the room several seconds later, confirming John’s suspicion.

“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day,” he quips, obviously amused. Sherlock shoots him a look that could kill a lesser man.

“I will murder you,” he hisses through his teeth, wiggling his stuck hips in another futile bid for freedom.

Ignoring his venom, Lestrade turns to John. “Did you try pulling on his arms?”

John grimaces. “Wouldn’t advise it. With how stuck he is, we might dislocate a shoulder or pull something out of alignment.”

The DI nods thoughtfully, frowning at the window. Sherlock eyes them both with a petulant expression, his face flushed from the effort required to keep his head upright. “Could try pushing from behind?”

“How?” John asks, tilting his head and studying the windowsill. “Can’t get out there with him stuck like that.”

Lestrade shrugs. “Go up from the street?”

“Like John could reach the fire escape from the street,” Sherlock grumbles, earning himself a sharp look from John. “What? You can’t!”

“Oi! Leave my height out of this.”

Eyes narrowed, Sherlock snaps, “Stop talking about me like I’m not right here, then!”

John just sighs and rolls his eyes as he turns back to Lestrade. “Seems like the best idea, cos I’m at a loss.”

“Yeah, yeah, good, gimme a mo’,” Lestrade replies distractedly. He is already pulling his phone out of a pocket and aiming it at Sherlock, who bares his teeth in a fierce snarl before John bats the device away.

“Quit it.” He fixes Lestrade with a stern glare until the phone disappears back into his coat. “That sorts it, then. You get to go outside and up the fire escape, and I’ll wait here with Sherlock.” Lestrade looks rebellious but does as told, leaving the room. Sherlock sags with brief relief, the top of his head brushing the carpet as he goes loose. Feeling a surge of affection for him, John huffs a soft laugh. “How are you doing?”

Sherlock plants a hand against the wall and turns his head, cheek pressed to his forearm as he looks up at John. “I’ll be honest, John,” he says in a flat tone, eyes half-closed and expression annoyed, “I’ve had better days.”

“You’ve definitely had worse,” John points out, and the corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitches upward. Just a little, but it’s enough to make John smile back.

“True.” His smile fading, Sherlock wiggles again and grimaces. Feeling a flicker of concern, John squats before him.

“Are you in pain?”

Sherlock’s eyes skate away, and a touch of colour rises in his cheeks. “My neck." The admission is quietly muttered like some reluctant secret. “Looking up is making my neck cramp, but if I look down, all the blood rushes to my head.” He sighs, hanging morosely from the sill. “Lestrade needs to hurry up.”

“He will,” John soothes before an idea occurs. “But, until then…” he shifts and presses his back to the wall beneath the window, carefully maneuvering until Sherlock’s head is level with his right side. “Put your arms here.” Sherlock just stares at him with a blank expression, and John taps a finger to his shoulder. “Here.”

Slowly, watching John with a wary squint, Sherlock lifts his arms and drapes them over John’s broad shoulders. He hesitates until John gives him an encouraging nod, and Sherlock rests his chin on top of his arm, cheek against the side of John’s neck. The position puts Sherlock almost parallel to the floor, taking the pressure off his upper body. Sherlock’s soft, relieved exhale brushes John’s skin, and John grins. “Better?”

Sherlock nods, his curls tickling the side of John’s face. They are surprisingly soft, just as John always thought they might be. He lets himself turn his head, just enough to inhale the mixture of shampoo, hair product, and faint cologne clinging to Sherlock’s hair. His eyes flicker briefly closed, making John grateful that Donovan disappeared shortly after Lestrade left to climb the fire escape. Sherlock huffs a little sigh and tilts closer, his head brushing John’s nose in an unmistakable nuzzle.

“John?” Sherlock says quietly, his breathing hot on John’s skin.

John glances at him from the corner of his eyes, but can’t get a direct look without turning his head, which would disrupt Sherlock's nestling. He finds he really doesn’t want to interrupt the closeness. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence stretches before Sherlock whispers, “Thank you.”

Lips curling up in a smile, John nods. “Of course.”

They both go quiet, and John counts Sherlock’s breaths every time his chest rises and falls against John’s upper back. The proximity is surprisingly comfortable, though the weight of Sherlock’s arm weighs on his left shoulder in the awkward position. When John rolls it back to alleviate the tension, Sherlock adjusts his arm and loops it across John’s upper body, shifting the pressure. John hums in appreciation before leaning into the partial embrace. Sherlock just sighs again and presses his face into John’s neck.

Struck by the borderline-intimacy of the moment, John tilts his head and finds Sherlock staring at him. Their eyes lock, and a small, bemused frown creases Sherlock’s brow. His breath brushes warm over John's lips with each soft exhale. This close, John can make out every shifting hue in Sherlock’s pale eyes, blue and green and grey all whirling into a prism as Sherlock’s gaze darts over John’s face.

Then drops to his mouth.

John sucks in a startled breath and Sherlock’s catches. Frozen, neither of them moves for a spell until John’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Sherlock makes a quiet noise and starts to tip his chin up.

The sound of footsteps makes them both go stiff again, and John’s head whips around so fast that his neck creaks. Sherlock jerks in surprise. His arm tightens around John's shoulders as John blinks at Lestrade, who pauses in the doorway, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s this, then?” he asks, seeming amused. Walking into the room, Lestrade stands over them with a wicked smile and his hands on his hips.

“The angle was making him dizzy,” John defends, while Sherlock silently curls his upper lip at Lestrade. Before either of them can react, Lestrade’s phone is in his hand, emitting a low click when he takes a picture. John considers lunging up to wrestle the phone away, but Sherlock’s weight keeps him pinned to the floor.

“Bad news, lads.” Lestrade tucks the phone away again, still grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Fire escape is stuck, and I can’t get up. So, I’ve called the fire station. They’ll have to cut you out, Sherlock.”

John feels Sherlock’s scowl against his cheek. “If they ruin this suit, I will file a complaint.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Lestrade says, pointing a commanding finger in Sherlock’s face. The detective subsides with a put-upon growl before sirens rise in the background, and Lestrade perks up. “I’ll just go let them know where we are.” Shooting them one last smug look and a knowing grin, he leaves John and Sherlock alone once more.

“If I murder him, will you help me hide the body?” Sherlock mutters, his bottom lip pushing out into a pout. John snorts and nudges Sherlock’s cheek playfully with his nose.

“Not a chance.”

“Spoilsport.” Sherlock’s pout intensifies. “You’re the worst.”

“Ah, you don’t mean that,” John replies, grinning. To his surprise, Sherlock turns his head and nuzzles the underside of John’s jaw. The action is unexpected, and John blinks, his mind going blank.

“No, I don’t,” Sherlock murmurs, his voice low and decidedly close to what John might call ‘husky.’ The sound of it threatens to make John shiver, and he suppresses the urge by tensing his muscles. He feels Sherlock smile and bites his lip.

A little flustered, John clears his throat and exhales a breathless chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” Sherlock’s only reply is a soft hum, the vibration rumbling through his jaw, into John’s skull. Swallowing, John breathes out a heavy sigh and hopes the firefighters take their time.

[lara-prisma-avm-ask-blog]

*uses my prism to teleport the trap on the anon's head*

here! *gives you a potato*

*puts a potato on a trap a non-suspicious pile of leaves*

me see me want

[kkysolo]

Separate / The Cultist

And Maker, the way it rushes through him. This feeling of complete and utter adoration, of peace, of serenity, of love . He’s never thought it possible, never thought his devils would retreat for long enough to allow him to feel something so beautifully strong, so consuming . His head tips down to rest against yours, relief flowing through every cell of him. 

A/N: Chapter Nineteen of The Cultist translated into Kylo’s perspective (with an extra scene as he prepares for the ceremony). For this lovely anon. Thank you so much for this idea, it’s entirely to your credit. I usually write in second person omniscient, and I’m not sure why the last chapter didn’t see much of Kylo’s perspective, if I’m being honest. So, here you are. Also, I was listening to Separate by PVRIS while writing this and may have shed a tear. So it goes. Please heed the ao3 tags. Also, I realise we’ve been a little inundated with The Cultist content recently. We can take a break if it’s a bit overwhelming. 

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Ben Solo/Reader (female) Setting: Modern AU, cult setting. Warnings: For this piece: memories of past suicidal ideations, separation anxiety, panic attacks, violence, emotional anguish and physical abuse (toward Kylo, not reader, and not from reader), arranged marriage, force dyad. Please see the extensive list of warnings for The Cultist over on AO3. 

Available under the cut, and here, on AO3

Kylo Ren has felt panic before.

He’s felt it at night, before he falls asleep. When he’s stuck in that purgatory between a dreamstate and reality - alone with his demons, alone with himself.

He’s felt it in his dreams, when he chases a boy, a friend, Poe. When he screams to him that he’s sorry, so sorry, that he too hates who he has become. He’s felt it when he wakes, coated slick with sweat, heaving vomit all over his cot. 

It’s a feeling he knows well. But he hasn’t felt it in a while. Not since you. 

“You can’t separate us,” he’s deferring the inevitable, this he knows. His anger won’t shield him, it never has. And when Trudgen reaches for him, Kylo retreats. It’s an act of provocation he’ll surely pay for, but they can’t take him from you. It’s the one thing, he now realises, that he’ll resist. The one order he’ll defy. The one command he’ll ignore. Because he has to. Because he can’t leave you. “I’m not leaving her.” 

But Kylo Ren is not as robust as he thinks he is. His armour built of defiance and fury has faltered, and though he sees the Knight’s approach, though he knows they’re speaking, he can’t hear them. He can’t hear anything - just the sound of his breath as it heaves and burns in his throat. It’s caustic, it hurts. The thrum of his heartbeat rackets through his ears, and he can hear the blood rushing through his own veins. He thinks, for a moment, he might be sick, that he might vomit right there in front of them, in front of you. 

His chest heaves again. He feels like he might lose his footing. It’s as though he’s trapped between panes of glass, cornered in a prism that doesn’t quite feel real. But then it shatters. You’re in front of him now, and he’s hauled back to reality with so much force that it startles him. He gulps for air, gasping harshly as you attempt to find his eyes, hidden beneath strands of sweat-dampened hair. 

“Kylo? Can you look at me?”

He meets your gaze instantly, your voice his only tie to any semblance of coherence, to any semblance of calm. The Knight’s move slightly as they watch - the twitch of arms, the tilt of a head - and each movement frightens him. He braces himself each time, expecting to be ripped from you. No, they can’t take him. He needs to feel you, needs to anchor himself to you. 

“C-can I-” “Yes,” you cut him off, and he knows that you’ve heard him, heard the pleas that circle in his mind. “Of course.” 

He grasps for you like he’s never done for anyone, or anything. He’s not even sought a blanket in the dead of winter as quickly as he reaches for you now, his hands connecting with what feels like all of you at once. Arms, shoulders, wrists. He’s never felt so much of you. A hand grabs for yours, and he cradles it to his chest - an intrinsic action that he doesn’t quite understand himself. Something flashes across your mind, then, from yours to his. An infant with a blue blanket, cradled to his tiny face, wrapped around his delicate chest. He doesn’t understand it. Nor does he have the time to question it. Not when you could be ripped from him, or him from you. 

He brings you closer to him, his other hand lays firmly on your back to ensure that you stay. Right there. With him. 

“Y-you can’t take her from me,” he manages shakily through gritted teeth. His breathing hasn’t settled, despite his best efforts to control it. “You can’t.” 

He lifts his head and stares the Knight’s down with a feigned sense of determined revolt. Because he’s faltering. They know it as much as he does. 

“Kylo,” your voice captures his immediate attention, and his eyes connect with yours. “It won’t be for long, I promise.” 

“I don’t want to,” he’s ashamed, incredibly so, of the desperation in his voice. He’s been taught, for so many years, that such whiny behaviour is weak. The actions of a frail man, and not The Chosen One. “I don’t want to be apart.” 

“I know,” you keep your voice low, calm, steady. It soothes him, somewhat. “I don’t want to either, but when you see me again, it’ll be at the ceremony. You’ve been looking forward to that, haven’t you?”

He has. 

“It won’t be for long,” you repeat. “But it will be worth it, won’t it?” 

It will. 

And Maker, the way it rushes through him. This feeling of complete and utter adoration, of peace, of serenity, of love. He’s never thought it possible, never thought his devils would retreat for long enough to allow him to feel something so beautifully strong, so consuming . His head tips down to rest against yours, relief flowing through every cell of him. 

“And you know what?” His eyes flutter open at your words. “You’ll still be with me in here,” you press into his forehead a little firmer. “Even when we’re apart.” 

Relief gushes through him again, simply at the reminder of your connection, of your bond. He pulls your hand further into his chest, squeezing it softly in recognition. But before he can speak, before he can thank you, before he can say a single word, he hears him. 

“Ren,” Cardo. The brute. “Now.”

“Cardo,” Vicrul hisses. “He’s coming.”

“He’s not, he’s still standing there. Useless, as always.” 

Cardo lunges before Kylo has a second to react, ripping you from his grasp. His hands grip tightly around your arms, and as he tosses you to the side, Kylo collides with him.

“Don’t-” He pummels against Cardo as he grapples with him. “Don’t touch her.” “I just did,” he sneers. “What are you gonna do about it, Ren?” 

Despite his thrashes, despite his violent kicks and shoves, Cardo doesn’t relent. And though Kylo knows - as he always has - that he can win this fight, he doesn’t. But unlike before, it’s less out of fear, less out of terror of the consequences of his actions, and more for you. It would ruin him if you feared him again. He brandishes what little self control he has managed to retain, stifling himself as he’s hauled from your bedroom, from his haven. From you.

He’s being hauled to the showers. He knows this, knows the walk like it’s in his muscle memory. He’s not resisting anymore. He lets his feet fall into stride with the Knight’s, keeps his appendages limp as they guide him forward. He’s not sure if it’s giving up, or if it’s simply part of his routine, part of his body’s natural reaction to being guided down these corridors. The fluorescent lights and the green mold tinted hue to the dampened walls have a hypnotic effect, sending him into a state of obedience once more. 

“I’ve already showered,” he mumbles as they shove him inside the cubicle. Kylo’s panic bubbles precariously beneath the surface, his anxious heart still beating faster than it should. 

“Not well, obviously,” Vicrul grunts. “Your hair’s covered in sweat.” 

The other Knight’s have retreated to the sinks, leaving only Vicrul with him. Cardo, though, he stands by the door. Brooding, imposing. Watching. 

“I don’t know how to do it properly,” Kylo murmurs, his voice diminished to a state so quiet he can barely hear it. “How to clean it.” 

Vicrul scrubs at his scalp with force, not paying much attention to how his nails grate through his skin, causing it to bleed. Kylo doesn’t register the pain. 

“She’ll have to teach you, then, won’t she?”

“Teach me?”

“If you let her, I’m sure she will.”

Kylo imagines your hands in his hair, how gentle they’d be in comparison to this. Because you’re always gentle with him, he thinks. Far more so than he thinks he deserves. His panic dissipates with the thought of you, of your touch. Of your good touch. He reaches to you, then. Tentatively pulling at the tethers that bind you. When he feels you, when he feels how you tug back on that string, he breathes a quiet sigh of relief. You’re still here. You’re still with him.

When they force him down into the seat, the one that faces the mirror he so dreads, he’s plagued with memories of emotions he never thought he’d surpass. Memories of hoping the blade would slip, memories of praying that his body would bleed itself dry, right there on the cracked and dirty tile. Now, he hopes it doesn’t. Because he’s not finished here, not yet. Not now that he has you. 

“Here,” Trudgen holds a selection of unfamiliar dark fabrics on a hanger. “Put these on.”

“What are they?”

Kylo reaches out to run a finger across the stiff material. Instantly, he recoils. “I don’t know,” Trudgen grunts. “But you have to wear it. It’s your ceremony outfit.” Kylo winces. “It feels strange.” 

“Just put it on.” 

So, he does. And how it itches at his skin. How it stiffens at the elbows infuriates him, and the complicated nature of the shirt is perhaps the worst of all. He struggles with the buttons. He’s never worn anything with buttons. 

“Do you know how to tie this?” Trudgen holds out a crimson tie to Vicrul. “He obviously doesn’t.”

“No,” Vicrul shakes his head. Ap’lek, Kuruk and Ushar also shake their heads in confusion. “Alright,” Trudgen sighs. “So we don’t do the tie.” “He has to wear the tie,” Ushar hisses. “You’ll get us all in trouble for incompetence.” “What’s the point in doing the tie if it’s just gonna be hanging around his neck?” Trudgen exclaims, flinging the tie at Ushar. “We’re not doing the tie.” “What’s the purpose of it?” Kylo interjects, and Ushar glowers at him. “I don’t know, but you’re supposed to wear it, and we’re supposed to dress you.” “Just leave it,” Vicrul grits. “And stop bickering, we’ll be late.”

Kylo falls silent again as he’s dragged through the corridors toward the throne room. He tugs on your bond again as he walks, and he sighs contentedly when he feels you pull back. Still here. Still with him. 

“Will she be here?” He perks up, looking to Vicrul.

“No,” he grunts. “Not yet, anyway.” “But soon?” “Soon.” 

But soon isn’t soon enough. His panic, his anger rises once again, and he fears the worst - that Snoke has tricked him, that you were simply a ploy to trigger something deep within him, that you’ll be snatched away as quickly as you were gifted to him. The room seems smaller now than ever before, as he feels the walls begin to encroach on him. Brendol sits smugly off to one-side, awaiting Snoke’s arrival. His face, his ruddy, rounded face only infuriates Kylo further. He’s hysterical, now. He roars. 

The Knights are on him in seconds. 

“Stop,” Trudgen hisses. “Stop acting like a child.” 

Kylo thrashes furiously. He’s not sure he ever was a child. 

“Armitage has just left to retrieve her,” Vicrul says calmly. “She’s coming. She’s on her way.” 

Kylo’s chest heaves as he pauses, looking up at Vicrul hopefully. 

“She’s coming?”

“She’s coming.” 

He brings himself down from the ledge he so often seems to be dancing on, the ledge between fury and losing control. 

He lets Vicrul guide him to the centre of the room, where he’s told to wait. Because you’re coming. Because you’re on your way, because he’ll get to see you- The doors swing open, and Kylo feels you before he sees you. 

Feels your presence, one he wishes he could describe in a deft manner. One he wishes he could articulate. But when he turns, when he sees you, he loses all possibility of speech at all. 

Kylo is convinced you’re made of stars. You have to be. The way you glow, the way you shine - ethereal, celestial and durable all at once. Kylo doesn’t know these words, of course. Not yet, anyway. But you teach them to him, and when he looks back on this memory, those are the words he chooses. The words that fit you best. Because when he was a boy, he couldn’t rip himself from the stars. He was pulled to them, could never divert his attention elsewhere. And now, now that you’re coming to a halt right before him, he wonders if the stars could ever compare to you.

He releases the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, shakily composing himself. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and as he says it, he realises it’s the first time he’s said those words aloud. “Y-you’re so beautiful.”"

"Thank you,” you murmur, and he hopes that you feel it, how his admiration swells further and further each moment he’s around you. “You look great, too,” you smile, and Kylo blushes furiously. No one has ever said such things to him before. “I-I’ve never worn anything like this,” he mumbles, tugging at his cufflinks. “I don’t like it.” You giggle softly, and Kylo’s eyes come alive with the sound. He’ll never tire of it, he’s sure of that.

He barely registers Snoke entering the room, and is only pulled from the moment as he speaks - his tone booming through the mostly empty room. 

“Now,” his gravelly voice rips you from your moment. “Shall we begin?” Kylo has never felt excitement before, and doesn’t quite understand what it is that he’s feeling as the realisation sets in. It’s a ceremony. For you, for both of you. 

“Ren,” Snoke turns to him. “Take her hands.” 

Kylo does, though they’re trembling, and he grips your hands steadily in an attempt to calm you. He feels your anxiety, it shudders right through him, and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the thought of you being afraid. He does something then, something he hasn’t done before. 

It will be okay.

He hopes you can hear him, hopes that you understand. Hopes that you believe him. 

We will be okay. 

Snoke speaks to regard you, and Kylo feels your irritation, your indignation, when Snoke addresses you by his branded name. Kylo recognises it, empathises with it in a strange sort of way. 

“And Kylo Ren, the Chosen One, the future heir of The First Order and the Earth itself, you’re brought here together by the pull of something cosmic. By the pull of the force. By fate. Forevermore will you be bound - through body, mind and soul. And now, by the power vested in me by the Force, by the Maker, I bind you together in matrimony,” Snoke regards you by that name once again, and Kylo feels a wave of resentment pass from you to him. “Do you accept?” 

The anxiety Kylo feels in his bones now is his, and it threatens to spill over once more, threatens to cause a calamity right here and now. He chews at his lip, and hopes, prays to the Maker that you want him, that you’ll keep him, that you’ll let him stay with you for as long as he’s alive. He’d stitch himself right into your soul, if he could. 

“I do,” you nod, squeezing lightly at his hands. He squeezes back, breathing shakily in relief. 

“Kylo Ren, do you accept?” 

“I do,” he nods vigorously, “I-I do.” 

“Very well,” Snoke grins smugly. 

Kylo knows what comes next. The panic rises again. 

“You may kiss her, Ren.”

Kylo’s brow furrows in frustration. Snoke has been over this with him, has explained to him what to do, but still, he frets. He doesn’t know how. He never once thought that he could touch another person with his mouth - though he craved it upon seeing you unexplainably, he never knew that he really could. 

You don’t have to. 

Your voice echoes through his mind, though your lips don’t move. He breathes out unevenly, swallowing thickly. 

I want to. He does. I don’t know how. 

He feels you squeeze his hands again reassuringly. 

That’s okay. 

Kylo compromises with himself, does what he thinks he can do. Something he craves, and has craved, for longer than he’d care to admit. Because since he first laid eyes on you, crumpled on the floor, it’s all his body could beg him to do. 

He leans down, and he’s aware that his face has never been so close to yours. Close enough to see every minute detail of your skin, every cell that constitutes your being. His eyes fall shut of their own accord, and his lips gently press to the skin of your cheek. It’s soft, so soft, and he leans further into the sensation. His veins feel alight with sparks of you. He never wants to be parted from your skin, from the stardust that ignites you. 

“My bride,” he murmurs against your skin. “My wife.” 

[celestial-thoughts]

room key

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Bayley, Platonic Bayley & Dakota Kai, background Shayna Baszler x Dakota Kai

Word count: 1.7k

Author's note: set after Raw 3/20/23. thank you so so much to my lovely prism trap anon for the idea for this fic. i am so sorry it took me forever to write it, but i hope you enjoy!

read this fic on ao3 here.

Dakota is smirking at Bayley the moment they step through the curtain backstage. “You okay?” the Kiwi girl asks, raising an eyebrow. “You look a little flushed.”

“I do not,” Bayley insists, but one look at her reflection in a nearby mirror and she realizes that Dakota is right.

“Hey, I’m not saying I blame you,” Dakota says. “She went all in on that pin. I would be flustered too."

Bayley starts to say something, when she suddenly catches sight of Rhea coming around the corner. "Hey, nice job out there tonight," the Aussie woman says, her gaze focused on Bayley. 

"Thanks, you too," Bayley manages to reply without stumbling over her words.

Rhea's lips move into a sly smirk, as she presses a flat piece of plastic into Bayley's palm. Bayley looks down to find a key card for a hotel room, nearly identical to the one in her own bag. "Room 515," Rhea says. "If you're interested."

Bayley wants to ask what Rhea is implying, but Damian calls out to Rhea from the other end of the hallway and Rhea shoots Bayley a final, knowing smile before walking past them to her stablemate.

Dakota giggles, grinning at her teammate. "Shut up," Bayley says through gritted teeth. 

"Are you gonna go?" Dakota asks, even though her smirk clearly says that she knows the answer to her question. 

Bayley shrugs, trying to act casual. "Maybe," she says. 

"You should go," Dakota insists. 

Realizing that Dakota isn't going to drop the subject, Bayley sighs. "I'll think about it," she finally says. "Ready to go?"

Dakota picks up her bag and nods. "Yeah," she says. "I want to call Shayna before it gets to be too late." 

"Any idea if she's going to be on the card at Mania?" Bayley asks as she and Dakota make their way to the arena exit.

Shaking her head, Dakota lets out a sigh. "Nope," she says. "Last I heard, there was talk of adding her and Ronda to the women's showcase match, but it depends on how long Ronda's injury is going to take to heal." 

Bayley gives a sympathetic nod, remembering all too well the feeling of being left off of the biggest show of the year. "How's she handling it?" she asks Dakota. Though Bayley and Shayna haven't worked together much, a friendship began to form between them when Dakota returned alongside Bayley at SummerSlam.

"She's taking the situation better than I expected," Dakota says. "I mean, she's frustrated, of course. But she's holding out hope that things work out." They arrive at the rental car and Dakota climbs into the passenger seat, letting Bayley drive. The car is silent for the first few minutes of the drive, before Dakota speaks up again. "So, are you going to go?" she asks.

Bayley doesn't need to ask what Dakota is referring to. She feels the keycard practically burning a hole in her pocket. "I don't know. Part of me wants to go," she admits. "But I don't know what to expect, or what she wants from me."

Dakota raises an eyebrow. "It's Rhea," she says. "I think you can probably guess." 

"But that's the thing," Bayley says with a sigh. "I don't want Rhea to think of me as just another one-night stand. I'm not saying I necessarily want something serious, but I'm not exactly into the idea of hooking up one night in a hotel room, and then pretending that it never happened." She lets out another sigh as she pulls into the parking lot.

"Who says it has to be about what she wants from you?" Dakota asks. "Just because she's inviting you to her room, doesn't mean you just have to give in to whatever she says. It's about you, as much as it's about her."

Bayley gives Dakota a look. "So you're saying I should try to be in charge?" she asks. "Because I have a feeling Rhea isn't the kind of person who likes to submit to anyone."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to make the suggestion," Dakota says, as they both climb out of the car and grab their bags. She looks at Bayley as they walk into the hotel and cross the foyer to the elevators. "But I can't tell you what to do. You have to decide for yourself." She pauses for a moment, before speaking again. "But ask yourself if you're going to regret not going more or less than you think you would regret going."

So that's what Bayley thinks about as she and Dakota enter the hotel room that they're sharing. It's what she thinks about as she takes off her gear and showers, washes off her makeup and gets dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. 

And it's what she thinks about as she grabs her phone and two room keys, and quietly slips out the door, not wanting to interrupt Dakota, who's on FaceTime with Shayna. Before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, Bayley walks down the hallway to the elevator, goes up two floors, and emerges on the fifth floor of the hotel. She walks down the hall, stopping in front of the room marked with the number 515. 

Is she going to regret doing this? Possibly. But would she regret not doing it? Almost certainly. So Bayley takes a deep breath, lets it out, scans the room key, and enters the room, pocketing the key as she steps inside.

Rhea is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes on the door. "So you decided to take me up on my offer," she says. 

Bayley closes the door behind her, but stays next to the exit, unsure of her place in this situation. "I did," she says slowly. "Though I have to admit, I'm not quite sure what your offer entails.

A sly smirk finds its way onto Rhea's lips. "You're a smart girl," she teases as she stands up from the bed, slowly making her way across the room to where Bayley is hovering by the door. "I'm sure you can figure it out." 

Rhea runs her hands up Bayley's sides and leans in close. "I'm going to kiss you now," she whispers, her lips just inches Bayley's ear.

And Bayley isn't going to object, melting into Rhea as the younger woman kisses her. It's not a soft or tender kiss by any means, but neither is Rhea. The kiss is slow and fierce, Rhea teasing into Bayley's mouth with her tongue. Her hands make their way to Bayley's shoulders and she pushes Bayley against the door. 

Bayley's response is naturally to push back against Rhea, forcing her against the nearest wall, never breaking from the kiss. There's tension between them, a power struggle as the two dominant women fight for control.

Suddenly, Rhea steps back. "Why are we doing this?" she says with a sigh. "We're both sore and exhausted. This certainly isn't going to help anything."

"Hey, you're the one who invited me here," Bayley points out. "But you make a fair point." 

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then, Rhea wraps her hand around Bayley's wrist and tugs her over to the bed. They collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, and Bayley's lips find Rhea's instinctively.

Bayley doesn't remember much from the next several minutes, but she remembers a few things: Rhea's tongue teasing into her mouth. Her fingers in Rhea's hair. Rhea's breath against her neck. 

When they finally break apart, and Bayley tries to stand up and return to her room for the night, Rhea pulls her back down onto the bed beside her. "Stay," she says. "Please. Stay with me for the night."

And Bayley can't say no to that accent, so she settles back in beside Rhea. "Dakota is never going to let me hear the end of this," she says with a sigh.

Rhea laughs, wrapping her arms around Bayley's torso. "Shayna is going to tease me for days if Dakota tells her about this," she says. "But then again, we gave them so much crap when they first got together, so I suppose it's only fair."

Bayley laughs, resting her head on Rhea's chest. They stay curled up together, Bayley in Rhea's arms until they fall asleep, and they wake up the same way. Bayley wouldn't mind spending all day in bed with Rhea, but they both have flights to get to, so Bayley settles for a lingering kiss and a promise that they'll text each other before their flights leave. 

She's just about to leave Rhea's hotel room when the Aussie woman places a hand on her shoulder. "Can I take you out?" she asks, and her voice is hesitant and shy in a way that makes Bayley's heart skip a beat. "On a real date, I mean. Not just making out in a hotel room."

"Well, I didn't have any problems with making out in a hotel room," Bayley teases. "But yes, I would love to go on a date with you."

Rhea smiles shyly, placing a soft kiss on Bayley's lips and promising to call her tonight. Bayley feels like she's floating as she returns to her room.

Dakota is sitting criss cross at the edge of her bed when Bayley returns. "Something you want to tell me?" she asks, a knowing grin on her face. 

As much as she tries to hide it, a giddy smile finds its way onto Bayley's face, accompanied by a faint blush. She nods, which prompts Dakota to let out an excited squeal and jump up from the bed. Bayley lets Dakota tug her over to the bed and sits down. "So how was it?" Dakota asks eagerly.

"It was amazing," Bayley says, prompting Dakota to let out another squeak of excitement. "We didn't go too far because we were both tired, but we made out a bit. And then we cuddled for a while."

Dakota watches her friend with bright eyes, not missing the pink flush in Bayley's cheeks. "Anything else?" she asks, almost as if she knows there's more to the story.

Bayley nods. "She asked me out," she says. "On a date."

"See, I told you going over there was a good idea," Dakota says with a satisfied smirk. Then her expression softened into a fond smile. "I'm glad you're happy," she says. "You deserve it. Both of you do."

Bayley smiles at her teammate. "Thanks for convincing me to go," she says. 

"Anytime," Dakota replies. "You know I've always got your back."

[justshapesandstupidity]

Hoooo okay, this was a long time coming, but it’s finally here!

I finally got.  my shit together and finished the Doc containing the rest of Jsas’s story. Now, I’m actually back IN the Jsab fandom, and I’ll have a lil’ bit of an announcement to make after the art raffle. Yeahah, Once this is posted, tomorrow will be dedicated to me getting the Art Raffle ready. After the Art Raffle, i’ll be making a little bit of an announcement regarding this blog.  Okkayyy enough with this! Time for what you’ve been waiting for! Sorry if it’s messy hahaha

-------

Just Shapes and Stupidity

The complete Story

Starting from where we left off with FOX and Prism.

From there, Fox would go on to avoid any question regarding what Dimitri did. Dimitri then offers to explain, but Prism quickly shuts him up. Cube is revealed to be unconscious, not dead. Pent soon shakes off their paralysis, and the Shapes get into a battle stance. A fight then begins. This battle was going to have the guardians using the last of the Treeangle’s power to open portals around the battlefield that would allow the askers and anons to join in the fight. During this fight, three people, Zedd from @just-asks-and-answers, Prisma from Just-Humans-and-Beats (aka Artifical-Guardian), and E.T Anon (Eat Triangles Anon) were going to join the fight, but side with Prism. This would open the way for other people to also join Prism if they so wished. The Shapes side is soon overpowered, and the portals shatter. All askers who were shattered are instantly transported back to their homeworld. Beam gets into a one-on-one tussle with Prism, and Prism tries to distract him by firing a laser directly at Square. Beam dives in front of them.

And while everyone was expecting Beam to shatter… There’s a bright light. And suddenly, Beam is surrounded by a glowing forcefield. Glowing in TIO colors. Nobody can believe their eyes. Beam is one of the hero shapes. 

However, the sudden power boost isn’t enough. 

The Hero Shapes are shattered, and Dimitri is then corrupted, siding back with Fox and Prism, much to Fox’s annoyance. Prism then leaves with his army. The next day, the Sun, Solaris, shows up. He sees the leftover carnage from the fight, and using his almost-god-like power, he uses one of his power triangles to revive everyone. Everyone comes back looking much different. But there’s something wrong with Cube. They’re now quarter-corrupt, as a side-effect of Fox’s attack.

Everyone ponders what to do, and the Guardians suggest seeking out the remaining two old Hero shapes. Upon questioning what happened to Cortex, The Guardians dodge the question. They say that one can be found all the way up in the highest mountains, and the other is on the other side of the sea, in a city called Crystal Tokyo. Cube is made to stay behind at the Treeangle with the Guardians, and Solaris decides to stay with them. Everyone decides to take on new names. Cube is now CB, Heli is now Avia, Boat is now Capt’n, Square is Qu, Circle is Cello, Triangle is Trinity, and Pentagon is Penn. 

Capt’n knows where Crystal Tokyo is, and Avia knows the mountains like the back of her hand. Everyone decides to split up. Qu and Trinity go with Avia to the mountains, and Cello and Penn go with Capt’n across the sea. There’s a sequence back with Prism and his group. There’s then a dream sequence involving one of the old hero shapes, Rush, and Zedd. The two have a… Little conversation I guess? They get along all right. The dream sequence ends, but now Prism and his group know Rush’s location, and set off to go find him.

After a long sequence on the ocean, Capt’n, Pen and Cello arrive in Crystal Tokyo, a giant, sprawling city, It’s primary color being orange. Capt’n stays behind at the docks, tired from the long voyage. Penn and Cello ask around for answers, and eventually, with some help from the askers, they find out that Splice is being held in stasis atop the tallest tower in CT. They break into the building, get into some fights, and eventually climb to the top and manage to free Splice. She isn’t too happy about the awakening, and lashes out at the two. Their battle takes to the skies, but Cello and Pen soon find themselves overpowered, seeing as they’re much less experienced than Splice. Cello comes through though, something within them going off, and they manage to somehow summon a giant sword, glowing with TIO colors. The two manage to beat Splice. After a long conversation, and learning that all sacred shapes have something called a ‘TIO Weapon,’ Splice agrees to help them with their cause. They return to Capt’n, and begin the voyage back to Paradise. 

Meanwhile with Avia, Qu and Trinity, they, with some help surprisingly from Barracuda, find the cave that supposedly leads to where Rush is. They fight their way through some chambers, and end up in a bossfight with the two shapes guarding Rush’s chamber - Hype and Wicked. The bossfight is in hardcore, so it’s extra hard, and much like with Pen and Cello, Qu and Trinity end up somehow managing to summon their TIO Weapons. For Qu, he can shoot the TIO lasers from his hands. For Trinity, he gets a magic wand looking thing, and he can use to summon triangle-shaped bullets. However, something seems… Off, about Qu when they’re using their powers... They manage to defeat Hype and Wicked, and enter Rush’s chamber. Little do they know, some of Prism’s minions are following right behind them. Upon entering Rush’s chamber, they find the little yellow arrow trapped in a bubble of some kind, in stasis. They manage to free him and wake him from slumber, but unlike Splice, he doesn’t attack them. Instead, he seems quite happy to see people, especially Trinity. But he seems… Wary, of Qu. Introductions happen, and Rush answers a few questions. But then… Qu, Trinity and Avia are suddenly attacked and knocked down. The last thing they see before temporarily blacking out, is three corrupted flowers grabbing Rush, and vanishing with him.

Back at paradise, Capt’n, Cello and Pen arrive back at the tree with Splice. Splice and the Guardians talk for a little while, and the Guardians explain that they’ve been in stasis for at least a few thousand years. They talk for a bit, and somewhere along the way, Splice slips up some information. Cortex is dead. Then, Avia, Qu and Trinity return, looking a little beat up. Cube heals them, and Qu breaks down, saying that Rush was captured by Prism’s forces. This gets Splice’s attention. She knows where Prism made his base last time, and that that was their best bet. She runs off ahead, much to the chagrin of everyone else. The Guardians notice that something seems off with Qu. He tells Cello, Pen, Beam and Trinity to go on ahead, and that they need to have a very important ‘talk’ with Qu. The three set off, and Trinity and Pen begin bickering, Trinity asking why Penn wasn’t being all like “oooOOOO I’m team leader now!! >:)))” and Penn just doesn’t respond. Cello is noticeably uncomfortable, just wanting the two to stop fighting. Beam tells the two to knock it off.

Meanwhile with Prism, he now has Rush in his clutches. Rush and Zedd talk for a while, and the askers can ask him some questions. If the cards are played right, Rush would explain that Cortex was a massive jerk, and that he treated him like garbage, which is why he didn’t like Qu very much. Rush explains that Cortex died as a result of his own selfishness. But then he says something strange: Cortex’s shards weren’t buried. His shards just… Disappeared. Completely vanished. Went up in smoke. After answering some more questions, Fox and Dimitri enter the room, shocking Rush. He tries to reason with the two, but they grab him, and begin to corrupt him. Prism watches this, but something seems a little… Different, about him. His eyes have a slight purple tint in them…

Back to Paradise with Qu and the guardians, they have entered the ‘void zone.’ The Guardians bicker for a little bit over who should tell Qu. Logic ends up being the one chosen, and he approaches Qu. It’s then explained to them that… Cortex, technically isn’t dead. That when Qu was created, the tree was low on power, and so, was scraping together every last bit of power it had left. Cortex’s shards… Got caught in the mix. Qu, is a reincarnation of Cortex. Qu doesn’t know what to make of this, and as a result of being mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted, they revert to shape form, going into a deep sleep. The guardians pass them over to C.B, saying that they need a long rest. The guardians then say they’re gonna go talk to ‘Rainbow.’ 

The Guardians enter the void space, and try to summon this ‘Rainbow’ person, but receive no response. Turns out Rainbow is missing. Upon being asked who Rainbow is, the guardians explain that Rainbow is a creator, the one who created the world. Rainbow is the Treeangle. The Treenagle Guardians then return to the friend shapes, and say that they should really start looking for what the cause of the corruption even is. Avia then asks if the Treeangle has roots, to which the Treeangle guardians freeze, and then exclaim “oh man, we’re idiots.”

Back with Cello, Penn, Beam and Trinity, they catch up to Splice, and they arrive at prism’s ‘base.’ A giant, run-down palace in the middle of a flower field. Breaking in proves to be much easier than expected, with Splice having a lot of experience with this kind of thing, and Beam already being an absolute powerhouse. But at one point during the breaking in, they nearly get ambushed, but then get saved by… Lycan. Lycan had been following them around for a little bit and decided that he wants to help this time around. So Lycan joins the team. The team eventually enters a chamber, where they enter a Bossfight with Dimitri, FOX and Rush. The askers would’ve been able to help out in this bossfight too. Dimitri and FOX are eventually taken down, just leaving Rush. However, due to Rush being really small and kinda weak, the corruption is too much for him to handle, and he shatters, much to the dismay of Splice. This isn’t an average shattering. This is a shattering that nobody can come back from. Rush is dead. Splice manages to get over her grief long enough to use a power triangle to purify Dimitri and Cio, who soon join her in her grief. The door leading into Prism’s chamber opens.

Back with the guardians and the friend shapes, Qu is awake, and decides he better rejoin his team. He’s still a bit upset upon leaving, though. The Guardians come to the conclusion that there must be something wrong with the Pink treeangle root. The Treeangle has 7 roots, one for each color of the rainbow. They decide to use the hole Prism made to get down to the ‘Core.’ The Friend shapes are then left alone. The Guardians descend down into the depths, and at the core, they find the Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue and Purple roots intact, but the Pink root is cut in half, and when they try to get close, they’re blown back by a gust of pink wind. They ascend back up, explaining that they found the source of the corruption, that Prism must’ve cut the pink root, but that they can’t get close enough to fix it. They speculate that an already-corrupt shape may be able to get close enough to fix it. That boils the options down to Beam, Cuda and Lycan. Avia and Capt’n decide to set out in search of Cuda, while C.B stays behind. Asks can then be asked. If cards are played right, The Guardians will tell the askers more about who Rainbow and Prism are. They then explain that they haven’t exactly been truthful, and that they actually knew Prism before he went mad. They explain that Rainbow and Prism actually created the world together, and that they were once very close friends. Maybe even something more. But Rainbow began to create life, and began exiling Prism. One day, Rainbow and Prism got into a heated disagreement, that ended in Rainbow locking Prism away. The Guardians express obvious distaste towards Rainbow, even going as far to say that they can’t blame Prism for doing the things he’s done. 10,000 years isolated in an underground prison would make anyone go mad. They then ponder where Rainbow could’ve possibly gone, but then (maybe with the help of the askers) remember that Prism had begun referring to himself as ‘we,’ and come to the conclusion that he must’ve done something to Rainbow. 

Avia and Capt’n arrive at the volcano, and meet up with Cuda. They try to convince him to join their cause, but he snaps at them, claiming that he wants no part of anymore of Prism’s messes. Avia and Capt’n become confused at this, and Cuda eventually gives in and explains that he has actually been around since the time of the Treeangle Guardians creation. That he was a naturally pink shape who had been turned grey once Prism had been defeated. He actually admits that he’s kind of scared that he might become grey again. But after enough poking and prodding, he decides to join the cause afterall, and the trio set off back towards paradise. Back at the castle, Qu catches up to the team, and they have a tearful reunion, before entering Prism’s chamber to confront him. Another giant bossfight commences, with askers being able to join the fight again. Sometime during the fight, it’s revealed that Penn is actually half-corrupt, as a result of Fox’s attack much earlier. And unlike C.B, their corruption is actually spreading. The team keeps pushing forward though. Prism gets weakened, but before he can make another move, his eyes suddenly turn blue, and he freaks out, before running away from the scene of the fight. The team gives chase to him, Lycan actually transforming into a giant flower-wolf and carrying the team on his back. They chase him all the way back to the scene of the Treeangle, where the Guardians and C.B all freak out. Prism leaps back down the hole he emerged from, heading towards the Core. The team explains to the Guardians and C.B what happened back at the castle, and the Guardians suspicions are confirmed. Prism absorbed Rainbows consciousness while he was stealing power from the treeangle. They conclude that he’s probably heading down to the core to get even more power, and that they need to follow him down and end this fight once and for all. Splice tells the guardians that Rush is dead, and they all decide to bury his shards later. The Guardians fill the team in on why Prism is so angry, and Qu suggests maybe trying to reason with him. The others agree that they’ll only resort to extreme violence if necessary. Avia and Capt’n return with Cuda, and the three are filled in on the situation. Once everyone has rested for a bit, they head down into the Core. They enter the core, and discover Prism having an argument with himself, with his eyes flashing bright purple. Two voices can be heard coming from him. Prism’s voice, and another voice, Rainbow. Prism seems to be in distress while Rainbow is screaming at him. Once the team gets their attention, Prism regains full control, and lashes out. An army of rat-like shapes form around him, and a giant fight begins, with the askers once again being allowed to participate. The hero shapes enter their TIO forms, and begin heading towards Prism. Cello, Beam, Penn and Trinity try holding Prism off while Qu tries to get through to him. Prism’s attacks falter a bit, and Cuda manages to hold him down with some snakes. Qu continues talking to Prism while absolute carnage is going on around them. Prism then ejects Rainbows consciousness, which then enters the blue treeangle root. The core begins to collapse. Prism doesn’t say anything, but all the rat shapes shatter, and he vanishes into thin air. The Guardians scream at one of the corrupted shapes to quickly repair the root. But Lycan is horribly weakened from the battle, Beam’s tail gets caught under some rubble, and Cuda is busy using his snakes as pillars to stop the ceiling from collapsing. In a momentary lapse of judgement, Penn dashes towards the Pink root. At this point, they’re almost completly pink. Everybody is yelling at them to stop. They grab to two halves of the Pink root, and look at everyone. They mutter “I’m sorry.” before reconnecting the root, There’s a giant explosion, followed by a bright light and a shattering noise… and when the light clears… Penn has shattered. DEAD shattered. Not coming back. Everyone freezes, but jumps back into action when Cuda reminds everyone that the Core is COLLAPSING, so C.B grabs Penns shards, Cuda grabs Lycan and gets Beam’s tail free, and everyone makes a beeline for the exit. 

Skip to everyone gathered around the Treeangle. The hero shapes and the friend shapes break down, grieving for Penn. The Treeangle Guardians take his shards. Penn died a hero. Everybody questions what to do now. The Guardians don’t really know, but explain that Rainbow is still missing from the Treeangle, saying that they probably left to go track down Prism. This puts everyone on edge. The hero shapes are still in their TIO forms, and the Guardians explain that this is permanent. They’ve proved themselves worthy of permanently wielding it’s power. They say that there’s now only one thing left to do, and they leave. Cuda is overall pleased with the outcome, and He asks Trinity if he’s like to return to the volcano with him and Cuda. Trinity declines, saying that they’d like some time alone with their family to grieve. Everyone then breathes a sigh of relief. It’s finally over. 

That night, C.B, Avia, Capt’n, The Hero Shapes, Splice, Dimitri and Cio hold a funeral for Penn and Rush. Askers are welcome to mingle among them all. Eventually, everyone packs it in for the night, and everyone finally gets a much-deserved rest. 

Everyone wakes up the next afternoon, and everyone recieves a request to come to the Treeangle. When they arrive, they find that most of paradise is there. Levels, flowers, and average shapes alike. Even Cuda and Lycan are there. In front of the Treeangle, is the Guardians. They invite Qu forward. They explain that after Prism’s first defeat, they had Crowned Cortex the ‘King of Paradise.’ But since Cortex had shattered and died, it had left Paradise without a proper ruler for millenia. Qu, even though they protest at first, is then crowned the Prince of Paradise. A giant celebration is then held, where askers are again allowed to mingle among them.

After the celebration, The Guardians approach Cuda. They explain that since both Rainbow and Prism are now MIA, they need a new leader to follow. They offer Cuda a position as a ‘New Treeangle Guardian.’ Cuda says that he’ll think about it. 

A week after the celebration, everyone has finally calmed down. The Hero shapes and the Friend shapes all meet at the Treeangle, because Beam wants to make an announcement. He explains to them all that he wants to leave Paradise for a bit, to go and explore. He wants to make some proper memories of his own. Everyone has a heartfelt farewell, before Beam sets out for the great unknown. Trinity decides that they might properly set down in Paradise, and Cello agrees that this is a brilliant idea. C.B suggests maybe founding a village around the Treeangle in honor of their achievement, and everyone loves this idea. They all then walk down the hill together.

There’s a singular shot of Penn and Rush’s graves. The dirt around Penn’s grave glows bright green for a moment, dims, and then the transmission is cut.

 -ASKS ARE NOW CLOSED.-

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-click-

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"Do you have anything you want to say to them before we go?"

"..."

"They can hear us, you know. We just... Can't hear them."

"Yeah. Yeah I'll- I'll say something." 

"I was never the nicest shape, I know. I hurt all of you in some way, and that's a guilt I'll forever be burdened with. It was never my intention but... Well. Sometimes life just likes to make other people miserable. Maybe you'll all be better off without me. I certainly think so. "

"C.B, Capt'n, Avia. Thank you three. You three looked after us, helped us, made us feel better when all was lost. You're like... You're like the parents we never could've had. Look after my siblings for me."

"Beam, I'm sorry I didn't come to trust you sooner. I wish I could've gotten to know you better. Thank you for never giving up on us. I hope one day you'll learn to forgive yourself."

"Cello, you're so intelligent, and so, so special. I'm sorry I never listened to you, I'm sorry I made you feel worthless. You're not. You're so much better than I ever was. Thank you for your amazing observation skills. We never would've gotten as far as we did without you."

"Trinity, thank you for looking out for us during all those hard battles. I know I never gave you a proper apology. I just... Didn't want you hurting yourself for our sakes. But without you... We'd be dead 10 times over. I don't expect you to ever forgive me, and I'm fine with that. You're the best."

"..."

"Qu. Qu, I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry I pushed you so hard and I'm sorry I doubted your abilities. You're a better leader than I ever would've been. I just wish I could've realized that sooner. Continue to lead them, alright? Lead them all. You've earned that crown fair and square." 

"We're running out of time. I hate to sound pushy, but please finish it up."

"... Right."

"I love you all. I'm sorry I never said so. I love all of you so, so much and I'm sorry it had to end this way. I have so many regrets that I know I'll never get to make up for. I'm going to miss all of you so, so much. But I love you all. I love you all more than you'll ever know."

"Maybe someday, somewhere somehow... In another life... We'll meet again."

"I love you."

"Goodbye."

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JSAS - E N D. ?

-A post containing all the new designs of the characters will be uploaded after this post-

[greenshi]

For the character ask game. Larrold Floridaman (and, if I may suggest an additional one, Prismatic Shadow :))

Larold <3

Do I like them: yeaaaAAAAAH that dude Rules

5 good qualities:

- will die for a tootsie pop. who wouldn't honestly

- but fr for as chaotic as he is, he is So loyal to those he trusts. Very open about his care for others (mostly J0hn tbf)

- this dude is a (spoilers) Doctor. and I would trust him with my life, I'm sure itll be fine.

- dudes just chill, idk what to say! I feel like I could grab a beer with him. I dont even drink.

- hes a little rat. He eats cheeeeeeeeese.

- no actually. Dudes Resilient. Put up with a metric fuckton of crap, and came out the other end halfways decent! Good for him!

3 bad qualities:

- Will Die For A Tootsie Pop. Fifth place king can be anything and choses to be bad at fighting.

- hey larry. hey j0hn. Theres Got to be a better way to summon the death god than. Yknow. reviving Sephiroth.

- so self sacrificial! Dude you can Chillax stop trapping yourself in Hell for the sake of others! Let the people you care for help you pls

OTP: Hackshifter. There is no other option.

BrOTP: Rn, Sqenny. Love the Choas Bastard and the reporter who he has to try and explain himself to. Free big brother figure too. (But also, with how (spoilers) Limbo might go, he miiiiight usurp her. Maybe)

OT3: uhhhhhhh j0hn. but again. Wait actually what if Dan. Two fucked up guys and their third guy who's trying to reason with them. Yeah that can work.

NOTP: Dr Order. Sorry Susan n Barry, I'm sure you're happy, but, like, cmon.

Best quote: god theres so many........"persona", curing losing for his 'son', any sappy moment with j0hn........ but I'm going with his first convo with cobalt, with the bloody notes. It's just a good scene

Headcanon: larry is very very goopy, especially when injured or emotional, but also all the time. While Limbo (since crimson is also v goopy) hes less of a man and more of a puddle. Just a jrpg slime monster with a hat on.

Ok, anon? Anon. Idk if you know the can of worms you've opened by letting me talk extensively about The Frog, but omg. (Also, since PS has not that much going on in canon, I'm adding all my headcanons to this. Frog Theory, that one Powerfrog fic I wrote and no one read, secret hcs that only exist in my head, Everything. Sorry in advance.)

Do I like them: YEAHYEAHEHAHUEAHYEAHYEAH (backstory: I got attached during 7 cuz Hes Green and i Like Green. didnt have any thoughts about it tho until frog theory, and now I am overcome with brain worms)

5 good qualities:

- Determined. this guy is studying such a niche martial art, and he gives it his all.

- little guy. 4'7, built out of slime, and will try and fight you

- puts up with prism's crap, what a king

- I feel like he'd be good with plants. he helps yopper with gardening.

- Has Punched Crimson. he still lost but he did Punch Him.

3 bad qualities:

- French.

- All My Favs Are Bad At Fighting And He Is No Exception

- is too much. always on, always moving, always doing something. while that has been "fixed" by Prism, now hes just a walking corpse, basically. nothing going on in that brain except for :|

OTP: Geico. Small, feisty green dude plus large, tired green dude is Good.

BrOTP: .......also geico. That, or CBT. Crimsoned dudes who never got fixed because people forgot they existed

OT3: oooohhhh what about take on my kirby and marshmallow? Like the two T.O.M guys. Idk I'm just pulling up irrelevant characters and seeing what sticks.

NOTP: man idk. Prism? Crimson? Just keep this guy away from pkmn trainers.

Best quote: he like. has barely spoken. and what is has said is pretty short and to the point. all of his fun words are in my brain <3

Headcanon: IF YOU. KISS HIM. HE TURNS INTO. KING DEDEDE. PRINCESS AND THE FROG STYLE. (also, he is severely fucked up due to being like double possessed. His memories are totally scrambled, his personality is basically gone, he is a Husk. And, the reason prism went after him is to clean up the mess crimson left behind, while also gaining eyes on the goings on of the kerfuffles. And yknow how she three stocked him? And yknow what she did to google in green? Yeah. she took no chances)

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

#177 - To Build a Home: Our Future Starts Here

ANON: Owen finding out Claire is pregnant 

I couldn’t decide if I posted the whole pregnancy or just this bit. Considering it’s just under 5k, you can have this bit on its own and feel free to prompt more for the rest of this AU. 

AO3 - To Build a Home

OUR FUTURE STARTS HERE

He was home, arms wrapped around her in their large bathtub, water milky with her favourite salts as candles flickered light against the walls. Claire couldn’t remember a time she had been so content without the man inside her, aftershocks of an orgasm tingling across her skin. They didn’t have time for this before, three years of sprinkled visits barely lasting any longer than three weeks at a time. He came in, and out of that front door so rarely Claire could hardly remember a time where he managed it every day. Was this still their house? Or had it become hers solely in his constant absence?

Three years ago she felt like the wait would be agony. With it all behind them, Claire saw it pass in the blink of an eye. She wished he didn’t have to do it. That there was a way, Owen could have said no, in the beginning, to save them from the lost time. He did what he had to do, Whiskey too, the both of them home and in her presence once again never to bow at the commands of the American Government.

Claire cracked an eye open, skin flushed with the boiling water from the tub, room steaming as the slightest chill graced her left shoulder. She knew Whiskey had squeezed herself into the triangle of space the barely open door had left. Her back was to them, always keeping an eye out as she faced the bedroom ready to alert Owen of any threats. Claire hummed deep in the back of her throat, eyes practically rolling into her head as she felt her husband’s thick fingers climb up her spine, pressing on her sore spots and relieving her vertebrae. She didn’t fall into their milk and honey scented trap, eyes still open, hair curled on top of her head, damp with the humidity as he kissed the nape of her neck. She wanted to talk to him about something, propose an idea that had been growing between them since he bought the house. War had put it off, time away preventing accurate execution.

Claire watched her engagement ring sparkle in the yellow light, gently twisting her wrist to catch the prisms as they moved. It felt like centuries ago since he slid that ring onto her finger. It had only been a year. Owen didn’t want to propose the way he had, but necessity won out against desire. She accepted regardless, understanding the situation but knowing deep down that they were headed for that road anyway. He was haphazardly building her a house in the rare moments he had at home before being sent back to a war zone. If he didn’t marry her or want to at least, there had to have been mixed messages. He had joked and teased and played about children, too, hinting of a future they could have had the second the house project started. Owen had been relentless until his contract interfered.

She had to keep reminding herself that she was home now, his thighs strong against her knees,  Claire cradled in the slope of his hips as they sat in the tub trying not to rush. They had acted like savages when he got home, fucking on every surface available until Claire realised he was home for good, the need to rush dissipating as their kisses shifted from hurried to savoured. They had time to take their time. They didn’t have to devour each other every night. They were trying not to devour each other every night, but Owen had been reminded of how much he adored it when her right leg twitched in the pre and post escalation of her climax. He had become fixated on that point, catching the muscle in motion over and over again. She didn’t mind. She had missed the devilish smirk on his face and the way he made her temperature rise with a single wink.

Claire had missed him in mind and spirit just as he had missed her in body and soul.

His hands rolled across her shoulders, thumbs pressing into the back of her neck as Claire pulled her knees to her chest, sinking into the sensation. Owen didn’t waste time in reaching for the clip that kept her hair up letting fire slip down her back in waves. She felt the muscles in his thighs twitch against her hips. She let him wash her hair, sound of water trickling back into the tub filling her with peace as his fingers massaged her scalp.

He always used too much shampoo. She supposed it was a male thing, husband behind her softly sighing at the gentle smell before he ran the product through her hair. She had loved the sound of a good lather forming on her scalp, the feel of silky lotion against her hands threading through the strands of her hair and past her fingers. It was no different when Owen did it.

They were still trying to figure it out. Life, reacquainted with an old routine they had forgotten the steps too. She was sure they were going to fall apart. The joy of having him home overwhelmed each of their senses, but it was getting too much. Maybe they couldn’t go back to who they were before he was re-enlisted. Claire doubted that Owen still existed. She could see the rough lines on his face and feel the callouses on his hands. He had hardened, mind more solid, less playful.

He wasn’t suffering from war time side effects. Owen had checked out a clean bill of mental and physical health; despite the tense muscles in his right leg remaining from seven months ago. He was just quiet now, reverting to military training that kept him comfortable. She did have to acknowledge that he had always held a silent side; until his mouth opened.

Claire let go, eyes closed as she leant into his touch. ‘I thought maybe we could paint the spare room next.’ She offered quietly, addressing a subject that was often broached but never dealt with. Their four bedroom home was fit with a shared room specifically for when her nephews came to visit, a guest for his parents or her sister and a third untouched room that Owen and Claire never finished.

He hummed a familiar, tired sound that used to reach her down the lines of the phone when they managed to connect a call. ‘Are you sure? I’ve still got plenty else to finish.’ He kissed her shoulder, knowing how much she hated that the stairwell had tried to kill her for the last three years, or their unfinished and often draughty laundry. Not to mention the whole second story was a mess aside from the master suite and the room for Zach and Gray. The spare, undedicated room could surely wait until they decided what to do with it.

Claire nodded. Scared to say her piece in fear of who they had become over the last three years. Owen had been so adamant to discuss it towards the end of his tour. But, that was before he got hurt and before they married. She didn’t know what direction they were going in now, but she felt it was the time to bring it up. Claire felt capable and confident, and she needed her husband to know the green light was there if he wanted it. ‘I want to have a baby.’ She told him softly, eyes squeezing closed as her arms loosened their grip on her legs to fall against his in the water. His hands stilled in her hair, ceasing the lather he had been building up as she felt his nervous nails twitch. ‘I’m not pregnant or anything.’ She traced her finger in a circle around his knee. ‘I just thought, you always brought it up, and I always put you off, and now you’re home, and we’re married. We’re not getting any younger.’ She shifted in the large tub, twisting her body to face his. ‘And these things, Owen, they take time. So many people spend months or years just trying to get pregnant. The spare doesn’t have to be done now, I just thought maybe, if you were comfortable, we could start talking about it?’ She could barely look at him, nerves suddenly engulfing her confidence. Claire had barely thought about it, idea settling against her ribs as they sat there in hot water, soaking in each other. He had always prodded at her with the idea, niggling it into the back of her mind. She was bound to give in one day. Maybe the timing was a little rushed, but she wanted to be well prepared. Technically speaking, a baby was all they were missing.

Owen stared at her, wide owl eyes practically gaping before he pulled her into him and crushed his mouth against hers. She giggled against his mouth, teeth nipping at his full bottom lip as she revelled in the scratch of his stubble against her chin.

‘God, I have missed you.’ She breathed, bumping his nose with hers. Claire wasn’t getting over this feeling anytime soon. He was home, there in her arms and he wasn’t going away. They could continue the life they tried to build.

He cupped her face between his large hands, thumbs rubbing soapy circles against her temples. ‘Are you sure about this?’ He asked her, hands pushing through her hair, moving to rinse her of shampoo suds. Claire nodded, teeth in her bottom lip, their faces only inches apart.

‘I’ve never been more sure about anything.’ She promised, kissing him deeply as he pulled her against him, Claire’s body sliding over his as she moved to straddle his hips. Truthfully, she was scared. This was territory neither of them had entered before, an unknown landscape that would stretch on for the rest of their lives. She had been a military wife for long enough, sitting in a dusty, unfinished house waiting for him to come home and finish it. What was the harm in adding a baby? ‘It’s not going to happen right away.’ She told him with another kiss, reassuring herself and their comfortable reality, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth descended on her neck.

‘We can still practice though?’ She felt his grin below her ear, the man ready to strike against her sweet spot. Claire stuttered out a breathy ‘definitely’ as she surrendered herself to the grip of his hands, the lull of hot water and the pressure of her husband’s lips.

[…]

Claire was still wincing at the thought of the needle in her skin, long gone now as the memory remained, slight pain stinging in her elbow. She tried to move past it, focusing instead on the light skip in her step and happy voice in the back of her head.

Her doctor thought she was pregnant. In fact, the other woman was pretty confident what Claire considered to be a stomach flu was, in fact, something else. Claire stuttered like she was a girl, failing to recall the last time she used a tampon as an embarrassed flush rose under her bronzer. She couldn’t recall the last time she had her period, or if she had had it at all in the last handful of months. Claire felt stupid for not realising or connecting the dots sooner.

She and Owen had discussed expanding their lives, Claire should have expected the result.

Her doctor warned that it was just a suspicion, the results could still come back negative. Claire couldn’t squish her hope, light acceptance bubbling in her chest as a smile pushed at the corners of her mouth. This was what they wanted. The ticking of her biological clock suddenly silent in the back of her head. Her heart kept time, beating heavily beneath her skin and promising to do so until her doctor called with confirmation.

Claire didn’t go home straight away. Still sick to her stomach, she powered through with new motivation. Claire bought herself a juice and lead herself to Owen’s favourite hardware. The painting section was all she was familiar with, home decorator instead of demolition and construction. They had stood in the long isles for hours arguing over paint swatches quietly among themselves only to settle on one Claire would undoubtedly change her mind on in the afternoon.

Alone this time, she pondered over colour coded sections picking a few different varieties in varying shades before shoving the swatches in her back pocket and calling it a day.

Owen was home when she got back, Whiskey circling her feet as she walked through the door, trying not to trip over the large dog sniffing at her pant legs. ‘There you are.’ Owen grinned, jumping up from the kitchen island to kiss her cheek. ‘Feeling better?’ He asked, leading her to the chair he had occupied and slid a sandwich in front of her place. He’d come home on his lunch break to check on his flu addled wife, bringing her something fresh to eat and another juice from her favourite place. ‘Pumped with Vitamin C,’ he told her, tapping on the side of the paper cup.

She could feel that same hopeful joy spreading across her chest, white hot and tingling in her limbs as she smiled up at the man who stopped at nothing short of the moon to keep her happy. ‘I went to the hardware.’ She told him, shifting to pull the paint swatches out of her back pocket, dumping them on the bench beside her lunch.

Owen hummed, holding his lunch in one hand as the other prodded thick fingers through the colours she had brought home. They were all pastel; pink, blue, yellow and green faint but full of colour. If she was trying to give him a hint, Owen was on to it. Nursery. The very same light grey he had once proposed to her was in the mix, still screaming a subtle elegance beside the traditional pastels often used to fill a baby’s room. ‘I still say the grey.’ He told her, pointing at the almost white silver in the bunch. It matched the rest of the house but still stood out on its own. ‘Babe?’ Owen inhaled on the question, voice almost caught in his voice as he tilted a curious look in her direction. ‘Are you pregnant?’ His index finger tapped at the grey sample.

She stilled, caught like a bear in a trap. She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to give herself away before she knew for sure. How could she be so naive? Of course, the paint gave her away. Claire couldn’t lie to him.

‘My doctor thinks it’s a possibility.’ She told him, sliding her drink towards her as she took a sip. She couldn’t look at him, scared of his reaction despite knowing it would be nothing below excitement. Claire heard him choke. ‘She said, she’ll call me tomorrow with my results. It might be negative.’

‘You haven’t got the flu?’ He asked, piecing the puzzle together as he turned her chair towards him. Claire shrugged. She wasn’t sure. If he had asked her that morning, she would have put her symptoms to a virus, but with the question in her head and the numbers not adding up she couldn’t help but believe it was true.

Owen pulled her into his lap, chuckling at her surprised squeak as he tried to balance them both on the one stool. He had an arm around her back, holding her steady as the other cupped the back of her head, Owen peppering her face with overexcited kisses incapable of focusing on one spot.

Whiskey yipped beside them until both Owen and Claire reached down with a hand and scratched her ears promising the dog they were both alright.

‘Don’t get too excited.’ She told him, kissing his lips casually, her hands on his cheeks fingers gently grazing the five o’clock shadow that was becoming a permanent part of his appearance. It was too late, she knew it, he was over the moon with joy, and there was nothing Claire could do to stop it. ‘There’s a fifty-fifty chance the test will be negative.’ She warned him a second time.

Owen shook his head. ‘You said it wouldn’t happen immediately.’ He teased her, smile not leaving his face as she rolled her eyes. ‘I’m gonna say it did.’ His grin widened, confidence flashing in his eyes. Claire cupped his face, kissing his lips gently to dismiss his good humour. ‘We’ve been going at it like rabbits. Wouldn’t be surprised, Claire.’ She rolled her eyes again as she playfully pushed at his shoulder. He wasn’t wrong.

Owen lifted her from his lap to the edge of the counter, revelling in the way Claire huffed. He slipped from the stool, half on his knees as he pressed fat kisses to her slender stomach, his hands cradling her hips. She had to be pregnant. ‘I love you.’ He told her, looking up with wide green eyes that melted directly into hers.

Claire grinned, finger on her lips. ‘I love you too.’ She met him half way, locking lips intimately as he pushed back into her embrace, happy to bend her over the counter and prove his words for the rest of the afternoon. ‘But,’ she stopped him, hand flat on his chest. ‘I still really want to eat my lunch and sleep for the rest of the day.’ He had forgotten, in the excitement, that she wasn’t feeling well. He pulled away, apologising softly as he helped his wife back onto her bar stool, Owen kissing her cheek as he slid the chicken and lettuce sandwich towards her again.

He didn’t let go of her. His hand stayed glued to her leg as they ate in quiet chatter, Owen talking about his morning at work and what was expected for the rest of the afternoon. She caught him staring openly, unashamed that he was grinning in her direction so widely he could swallow the sun.

She hadn’t seen him this upbeat about anything since he came home.

He tucked her into bed when their lunch was finished, kissing her cheek with a firm hand rubbing soft circles across her hip. Whiskey pressed her nose to Claire’s wrist in a parting gesture as Owen promised he’d be back in a few hours. He was gone seconds, her eyelids heavy, sleep washing over her in languid waves when she heard his voice from downstairs. ‘Fuck it.’ He’d said before his footsteps climbed the stairs and descended down the hall. He re-entered their bedroom quietly before gently climbing in behind her, wrapping his arms around his unconfirmed-pregnant wife. ‘Work can wait.’ He promised her, kissing the back of her head.

Claire wanted to protest. To tell him he would look silly when the doctor called tomorrow to tell her she wasn’t pregnant. He’d feel like an idiot wasting so much excitement on a possibility that turned out to be nothing. She didn’t have the strength. But, she did have the promise that he was going to be excited if and when they positively conceived.

‘I can’t stop thinking about a bossy little-redheaded girl.’ He breathed into her hair, voice far off in his daydream of their future child. ‘She’s gonna have me around her little finger.’ Owen promised, kissing his wife’s shoulder as his hand moved from her hip to her abdomen. Even in her desperation for sleep, Claire couldn’t stop her heart from melting. He was in love with her, with the future, and with a child that hadn’t been confirmed. Claire was going to stop at nothing to give him everything that he dreamed.

‘It could be a boy.’ She told him sleepily, letting a smile cross her lips before she gave into the warmth of her husband behind her and the desperate need to quell her wobbling stomach.

[…]

She forced him to go to work the next day. He feigned a head cold to lay in bed with her a little longer. Determined to get her life back under control, Claire kicked Owen and Whiskey out of the house and told him under no circumstances was he to come back until 6 pm.

She tried to go into work herself, living with a new mindset that she was queasy because she was pregnant and not because of the flu that was trying to push her temperature higher than average. For the most part, it worked. It didn’t stop her from being distracted, looking at her phone every three minutes to catch it ringing.

A watched pot never boiled, or so her grandmother used to tut in her direction, forcing Claire to shove her phone in her desk drawer and focus back on her work. She reasoned, too, that if she forced the phone to ring it might be bad news. Whereas, if she left it alone and stopped thinking about it, her chances of a positive result would be higher. There was a reason why Claire was a business woman and not a scientist, but the idea helped soothe her.

Her phone rang at quarter past three, Claire almost missing it as it buzzed on vibrate in the middle drawer of her desk. She almost thought it was Owen, happy to ignore her impatient husband in an attempt to stay away from her phone. He would find out when they got home. It would make it seem more exciting that way. She had already ruined the initial surprise. They needed some suspense.

Claire’s hands shook as she answered, recognising the number from her doctor’s office as she answered with a strong voice.

Off the phone, Claire couldn’t sit there and continue the rest of the day like the news she had been delivered didn’t matter. She needed Owen; needed to see his face, hear his voice, feel his arms wrap her in a tight hug as he promised everything was going to be okay. She wanted Whiskey at her feet and the familiar smell of Owen in her nose.

She felt the office with a small word to her assistant, unsure if she would be back for the rest of the day. Everyone there knew she shouldn’t have arrived that morning, no one was going to protest her departure.

Upon his return home to American soil, Owen landed a job at a small gym in San Diego that focused almost entirely on rehabilitating soldiers; current and past service men. Where they were open to the general public, the gym oversaw a high number of clients training for recruitment, men returned after being injured in the line of duty and servicemen who were no longer active in the military but needed a place of camaraderie. It wasn’t entirely Owen’s element, but it was working for them, for now. He enjoyed the work, the people and supplied a great vault of knowledge for those who needed it. She knew he rather be in the field with animals, working with dolphins or Velociraptors again. That life was over. He swore he was done with his service. Claire didn’t want his life on the line any longer.

Something not quite rock, but close too was playing when she stepped inside, eyes casting out over the men and women within the facility as she breathed in the sweat filled air looking for her husband.

‘Hey, Claire,’ Bobby, the manager grinned at Claire from behind the small entry desk. She smiled back, greeting the man who’s name had become common in their house. ‘Lookin’ for Owen?’ He asked, and Claire nodded.

‘Is he with a client?’ Bobby nodded, pointing towards the far right corner of the room. She thanked him softly, feeling oddly vulnerable in the open planned gym, machines to one side, other exercise apparatus’ scattered appropriately.

She was too busy thinking about how small she was in such a large space that Claire missed Owen noticing she had arrived. He had gone rigid, standing beside a bench press, client on it as Owen asked the man to stop for a moment. He was trying to catch her eye from across the room as a few people called out to Claire to wave. Her appearance within the gym wasn’t a frequent thing, but enough that a few regulars recognised her when she did arrive. It wasn’t like she was hard to miss. Claire was the only nice smelling thing in that place.

He met her halfway, crossing the room in six large strides, heart pounding in his chest. ‘You okay?’ He couldn’t help but notice she was white as a sheet, her eyes red, tears threatening to fall. Her bottom lip wobbled the second she felt Owen’s hand on her hip, his fingers warm through the fabric of her business skirt. ‘Hey, Claire,’ he held a finger under her chin, trying to catch her eyes. ‘Did the doctor call?’

She nodded, lip practically dropping as she laughed at herself. Claire shook her wrists, arms flopping by her side as she rolled her eyes at her emotional state. ‘Hi, Daddy.’ She whispered, barely managing to get the words out before a sob followed. They were happy tears, overwhelmed tears, and soaked in disbelief. Neither of them thought this would happen that fast.

‘Yeah?’ He asked her, face animated as she dropped her head to his shoulder. Claire nodded. ‘We’re having a baby?’ He asked a little louder, almost shouting as he waited for her confirmation. Claire nodded a second time laughing her positive response before Owen picked her up off her feet. ‘My wife is pregnant!’ He spun her around, voice raised high enough that everyone could hear as she gripped onto him for dear life, face buried against his shoulder to save herself the embarrassment.

The occupants of Owen’s work place grinned, cheers lifting from their lungs as some clapped in celebration. Claire blocked them out, focusing on her husband as her toes touched the mats on the ground and his lips made contact with the side of her face.

‘You’re ridiculous.’ She told him, meeting his eyes with a fond smile. Of course, Owen, her husband who liked to keep things private wanted to shout her news from the rooftops. She could see him over the course of the next several months proudly announcing to everyone who would listen that they were expecting a baby. ‘We probably shouldn’t be announcing it to everyone we know, just yet.’ He nodded, kissing her cheek.

‘You’re amazing.’ She always believed it when it came from Owen’s mouth. Claire struggled with compliments unless she felt them well deserved; Owen always thought she deserved them. She hadn’t done anything yet, her body clinging to the slightest of chemical imbalances was all that had happened, and yet he would have flown to the moon and written her name on the surface just for getting positive on her test.

Claire considered that they might not have been ready for a child, that Owen needed time to settle back into civilian life with his wife before they added a third element. His reaction said everything and Claire couldn’t help but feel content with the idea. This was the right thing to do. They were ready.

[inutechy]

Inventory: a scroll of Bane Undead, and a never-ending oil tin. Both are found in the Teika Family crypt...

My Muse is Trapped in a Dark world filled with Monsters and unnatural horrors. Go on Anon and Send "Inventory Supply" Along with an Item and see what My Muse says about the Item and how they think it will help them..

[Inventory Check]

Cloak of Protection [EQUIPPED]Spike of White Heather [EQUIPPED]Drider’s Bite [EQUIPPED]Potion of Greater RestorationPotion of Thunder Giant’s StrengthBrown Bread + CheeseMedium WaterskinLover’s Trinket [KEY ITEM]Bottomless Bag [KEY ITEM]10 Gold

[Action: Arrive in Town]

You and Alban finally part ways in the town you arrive in, the faded sign reads ‘Blühende Reben,’ and the people there are a little stand-offish, but friendly. You don’t blame them, as you’re a large werehound with a dagger strapped to your side.

[Location Added: Blühende Reben / Blooming Vines]

Sticking to RPG tropes, you hit up the inn for rumors and work, figuring that’d be the place to start. The heather spike threaded into your cloak clasp brings admiration and murmurings of ‘Paladin.’ Paladin?

[Action: ask the innkeeper what’s up with that, and if they have any work.]

The innkeeper informs you that the Order of the Flowers is a mostly-defunct sect of Paladins, devoted to doing good deeds wherever they go. Apparently, the white heather spike is their emblem. The Order has long since fallen from grace, after Ghislin, their champion, joined the Usurpers. You refrain from telling her that Ghislin is dead, and you kill him.

Related to that, the innkeeper adds, there have been stirrings in the local crypt. Oh boy, skeletons! You think to yourself, hoping they’re Skyrim-tier, rather than Dark Souls-Tier...

[Explore the Crypts]

You spoke way too fucking soon, as you roll out of the way of a FUCKING...

SKELETON WHEEEEEEEEEEL!

[It’s a FIGHT!]

[Str Check: 19/20 +2 Racial Bonus = 21/20 CHECK SUCCEEDED]

You grab the wheel as its momentum peters out and shatter its spokes with your bare paws in sheer RAGE. Of course, the skeleton itself is mostly unarmed, but without its gimmick, its simply a matter of crushing its skull in your jaws.

[Con Check: 10/20 - 5 Surprise = 5/20 CHECK FAILED]

You scream as ANOTHER FUCKING WHEEL spins out of the darkness and crashes its full weight into your body. The spikes dig into your hide, hardened as it is, it doesn’t pierce it, but you’re still vulnerable to being squished. Aaaand your face is still soft, which is inevitably where the spikes reach next.

[Special: Bunny Blessed]

But at least they miss your eyes.

[Str Check: 17/20 + 2 Racial Bonus = 19/20 CHECK SUCCEEDED]

Slamming your paws into the sides of the wheel,your grimace as the friction burns your peets, but you arrest its movement completely. Then proceed to smash it into the wall, repeatedly, out of spite.

You press onward, holding the skeleton’s remains out like a particularly unwieldy buckler. The crypts are well-kept, but dim, the stone carved carefully with vines, in keeping with the town’s motif, and you wonder who or what could be re-animating these skeletons. And why they’d choose some rural town as a target.

Well, that question was answered, soon enough, as a clearly unnatural tunnel yawns out at you, creating a fork in the path ahead. Rolling your eyes, you WONDER where the source of these happenings could be coming from. As you pad quietly down the rocky path of the tunnel, the surroundings slowly brighten, and you come across the first non-candle light source you’ve seen, yet.

Tiny orbs, that throw off a rainbow of color, like a prism, and fill the space with white light, you’d find them beautiful, if they weren’t surrounding a well-dressed corpse. The corpse, a Lich, possibly, turns to face you, and throws up their skeletal hands, a dry, rasping sputter issuing from its dried out throat.

They appear to be wearing a dress, ragged, torn, and black, embroidered with silver thread to form vine-like patterns. Their voice is oddly feminine, so you guess they might be a ‘she.’

[Action: Greet]

The Lick pauses, and wonders out loud why you haven’t attacked her on sight, especially since you’re apparently a Paladin of the Order of Flowers. Patiently, you explain that you’re just here to investigate, and got attacked by (FUCKING) wheel skeletons. The Lich covers her face, sighing in shame, and begins to tell her story.

Her name is Liliana, and this was a big accident, she assures you. Apparently her lover, a merchant from East Drachenberg, had sent her a mysterious amulet. Due to miserable luck, she had fallen ill and passed away, and the amulet turned out to be a phylactery. In trying to do something about her predicament, Liliana had accidentally created the wheel skeletons, and is really very sorry about your facial injuries.

It’s a little odd that she only seems a little bothered by the fact that she’s a Lich, but in this crapsack world, you guess it’s not that bad.

[Cha Check: 3/20 CHECK FAILED]

You try to convince her to come out of the crypt, and she adamantly refuses, and instead hands you a letter, begging you to deliver it to her lady love in the East. Being a shitty romantic, you don’t refuse, and pocket the letter in your Bottomless Bag.

Liliana also gifts you a scroll of Bane Undead, as well as a tin of oil that she tells you she accidentally enchanted to never run out. Useful.

[Item(s) Added: Scroll of Bane Undead, Never-Ending Oil-Tin]

[Exit]

You leave the crypt, track down Liliana’s family, and break the news, they’re... Relieved? And scurry down to the crypt to speak to her. This world is fuckin’ weird. But as night is falling, you will need to find a place to rest.

[Special: Bunny Blessed]

Liliana’s brother, Jace, offers you a place to stay the night, in their family home. Lucky you!

[DAY 1 END]

[celestial-thoughts]

three isn’t always a crowd - part 1

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Dakota Kai x Shayna Baszler

Word count: 3.5k

Author’s note: i swear i planned for this to be 1,000 words max. but as i often do, i got carried away. so welcome to the latest installment of the prism trap saga. read this and this for context. part 1 features various negotiations and discussions of BDSM and kink. part 2 will get spicy, so don’t worry that content is coming eventually. many thanks to my wonderful prism trap anon for the many ideas for this fic. 

It starts, as most confessions do, with alcohol. Rhea, Dakota, and Shayna are sitting in Rhea's living room and Dakota has had a couple of drinks. "Shayna, you'll never believe what Rhea did to me last week," Dakota says, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed a light pink.

"Oh really?" Shayna asks from the armchair she's sitting in, a faint smirk on her lips. "What did she do?"

"Kota," Rhea interjects, trying to put the brakes on whatever Dakota is about to say next. "Is this really necessary?" Internally though, Rhea knows that she doesn't hate this. Not when she sees the excitement in Dakota's eyes, the knowing smile on Shayna's lips.

Dakota lets out a giggle. "Please Rhea?" she asks, making wide, pleading eyes at her girlfriend. "It's not like she doesn't already know kind of the things we do."

Rhea sighs, knowing that Dakota has a valid point. "Fine," she gives in. "Go ahead baby, tell her what we did." She pulls Dakota close to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around the smaller girl's waist.

Dakota turns to Shayna. "So, you know how Rhea has her prism trap submission?" she asks. Shayna nods, and Dakota's smile grows as she continues. "Well, she put me in a similar hold, and then she gave me her strap while I was in the hold."

Shayna grins, glancing at Rhea's pink cheeks. "It's funny that you mention that," she says. "I'm the one who helped her figure out that version of the prism trap." Dakota's eyes widen in surprise. "Where did you think she learned it?" Shayna asks.

"Honestly, I didn't really think about that," Dakota admits. "But thank you for helping her with it." She takes another sip of her drink. "I would love to see what you two worked on," she adds.

"I'm pretty sure that's the alcohol talking," Rhea says. "Since you know what it's like baby."

Dakota looks up at Rhea with bright eyes. "But I want to see what it looks like," she says. "Please?"

Shayna and Rhea exchange a look, and Shayna gives a small shrug. "Not while we've been drinking," she says. "But I don't see why not." Dakota gives a little squeal of excitement, and Shayna smiles at her.

Throughout their exchange, Rhea feels her cheeks getting hot and she wants to tell them both to shut up and stop embarrassing her. But then she sees the smile on Dakota's face, and the flicker of curiosity in Shayna's eyes, and she decides that just this once, she'll let her two favorite people have this one.

Shayna's gaze darts over in Rhea's direction, the two of them making eye contact for a moment before turning their attention back to Dakota. "Since we're apparently sharing secrets tonight," Rhea begins, locking eyes with Dakota. "I think it's worth mentioning that Shayna and I did some things together, before you and I met." As she talks, she takes the drink out of Dakota's hand and replaces it with a glass of water.

"I kind of suspected," Dakota says, taking a sip. "Why did you two stop?"

Rhea and Shayna share a quick smile. "Well in case you haven't noticed, we're both very dominant," Shayna says. "And it was a constant power struggle. I mean, don't get me wrong, we had fun. But it just didn't work enough for it to be something that lasted a long time."

Dakota is quiet for a moment, and Rhea can see the wheels turning in her head. "What are you thinking about baby?" she asks.

A few more seconds tick by before Dakota answers. "What if you tried again?" she asks. "The two of you, I mean."

Rhea furrows her brows in confusion. "Kota, are you trying to say you don't want to be together?" she asks.

Dakota shakes her head quickly. "No, definitely not that," she says, her eyes wide. "I mean..." she trails off, looking down at her hands. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"Hey, you can tell us," Rhea says, lifting Dakota's chin and looking into her eyes. "We won't judge you. We'll just listen."

A faint blush paints Dakota's cheeks. "Well, you said that it didn't work between you guys because you're both dominant," she begins. "But what if you had a submissive?"

The room is silent, Rhea and Shayna both taking a moment to process Dakota's words. "Dakota, what are you suggesting?" Shayna asks.

"You," Dakota begins, pointing at Shayna. "You," she continues, pointing at Rhea. "And me."

Rhea's breath momentarily catches in her throat. "You would be okay with that?" she asks Dakota. "With adding another person in?"

Dakota nods. "I wouldn't be suggesting it if I wasn't okay with it," she says. "But I do want to make it clear that I'm not talking about a friends with benefits situation here." She turns to look at Rhea. "What you and I have is real. It's about love and trust, not just sex. And if you are okay with it, I want the three of us to have that."

Rhea is silent for a few minutes before she finally speaks. "How long have you been wanting to do this?" she asks.

"Do what?" Dakota questions. "Add someone else to our relationship?" Rhea shakes her head, and Shayna's expression changes.

"She means me," Shayna says, and the look on Rhea's face tells Shayna that she was right in her understanding of Rhea's question. "How long have you wanted me to join you?"

Now it's Dakota's turn to be quiet, hesitating for a moment before responding. "Since War Games," she admits. "I mean, I told Rhea when we first started dating that I was open to polyamory. But you specifically? War Games."

Shayna looks at Rhea, and the two exchange a small, knowing smile. "Why didn't you say anything?" Shayna asks. "You've been holding onto this for a long time."

Dakota squirms a little, taking another sip of water. "I didn't know how you would react," she says. "I didn't want to make assumptions about your history with each other, and I didn't want either of you to feel like I was pushing you to share anything you didn't want to share." She looks up at them, trying to read their expressions. "Well? Are you two just going to leave me hanging here?"

Rhea lets out a small laugh. "Baby, I had a feeling you were interested in both of us," she says. Dakota's jaw drops in surprise, and Rhea's smile grows. "You're not exactly subtle about your feelings," she explains.

"And you didn't think to say anything to me?" Dakota asks, still trying to process the fact that her secret feelings weren't actually a secret.

"Okay, in hindsight maybe I should have said something," Rhea says. She turns to look at Shayna. "Well, do you have any feelings that you would like to share?"

For the first time that night, Shayna is the one blushing, playing with the drawstrings of her hoodie. "I mean, I'll admit that I've thought about what it would be like with you," she says, locking eyes with Dakota. She shifts her gaze to Rhea. "And I think you and I both know that our feelings from before didn't go away."

Dakota smiles, her eyes bright. "So?" she asks. "What do you think?"

There's a moment of silence that hangs between the three of them. "I'm willing to try," Rhea says. "I would be lying if I said I've never thought about it."

Shayna nods. "Same here," she says. "And I know you two probably have things that are yours and yours only. I don't want to impose or get in the way. So if I overstep, please tell me."

Rhea slides over on the couch, making space on the other side of Dakota. She locks eyes with Shayna and nods, inviting her to join them. "If we're going to do this," Rhea begins as Shayna sits down with them. "Then I want to make sure we do this right. I feel like we need to sit down, establish boundaries, negotiate needs and expectations. And I'm not just talking about the sex and kink stuff, although that is part of it. I'm talking all of it."

"I agree," Dakota says. "But I don't think that's a conversation that we need to have tonight. It's getting late, and we have all been drinking."

"How about we talk over breakfast tomorrow?" Rhea suggests. Dakota nods, and Rhea leans down to whisper something in the Kiwi girl's ear. A shy smile appears on Dakota's face, and she nods again. "Why don't you spend the night with us?" Rhea asks, directing her attention to Shayna.

Shayna hesitates, caught off guard. "I don't have any of my stuff with me," she says.

"We have stuff you can use," Rhea says. "And our bed is plenty big enough for all three of us. Just be warned, Dakota gets very clingy while she's sleeping."

"It's not my fault you steal all the blankets!" Dakota protests. "I get cold at night!"

Shayna laughs. "I think I'll be just fine," she says. "But are you sure you're okay with that? I mean, that's a big step to take this soon."

Rhea gives Shayna a look. "First, it's not like I'm suggesting you fuck her," she says. "Well, not yet anyway," she adds with a little smirk. "And second, Dakota said earlier that she wants the three of us to have something real. And that means trust. So I need you to trust me when I say that I want to go all in with this, and know that I will set boundaries where they need to be set. But this isn't one of those things."

Shayna nods slowly. "Okay," she says, her shoulders relaxing as some of her anxiety leaves her body.

Gently, Rhea pulls her arms away from Dakota's body, giving the smaller girl a soft nudge towards Shayna. She nods at Dakota, giving her a smile of encouragement.

Dakota turns to Shayna. "Do you mind?" she asks, testing the waters. Shayna nods, opening her arms and letting Dakota close. "It's okay," Dakota says, feeling Shayna's hesitation. "Rhea wasn't lying about me being a cuddler."

Shayna smiles. "That doesn't surprise me in the least," she says, wrapping her arms around Dakota's body. Dakota looks up to meet Shayna's eyes. "Can I kiss you?" Shayna asks quietly. Dakota nods, and Shayna leans down to close the gap between them.

The first kiss between them is soft and careful, neither one of them wanting to push the other too far. They pull away from each other for just a moment. And then, to the surprise of all three of them, Dakota leans back in, guiding Shayna's lips to meet her own. This time the kiss is longer, and Shayna's fingers get tangled in Dakota's hair.

When they separate again, Dakota is quiet and her cheeks are flushed pink. "That was," she starts to say. "Wow."

Shayna laughs a little, and she lets Dakota's head rest against her chest. Turning towards the other end of the couch she sees Rhea watching them with a smile. "How are you doing over there?" she asks.

"Oh I'm wonderful," Rhea says. She slides over to join them on the couch. "Mind if I join?" Dakota's eyes light up and Rhea tugs her close, kissing her in a way that is familiar and warm. They pull apart and Dakota slides over to the other side of Rhea, nudging her closer to Shayna. "You sure?" Rhea asks, and Dakota nods. Rhea turns to look at Shayna. "Can I?" she asks.

Shayna nods. "Yes," she says, her voice quiet and shy. Rhea wastes no time in closing the distance between them. There's a moment of struggle, of fighting for control between the two dominant women before they seem to fall into place. The kiss is long, and Dakota can't tear her eyes away from them.

When they pull away from each other, Shayna looks over Rhea's shoulder at Dakota, who has been watching them with a fond smile on her face. Dakota blushes, but doesn't look away.

They go upstairs, and as the three of them get ready for bed, there is a distinct lack of discomfort. Instead, it feels like the last piece of a puzzle has been added, and it's now complete. And when they climb into bed, Dakota slides under the covers between Rhea and Shayna, and it just feels good.

Rhea wasn't kidding when she said that Dakota is clingy in bed. Shayna wakes up to find Dakota's limbs tangled in her own, and she can't help but smile at the sight of the pink-haired girl blinking her eyes open.

"Good morning," Shayna says, pushing a piece of Dakota's hair to the side, looking into the smaller girl's eyes.

Dakota smiles up at Shayna. "Morning," she says, her voice still sleepy. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in months," Shayna says as Dakota slowly sits up.

The door swings open and Rhea pokes her head in. "Oh good, you're both awake," she says. "Breakfast is ready."

They sit down for breakfast, and for a few minutes nobody says anything. Finally, Dakota speaks up. "So, I guess we should talk?" she asks.

"Absolutely," Rhea says. She looks across the table at Dakota. "Would you rather start with the relationship stuff or the sex stuff?" she asks.

Dakota hesitates, caught off guard by the question. "Probably the relationship stuff," she says, her voice a little timid. "Although I don't know how much there is to talk about. We all like each other, and while I can only speak for myself, I don't have any concerns about anyone becoming a third wheel." She turns her attention towards Shayna. "I know that Rhea and I have been together, but that doesn't minimize any feelings I have for you."

Rhea smiles fondly at Dakota. "I agree," she says. "Even just last night, everything felt right and complete."

"I'm glad you two are both feeling good about this," Shayna says. "My only concern is that I don't want to overstep. You two have already built a relationship together. I don't know what things you want to keep between the two of you."

Rhea and Dakota lock eyes for a moment, and a silent conversation passes between them. "When I said I wanted this," Dakota begins. "I meant all of it. There's nothing that Rhea and I have that I don't also want to have with you."

Shayna starts to protest, but Rhea stops her. "You can follow my lead," she says, her voice reassuring. "I know you might mess up, and that's okay. We'll figure it out as we go along."

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, and then Shayna nods. "Okay," she says. "But if I do something wrong, you have to tell me."

"I will," Rhea says quickly. She stands briefly, refilling their coffee mugs before returning to the table. "So now that we've covered that, should we discuss the sex stuff?" She looks at Dakota, who is suddenly very interested in the kitchen table. Rhea taps the table in front of Dakota. "Hey, what are you thinking baby?" she asks.

Dakota looks up, her cheeks pink. "I don't really know how to talk about this stuff," she says. "I mean, I know we've talked about it before, but its been a while since we've really talked in detail."

Rhea smiles fondly, giving Dakota's hand a squeeze. "Why don't I talk, and you let me know if I'm missing anything?" she suggests. Dakota nods, and Rhea turns to Shayna. "As you can probably tell, she's easily flustered," she says.

A small smile forms on Shayna's face. "Yeah, I gathered," she says. Dakota lets out a sound, something between a squeak and a whine, the flush in her cheeks deepening. "Don't worry, it's adorable," Shayna says, smiling at Dakota, who only squirms in response.

"That's what I'm always telling her," Rhea says, and they both laugh.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Dakota asks, but she's smiling and her eyes are bright with a nervous excitement.

Rhea gives Dakota's hand another squeeze. "So," she says, returning back to the subject at hand. "How much do you know about BDSM?" she asks Shayna.

"I know enough of the basics," Shayna says. "I've never been in a relationship with a serious dynamic like you two, but I'm definitely not new to the concept and I've done enough to know basic safety stuff." She turns to Rhea. "I'm guessing you two don't swap roles?" she asks.

Rhea nods. "Yeah," she says. "And you're only a dom?" she asks.

"Except for a couple of nights on the independent circuit, yes." Shayna takes another sip of coffee. "I mean, I can be submissive if I have to. But I prefer not to be."

Threading Dakota's fingers in her own, Rhea nods. "So, anything in particular that you like, or don't like?" she asks.

Shayna thinks for a moment. "I'm good with bondage," she says. "Less so with gags." Dakota breathes a sigh of relief, and Shayna raises an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you feel the same way there?" she asks.

Dakota nods. "The idea of not being able to make a sound..." she trails off, shuddering slightly. "Not appealing at all." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, tapping the screen a few times before sliding it across the table to Shayna. "There's my list," she says.

On the screen is a list that details Dakota's comfort level with various aspects of BDSM and kink, color coded and organized in a way that only she could have thought of. "You just have this with you?" Shayna asks, picking up the phone. Dakota nods, and Shayna smiles fondly at her. "Let's see," she says, scanning the list. She looks up at Dakota and raises an eyebrow. "Spanking, huh? Didn't see that one coming."

"She's full of surprises," Rhea says, making Dakota blush yet again.

Shayna continues to look through the list. There's nothing on it that she hasn't tried before, and Dakota's list of things that are off-limits is surprisingly short: whipping, blood, wax, and choking. All things that Shayna doesn't have any interest in trying. "Why am I not surprised that you've got a praise kink?" she asks, a teasing smile on her face.

Dakota rolls her eyes, but she's biting back a smile. "Rhea said the same thing," she says.

"Oh, it's great," Rhea says. "Especially when you throw some pet names in there. If you think she's cute blushing now, just wait."

Dakota whines, her cheeks pink. "How are you guys able to talk about this so casually?" she asks.

"A lot of nights in hotel rooms together," Shayna says. "Admittedly those conversations were usually the result of a combination of jet lag and alcohol. And yes, you did come up in those conversations a few times."

For some reason, the thought of Rhea and Shayna sitting in a hotel room together discussing BDSM and kink, and her, sends butterflies through Dakota's stomach, and she feels the heat in her cheeks spread to the tips of her ears. "So," she says, trying to change the subject. "About my request from last night. Still want to show me?"

Shayna, who was about to take another bite of food, drops her fork in surprise. "You were serious about that?" she asks, staring at Dakota in shock.

Dakota nods, and Rhea smirks at Shayna with satisfaction. "Told you so," she says, nudging Shayna, who playfully shoves her away. "She wasn't that tipsy last night mate, I told you she was going to bring it up again."

A faint blush comes into Shayna's face. "Hey, if you're not comfortable with it, I understand," Dakota says, placing her hand on top of Shayna's.

"No, I'm fine with it," Shayna says. "I'm just not really used to other people seeing me in a submissive position."

"If it makes you feel better, I really just want to see what you two did when you were figuring it out together," Dakota says. "I'm not asking you to let Rhea fuck you. Unless of course, you want that and she's okay with it," she adds with a little smirk.

Rhea laughs, and Shayna can't help smiling. "I don't think that's what I want," she says. "But showing you what we did to figure it out, I'm okay with." She looks at Rhea. "How about you?" she asks.

"Oh I'm more than okay with that," Rhea says. "Why don't we finish up here and then we can head upstairs. We've got nothing else to do today, and I think it's time to transition from talking about things to actually doing them."

part 2

[celestial-thoughts]

three isn’t always a crowd - part 2

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Dakota Kai x Shayna Baszler

Word count: 3.2k

Author’s note: spice was promised, so here’s 3,000+ words of spicy, fluffy goodness. once again, big thanks to my lovely prism trap anon for all your amazing ideas. 

read part 1 here

They do just that, finishing up their breakfast and going back up the stairs to the bedroom. Shayna helps Rhea get the bed ready, while Dakota slips into the bathroom. They replace the regular gray sheets with smooth red silk ones, removing the comforter from the bed. Rhea pulls a black box out from under the bed and places it in the corner.

Dakota emerges from the bathroom, still wearing the shorts and t-shirt she had slept in. "How are you feeling?" she asks Shayna, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"A little nervous," Shayna admits. "But I'm okay."

Rhea wraps her arms around Shayna's torso. "I'll guide you through things," she says, reassuring her. Then she turns her attention to Dakota. "I was thinking maybe some light bondage, if you're okay with that."

Dakota nods, her eyes bright. "Wrists and ankles?" she asks.

"Just wrists for today," Rhea says. "We have plenty of time. I want to make sure we're doing this at a good pace for everyone." She sits down on the edge of the mattress, pulling Dakota down onto her lap as Shayna sits down next to her. "Before we do anything though, I want to establish a safeword." She looks at Shayna. "Dakota and I have a couple that we use, and we can absolutely keep those. But if you have one that you would prefer, we can discuss that."

Shayna thinks for a moment. "What do you guys use?" she asks.

"Eevee," Dakota says. "The inspiration for my first ring name. And red is our backup."

"I'm good with that," Shayna says. "I've mostly used the stoplight system, but I'm not sure how familiar with that one you guys are."

Rhea speaks up. "I've used it before," she says. She looks at Dakota. "Do you know what that is, love?" Dakota shakes her head.

"It's pretty simple," Shayna says. "Green means everything is good to keep going. Yellow means pause and check in, catch your breath. And red means full stop immediately."

"That might be good for today," Dakota says. "Since I'm guessing we're going to be checking in pretty frequently."

Rhea absentmindedly plays with Dakota's hair. "We can try using it today and see if you like it," she says. "But you can still use Eevee and we'll take it to mean the same thing as red. Does that sound okay?" Dakota nods.

"One other question before we do anything," Shayna says. "What do you typically do for aftercare?"

"It depends on what we've been doing up until that point," Rhea says. "But usually Dakota looks for some kind of physical touch right away, so after she's out of any restraints used there's usually cuddling for a bit. Sometimes I'll grab a damp cloth to get her cleaned up, especially if we've been going for a while and she's worn out. Eventually she'll need an actual shower, which requires physically carrying her into the shower because once she gets into the cuddling, it's hard to get her to do anything else."

Shayna nods. "That all sounds perfect to me," she says.

Dakota looks from Shayna to Rhea. "So can I see what you guys did now?" she asks, eyes bright with excitement.

"Patience baby," Rhea says, kissing the top of Dakota's head. She turns to Shayna. "Still want to do this?"

Shayna smiles fondly at Dakota, the smaller girl's excitement helping to stop the nervous butterflies in her stomach. "Yes," she says.

Dakota slides off Rhea's lap and sits down on the edge of the bed. Shayna waits for Rhea to stand before following her to the center of the room. "Okay, so it might look a little different since obviously there's a height difference," Rhea explains to Dakota.

"Okay," Dakota says, eyes focused on them. As Rhea guides Shayna into position, Dakota feels something stirring deep within her. Suddenly, Rhea holds onto Shayna's legs and flips the former fighter to her stomach. Dakota sees Rhea's lips moving as she talks to Shayna, but all she can hear is her heart racing as she feels the heat of her desire spreading through her body.

Rhea looks over at Dakota, who is watching with wide eyes. "Like what you see baby?" she asks.

"Yes," Dakota says, her voice airy and her cheeks flushing pink. She bites her lip watches as Rhea gently sets Shayna down and gives her a kiss before helping Shayna back to her feet.

"Oh, you really liked that, didn't you?" Rhea asks Dakota, sitting down next to her. Dakota nods and Rhea smirks. "First sign that she's turned on," she tells Shayna. "If she bites her lip, and her voice sounds all soft and airy."

Shayna raises an eyebrow. "Good to know," she says, sitting down on Dakota's other side.

Dakota squirms a little, flustered by Rhea casually sharing her secrets, but doesn't protest. "Color?" Rhea asks her.

"Green," she replies immediately, and Rhea smiles.

"Why don't we get some of these clothes out of the way?" she suggests. "Is that okay princess?" Dakota nods, blushing at the use of Rhea's favorite nickname for her.

Rhea turns to Shayna. "Don't be afraid to use pet names," she says. "Especially in the beginning of things. They can help her to relax and get comfortable."

Shayna nods. "Can I take care of this, dove?" she asks Dakota, running her fingers along the hem of her t-shirt.

"Yes," Dakota says, her eyes bright with excitement.

"I take it you like that name?" Rhea asks. Dakota nods and Rhea smiles. "Whenever she sees or hears something that she likes or makes her happy, her eyes light up like they did just now," she explains to Shayna.

Slowly, Shayna gently tugs Dakota's t-shirt up over her head to reveal the light pink bra that perfectly matches Dakota's hair, and sets it aside. She runs her thumb over Dakota's flushed cheek. "Is this okay?" she asks quietly. Dakota nods, and Shayna pulls her closer, giving her a soft, tender kiss.

When they pull away from each other, Dakota has a shy smile on her lips. "Can I help you with these baby?" Rhea asks, fingers brushing the waistband of Dakota's shorts. She nods, lifting her hips and letting Rhea slide the fabric down her legs. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" Rhea teases, lightly running a finger over the unmistakable dark spot on Dakota's light pink underwear.

"Don't be mean," Dakota whines, cheeks flushing pink with warmth.

Rhea tilts Dakota's chin up towards her, giving her a kiss. "Still doing good?" she asks when they pull apart. Dakota nods. "Color?" Rhea asks.

"Green," Dakota says with no hesitation.

Shayna, slowly gaining more confidence, begins to trace her finger around the edge of Dakota's bra. "Can I take this off?" she asks Dakota, feeling the smaller girl melt into her touch.

"Please," Dakota says, eyes wide and breathing growing heavier.

Rhea runs her fingers through Dakota's hair as Shayna reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra. Dakota lets the garment fall from her shoulders and onto the floor. She feels her cheeks heating up as Shayna gazes at her breasts. "Beautiful," she says.

"You can touch if you want," Dakota says. She slides over to sit on the edge of the bed, between Shayna's legs, her back to Shayna's chest.

Gently, Shayna runs her hands up Dakota's torso, settling on her breasts. "I take it she likes being touched like this?" she asks Rhea, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Oh she loves it," Rhea says, not missing the blush spreading to Dakota's ears. "Especially if you play with her nipples." Shayna leans in, kissing the side of Dakota's neck, thumbs brushing over the tops of her nipples. A little gasp escapes Dakota's mouth and Rhea smirks. "Just like that," she says. "Seriously, if you want to get her worked up, this is how to do it."

"Seems like she's already pretty worked up," Shayna says, still focusing on Dakota's nipples.

Dakota lets out a flustered whine. "You guys are so mean," she says, but she's smiling and it's clear that she doesn't mind the teasing.

"You know you love it," Rhea says. She brushes her thumb over the front of Dakota's underwear. "Can I get rid of these?" she asks.

"Yes," Dakota manages to say, shuddering as Shayna rolls her nipples between her fingers. "You're really good at this," she says, peaking over her shoulder at Shayna.

Shayna smiles. "I'm glad you think so," she says.

Rhea tugs at the waistband of Dakota's underwear, and the smaller girl lifts her hips so they can be pulled down her legs and onto the floor. Rhea nudges her legs apart, eyes roaming over her dripping slit. "You've got her really worked up," she tells Shayna, who smiles at her words.

"Please," Dakota whispers, blushing under the gaze of both Rhea and Shayna.

"What is it princess?" Rhea asks. "What do you need?"

Dakota lets out a soft moan. "Please make me cum," she whimpers.

Rhea smiles up at her. "Good girl," she coos, watching Dakota's cheeks go from pink to red at the praise. "Such a good girl, telling us what you need." She looks at Shayna. "Do you want to watch first? Or do you want to get your hands on her now?"

"I think I want to watch," Shayna says. "I want to see how you make her feel good."

Nodding, Rhea looks back to Dakota. "How do you want it princess?" she asks. "Do you want my fingers?"

Dakota shakes her head. "Your strap," she says, still shuddering as Shayna continues to play with her nipples.

Rhea smiles. "Okay love, I can do that," she says, standing up and crossing the room to the box in the corner. "Which cuffs do you want?" she asks.

"The padded ones," Dakota manages to answer, trembling with pleasure as Shayna rolls her nipples between her fingers.

Retrieving the cuffs from the box, Rhea makes her way back over, holding not just the cuffs, but a black harness and red strap-on. Shayna watches as Rhea guides Dakota to the center of the bed, leaning her back against the pillows. Without being told, Dakota raises her arms above her head, letting Rhea cuff her wrists to the headboard.

"Out of curiosity," Shayna says. "Why cuff her arms above her head?"

Rhea smirks. "So she can't hide her face," she says. "She's absolutely adorable when you're making her feel good."

Dakota squirms, face flushed as she tugs at the cuffs. "I am not adorable," she insists, watching as Rhea puts on the harness and gets the strap ready.

"Yes you are," Shayna says, leaning in and kissing Dakota. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

A shiver runs up Dakota's spine at Shayna's words, as Rhea nudges her legs apart. "Ready?" she asks Dakota.

"Yes," Dakota breathes, looking up at Rhea with wide eyes. "Please, Rhea." She lifts her legs and wraps them around Rhea's waist as her girlfriend straddles her, the tip of the strap pressing against her entrance.

Rhea smiles down at her. "Alright princess, just relax. Let me make you feel good." Slowly, she slides the strap into Dakota, feeling the smaller girl's heart beating faster. Gripping Dakota's hips for support, she begins to move, her hips rocking as she slides the toy in and out.

"Faster," Dakota gasps, eyes wide as the toy pumps in and out of her. "Please." Rhea does just that, thrusting again and again until Dakota is incoherent, reduced to moaning and gasping.

"Does that feel good, princess?" Rhea asks. "Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?" Dakota nods, shuddering with pleasure. "Want to cum?" Rhea asks.

Dakota's eyes widen and she nods. "Please Rhea, please make me cum," she pleads.

Rhea smiles. "Alright love, show Shayna how good you are and cum for me." Dakota knows she should feel shy about Shayna seeing her like this, but all she can focus on is the wave of pleasure rolling through her body as she climaxes hard, eyes shut and head tilted upwards.

When she comes down from her high, it takes her a moment to catch her breath. As her breathing returns to normal, her eyes flutter open and she sees Rhea standing next to the bed removing the harness. And Shayna, sitting on the bed, looking at her with a fond smile.

Heat rises in Dakota's cheeks and she instinctively tries to hide her blush but her wrists are still cuffed above her head. She ducks her head, a shy smile on her lips.

"How was it baby?" Rhea asks, sitting down with Shayna.

Dakota peeks up at Rhea through her eyelashes. "Really good," she says quietly. "Thank you." She turns to Shayna. "What did you think?" she asks.

"I think you look so pretty when Rhea fucks you like that," Shayna says, not missing the way Dakota squirms. "Can I make you feel good, dove? Or is that too much right now?"

"Please," Dakota says, her voice shy but still eager. "Please Shayna. Make me feel good."

Rhea gives her a soft kiss on her forehead. "Do you want to keep the cuffs on?" she asks. Dakota nods, and Rhea smiles. "Okay love, we'll keep them on."

Shayna settles between Dakota's legs. "How do you want me to make you feel good?" she asks. "With my fingers or my mouth?"

"Both," Dakota answers, her eyes wide with excitement and desire.

Rhea sits on the bed next to Dakota, not touching her, just watching. "Do you want me to talk you through this?" she asks Shayna. "Or do you want to just go for it?"

"Maybe some help once I get going," Shayna replies. "I kind of want to just get started first before trying anything new." Rhea nods, and Shayna turns her attention to Dakota's dripping slit.

Slowly, she drags a single fingernail over her folds, just grazing. Dakota shivers with delight, already sensitive and worked up from everything they've done with her so far. Then, with careful precision, she slides a finger in.

Even though she's pretty sure she knows what Dakota's answer will be, Shayna still has to ask. "Color?"

"Green." The response from Dakota is immediate, and Shayna wastes no time in adding a second finger. She curls her fingers once, testing the waters, and a moan tumbles from Dakota's lips, her hips bucking at the stimulation.

Shayna turns to Rhea. "Okay," she says. "So what works well for her?"

"Don't underestimate what a little bit of pressure on her clit can do," Rhea says. "Just pressing with your thumb, or pinching lightly will get a great reaction from her."

Dakota, who has been blushing practically nonstop since they started this, lets out a flustered whine. "Please," she begs, bucking her hips again.

With her free hand, Shayna gently pinches Dakota's swollen clit between her fingers, and a sound somewhere between a scream and a moan rips from Dakota's throat. "Please, Shayna," she manages to say. "Need your mouth on me."

"Okay princess," Shayna says with a smile, curling the two fingers deep inside Dakota again. She turns to Rhea. "Any advice?" she asks.

"Focus on her clit," Rhea says. "That's where she generally enjoys it the most."

Shayna nods, lowering her face to Dakota's quivering clit. She latches on, sucking and licking with careful, calculated strokes. Her fingers continue to curl and uncurl inside Dakota, who continues to let out desperate moans and gasps of pleasure. Removing her lips from Dakota's clit, she gently blows on the spot where her tongue was a second earlier.

"Please!" Dakota moans, hips bucking at the cool air on her swollen clit. "Please, please make me cum Shayna," she begs, her breathing quickening.

"Okay baby," Shayna says. "Cum for me." She resumes licking at Dakota's clit, her fingers inside still moving with a steady rhythm.

Considering how worked up Dakota already was before Shayna got started with her, it comes as a surprise to no one that it takes less than a minute for Dakota to cum. With one smooth flick of Shayna's tongue over her clit, Dakota felt the wave of pleasure crashing down. She lets out a sound that Rhea has never heard her make before, a scream of pleasure from somewhere deep inside of her.

As Rhea watches Dakota come down from the high of a second orgasm, she realizes that the smaller girl's breathing is more labored than it usually is after she climaxes. "Breathe Kota," she says softly, rubbing her girlfriend's shoulders. "You did so good. Just breathe baby. Can you do that for us?"

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Dakota's breathing returns to normal, and she slumps back against the pillows. "That was," she begins, searching for a word to explain how good Shayna had just made her feel. But her brain is still coming down from everything, and she can't find the right words. "Wow," she finally says.

Shayna sits up, gently rubbing Dakota's thighs. "Did I do okay?" she asks.

"Oh you did way better than that," Dakota reassures her. "That was fucking incredible. That tongue thing you did at the end there? Amazing."

"Remind me to have you teach me that one day," Rhea says to Shayna with a smile. She turns back to Dakota. "Baby, I'm going to grab a washcloth to clean you up okay?"

Dakota nods. "Thank you," she says, smiling as Rhea gives her a soft kiss before disappearing into the bathroom.

Shayna slides up on the bed to sit next to Dakota. "Do you want me to take these off?" she asks, running a finger along one of the cuffs around Dakota's wrists.

"Yes please," Dakota says. Shayna removes the cuffs, and Dakota brings her arms down from above her head.

Rhea returns with two damp washcloths in hand. She uses the first one to gently clean between Dakota's legs, then uses the other one to wipe the sweat from Dakota's forehead. She tosses the washcloths into the hamper, before returning to the bed and sitting down on Dakota's other side.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Rhea is rubbing Dakota's shoulders and Shayna is playing with her light pink hair. Finally, Dakota speaks up. "So," she begins. "What did you guys think?"

"I thought it was perfect," Rhea says. She looks over at Shayna. "I know you were worried about messing up, but you did a great job. And at least from my perspective, you did a great job with Dakota."

Dakota nods in agreement. "You did so good," she tells Shayna. "Seriously, it was amazing and I absolutely want to experience that again."

Shayna smiles at Dakota, giving her a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "I'm glad you liked it," she says. "And thank you for helping me," she adds, looking at Rhea.

"You're welcome," Rhea says, reaching across Dakota to give Shayna's hand a squeeze. "Now, what do you need from us princess?" she asks Dakota.

"Cuddles?" Dakota asks hopefully.

Rhea smiles fondly at her. "Of course," she says. And even though the three of them have only been together for a day, they fit together perfectly, a mess of limbs around Dakota, wrapping her in warmth and love.

Some may say that three's a crowd. But here, it's absolutely perfect.