#what it must have been like to actually learn his new powers

[pursuitseternal]

“Antics of the Newly Ascended:” ✨🩸What it must have been like right after the Rite for… everyone…

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.4K of “Ascension Puberty” and Smut

Summary: “I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.

CW: awkward campmates, Vampires stuck on the ceiling, peacock-preening Ascendant Lords, Bride/Spawn Tav also learning what it means to be a vampire, and the hot smut that always delivers (oral sex, hand job, anal fingering, blood kink, dom and sub!Astarion)

Ao3 Link | Astarion fic Masterlist

The First Day…

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A/N: Mostly, I consider this Astarion’s Ascension puberty, that awkward time he’s getting to know his “changing” body… and how it might surprise him sometimes. In my own play-thru, it strikes me that after the Rite, it’s just life as usual for everyone. I like to think there are some lingering feelings and learning curves… so here is some comedy and smut (a gift to @marimosalad because the double stimulation towards the end was her amazing idea 😘)

Not quite “The Rogue You Were” maybe a prequel

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You had heard he had demanded his own room now at the Elfsong. Wyll had told you, his one good eye rolling in its socket with ire. “His Lordship demanded a separate chamber for him and his.. consort,” he had spat the word out with disgust in your direction, “one that befits his new status and power of Vampire Ascendant.” Wyll sneered, put out, jilted. That forever part of him that was a monster hunter and hero still unable to wrap his mind around what you did for love. “You best not keep him waiting, Consort.”

Someday, the Blade of Frontiers might understand. But not today, not one day into Astarion’s reign as Ascendant and your new immortal life at his side.

Now you creep outside his door, just one room over. The same he had stolen you away to last night… when you became his, when you died to be reborn his consort. He had pointedly refused to really call you spawn. And while the memories of that night were hazy, aside from the most glorious sex of your existence, you knew whatever was done was done.

You waited, your hearing even sharper now, heightened as vampire. From behind the door you hear groaning, grunts of effort, and sighs of exertion.

And you frown. Could he really be… taking care of himself… after everything you had done with him last night? Even now this evening, with you merely a wall away? Like you wouldn’t come running for pleasure if he called for you, with or without compelling?

You knock on the door. Hard. Furious. If your heart still beat, it would be racing in rage.

“Leave me,” he barks back.

“Astarion,” you hiss. And then you knock harder. “Let me in.”

Inside, you hear scrambling, boots scraping on wood. A messy hurry of activity punctuated by curses.

If you hadn’t been there yesterday, hadn’t felt the lives of so many flow into your beloved, hadn’t been spattered by Cazador’s blood yourself as the same Infernal ruins were carved in his flesh… you would scoff at the suggestion Astarion was at all changed.

You finally hear the door handle unlock, and riding the swell of your self-righteous anger, you burst in.

“After all I have done for you… all I did to get you that Ascension, all the times I spread my legs, you insist on…”

You freeze. The door behind you shuts by magic. And looking up beside you, you see why. “Astarion,” you begin, much quieter, trying to stifle a laugh, if only from the pure irritation that seethes on his sharp face, “why are you on the ceiling?”

He hangs upside down, that mess of silver curls near standing on their ends. His face is flushing, that newly reborn heart letting all that magnificent, ascendant blood rush to his head. He folds his arms and spreads his legs. As if he could be intimidating while being inverted.

“I told you this morning, my treasure, it will take some time to become acquainted with my new self.”

You scan the room, skin tingling at the memories of pleasure not one day ago. And yet, here he was being more ridiculous than ever before. “So… the private room isn’t just for mind-blowing sex now that you and I are joined for eternity…” you fight the smirk on your lips as his upside down glower deepens. “It’s so you have some privacy as you… practice.”

“Don’t you dare… tell the others,” he growls, pure irritation and annoyance seething in his voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” you chuckle, extending your arm above your head as you walk beneath him. “Need a hand, my beloved vampiric master?”

He pouts, grumbling, but reluctantly reaches to grab you. His fingers wrap into yours, that warm touch of his still shocking and foreign. You pull with all your might, feeling his body release from the ceiling, floating as you tug him down until his feet rest beside yours.

He’s fuming, chest rising and falling beneath that elegantly embroidered tunic he has taken to wearing.

You grin, reaching to stroke his cheek as his parlor resumes that pale luster you know and love. Cleaning your throat, you purr, “And this is where you say…”

“Take off your clothes, my beloved consort,” he smirks and sneers at once, jutting his face into yours until you feel his warm breath on your lips.

“Not until you say…” you pause, arching your brows.

You wait. His lips fluttering, eyes boring into yours with almost glowing red intensity.

“….thank you,” he finally grumbles. Barely audible.

You turn your head, cocking your ear in his direction. “I’m sorry, what was that, my lord?”

“Thank you,” he replies louder through gritted teeth.

You can’t help but have another giggle tickle your throat. “I have no doubts you’ll master your powers in time, and until then, I’ll be here for you, my love, to lend you a hand.”

He gives an annoyed sigh. “By the hells, if the others find out…” he hisses, mad at himself rather than you.

“I think I can keep my mouth shut around them, and busy doing other things around you…” you close the distance between you, small as it might be, raising on your toes to press your lips against his, despite the disdainful pout.

“Hmmm tempting, but I do find myself rather famished…” he pats you on the cheek.

You grin, tilting your neck and sweeping your hair, an offering to sate him as you always have. You hold your breath, his lips hovering over that favorite vein of his. But he merely plants a small pecking kiss. “Delicious as you are, I think I’m in need of something more… filling.”

“Food?” you balk, jaw dropping as he catches your hand and opens the door.

“All of man’s appetites and desires are mine again, and after two-hundred years of food like ash and wine like vinegar, it’s time I started tasting all life has to offer.”

He turns, his face grins in power, but there is something in his eyes. Giddy, almost childish in excitement, like waking to presents on your birthday. It lasts a flickering second before he turns his head. You follow, hand held in his warm grip, led back into the common rooms. The scent of roast pork and vegetables fills the air. He lets your hand drop, making quick strides to the serving table before carving himself a huge hunk of meat off the carcass and ladling a pile of potatoes on the side of his dish.

“Well,” Wyll comments as the vampire settles down in a seat, “never thought I’d see the day when a vampire joins the feast with more than a goblet of blood.”

“First time for everything Wyll,” he croons in reply, taking a hearty bite just for emphasis. He doesn’t even wait to swallow completely before he continues. “First time a vampire ascendant has feasted, or existed, at all, don’t you forget.”

“I doubt you’ll let us,” Karlach teases before taking a sip of ale as ripples of laughter break out.

A bit nervously.

You look at the food, your stomach more than hungry, but… You recall as you lick your lips and catch your new fang on your tongue by accident, it’s not just food you crave.

You hear your name from the group, Karlach again breaking the chatter, “Hurry up, dish yourself a plate and get moving soldier. It’s not the same without you!”

You pick up the knife and begin to carve, but nagging thoughts won’t shut up. Can you even eat this? Can you ever feel full again? Can it ever be the same again, now that you’ve binded yourself to immortality?

A hand rests on yours, Astarion moving your hand in his to finish cutting a slice of pork for your dish, spooning out a helping on the side of the rest. “Eat, my treasure,” he orders softly with that sly smile. “Things won’t be all that different for you now.” You look into his eyes. Sincerity, pride, a flicker of concern. “Things will be different for you than when I was a spawn. You are mine, your veins hold my blood, ascendant blood. And besides, if this doesn’t fill you to bursting, my dearest pet, I suppose I’ll just have to offer you something else in the privacy of our room later.”

You arch a brow, stomach growling at the promise. “I hope you mean more than your cock, Astarion.”

He just grins wider. Feral and sly. Then he places a hand at your back and brings you to the rest of your party. You can sense the relief among everyone else once you sit down on the little couch, Astarion settling so close beside you, your arms rub with every movement. But that is nothing new.

Everyone falls right back into that perfected camaraderie, the only thing missing in the inn is a campfire. The banter and the toasting and the storytelling of the day's events to those who remained behind.

Tonight was no different… and yet, everything was.

Your ears seem to hear every word in the room, more sensitive, more overwhelming. Your stomach gnaws on itself, the plate of food on your lap untouched yet. And then, there is the utterly unfamiliar sound beside you, the gnashing of Astarion’s teeth as he bites into his food with abandon. You watch from the corner of your eye. He can’t seem to shovel it in fast enough… like a man who hasn’t had a morsel to eat in two-hundred years. It’s so… strange. Watching his jaw work furiously, watching the juice of his meal trickle from the corner of his mouth.

Not unlike when he has fed on you, you laugh inwardly. You reach your thumb to clean it for him, and it makes him turn, cheeks full of food, eyes smiling. He takes your thumb in his hand, pressing the juice to your own lips. A silent command to suck. You close your eyes, savoring the brush of his warm touch, hiding your sight from having to observe the others watching you.

You part your lips and suck… stomach rolling in hunger, appetite thoroughly whet with just that drop on your tongue.

You feel his face press against your ear to whisper, “Different for you than it was for me, my treasure…”

You shake him off, too hungry for sensuality, digging into your meal and joining the banter slowly.

Astarion remains mostly silent, laughing to himself here and there. Other than him eating and drinking, he is right however, it isn’t all that different now, you observe. Not yet anyway.

Not until he has you alone in your rooms once more. Hands gripped hard into your hair, cock thrusting down your throat as you kneel before him. You gag and sputter, sucking greedily. Indulging him. Letting him feel that power he’s gained in his life for once. His wild smile as he watches you taking him in so well makes you practically drip on the floor from between your legs. He pants relentlessly, growling praises over you, his little love, his good girl, his greedy consort.

New words, new titles, same obsession.

Same fingers caressing your jaw as it works eagerly, same touch clawing into the back of your head.

Only now his cock pulses with his heart, his skin flushed, his cum warm when it inevitably trickles down the back of your throat.

You swallow, pursing your lips around his cock so he feels every little ripple of your cheeks, your throat. Astarion pants above you, and you can count every one of his heart beats through his shaft in your mouth. “Glorious little love,” he manages to speak, swallowing to wet his throat. “Claiming a kingdom is nothing compared to the sight of claiming you on your knees, darling…”

Two fingers slip under your chin, pressing firmly to release his cock from the wet of your mouth. “On your feet, my love,” he smirks. “Time to give your master all his tribute.”

“You are enjoying this far too much, Astarion,” you purse your lips, smiling faintly and tauntingly as you do stand. “I think you should allow me to choose how you receive your… what did you call it?” You plant your hands on the expanse of his shoulders, feeling the muscles moving under your touch as he reaches to grip into the swell of your ass.

“Tribute,” he purrs, squeezing that fullness commandingly in his palms.

“Oh yes, that,” you tease, devious twists to your lips as you give him a firm shove. But he holds tight, sending you both backwards into the bed. His chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath you. “Why doesn’t my lord make himself… comfortable,” you whisper into his pointed ear, watching it twitch as you run your tongue up its long edge.

“What do you have in mind to please me, my treasure?”

You press him down, clambering on his sprawled, flawless body beneath you, your hands closing around his wrists. His smile says it all as he lets you pin him, arms bent around his mess of silver locks. “You’re so… hot,” you moan, sliding yourself over his erection, feeling it jolting as your body slathers it in arousal.

“I know,” he tilts his head, flashing his fangs and grinding into your folds.

“No, I mean…” His eyes narrow, a flicker of suspicion. “Yes,” you correct with a giggle. “You are heartbreakingly handsome, devastatingly beautiful, ruinous…”

“Better,” he preens with a feral grin. “But you meant my body, my skin, my newly beating heart…”

“It is… different,” you hum, nuzzling into his neck, caressing those two little circular scars that made him what he is. His pulse beats against you, a steady drumming that still startles you.

“Almost as different as the way you make me even harder, darling, now that the mere sight of you demands instant arousal…” His hips buck through your folds again, just to demonstrate. “Now… about your adulation and homage that’s long overdue to your lord and master…”

“Shh,” you press a finger to his thick, wicked, smirking lips. Slinking down, a toss of your hair over one shoulder, and you meet his crimson eyes, dilated wide and glazed with his lust. Gently, you sweep both your hands over the sinews of his thighs, bending his knees for him.

Or, at least he lets you…

He nestles into the bed, languorous, luxuriating atop the thick covers. You let him. You can feel the difference in his being—not the power, the beat of his heart or the tingle of untamed magic that dances erratically in his touch from time to time.

He’s free. Not a care in the world. No fear, no anxiety, not even a trace of suspicion that he might be caught and forced back into hell under Cazador. He has everything now. Even you. Especially you.

You hover there, arms propped up over his hips, the tip of his cock wavering against your breasts as you just observe him. His lips twitch into a smile. “It’s rude to keep your lover waiting, you know…” he purrs. You chuckle. That veneer of power, that rasp and roll in his voice, a performance to sway you.

Not that you need it.

But it will be fun cracking that veneer all the same. You let your hands roam his body, massaging and caressing the powerful muscles of his legs. Their every definition you know by heart now, the glide of his skin on yours a nightly comfort and pleasure for you both.

Your new eyes can count every beat of his heart in his veins, your ears can almost hear that rush of blood pumping, making him achingly hard for you. And it makes you lick your lips. You lap inside his left thigh, bringing a giggle to his throat. “Don’t think I’ll leave you hungry, my pet, but pleasure first.”

“Say please,” you taunt, grazing your new fangs over his skin. As he has done to you a thousand times before.

“What?” he drolls, raising his head a little, your hand flying to the hard planes of his belly to hold him down.

“Say… please… my lord,” you smirk into his thigh, laughing to yourself as you mix submission into your demand.

“Eager to test your new powers as well? Can’t say I’m surprised…” he feigns a dramatic huff. “Alright pet, just this once. Give me my pleasure first…” he places a hand at the back of your neck, drawing you back between his legs, “…please.”

“Good boy,” you rasp before running your tongue up his shaft. You dip your lips over that seeping head of his, his groan of pleasure reverberating in his chest. Your hand, your mouth take him in deeply again, resuming a more delicate pressure, a gentler pace than he demanded of you before. It relaxes him, slowing his pleasure as you feel his skin heating all the more.

And you take full advantage of his ease.

You press a thumb over the tight little pursing of his ass. Instantly making him shake and groan. Both your hands play in tandem, drawing louder and louder hisses from his slack mouth as you beat his cock and circle that hole.

He squirms at the unexpected contact. A pant of need sounds from his mouth. You run your hand through your folds, covering your hand in your own slick, and he laughs knowing full well what you’re doing.

But that laughter melts once you sneak a finger and then two inside him, the delicious sound of his whimpers replacing any giggles. “Gods,” he mewls, “don’t you dare stop.” He manages to speak between the grunts you pull from his throat. Thrusting your fingers deeper inside him crooking and thrusting to make him catch his breath in pleasure. You feel his cock leaking seed down your fingers already, a whine escaping his clamped lips as you find that spot inside him. Cock jolting in your touch as you thrust into him again and again.

You lose no focus on that pulsing cock as well, your hand around his shaft sliding through the lingering spit and slick you’ve left dripping on his cock. His whole body shakes, and you can’t take your eyes off the way he’s coming undone. You’ve given up sucking him, your lips sore at any rate.

Instead, your hands work a magic on him, sweat beading on brow, fangs biting his own lips until they bleed. He clutches the bedding in his fists, and you watch as every vein in his arms strain to the surface with the exertion.

Hips buck in time with your fist around his cock, ass sinking back down on your fingers as he plummets back down each time. “More. I’d like more,” he groans hard, head wagging back and forth. You feel his muscles clenching around your fingers, and you slink another one inside, a louder whimper of approval is your praise. Words have failed him as he can do nothing now but ride the growing wave of pleasure you have sent washing over his oh-so-mighty and ascended form.

His balls tighten, cock shuddering in your fist as he struggles for breath. Every muscle, inside and out, goes rigid and spasms, your fingers covered as spurt after spurt of his cum erupts everywhere.

A hand flies to his face, palm over his mouth to hide the little pants he’s making as you squeeze out the last of his seed and slide your fingers out from inside.

“Is my lord… so… very… pleased?” you taunt, crawling to watch as he tries to regain composure, to salvage that dominating veneer of power.

Handsome face twitching, he can barely put two words together. “Obviously,” he manages to eke the word out. “That was…” he pauses to pant, body still shaking beneath you with the last tremors of his climax, “…amazing.” His arm comes to pull you into his chest, to press your supple, if cold to the touch, body into his embrace.

You hear it, the racing of his heart as you rest your head on his chest beside it. A slice of envy, of uncertainty, slices into your heart and twists your gut. And from the way his hand paws through your hair and down your back, you’re sure he’s readying himself for another round.

You swallow, hesitant, your thighs clenching as his hand begins to snake between them. He senses it, your unwitting reluctance. That familiar yet unfamiliar warm touch ghosting higher on your leg. “Darling,” he purrs into the top of your head, “something the matter?”

You shake your head even as your words scramble their own way out. “Last night,” you whisper almost inaudibly, “you said you would miss my warm flesh…”

“And…?” He lets the question hang in the air. Lets you speak the rest of it on your own tongue.

“Do you?” you mutter, unable to look into his face, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Not if it means I can plunder you for all your riches for all eternity, my treasure,” he croons, slowly rolling you on your back. Crushing you with his wiry frame until you wriggle against his every inch. “But, if you’re truly worried about how delicious you’ll feel…” he holds his wrist up to your mouth, “why don’t you break in those virgin fangs, my pet?”

“You mean?” you finally look up, the hunger in his eyes, the pride to see you licking your own new-formed sharpened teeth.

“I do indeed, my dark consort,” he smirks so wickedly, your own hunger for his blood and his body flames to life. It blinds you as you look into his eyes. “You’ll only need a taste,” he grins with a rakish tilt of his head, “I swear it.”

He presses the inside of his wrist to your lips, that warm skin brushing you with its softness. You can hear it, even in that small span of his wrist. Thump… thump… it makes your stomach flare, an empty pit, hungrier than you ever were for food.

And just for him.

You press your fangs into his skin. Hesitant.

A firm grip snakes behind the back of your neck, his laughter in your ear as he shoves you into his flesh harder.

Hard enough to pierce him, to let his blood flow on your tongue and tingle your mouth with its power. Rich and delicious, sweet and tanged with just the same flavor as his scent. You suck, greedily, a vague feeling you’ve tasted it before.

His other hand rubs up the back of your head, lacing his commanding touch through your hair, cradling you, keeping you feeding. His eyes flicker shut, tongue licking his lips before his mouth goes slack in his own pleasure.

He likes the way it feels, having you feast on him, drinking down his ascendant blood to pool in your belly.

“Can you feel it?” he murmurs, “my power flowing in your veins… my heart beating in your breast.” His hand ghosts down over your shoulder to cup firmly around that breast. “Your skin is flushing, your folds will swell even fuller the more you take me inside you…”

You release your mouth, a moan slithering from your sticky throat as his fingers pluck and play with your nipple.

“There is no one more worthy of this than you, my little love,” he slides his wrist from your lapping tongue, fingers clawing loosely around your throat to lift you against his own hungering lips. “You need not fear anything, I told you, not even the worry that your immortal flesh would ever repel me, my darling.”

You curl into his arms, letting his warmth seep through you, inside and out. His kiss dances slowly with your lips, his tongue licking all his blood from your fangs and lips. A hum of satisfaction rumbling in his throat, “Mmm… You taste… divine…”

“You mean… you taste divine, my love,” you laugh into his kiss. You place your hand against his neck, softly pushing him off of you.

“I do indeed,” he purrs, his knee shoving your thigh to the side, spreading you wider. “As do you, if I may?” His silver brow arches, wry and mischievous. You tilt your head, your neck already sore from last night, from where he sucked you dry. You hiss, delicious pain slicing through you, his fangs in your neck burying the same moment his cock sheaths into your folds.

Hip undulating slowly, he drinks noisily behind your ear. And you do feel on fire, burning as hot as him, the friction of his thrusts, the trickle of your blood down your neck… they scald you.

They make you feel alive in his arms, alive with him fucking between your thighs.

It’s enough to shatter you in a matter of moments, his lips barely off your bleeding neck before you clench and spam around his pulsing cock. Your voice tears from your throat in a scream. So much fuller and hotter than ever he felt inside your walls. Thicker. Heating you from within. The pressure drives you wild, your climax more intense than ever as you writhe beneath him, as stars cover your vision and pleasure steals your breath.

He laughs again, that tickled giggle to watch you panting to catch your breath, barely able to make a sound more than a whimper yourself. “That’s right, my pet, let them all hear you through these flimsy walls….”

You laugh, breathy and quick, wrapping your thighs tightly around his waist. “So quick to forget what I managed to reduce you to?” You steal a hand back to his clenching ass, returning your touch to that tight little hole.

He gasps, biting his lips as if to keep himself from crying out again. “Don’t you ever tell them,” he growls, smiling with that predacious gleam in the crimson of his eyes.

“I don’t need to,” you can’t help but laugh, letting the words already in your mind already make you smile. Even if they are his own… even if he just might make you pay deliciously for them for the rest of the night, “given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know…”

[bloggerspam]

Jazz is very nervous. 

She tries not to visibly fidget, sitting with Danny on his bed waiting for her new sister to pop in. It’s the first time she’s meeting the fabled Dani-with-an-i, and she wants everything to be perfect. 

She checks, for the fifth time, that there are enough cookies and milk (in a regular thermos) and that Danny’s room isn’t in too much of a clutter. She adjusts her clothes again, and breathes in and out in steady increments as slowly as she can so that Danny doesn’t notice.

It’s Saturday, and Danny is excited. She can tell, even if he’s acting like he doesn’t actually care what’s happening from behind the screen of his phone. He’s no doubt texting Sam or Tucker, trying to calm himself down. She knows this is important to him, that they get along.

It’s important to her too. She had to parent Danny ever since they were little and she knows now that it drove a wedge between them. As terrible as it sounds, if it weren’t for the portal accident, she’s not sure if they could have ever recovered. 

She still mother hens him sometimes, but she’s been more of a sister now, and it’s all so very new. She’s desperately trying to keep that precious role he’s bestowed upon her, and she’s afraid if this doesn’t go well she’ll lose both her little brother and her little sister. 

She checks the cookies and milk for the sixth time. 

A rhythmic knock of 4 beats tap on Danny’s window, and they both turn to see a very familiar face phasing through the glass. The newcomer hesitantly settles themself onto the floor, eyes glancing back and forth between Danny and her with wariness. Oh gosh, Jazz knew Dani-with-an-i was a clone, but she didn’t think they would actually look that much alike considering their different genders. 

“Hi! You must be Dani-with-an-i!” Jazz tries to inject as much chipperness into her voice as she can to mask her nervousness, but she’s not sure if she succeeds. 

“Must I?” Dani-with-an-i drolls. Ah, definitely Danny’s clone. 

“You must.” Danny slips off the bed and lunges at her, transforming into Phantom halfway through before they tumble through the room like little delinquents. The peals of laughter make all of Jazz’s anxieties go away. It’s nice. It’s lovely. 

She coughs loudly, to get their attention, and it’s gratifying to see Danny immediately pop up to face her. Dani-with-an-i takes a second, but follows along. That, too, makes her feel happy. 

“Cookie?” Jazz feels her smile turn into a grin as she holds up a cookie in each hand. The two Dannies share a look, before lunging at her.

From there it’s amazing. It’s like Dani-with-an-i has always been there, as the third sibling of the Fenton family. They’re laughing and learning about each other, sticking to lighter topics, as Danny has already told her about Dani-with-an-i’s entire history and current travel log. 

Two hours later, they’ve demolished the cookies and milk. They’re doing a sort of rudimentary medical check now, to make sure Dani-with-an-i is stable. She and Danny have been transforming back and forth, doing small scale tests with harmless powers. 

Jazz decides she should go downstairs to grab some real food for the two of them before their parents come home, so she gets up to grab the tray of empty glasses and cookie plate. She struggles a little bit as she tries to open the bedroom door with the tray in her hands to go down, only for the door to swing open for her from the other side instead. 

She comes face to face with her parents, right as Danny de-transforms behind her. 

It’s a blur after that. 

There’s screams, lots of screams. Get back here Ghost! comes up. Ghost scum and Specimen and a whole slew of other expletives are said multiple times. 

Danny’s room is trashed and the hallway suffers from burn marks and a lot of holes. 

They can’t be reasoned with.

They’re grabbing weapons, they’re shooting at Dani-with-an-i, they’re shooting at Danny.

Jazz tries to stop them, but Jack sweeps her away like a mosquito. She slams into the wall. 

“We’re going to rip you apart, molecule by molecule!” Jack growls, reaching towards Danny as he dodges the swipe. 

“Oh Jack, more specimens!”  She sees Maddie smiling widely as she aims for Jazz, her mother’s voice bringing shivers down her spine and causing her to freeze up.

This is, apparently, the worst case scenario. 

Thankfully, Team Phantom was prepared for this eventuality.

Danny tackles Jazz through the floorboards with a shout in ghost speak that apparently means something to Dani-with-an-i since she dives through the shared wall of their bedrooms. Something about the go-bags? Right. 

No matter how many times he’s done this to her, intangibility still feels weird. Jazz shuts her eyes until she feels them touch down in the basement. She’s shaking but she has no time to think about it--the second Danny lets go she grabs the keys to the Specter Speeder and rips open the door. There’s banging happening two floors up. They have very little time. 

She runs around tossing all of their parents’ weapons that have any sort of tracking functionality to them into the Speeder--she’s memorized where they’re kept. She can hear Danny messing with the portal to set it to self-destruct like they planned for in case things ever got really bad. He’ll input a code into the house system next, one that Tucker made to destroy everything digital. 

Just as she’s grabbing all of the thermoses she can carry in her arms, Dani-with-an-i appears with two bags slung over each of her shoulders, with a tote bag (the one Jazz keeps on her doorknob) stuffed with snacks. 

She hears the banging come closer.  The portal beeps twice, the minute warning bell Tucker programmed to count down the self-destruct, and the dread in her stomach builds like a crescendo.

“Danny!” She screams, grabbing Dani-with-an-i and jumping into the now cramped Speeder. 

Danny sets all the papers around the lab on fire, and jumps in, slamming the door just as the basement door bangs open. 

Jazz revs up the Speeder. The take off is a little bumpy, but the portal will be destroyed anyway. The Speeder can take a scrape or two. Judging by the sounds of blasts impacting the metal hull behind them as they finish passing all the way through the portal opening, it can take a couple blasts too. 

She can’t focus on anything other than getting far far away, but Dani-with-an-i whispers that the portal door is gone. She didn’t even know there was a window in the back of the Speeder, but apparently there is. 

She takes a breath, putting the Speeder on autopilot towards the Far Frozen as planned, and turns around to see her siblings.

They’re a little worse for wear, but they’re safe. They’re safe. 

She grabs them both into a tight hug and cries. 

===

This is chapter 1 of my fic for @invisobang 2024, read the rest here on AO3!

Inspired by this fanart and prompt by @impyssadobsessions!!

[felassan]

Some notes from today's new BioWare Blog post, which contained some new character insights and also gave some information on what is coming next and when:

Creative Performance Director Ashley Barlow helped to cast and direct over a thousand conversations in the game

Lucanis is bloodthirsty, calculated, and a workaholic. He was raised with high expectations and fears disappointing those he loves. To him, being an assassin is his only job and identity to be excellent at. He's constantly attuning himself to the kind of shifting terrain of every mission. There's a lot of love between him and Illario

As Zach is a comedian, he would easily find the humor in anything Lucanis was saying

Neve is a Shadow Dragons rebel who cares deeply about helping people and never leaves work half-done. Epler: " [she is] the working class hero trying to make her hometown better"

Emmrich is sincere, friendly, scholarly, sophisticated, eager to teach and learn, a well-meaning but oblivious academic, with a "hot nerdiness". He assumes everyone has an academic's curiosity so can be pedantic on select topics

The Mourn Watch are revered in Nevarra but odd at best and evil at worst outside of it

Nick: "I love the fact that the writers took Emmerich and explored the whole idea of death and the whole idea of necromancing by bringing kindness into it. I really responded to that and got into that and I know it sounds crazy, but it’s to not have this idea that death is vulgar or something to be terrified about, but something to actually engage with on so many levels. I just love the fact that the writers had the courage to do that in a game like this."

"Often Nick is just playing off of someone making a sound, and he takes it and internalizes it and gives it meaning and care, which is amazing to watch."

The world has changed a lot since DA:I

Harding has been leading teams through the wilderness while covering friends in battle

Harding loves her mom. She loves to write letters home and is always talking about her mother. She likes plants and raising plants. She has grown and is a veteran now, a trusted voice at the table

Footage of the full DA:TV @ SDCC companions panel should be available in a couple of weeks

Next month there will be a new roadmap, more looks at the game, and the reveal of the release date

[emphasis mine]

And this paragraph:

"Dragon Age: The Veilguard sees players embark on a perilous quest to face powerful Elven gods and stop the apocalyptic destruction they’re unleashing. You’ll step into the role of Rook, battling on the front lines alongside a deep and compelling cast of companions who together comprise The Veilguard, a group of heroes who have come together to stop the veil from breaking and bringing about the end of the world. Rook must become the unexpected leader who can rally and unite the group. Throughout the game, you can explore the detailed storylines of each companion, navigating love, loss, and complex choices that influence your relationships."

[source]

[the-californicationist]

The Fox & the Hound (Ch. 01)

Inspired by a tag on @ceilidho's tumblr post reblogged by @garbagecompactor3263827 where Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.

MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS

AO3 Link - Comments/Reblogs very appreciated

You watched him prep in the shared bathroom. People were bustling in and out, and a lighting manager was handing him a fresh razor, reaching over him for her films. He trimmed around his fat, flaccid cock with a practiced hand, getting the hairs just right. Part of you wished it was still the 80s when bush was en vogue . The rest of him remained furry, thankfully, and just as you were about to tend to your own garden, he caught you looking. That same glint in his eyes sparkled, like a hound that had spotted the writhing tail of its fox, ready to crack its bones in his huge maw. He’d been looking at you like that all day. He laughed, but he didn’t ride you for gawking. If anything, he looked a little relieved. What had you gotten yourself into?

Nothing had gone according to plan. This was your first real shoot, and the original actor who had set you up with this production company wasn’t even in the film. Film , your internal monologue chided you, it’s a porno, you filthy slut . Okay, a porn film. You’d sent nude photos here and there, and you’d even landed in Playboy as a back-page lube advert girl. It was a start. But, now, here you were about to shoot your first porno , and the only thing you knew about this guy was that he had fought for this part. 

He was beyond famous. You’d heard that Johnny Dangerous was the man of the hour, and that most of the girls who needed to boost their bankrolls called him up to ask him to co-star. You’d never even heard of him until today, and after hanging around the catering cart, you learned that he was the one who had paid actual money to star with you. 

It was probably some power play. Maybe it was your novelty. Banging the brand new porn actress must have been some sort of game. You didn’t care. This one gig was about to pay off your loans and buy you a brand new car all at the same time. You just needed to survive Mr. Dangerous. 

“Honey, are you comin’? We gotta shoot outside before the sun goes down.”

The voice came from the doorway, but you weren’t the honey, for once. They were talking to him. He didn’t answer. He just nodded, dismissing them, throwing his bright green swim shorts back on and rubbing the remainder of the oil into his broad chest. He was staring at you, biting hard at the inside of his cheek like he had a secret. Then, his expression became resolute, and he spoke to you softly, the way you do when you’re trying to coax a cat out from under a car,

“You gonna make it, lass?”

“Yeah,” you swiped on some waterproof mascara as an excuse to stare into the mirror and not at him, “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. That seems normal.”

“It is,” Johnny moved closer to you, fluffing his own eyebrows in the mirror right alongside you, “Very normal. I’ll take care of you, hen. Nothin’ to worry your wee head about.”

You smiled. You didn’t want to thank him, exactly, but you wanted to be nice. Cordial. Professional. 

It wasn’t very professional of you to stare at the way his cock bounced as he adjusted his shorts, though, was it?

Then, to your shock, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips, tasting your sticky, cherry gloss, and saying, 

"See you in a bit, bonnie. Gonna make you feel real good." 

You stopped. He was gone, and for the first time that afternoon, you were alone. He lingered in all of the cracks and crevices of you, though. Now that he had pressed his lips to you, the spell had begun, and you realized you’d be fucking this man for hours. You drank your water from your icy jug, trying to turn it into liquid courage.

“Okay, okay, uhh… cute, yeah. Love it,” the director, Mike, appraised you like he worked on an assembly line, swooshing you over to the diving board with his hand, clutching a venti Starbucks cup in the other, “You look great, babe. Go sit on the diving board and let’s do a little preamble. Feel yourself up, pretend that you’re sunbathing in Malibu and not fuckin’ Santa Clarita, mkay?”

You made your way over to the diving board, walking in a way that you assumed was sexual, making a sexual face, and moving your hands across your tits…sexually. You thought it was a fine job until you heard the cut whistle. 

Mike was behind four people, two cameras, and an iPad when he shouted at you again,

“This isn’t a goddamn church service, babe. C’mon. I get hard when Chuy over here drives too fast, and this is not doin’ it.” 

“Sorry,” you said, moving back to your mark, determined to be positively the sexiest sunbather he had ever seen. 

“Mikey,” you heard Johnny’s voice call out, “Lemme kick it off.”

“Shut up, Johnny. I can’t afford your extra minutes, you skank,” Mike laughed and sipped his triple caramel mochaccino. 

Johnny came out from his shaded tent and cut his eyes at Mike before staring right at you,

“No charge. Just want it to be right.”

“Ugh,” Mike rolled his eyes behind his too-small sunglasses, “You and your…” he used scare quotes, “... art . Fine. Whatever. I just don’t want to shoot in the goddamn dark, so hurry up.”

Johnny walked around the pool, stroking himself across his shorts to stay hard. He was so thick that it looked like he was petting a handle of vodka back and forth. You tried to control your face, but you were getting more and more nervous as he came closer and closer to you.

“C’mere, bonnie,” he pulled you up from the diving board and held you in his arms.

If it wasn’t for the twenty people sweating to death in black tech clothes and eating dried-out hummus from foam plates standing around you, you would have felt like you were at your high school formal, being cradled gently in hands that wanted to do so much more. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispered. 

You obeyed, for some reason. There was nothing else to do but obey him. 

When he bent to kiss you, you knew it was for the cameras, because the angle of his face was open and softly spread so that the way he sucked your lips into his mouth would be seen by A and B-roll film. You kissed him back, trying to turn the sexiness up to eleven, rubbing your hands on his rigid cock to appear wanton and needy. 

He shuddered, and you thought you’d done something wrong. The look in his eyes told a different story. They were feverish, daring, and his pupils were fully blown. You could smell the coconut sunscreen someone had applied to him, and you could feel his breathing quicken in his huge body. 

Mike’s nasally voice came over the speakers,

“Let’s get a boom in there and pick up some of the kissing noise, please. Also, Johnny, some of your famous accent there, baby. You know what the ladies like.”

You were being kissed again, now set up for everyone to hear. He was devouring you, and you tried to keep your footing, grabbing his hulking shoulders and running your hands across his hirsute form. His muscles rippled and stretched beneath your touch, and he spoke his lines,

“Thought you would sneak into my wee pool, did ya, hen?”

You gave your voice a high-pitched lilt,

“Yes, I just wanted to get nice and tan.”

“Aye?” He pulled the tie on your bikini top, “Wouldn’t wanna get any tan lines, huh?”

You shook your head no, kissing his bare chest and feeling the top slither off of you to hang around your waist. 

“Wow,” his voice had changed its timbre, “Look at these pretty tits. Jesus…”

Johnny brought his mouth down to your nipple and sucked on it, licking on your beaded nub until it tightened for him, making sure to allow the camera man a full view of your perky breasts as they filled his hands. 

You moaned, and then you remembered to moan the right way, high and whiny. The higher the pitch, the higher the profit, they’d said. 

Johnny stopped suddenly, looking you in your eyes,

“Go back, lass. The first way. Do it the first way.”

“Johnny!” Mike complained, “Do you wanna come sit in this fuckin’ chair, or are you gonna focus on gettin’ your fat dick wet? Stop directing mid-scene. Cut. Cut. Start over with the tit sucking, and we’ll take it from the top,” Mike changed the tone of his voice and smiled at you, “You’re doing great, babe. Ten outta ten.”

You felt Johnny move his mouth to you again, but this time, his eyes were watching you, looking at you and waiting for you to make a choice. He was eager to make you moan, sucking hard and then soft, letting his long tongue lave over you like an animal, nibbling at your skin and making your blood rush to the surface. 

You moaned for real, testing the waters. Johnny smiled so wide you could see his back teeth, his jaw open and parting to let his tongue come forward to do its work. 

“Tha’s it, hen. Lemme hear you.”

His enormous hand squeezed your other breast, and he moved his mouth between them, stirring up your pleasure like a whisk in cream. Soft peaks. 

You obliged. The more you moaned, the more he fondled. He was yanking at your strings and ripping the bikini from you quicker than you had assumed he would be, especially since you were still in the outdoor scene. Wasn’t this all supposed to be inside?

“Christ,” Mike groaned, “I look at my email for five seconds and you’re almost nose-deep in her asshole? Johnny, this was supposed to be at couch scene three. Can - hey! Can somebody get him a book?”

Someone handed him a book, and he tossed it in the bushes,

“I dinnae care if it’s scene five thousand, Mikey. Just shoot it vérité, mate. Just like old times,” Johnny barked. He was getting more and more ruffled as Mike kept cutting in, almost like he was impatient to be done with it. Done with you?  

Mike turned his head to his assistant and asked,

“How many minutes do we have? Are we good? Okay. Okay!” He threw up his hands, “Okay, Johnny, you prima donna bitch. Let’s take it inside.”

The Someone with the book now passed Johnny his robe and he shouldered it on. He looked around and barked again,

“Aye! Hers? Give it here.”

He then had your robe in his hands and put it over you, cloaking you in its soft terrycloth, making sure you were covered. It was such an abrupt stop to your pleasure, one that you were not used to making, and your body railed you for it. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples ached, and your belly was full of butterflies. He held your hand as you walked inside. Just as you were about to get into position four on couch three, he pulled you back, nodding up at Mike and his team of people.

“Okay, lets get lighting on couch scene three, Billy. Hey! Hotdog! I didn’t say pull the lamp. Put the lamp back. Thanks, my man. Two more clicks on the warm light. Okay, gross, one click. Perfecto.”

Mike’s head popped over his iPad,

“You lovebirds ready for scene three?”

“Hang on,” Johnny grumbled, removing his swim trunks and flip-flops. 

He positioned himself on the couch and spread his legs, jerking himself back to full hardness and staring right at you as he did so. 

“C’mon, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”

You made your way over to the couch and knelt down. You didn’t mean to, but you hissed when your knees hit the cold, hard tiles. 

“Sorry!” You whispered to him.

He took his hands off his cock and pulled you onto the couch with him,

“Here, bonnie girl. Like this instead, yeah?”

Johnny pushed himself out along the length of the couch so that you were both laying on it. You placed your knees on the arm of it, raising your bare ass in the air for B-roll shots, your face perfectly positioned at Johnny’s raging hard-on. It was massive up close. His plump head and thick rod had seemed normal in his huge hands, but now that your small fingers were wrapped around him, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 

“Okay, fuck,” Mike smiled, drinking his coffee and nodding, “That’s hot. Good call, new girl. Smart.”

You smiled back at Mike, grateful for the praise, feeling like you were going to knock it out of the park. Then, Johnny’s cruel hand grabbed your hair and turned your head up to stare into his eyes. He grinned like a demon,

“You don’t have to smile at him, lass. He’s a fuckin’ bawbag.”

“JD! Can we get on with it?” Mike rolled his eyes. 

You got on with it. Something in Johnny’s demeanor had stirred a dark place in your belly. He was possessive, and he didn’t like you smiling at Mike. He did like the way you took each of his balls in your mouth and sucked on them with loose, pouty lips. His moans were cut short, not wanting to over-saturate the reel with male grunting sounds. Apparently, the straight male audience wasn’t a fan of anyone’s grunting but their own. 

He also liked when you tried to take him into your throat, moving your head as far as you could down his shaft, choking on his cock until you felt drool coat the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto him, and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch you fuck your own face with his shaft. 

“Okay, while Johnny’s taking a nap or whatever that face is, let’s get B-roll in here for her mouth. Also, let’s take a minute or so of that gorgeous ass she’s got up there for us. That’s gonna be money, my friend. You are gonna be Miss Popular!”

In the place where you were staring before, Johnny’s face of agony and bliss, now there was a big, black lens. You could see yourself, bobbing up and down hungrily, and you pulled out all the stops. You suckled gently on his glans, lapping up his precome dutifully, enjoying it enough to moan again. 

He jumped, and Johnny’s hand snaked its way under the camera to squeeze the life out of his shaft. 

“Hey, mate, move to B-roll of her ass, would ya?”

The camera man laughed,

“About to lose it, Johnny? I thought she was the newbie.”

“Shut up, mate.”

You stayed stock still, watching as the camera moved to your rear end, feeling beyond exposed. You played with your pussy, spreading it open, fingering yourself, all of the things you were supposed to do. And, to be honest, it felt great. You needed to come so badly, a warm breeze would have been sexy to you at this point. 

Johnny stared down at you, his dick still in the prison of his fist, panting,

“How are we doin’, lass?”

“Good, you?” You appreciated the check-in. 

“Good. Ready to fuck you. So damn ready.”

His voice and his eyes were predatory. You felt like his prey. Prey had claws, too, though. So, you licked his shaft again, and you fed his own line back to him,

“I’m gonna come so fast. You’re gonna make me feel so good, baby.”

His face changed into a look of shock. Just then, Mike rang the bell,

“Alright, it’s couch doggy and - what does this say?”

“Light,” someone told him.

“Okay, light spanking? You okay with that new girl? It says you signed off on it.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. 

“Okie dokie, just checking. Sweet. Let’s get there.”

Johnny was standing at the arm of the couch, positioned behind you were you couldn’t see him. You felt his hands rub your cheeks and spread them wide, opening your core up to him. Then, that long tongue was lapping up your wetness, and he was talking with his mouth full,

“Mmf, so wet for me, lassie. That’s my good girl.”

Your pussy clenched and you knew he could see it. You thought he might laugh or make some other comment, but he kept your secret, licking the inside of you with soft, languid strokes, you gave him another clench - this time on purpose - waiting to see if you could rile him up again. 

“Oh, fuck,” Johnny moaned, “You’re so ready for me. Fuck me, wait.”

He stopped eating you out, which was the opposite of what you were going for. This shoot was a disaster, and you really needed this gig.

“I’m sorry!” You said, turning around.

“What?” His brow furrowed, “No, just wait. Mike!”

“What is it now? Johnny - this is why I didn’t call you about Manuel Ferrara’s gangbang.”

“I just need my bag.”

Mike’s sigh was theatrical,

“Everyone take five.”

The bell went off again. You sat on the couch and the same someone brought you your robe and a water. You smiled and thanked them. Johnny had disappeared, but when he came back, he was wearing a thick, black cock ring, tightly secured around his shaft and balls. 

“Okay,” he sighed, sitting by you on the couch, robeless.

“Are you alright?” You asked, offering him some of your water.

He took it, gulping down two huge swallows before responding,

“Aye, lass. Just had to stop myself from ending this show too soon.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise,

“I thought it was for the opposite reason. Must be hard to keep it up for such a long time, especially with all these breaks.”

He laughed,

“Usually, yeah. But, not today.”

His eyes were raking over you, still hungry for you even though he’d seen it all already. It would have been a lie to say you weren’t hungry for him, too. It was intoxicating, the way he stared at you, eager and joyful. You weren’t surprised he was so popular. 

“Annnnnd, we’re back, people! Baby, could you perch up there again, please? Now that Mr. Princess is done preening, we can shoot a fucking porno.”

You repositioned yourself back to where you were, and someone came by to re-oil your ass cheeks. They felt shiny, and you hoped you looked great. Watching the film was going to be humbling, but this was your first time and you were learning so much. 

Johnny took his place behind you, and you felt the familiar, heavy slap of a cockhead on your pussy lips, sticky and exciting. You gasped. He responded, 

“That’s right, hen. It’s time for your reward.”

He began to feed his head into you, and the crown of it popped into your hole with some resistance. Behind you, his thick fingers spread your cheeks apart, and you felt one hand leave just to return in a sharp smack. You cried out louder. He sank in a little deeper, moaning right along with you. He slapped your ass again and growled,

“Fuuuuuuck, that’s too tight, that’s too tight. Oh, Jesus.”

You keened, embarrassed, but unable to stop the noise that came out of your mouth. 

“You like it, lass? Gettin’ this pretty little cunt all stretched out for me. Gonna make you beg for this cock and only this fuckin’ cock, ain’t that right?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, your voice straining, “Only this cock, baby. Fuck me nice and hard.”

You regretted every word because he was pleased to oblige you. He slammed himself down into your aching hole, pressing through your walls, through your wetness and the oil and the lube, and it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were tearing apart, especially when he pressed you onto his hilt. 

Everything slowed way down. You saw white, for a moment, and you felt tears well up in your eyes, burning on their way down your cheeks. He was trying to ease you though it, but you were coming on him. Your whole body was shaking and trembling, and his girth was forcing an orgasm to rattle through your core. You even felt him fighting to stay inside of you, battling against your tightening walls, desperate to keep his position, nestled at your womb, deep within you. 

“Oh, fuck! Lass! Holy God, that pussy is tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You felt him slap you again, but the sting was gone. Your body had flooded you with orgasmic endorphins and adrenilne, and it was going to take a lot more than a “light spanking” to get your attention away from the cosmic nova exploding in your belly. 

Johnny’s thrusts were that of a hungry beast. He didn’t falter, nor slow, nor stop to check and see if you were even still alive. He was chasing himself down inside of you like a dog with its tail. Over and over and over, you felt the heavy weight of him pushed forward, smacking into you, feeling his hips snap repeatedly spearing your core with his enormous rod. He was grunting with abandon now, just barking out cries along with you, and when you looked at him over your shoulder, his face was bent and twisted in such a rage that it frightened you. He looked inhuman.

Suddenly, you were lifted from the couch, and his hands were around you. He flipped you over and held your thighs pressed down to your chest, creating an even deeper angle. You regained your thoughts quickly enough to hold your legs pinned for him, only half-worried that you’d tumble off the couch. 

You weren’t sure it was possible though, since his grip on your waist was so punishingly tight. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that you were feeling it in your bones. Your hips were taking the brunt of his sex-fueled wrath, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow. 

Then, his fingers found your clit, rubbing accurate and pleasure-filled circles around and around, making your lips swell with intensity. You were going to come again, and you told him so,

“Johnny… you’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Come,” he snarled down at you, his eyes wild and haunted, “Come on me. I wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me out. Come. Come. Come, lass. Come for me, pretty girl. Oh! Oh, there it is. Yes, yes, yes, good girl. Good girl. Fuck!”

He rode you through your orgasm and stalled, leaving himself inside of your fluttering walls, basking in the sensation, trying to catch his breath. Johnny sat on the couch and you climbed into his lap, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it back into your dripping hole. 

“Bonnie,” he sighed, kissing your neck and grabbing your ass in both of his hands, “You feel like heaven. God, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, don’t stop.”

You were rocking back and forth on him, and you could feel his swollen head rubbing at the end of your pussy, bullying your cervix, making you feel too full. 

“It’s too much, baby,” you confessed, squishing your breasts together and letting him move his mouth across your nipples once again, “You’re too big. Filling me up… I’m so full.”

“You’re so tight, lass.”

He said it like a prayer. His eyes were glassy as they stared up at you. All of his bravado and flirtatiousness was gone, and it had been replaced by boyish wonder. It was as if it was his first time to feel the inside of a woman, to be hugged, warm and wet, engulfed in her core and playing within her the oldest song known to man. You sang it for him, not for profit anymore. His bewtichment was complete. You were totally and completely ensnared by him. 

Then, he held you to him, clutching you to his chest and screaming out loud, braying and writhing beneath you. He was coming. You felt him pulse, over and over, spilling and foaming and frothing around the edges of your hole, soaking you from the inside. 

You rode him slowly, back down from his high, and he gasped with every roll of your hips, looking at you in some sort of horrible ecstasy. 

Mike’s bell went off in your ear.

“Okay, folks! Thanks so much. Let’s wrap it. I’m sure some of this is salvageable. Johnny, and uh… whatever your name is, you still owe me garden scene six and upstairs… um, is it pool table? It’s pool table. Wanna be back here tomorrow at two?”

Johnny gave an exhausted thumbs up, and so did you, finally sliding yourself off of him with a wet milky sound. 

“Um,” you tried to catch your breath, “Thanks, for helping me today. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked at you quizzically, almost a little hurt. It was a confusing face to see, but you didn’t really know him that well, so you waited for his reply.

“Sure, bonnie.”

You untangled your legs from him and pulled on your robe, leaving him on the couch. You needed a shower and some brand of fast food, as soon as physically possible. 

The bathroom was steaming when you hopped in, and you were covered head to toe in coconut smelling soap when you heard a knock at the door. 

“Uh, come in?” You peeked around the glass partition.

It was Johnny. 

“Got room for one more, lass?”

You looked around behind him, half-expecting a camera to pop out. He noticed your reticence, and he shook his head,

“Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“Hey, yeah. Sure, if you want. Come on in,” you moved deeper into the shower, letting him step into the billowing steam. 

At first, he was silent, just washing himself, scraping the suds over his body and sharing the water with you. But, then, he asked,

“Wanna get a bite? I’m starvin’ to death.”

“Me, too,” you laughed. 

“Class,” he smiled.

There was another long pause, and then when you turned off the water, he stepped into your space, too close to be friendly, 

“What if I was still hungry for you as well, hen? What would you say to that?”

The water dripped from the head of the shower in a soft tinkling pattern. You breathed each other’s breaths, inching closer and closer until your lips touched his wide chest, the hair smeared flat from the warm water, rivulets rushing down his belly to his crotch, dripping off of him and of you. 

You kissed his chest again, feeling him shudder under you as if he hadn’t just come inside of you minutes ago, packed with anxious excitement. 

Smiling up at him, you took a chance, 

“Your couch or mine?”

Chapter 02

[bet-on-me-13]

Oliver Adopts Danny

(Note: I have no idea what exactly happened on the island and made up my own thing. Also I had no plan when making this and it shows)

...

So! When Oliver landed on that Deserted Island, he wasn't alone.

On the Island, there was a Little Kid.

He was about 7, and he was just as confused as to why he was there. Apparently he had been sleeping at home when all of a sudden he felt himself falling, and seconds later he hit the ground in the forest. He couldn't remember anything past that, or really anything before that as well. He had seemingly lost his memories.

So, Oliver was stuck helping a Random Kid while trying to survive on the island.

He did learn that the Kid was a Metahuman with the ability to make Unmelting Ice, but the kid seemed disappointed by his powers. It was like he expected them to be stronger than they were. When asked, he said that he didn't actually know why he felt that, like it was something else he had forgotten.

And that was how the situation stood for a few years. He and the Kid, who he eventually learned was named Danny, became closer. He took up a paternal role in the kids Life, trying to keep him safe from the dangers of the island.

Danny was also a huge help on the island, his Ice was useful during Hot Nights, and the fact that it was Durable and Didn't Melt made it a good material for their tools. He also knew a lot of random skills, like the basics of how to shoot a Bow and how to set up a Campfire.

By the time they had been there for 3 years, Oliver already saw Danny like a Son. He had decided long ago that when they finally left the island, he would adopt him.

Then, on the 4th Year, Oliver found something strange. There were tracks in the Dirt on the less explored side of the Island, Human Tracks.

Following them, he found the source, An Illegal Slave Trading Ring.

The Base seemed to be new, so they had probably set up shop a few weeks ago at most. He and Danny must have missed them because they didn't usually go to that side of the Island.

He returned to the Camp that night and contemplated what to do.

It took another few days for him to resolve himself to go and save those people.

It took another few weeks to prepare himself.

It took less than 30 minutes to get the Job Done.

By the end of that night, every Slaver on the island was Dead, and the slaves were set free. They still didn't have a way off the island, since a few of them had managed to sabotage the boat before they died, but Oliver and Danny were there to help them.

By the 5th Year, they basically had a Small Village set up back there their Camp used to be. It was a community of all of the people Oliver had managed to save that night, all working together to survive on that Mysterious Island.

Then one day, finally got some luck. A Fishing Boat had gotten lost on their usual Route, and had spotted the SOS Signal that they had set up on the Beach.

After that it didn't take long for everyone on the Island to be saved. Oliver asked the former slaves to keep his heroics a secret because he wanted to keep him and Danny safe from the press, and they all agreed.

So, Oliver went home and adopted Danny.

He also decided to become a Vigilante.

And then eventually he joined the Justice League.

And one day while showing his son around the newly build Watchtower he ran into Constantine, who then proceeded to ask "Why the hell do you have a mini-death god holding your hand?"

...

I have no idea what this was supposed to be. I wanted Oliver to adopt Danny, and I wanted it to be on the Island, but I had no idea how to do it.

My basic idea for it is that Danny accidently wished for a Good Dad one day and Desiree heard him. So she turned him into a Kid, sealed away most of his Powers, and sent him to the Island with no memories past age 7.

Maybe this was "Ghost King Danny"?

Idk, I like it more as "King Danny who rejects the Throne but is still basically the leader because he keeps helping people no matter what" but that's just me.

Thoughts?

[charmwasjess]

Strap in for the Soresu form III Obi-Wan lightsaber post. This is gonna be a sad one, girlies. We’re getting into Obi-Wan’s Fucking Trauma. 

Qui-Gon’s death changed literally everything about Obi-Wan’s life, right down to the lightsaber form. Still a Padawan himself, he had to watch as an extinct monster from his nightmares* utterly took apart the form he’d learned since he was a child, and then, to complete the destruction, slaughtered the teacher who’d taught him the form and raised him. The devastation of Qui-Gon’s actual death had to be the last in a cascading series of horrors that started with the gut-sinking realization that Qui-Gon was losing. And if all of that weren’t enough, Obi-Wan also loses his own lightsaber in the same duel, a psychological blow to his personhood which we don’t have to guess at the significance of. Obi-Wan tells us the cost of it himself in AotC: this weapon is your life. 

The Duel of the Fates on a sheer physical level is a devastating thing to consider. It’s a grueling, full out running battle, the likes of which we don’t see elsewhere in the saga. The beauty (and pounding musical score) of the fight distracts from the sheer brutality of it. Maul is physically attacking them at every turn; he manages to kick Qui-Gon hard enough to knock all 6’3 of him off his feet; he dumps Obi-Wan into a fall that seems to be several stories high. We don’t see Obi-Wan get back up off the floor with Qui-Gon’s body at the end of the duel, and I’d be surprised if he was physically able to even stand again so after the adrenaline faded and the soreness and exhaustion took over. He just been whirled in a lightsaber blender. 

I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to pick up a lightsaber again after the trauma of that battle - much less, a new, unfamiliar one, not the kyber crystal that had been his since he was a child. The new canon’s emphasis on the spiritual relationship between a Jedi and their crystal makes this detail even more excruciating. The Ataru form itself must have felt broken and unusable. How can you put your trust in a form once you watched it be broken so ruthlessly?

And this is where Obi-Wan is so endlessly beautiful as a character. He goes through this horrifying experience of violent unmaking, and instead of avoiding lightsabers as an understandable trauma response, or picking up an overwhelming power and dominance form like V, he remakes himself into a master of Soresu: a form of simple, complete defense. He doesn’t attempt to become a weapon of attack like Maul did to disintegrate Ataru; he makes himself invincible, untouchable, with a perfect defense. Soresu works the pieces that fell apart for the Jedi in the Duel of the Fates to an advantage. It is a form of ultimate endurance, of playing out your opponent and staying up in a fight until the attacker is exhausted or angry. It preserves and it lasts. It is philosophical. It is considered. It lacks the showy flash of Makashi or Ataru and returns to the basics, even working in some of that battlefield meditation that Qui-Gon so believed in. And in that simple economy, it’s gorgeous and effective. 

I have to wonder: is Soresu, on some level, a form of kinetic self-soothing for a person who faced an incredibly traumatic battle at a young age? Does Obi-Wan use it that way?

All of this is perfectly in keeping with the themes of the character. Obi-Wan’s story remains about life, about hope, about survival. The word he uses to describe the Jedi to Luke in the OT is important to me. “Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice.” Guardians. And what better lightsaber approach for a person who sees his role as one of protection than a form whose signature move is called “The Circle of Shelter?”

*Maul, of course, is a tragedy in his own right, but that’s a different post. 

[alaiis]

So I want to talk about the Olympic games opening ceremony.

Apparently it's been watched by 1 billion people around the world, so this spectacle promoting queer relationships, women and revolutionary ideals must show quite a progressive picture of France. The fact that so many fascists are crying over it must make it good, right? Right?

We saw statues of important women in the ceremony, like Simone Veil, Louise Michèle and others. I'd like to remind people that today, many of these women would be on the file compiling terrorists and potential terrorists. You know, like so many people who happen to be leftist activists and learned they would not be able to work for the Olympic games or attend them when they tried. For past acts of activism that date years and never resulted in convictions most of the time.

All around the ceremony, LVMH, that luxury brand, was everywhere. Bernard Arnault (currently richest man on earth) surely grabbed the spot for these games. What a great ad for his brand.

The ceremony, which was presented as a "street ceremony for the people" actually only included a few privileged people able to spend 2,000€. The city was empty. The city is empty.

They locked up kilometres and kilometres of the city, where only few can go. Paris is barricaded. Some hospitals have become inaccessible.

They sacked so many homeless people so that the tourists wouldn't see them. Who knows where they are now. They sacked students from their homes too, before even the end of exams. And when the police came and took their rooms, they complained about the housing conditions. Well that's how our students live all year, but that's not a problem then.

And then I could talk about the surveillance conditions, Macron's friendship with the worst world leaders, that they tried (and failed) to make the Seine swimmable by spending billions on it meanwhile people in the colonies over-sea regions still don't have drinkable water. I could speak about the work conditions, that most of the work was made with undocumented workers and so. Much. More.

But that would be a very long post.

So after seeing this opening ceremony and all the great, progressive messages it carried, what you need to remember is this.

France is a police state.

France is a classist country.

France almost elected the far-right to power less than a month ago, and the far-right is still more powerful than ever.

France is a queerphobic country. And a very, very transphobic country.

France is a racist country, where Arabs get murdered while barely making regional news.

France is nothing like what we showed.

That was propaganda at its finest.

[guaxinimraccoon]

Agora, a pergunta q nn quer calar: por que o Toby roubou o livro?

MEU DEUS eu achei que já tinha dito isso em algum lugar, mas dei uma procurada aqui e nada de achar o link disso pq eu NUNCA EXPLIQUEI DJKSKJDSKJDS MALZ bora lá

My bud here asked a very important question: why Tobias stole a very sacred and important book?

The short answer is: because Tobias has a curse and he wanted to find a cure.

OMG HOW- calm down, first things first.

As I said before, when Alex and Elisa started to take their relationship more seriously, Alex would hang out in the Colony using a shrinking potion and preteding to be an imp. He was well accepted as one by Elisa's fellow imps and fairies and they never had many problems with his disguise.

But there was this one, powerful, envy fairy who took notice that something about Alex was... off.

She started to do her own investigations and ended up finding the truth out: Alex was no imp, but a human in disguise. Although, to her, this was actually very good news.

Why? Because this fairy - Irwalia - comes from a family that has been preaching an ancient propecy over a century now. Said prophecy omens that, one day, a being with the strongest of souls - a fairy soul - and the strongest of bodies - a human body - would be born to free the Colony from it's decades of war.

There are a lot of fairy families that preach this prophecy till this day, but all of them are taken as delusionals by most of the Colony's inhabitants. It's impossible to have a being that has a different soul from it's body, it just can't happen. But they hold onto their beliefs firmly regardless.

When Irwalia learned the truth about Alex, she couldn't help but be ecstatic: she had finally found a human inside the Colony's walls. And, if SHE was the one who discovered him first, then she must be the one meant to give birth to this prophetic child… right?

In a vengeful and spiteful spirit, Irwalia decided to not report Alex to the Colony's authorities, but instead take her anger out on what the human and his imp wife treasured the most: their only child.

Alex and Elisa didn't took long to find Toby, afterall she wanted to take her revenge in front of them...

Irwalia cursed Toby with something that not only breaked Alex's heart, but made the child defenseless if he ever encountered a human: if in close proximity to a human, Toby is completely unable to do any kind of magic.

This may not sound like a big deal, but imps, especially imp borrowers, take great advantage from their magic abilities to protect themselves from the sight of humans and their malicious intents. And, of course, Toby would never be able to obtain his full magic potential (which he has a lot of) around his own father.

Aside from all that, his hair is now bright blue, a side effect of the curse that makes it difficult for him to hide from humans and dangerous animals.

Toby grew up not being allowed to leave the Colony EVER because of his curse. So when he became an adult, after getting involved in a lot of trouble inside the Colony, being the little thief and vagabond that he is, he thought-

Unfortunately, he never had the chance to actually seek a cure for his curse in the book because he was discovered for his theft before that, yeah, it was all kind of pointless, he truly sucks at hiding.

Huh, I also wonder why it worked...

[benjinoff13]

as promised, my theory about Cressida and her infamous sleeves this season

this is the first time we see Cressida and Eloise together, something about this is immediately really noticeable, Cressida’s sleeves look super normal, apart from having a bit more fringe on her coat and her hair she’s pretty much dressed the same as all the other ladies, now what do we learn about them in this scene? it soon becomes clear that Eloise and Cressida became friends over the summer (i think it was summer?) while both their family’s were at the countryside, now before i get into this more it’s important to explain my theory which is:

Cressida’s parents have her dresses designed with big sleeves to keep others (in this case mostly Eloise) at a physical distance

a bit of backstory about this theory before we get back to that first screencap

i don’t remember where or who but someone said that they thought Cressida has had “an incident” before, meaning her parents have already realized that Cressida maybe is into girls/women in a way, maybe she’s had a friendship that was clearly turning into more or her parents even caught her with someone, ofcourse they would keep this under wraps cause if they didn’t Cressida would never find a husband and the family's reputation would be ruined, but Cressida’s parents (this theory is mostly geared towards her father) are doing everything in their power to prevent it from happening again in order to make sure Cressida gets married asap, they may even want her out of the house because they don’t want her as their daughter anymore

now back to this screencap, Cressida doesn’t have the crazy sleeves yet, her father probably thought that his daughter’s friendship with Eloise was a temporary thing, to the outside world there are no two people that have less in common than Eloise Bridgerton and Cressida Cowper, everybody is surprised by their friendship and so Cressida’s parents must have assumed it was only temporary, just a “summer fling” so to speak, but they're wrong and in this scene Cressida and Eloise are seen in public for the first time, arm in arm, no shame, not caring about the looks and the shock of other people, simply, genuinely, enjoying each other company, to the surprise of the ton and the viewers themselves even

Cressida’s father doesn’t like this one bit, Cressida has only held a friendship this long one other time and he didn’t like the way it ended at all, so he decides he needs to get ahead of it, it needs to be subtle, he can’t keep them away from each other cause Cressida’s impression on the rest on the ton needs to be excellent should she ever find a husband, a friendship could actually work in her favor given it's a respectable one, he can’t tell her to not see Eloise again (we soon learn), so what does he do? he creates a distance, a barrier, something that prevents them from walking arm in arm like we see them do in their first scene together, something that prevents their hands from brushing each other or their elbows touching while they walk, clothes are everything, fashion is everything, Cressida’s looks have always been extravagant, this is where he gets the idea to order Cressida’s mother to tell the modiste “big sleeves”, disguising it as a fashion statement

the next time we see Cressida is here, her sleeves aren’t that crazy yet but noticeably bigger and broader than in that first scene, and it gets crazier from here, we see that it doesn’t quite do what it will do in the future which is to create a distance between these two, but, this is lady Danbury’s ball, the first of the season, the event of the season, the moment to impress the queen, they can’t take fashion risks so they play it safe while also testing their new technique of keeping Eloise at a respectable distance

enter the third time we see Eloise and Cressida, no big sleeves but a huge coat that flows down and outwards, look at what it does to the distance between them while they walk, the idea is working, atleast that's what Cressida's parents think

below are the next two times we see Cressida, the photo on the left isn't that interesting for this theory, one thing that i did realise in this scene is that ladies walk and talk next to each other, ladies and gentlemen make connections while dancing, they're facing each other, the big sleeves make sure people on Cressida's sides (women) stay at a distance while people opposite her (men) can still connect with her, the theory holds up (i recommond rewatching this scene if you're interested in Cressida/Eloise cause Cressida does something really cute where she leans down to hear Eloise better)

the photo on the right however is very interesing and maybe even one of my biggest pieces of "evicende", we can see that Cressida isn't the only one that wears these extravagent dresses with huge sleeves because her mother is wearing the exact same style of dress, in this scene lady Cowper says "You may think me harsh Cressida, but, if you knew the ways your father is trying to put me under his thumb... He has reduced our allowance by half." we learn here that lord Cowper is extremely controlling, not only of his daughter, but of all the women in his life, he sees them as his property, he decides what they wear, where they go, who they talk to, how much money they have, he controls everything, lady Cowper is dressed to keep other men away because she is his property, Cressida is dressed to keep other women away because nothing is allowed to distract or keep her from marrying a man

now there's this next scene, when you first take a quick look it doesn't look like much, there's nothing new about this, until we look at what Eloise does, she reaches out to Cressida and touches her arm, holds it tightly even, when you look closer you can see Eloise and Cressida's ladies maids (I think that's what they're called) in the background, knowing what we know about lord Cowper, even Cressida's maid is under his thumb, she's probably been ordered to watch everything Cressida does and report back to him, maybe she's even been told to keep a closer eye on his daughter's relationship with Eloise specifically, when she comes home later she tells lord Cowper about the physical contact between Eloise and Cressida, he starts to worry and realises his plan might not be working, leading to Cressida's biggest sleeves yet in the bottom photo

look at those things, there's no way Eloise and Cressida are linking arms or brushing hands with those tents attached to Cressida's shoulders, she can still dance with potential suitors cause they will be opposite of one another but when ladies talk to other ladies they're next to each other, we see this over and over again in the show, you will barely see two women talking and have them stand directly face to face

next time we see Cressida and Eloise together is at the library, there's something very noticeable about this photo, the big sleeves are nowhere to be seen, but in the background we can see Cressida's parents, at all other events we've always only seen Cressida's mother present but now her father is with them, Cressida doesn't need the sleeves cause her father is there to watch her every move and listen to every word she says to other people, and she knows this, she appears tense the entire scene (a combination of knowing she's losing lord Debling to Penelope but also feeling her father breathe down her neck)

look at how close Eloise's face is, most of Cressida's dresses wouldnt't allow this, her face would be touching Cressida's sleeve, that barrier isn't on Cressida's dress today, instead the other barrier, her father, came with them to this event

between this screencap and the next there is one more scene that i haven't included but is maybe most important to Cressida/Eloise, it's the "I should like to call on miss Cowper a moment" scene, now i could write a whole other essays about this scene but I'll spare you guys, when it comes to this specific theory I'm explaining here there's not much to add, what is important in this scene however is that when Eloise exits the room we hear lord Cowper say that Cressida cannot see Eloise again... but why not? maybe it's because he knows about Eloise's views on marriage and he's afraid that she will have a bad influence on Cressida but his tone lets me believe that there's more to in than that, he's so angry, he knows that there's more going on even if Eloise and Cressida might not even know themselves

we see Cressida and Eloise together one more time, eventhough lord Cowper told Cressida to not see Eloise again she has big sleeves again, maybe because he was doubtful that she would listen, cause she didn't, she talks to Eloise and spends time with her, for everyone to see, out in the open, she even refuses when Eloise respectfully tells her that it's okay if they can't see each other for a while, she and Eloise laugh together and Cressida aks Eloise a question she's been dying to answer her entire life, a question that no one has ever asked her before, a question that gives them the opportunity to further deepen their relationship, she simply asks Eloise "And how do you see things exactly?" and Eloise's entire face lights up

if you've read this whole thing you're up for a veteran's discount

no but seriously thank you for reading my yap session and please let me know your thoughts in the comments or tags

part 2

reminder that this is simply just a theory (that will probably be disproven after 3B is released)

[duskrosecreatesstuff]

When Nature Calls

Astarion has learned that cold nights in the Elfsong are better with a warm Tiefling to curl up with. But when that warmth turns to heat, he's going to need Halsin's help to satisfy her desires.

Read on AO3

NSFW. Astarion/Halsin/Female Tiefling Reader. 3.8k words

CW: Heat cycles, Oral sex, Biting / Mating bites, Tiefling tail play, PiV Sex.

Astarion shifted against the warmth of his tieflings back.  He was no longer in his trance, but did not want to leave the warmth of their shared bed.  Some nights, the cold of his body didn't bother him.  Some nights, he wanted nothing more than to indulge in the heat being freely given.  And tonight, her body felt exceptionally warm, despite her only wearing a thin shirt and her underwear, and having wriggled out from the blankets.

He drifted a hand over her ribs and across her stomach, pulling her in close as he nuzzled his cold cheek against her shoulder, and her body responded, a slightly deeper breath, a shift of her hips against him.  Her tail drifted lazily over his thigh, wrapping over him with light pressure.  Astarion smiled against her skin.  He’d be content to stay like this until the new day woke her.

Moments passed, perhaps minutes, perhaps an hour? He wasn’t sure.  What he was sure of, was that her body was moving against him, a gentle movement of her hips against his.  He froze.  She had to be dreaming, surely?  This wasn’t in their current agreement.  He braced himself and tried to pull his hips away.  Her tail clenched and stiffened where it had wrapped around him.  Her body clearly had other ideas.  As he tried again to press himself away from her, he noticed her temperature had risen.  Where before she had been pleasantly warm to his touch, now she felt hot, almost feverish.  He frowned and put his hands on her hips, pushing hard.

Instead of moving away, her body writhed and rolled, changing position to face him, all without ever letting him go.  Her tail had a powerful grip on him, and he felt trapped.  As his panic started to rise, he hissed her name.  When that failed to wake her, he leaned over to bite at her ear.

*******

Your eyes opened to a sharp pain in your ear. As you roused yourself from your slumber, you noticed you had moved in your sleep, and were holding your vampire lover in a death grip, your thigh thrown over his, your tail wrapped tightly around his waist.  As you met his deep crimson gaze, a wave of lust washed over you, and you realised with dismay, that you had awoken to your heat cycle starting.  And starting hard.  

In a flash, you pulled away, scrambling backwards across the bed, tugging your shirt down over yourself, and dragging your tail off his body.

“Shit!” you gasped out. “Gods, Astarion, I’m sorry … I didn’t .. I’m sorry … shit!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.  He’d been on the brink of panic at how tightly you had been holding him, but now you were awake, he was more confused by your actions.

“I- “ you waved a hand vaguely, “this … I didn’t think …”

“Shhh, it’s alright.  Take your time.” He reached out to touch you reassuringly, but you flinched away.

“Don’t touch me!” You took a deep breath, then another, your shoulders shaking as you tried to hold back tears, your hands gripping your knees tightly to your chest.

“What is going on with you? Are you sick? You’re certainly feverish.  Should I get Halsin?”  he was babbling, partly with concern, partly to cover his fear at what could be happening to you.

“No! Nothing like that!  Hells …” you clenched your teeth.  “Actually … yes.  Please bring Halsin”

“Of course, you must need healing,” he muttered, sliding off the bed and walking quickly across the room.

You watched him go, waiting until the door closed to let the tears loose.  How could you have lost track of the timing so badly?  You had been sure you had more time before you were going to have make arrangements for this, that you had time to discuss this with Astarion, to warn him.  As you counted back the days, the only conclusion you could come to, was that you had to have been trapped on the nautiloid longer than you had originally thought.

You dropped your forehead to your knees, rocking gently, your tail switching against the blankets, clenching your thighs together as you waited for Astarion to return with Halsin.  It gave you the tiniest amount of relief, a bucket of water on the raging inferno of desire that was crawling over every inch of your skin.

You didn’t look up as you heard the soft click of the door opening, so you didn’t see the looks on the two men as your scent hit them.  But you did hear Halsin take a deep breath, followed by the soft rumble of his voice.

“Oak Father preserve us.”

“What is it?  Do you know what’s wrong with her?” There was a panicked urgency in the vampire’s usually smooth voice.  “Can you help her?”

“I do know.  She’s in her heat cycle, So technically, there’s nothing wrong with her, exactly.  Just … ” Halsin’s voice trailed off as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“Just what?” Astarion’s brows knitted as he tried and failed to recall anything about tieflings having heat cycles.  To be expected, he’d never spent much time with a living one before.

“Just that she’s going to be insatiable for the next few days.  As for helping her?  There’s no potion or healing spell for this.” Halsin huffed a gentle laugh.  “But I’d be delighted to help, if you’re both willing.”

You looked up at Astarion, your expression miserable, but your eyes dark with lust.  “I’m sorry.  I should have warned you.  The timing is terrible, given that you … we … aren’t … y’know…”  

“I know, love.  It’s alright.”  Astarion thought for a moment.  Now he knew what was going on, his worry subsided, and he felt calmer.  This was to do with sex, and in that, at least, he was in familiar territory.  He was back in control, his voice once again smooth and sensual.

“Do you want Halsin to help?”  He watched your response closely, your tail curling, a rush of your scent filling his nostrils, the little spike in your heartbeat that gave you away.

“Oh, you do, don’t you?  You’d like him to help scratch this itch of yours, wouldn’t you?”  Astarion purred, a wicked grin spreading across his face.   “And I could watch …”

“You’d want that?” you whimpered.

“To see my ferociously horny lover come undone on our druid friend?  My sweet, you have no idea how much I’d enjoy watching that.” 

“Really?” you panted softly, looking up at him.  You’d become adept at recognising when he was masking, and you saw no hint of that on his face.  Only certainty.  And desire.  He nodded.

“Really.” he said, softly.

“Close the door.” you gasped out.  Halsin moved across the room to secure the door, while Astarion climbed up onto the bed, manoeuvring himself to sit behind you.  He reached for your shirt, helping you to discard it, then pulled you back to lay against his bare chest, making sure he had a clear view down the length of your body, and once again savouring the warmth of your skin.  He was cautious of having his hips too close to your writhing tail.  He looked up as Halsin approached the bed.

“She’s all yours.”

Halsin smiled down at you, a somewhat predatory look in his eyes.  He could feel the scent of you waking all his most primal senses, could feel his bear stirring deep within him.  He took a deep breath to steady himself.

He reached for your soaked underwear, dragging the ruined fabric off your body and tossing it to the side.  As he knelt between your legs, he was aware of the tightness building in his own trousers.  Your lips parted as you watched him with lustful eyes, nodding to him when he met your gaze, spreading your thighs for him.

He took a brief moment to admire the mess your heat had already made of you, your dripping core shining in the dimly lit room. With a soft growl, he dipped down between your thighs, his tongue sliding easily between your swollen folds, lapping at you as if starved.  You sighed at the relief his touch was giving you, tilting your hips up to him, offering yourself to him, your tail drifting to stroke over his shoulders.  He took that as encouragement, plunging his tongue into you, as you moaned in pleasure.

“Oh, you’re enjoying that, aren’t you?” Astarion purred in your ear.  “Does our lovely druid have a skilled tongue?  Is he making you feel so, so good?” He stroked his hands down your arms, wrapping his arms around you, gently but firmly pinning your arms to your sides, as his hands moved to cup your breasts, pinching lightly at your already sensitised nipples, enjoying the soft sounds you were gasping out. He peered down over your shoulder, admiring the way your nipples stiffened between his fingers, watching as Halsin bobbed between your thighs, feeling your body quiver in response to their combined movements.  He knew your body well enough to recognise your signs.

“So close, already, my love?  Are you going to be a good girl, and come on his tongue?”

You whimpered, as Halsin took the hint in Astarion’s words, and slid a hand along your thigh, reaching to press tight circles over your clit with this thumb.  Your back arched as your body tensed, your walls clenching against his tongue, as he continued to lap your juices.  Astarion held you gently, as you trembled and panted against him.

Halsin looked up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand.  “That should take a little of the edge off.  Although she will no doubt want more.” he grinned.  “If you wish to indulge her too.”

Astarion smiled as he pressed a light kiss to the side of your neck, noticing a difference in the scent of your blood, a quick thought brushing through his mind as to how you might taste right now, but pushed that to the side as a stronger scent of you filled his nostrils at Halsin’s words.

“Would you like that, my love?  Do you want us both to touch you?” Astarion whispered into your ear. You nodded, humming in agreement, as he drifted a hand down over your quivering stomach.

“Good Gods.” he whispered as he reached between your thighs, and felt for himself just how dripping wet you were.  It was nothing to coat his fingers in your slick, and move the pads of his fingers to drift in lazy circles over your swollen clit.  You whimpered, pushing your hips up against him.

“Already wanting more? You greedy little thing.”  You tilted your face to glance back over your shoulder at him, grinning wickedly.  With your arms still held against your sides, you moved your tail to wrap around his wrist, pulling his hand harder against you.  His eyes went a little wide, he’d hadn’t considered the possibilities of your tail like this.  You used your tail to tug his hand lower, guiding his fingers to your dripping entrance.

Meanwhile, Halsin quickly removed his clothing and joined the two of you on the bed.  Astarion couldn’t resist taking a peek as the larger man disrobed, and it took all his remaining willpower to not make some comment about “Nature’s gifts”.

The bed dipped slightly as Halsin moved up alongside you, leaning over to kiss you hungrily, the taste of your own juices still on his tongue, as one of his large hands brushed over your nipple.  You whimpered into his mouth, your back arching as Astarion slipped a finger into you, pressing your breast hard into Halsin’s palm.  He pulled away from your lips, his head dipping to take your nipple between his lips, alternating sucking on it, and lapping at it with his tongue.  His hand stroked lightly over your thigh, joining Astarions between your thighs, and you moaned at the feel of them both working inside you - one thick and warm, the other cool and slender.

Astarion nipped lightly at your neck, as he slid his finger back out of you, gliding it up to your swollen clit with a featherlight touch.  It was quickly replaced by Halsin, who took the opportunity to drive a second finger into you, working you open.  You wailed as he curled them inside you, catching that spot that made you see stars.

“Shhh,” Astarion whispered in your ear. “You don’t want to wake everyone, do you?”  He slid his free hand up to cover your mouth, and you lewdly licked at his fingers.  He smirked.

“Oh, do I need to give you something to keep you quiet?”  He pressed two fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them greedily, suggestively. Your hips bucked as the two men worked in tandem, and you rolled your neck, pressing your head back against Astarion’s shoulder, perfectly offering your neck to him.  He increased the friction on your clit, as he pressed his lips to the pulse in your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your skin. You gave a small nod, which was all the permission he needed, and you felt the sharpness of his fangs puncturing your skin, and the icy numbness that followed.  You felt his lips work against you, felt the rush of your blood as he sucked your life essence into his mouth.

The taste was intoxicating.  It was still very much the blood he adored, that revived him, that made him feel almost alive.  But there was something else, an added spice to it.  A few more quick circles of his fingers, and your body quivered once more, your keening muffled by the fingers in your mouth as you fell over the edge again, clenching hard around Halsin’s fingers, while Astarion tasted your ecstasy in your blood.

He pulled away, lapping gently at the puncture wounds, watching for the blood to stop flowing.  A tendril of green flowed from Halsin’s free hand, helping the marks to fade faster.

“You know, that might not have been a wise decision, Astarion.”  Halsin observed, with a smirk as he gently slid his fingers out from your swollen walls. 

“Hmm?”  Astarion licked his lips, swallowing the last drops.

“Her blood.  That might not have been wise.”   

Astarion leaned his head back, as he realised he felt warm, warmer than usual after drinking your blood.  And that heat was pooling between his thighs, in a way that was demanding his attention.  He groaned, angling his hips against where the base of your tail was moving, a light friction to relieve the building pressure in his trousers.

You felt him shift against you, and you swiftly realised what was going on.  Your blood, and all its pheromones, was now coursing through him.  He was feeling what you were feeling.  Your heat, your need, was now his, too.  You rolled off him, scrambling to your knees next to him.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” you gasped, frantically searching his face.  His eyes were shut, and he gave a soft moan, moving his hand to cover the stiffened ridge clearly evident through his soft camp trousers.  You couldn’t tell if that was a yes or a no.  You placed a hand on his chest.  

“I want to help, my love.”  You dragged your fingertips lower, placing your hand over his.  “May I?”  His eyes stayed closed as he nodded.  You pushed his hand out of your way, as you tugged at the laces of his trousers, pulling them open and freeing his cock from the restriction.  You reached for him with your hand, stroking the unusually warm skin, pre-cum already beading at the tip.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me, please.” He opened his eyes, meeting yours.  “I want to help.” you repeated, earnestly.  You bit your lip coyly, and smiled at him.  “I want to taste you. May I?”

He cupped your jaw in one hand, and you leaned in to his touch. 

“Yes.” He whispered.  “Please, yes.”  You smiled, lowering yourself onto all fours and crawling to position yourself with your head in his lap.  His fingers stroked into your hair as you leaned down to his lap, cautiously running the tip of your tongue along the rock hard length.

He gave a soft sigh at the gentle relief, and you let your tail drift over his leg, stroking along his thigh, as gentle and calming as you could.  You felt him relax, and you moved to press your lips to the smooth tip in a gentle kiss, wrapping the fingers of one hand around his shaft You parted your lips to swirl your tongue over the tip, catching and tasting the little droplets of pre-cum forming.

You felt the bed dip behind you, and Halsin’s warm hands pressed against your ass.  Your tail curled up at the touch, offering Halsin a full view of your dripping cunt.  You gave a muffled squeal as he brushed his thumbs against the underside of your tail, and you subconsciously moved your knees farther apart in invitation.

“Oh you filthy little thing!” Astarion gasped.  “Is this what you’ve dreamed of?  Having us both like this?”

Your lips quirked in a small smile.  If Astarion was talking dirty, you knew he was back in his comfort zone.  You moaned against him, as you felt Halsin’s thick cock sliding between your folds, becoming slick with your fluids

“My heart. I want more of you.  I want to give you more.”

You lifted your head to glance over your shoulder at him, and whispered a very needy “please”, arching your back to press your hips against him.  He gripped the base of your tail as you turned back to take Astarion deeply into your mouth, felt him line himself up with your slick entrance, felt him tugging on your tail as he pushed slowly into you, his shallow thrusting pushing deeper and deeper into you, and you moaned as you felt him stretch and fill you.

Astarion gave a series of gasps, as he felt the vibration of your throat tingling against him with every sound you were making.  It didn’t take long before it became too much for him, and with a low moan, he bucked his hips up, hot ropes of cum shooting into your mouth.  You worked your throat to swallow it all, drinking him down much like he drank you barely minutes ago.

You opened your mouth to let Astarion’s cock slide out with one last swipe of your tongue.  As you lifted your head up, Halsin took the moment to drive deeply into you, and you arched back against him.  As your body raised slightly, you felt his powerful arms grip you, lifting you into his lap as he knelt behind you, your knees spread wide over him. 

“That’s it, my love, let him fill you.  You can take him, can’t you? I saw what he has, you must be feeling so full, darling. Is he making you feel good?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded, whimpering a soft “yes” to each of his questions.  Astarion lifted a hand to gently cup your chin, tilting your face to his.

“No, no.  Eyes on me, darling.  Remember, I wanted to see you come undone.”

You opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze.  Halsin gave a low growl as he pulled your body close in against him, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your thigh.  He dipped to kiss the back of your shoulder, but the proximity to your scent gave his bear other ideas.  With a flash of gold in his eyes, you felt teeth against your shoulder, holding you in a mating bite.  You keened as he flexed his hips roughly against you, pounding deeply into you, over and over again. 

“Come on, my darling, let go for me.  For us.”

Astarion reached down, fingers expertly reaching for your clit again, and you squealed at the overstimulation, tears forming in your eyes.  He pushed his thumb into your open mouth, and you sucked noisily on it, your tongue moving against it in the same rhythm as your cunt clenched around Halsin, bringing him his own climax as he bucked his hips up, pumping you full. 

You collapsed onto your side with Halsin and lay there for a few moments, spent.  As your breathing returned to normal, you felt him soften and slip out of you.  He stood up and crossed the room, returning with your washbowl of water and a couple of cloths.  He dampened one, and used it to carefully clean the mess off your thighs.  Astarion took the other one, and wiped gently at your face, dabbing off the sweat, and the remnants of his spend that had dribbled on your chin.

“How do you feel, darling?”  he asked cautiously.

You gave a contented smile.  “Sated.  For now.” Your face changed to a look of concern as you asked him  “And you?  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.  I think that was enough to make it pass for me.  And … thank you for helping.”

“It was the least I could do, I got you into that state, after all”

“Well, maybe if that neck of yours wasn’t so damned irresistible.”  He teased, with a wry smile.  “But, fair point.  Perhaps I would be wise to seek my meals elsewhere for the next few days.”

He touched a finger to the bruised bite mark blooming on your shoulder.  “And it looks like I wasn’t the only one who wanted to make a meal of you.”

Halsin laughed, a deep throaty rumble, and touched a healing tendril to the marks. “Indeed.  But at least I did not partake of her blood. I fear I would have lost control completely, and I don’t think this bed could handle the bear.”

Astarion looked at you, the blissed out look on your face as you lay there, unsure how to ask his next question.  “Love, should we leave?  Do you need to be alone?  In case it happens again?”

You yawned sleepily, and shook your head.  “No, I’ll be fine for a few hours.  You can stay.”  You glanced at Halsin. “You can both stay.  If you wish.”

You wrapped an arm over Astarion, as he shifted his body in against yours.  Halsin curled in behind you, and you smiled, feeling warm and safely held between your two lovers.

** A few nights later **

Astarion snuggled contentedly against your back.  He’d missed curling in against your warmth these past few nights.

“Darling?” he whispered in your ear.

“Mmhmm?”

“I’ve been thinking.  About that night, with Halsin.  About how you looked, how you tasted.”

You tensed, unsure what he was about to say.  You said nothing.

“I’d like … I want … to do that again sometime.  Only, next time, I want to enjoy you as much as he did.”

You relaxed again, smiling against the pillow.  You’d been hoping for this, you just hadn’t been certain that the time was right to ask him about it.  But you still weren’t quite prepared for his next words.

“I can’t wait to hear the sweet sounds you’re going to make with us both deep inside you.”

[inhuman-obey-me]

Babe, Wake Up. New OM World Lore Just Dropped!

So. Nightbringer Lesson 22.

(spoilers, obviously)

The Father of Demons

While cleaning the library, MC finds a book -- one that has the same lines narrated by Solomon in the Prologue video. The book, like the video, ends abruptly at "the demon's name was..." as the rest of the book is gone, pages torn out.

The brothers wonder what the name could be, and Mammon insists it must be Nightbringer, to which Asmodeus agrees. Then, we find out that Satan learned some interesting information from a Celestial Realm book.

So the Celestial Realm also knows of Nightbringer -- but as "the father of demons", thought to be the very first demon born in the world. They go on to say Nightbringer has been known by other names as well, but otherwise, there isn't a whole lot more information on him. Okay, Simeon, please go home real quick and see if you can get this book in undamaged form for us.

That certainly brings a whole new weight to Nightbringer's identity, if he is indeed supposed to be the first demon ever to exist. So far, the game has been heavily hinting that Nightbringer is a version of Barbatos, and this new information would seemingly match up with one of the chats in OG where Barbatos mentions he was never a child, as well as the stories Asmodeus mentions of Barbatos being strong enough to be Demon King himself.

However, the identity of the child, as well as what Nightbringer's actual goals are with MC, is still to be revealed, and this doesn't help to actually clarify any of those questions yet.

The Secret of the Little D.'s

Another major thing we learned is about the Little D.'s -- and that is that they are technically fairies or spirits that came from a tree that the Fairy King used to tend, back when the Fairy King ruled the Devildom. The game goes on to explain that this makes them technically actually fairies or spirits, though the Little D.'s call themselves demons, so their true nature is a mystery -- especially since they are also sometimes born when a new demon is born into the world, but not always!

Interestingly, Barbatos also phrases it as those demons being chosen, so though it's extremely rare, it is seemingly not random, though we don't know exactly why or how.

New demons being born into the world also includes when fallen angels turn, it seems, since the extremely rare occurrence of these spirits being born alongside demons happened with all seven of the brothers after their fall.

So it's not that the main Little D.'s are just lesser demons of each particular sin, but that they are direct spirit counterparts to the demon brothers -- one for each of them, one for each sin.

Which brings us to ...

The Seven Sins

We've always known the seven brothers as the Avatars of the Seven Deadly Sins, but an interesting bit of information we learned in this lesson is that the brothers didn't know why they were given these particular titles, or if Pride, Greed, Envy, etc. were even known as the Seven Deadly Sins at the time the titles were given to them.

Beelzebub refers to them as "keywords", and we again establish it was the Demon King who gave these titles to the brothers. Diavolo says that if his father decided to give these titles to them, they must be important.

We know that the brothers were already exhibiting signs of their assigned "sin" even when they were angels, but as shown by Mammon's behavior in the past two lessons, the full force of each sin hasn't taken over all of them just yet. In fact, Mammon's greed has come out in a dangerous, powerful way as he becomes more of a demon.

It remains to be seen what, if any, relevance this has with MC losing their connection to the OG boys, but we know how they've changed by OG Season 1, where they fully embrace their sins.

We'll just have to wait and see!

[childotkw]

I’d love to read a dark Harry fic (but like a good one). Would you ever consider writing a dark Harry? Like riddle persuades Harry to join his dark side? Maybe they went to school together or something… or just any other hp/tr fics tbh I love your work sm xx

I might pinch the beginning of Dig Two Graves for this one, but I was thinking -

Harry and Tom attended Hogwarts together, and their rivalry was the stuff of legends. They pushed each other to new heights, nipping at the other’s heels in each class, and the teachers despaired as much as they celebrated the wonders it did for the boys’ grades.

Both mistreated orphans, both from old, respected families (though it takes time for Tom to find his), both powerful halfbloods.

Their differences only just outshone their similarities.

Everyone agreed - quietly, of course, because heaven forbid one of them hears - that if fate had been kinder, Harry Potter and Tom Riddle would have been the best of friends.

And the funny thing? They actually were.

In between their sniping and duels and mean smiles, these two boys succumbed to the draw they felt to each other. Orbiting, never quite colliding but still basking in the presence of the only other one in the world that seemed to see them.

They kept it hidden. Something special, private. A friendship they treasured but were unwilling to share with the world because it was theirs.

Late nights studying in the library turned to idle plans of their future. The places they would travel to, the magics they would learn.

Harry doodled maps and routes they would follow on the backs of his parchment. Tom daydreamed of the power he would wield and the Harry-shaped shadow that was forever at his side.

But they were young, and stupid, and good things never lasted for people like them.

Myrtle Warren died in an accident, and Tom panicked.

He then made a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Harry was sent to Azkaban for murder, and Tom was the one who put him there.

Across the channel, Gellert Grindelwald awakened from the most vivid prophetic dream he had ever experienced. He’d laid there gasping, still blinking away the spots in his vision from the duel with Albus that he lost -

And filled with the bone-deep certainty that he needed to find a boy called Harry Potter.

With the future still ringing in his ears, with the whispers and warnings from Death - not the concept, not the idea, but the being itself - coiling through his mind, Gellert accepted what he must do.

At the very least, he mused, dropping back into his bed and waiting for the pounding of his heart to settle, Albus would never anticipate this.

-

Three months later, Harry Potter vanished from his cell in Azkaban.

Two years later, Gellert Grindelwald was defeated in battle, clutching his first, original wand.

Ten years later, Tom Riddle returned to Britain, ready to seize the power he had always dreamed of.

And two days after that, the remnants of Grindelwald’s Acolytes, long thought to be disbanded and destroyed, launched an attack on the British Ministry of Magic.

Led by Grindelwald’s apprentice.

And he had waited over a decade to submit his complaint to the Wizengamot.

[ranbowkng]

His Kingdom, His Power, My Glory

Gary thinks it'll be a good idea to infiltrate the church. A tired priest, with an adorable face, reminds him why that's a bad idea.

Gary smirked as he pulled the hood of his jacket tighter. This plan was genius. Why keep sending cultists to sneak into the church in the dead of night to make a mess of things when he could just spark turmoil in the middle of the day. The best part, they wouldn't kick him out, and they wouldn't know he was doing it. Perfect.

"Morning Father," he nodded, walking right past the priest standing at the door, greeting church-goers.

"Good morning! I- oh hold on!" The priest grabbed Gary by the sleeve, pulling him back slightly, "You're new here aren't you?"

"Ah, was it that obvious?" Gary smiled, fearing that his genius may have betrayed him already.

"Just a bit," The priest chuckled. Gary got a good look at him, he had dark brown hair, and royal blue eyes that seemed to glow. Gary could have gotten lost in that expression for hours, but he had a mission to attend to, he had far more important manners than pretty boys to worry about, "We actually have a rule, no hats or hoods in the congregation."

"Oh? My apologies," Gary said, pulling his hood down, "My old church was a bit less strict."

"No sunglasses either unfortunately," the priest smiled, but his grip on Gary's sleeve tightened.

"Afraid I can't do that," Gary said, "Got a bad eye disease. Don't wanna scare the kids away."

"Hmm," the priest's look was brimming with disappointment, but he resigned, "Alright then, we will keep you in our prayers, but please consider how you're affecting other members of the church."

"Yes, sorry Father," Gary chuckled, wanting to sigh in relief. He would not have been able to explain the peculiar case of his eyes to the priest.

Once he took a seat, he grinned ear to ear. What a fool the priest must have been to believe such a stupid lie. Regardless, the sermon was starting soon. From here Gary would be able to learn just what happens at a church service, and just how he can tear it apart.

As it turns out, there was too much sitting and standing. Too much listening and not nearly enough talking. Too much and not enough of everything, it was mind numbingly dull. Not even the Order would stoop so low as to make it's devoted followers sit for an hour doing nothing with no freedom to move.

But Gary-begrudgingly-endured it. He was certain that eventually something would happen that would be worth it. Then again, if he had to endure one more of those godforsaken psalms! They weren't quite songs, because a song required being good.

Eventually he found something, a payoff. The priest who had greeted him at the door had finished reading the gospel, and he spoke directly to the audience.

"God loves us all," he began, speaking slowly. You could hear the sound of his careful thought between each word he spoke, "The other day a woman had come to me asking how I knew."

This was perfect! If he wasn't reading off of the text then that only meant one thing, an open discussion. And when people spoke without reading off of their source, they were prone to making mistakes. And one slip up would be enough to pick him apart piece by piece.

"So I was open with her," he said, "I have suffered loss, divorce, and failures over and over again."

"Sounds like God hates you!" Gary shouted. As soon as he spoke everyone turned to him. A smirk was plastered on his face. He'd win over the crowd in twelve seconds flat.

The priest just gave him a tired glare before he continued speaking, "Despite my grievances, I still have the privilege of waking up every day. I have a new chance to prove myself every day. And the Lord tells me that I am his child and he will continue walking with me."

"I thought Jesus was the only son of God!" Gary yelled. He did his homework. Well, he read just enough to know where the hypocrisies stood out.

"We are all children of God under Abraham," the priest spoke through grit teeth, "We will be going over that next week."

"Sounds like God needs to close his legs!" Gary's smirk was growing into a grin.

"Alright," the priest took a deep breath, "Let's start over, since you clearly seem confused. I was trying to explain to a woman that God loves her and is with her through her every struggle. And to do so, I used my own life as an example."

"How did you manage to prove it?" Gary said, "Hey! Father! How do you know it's actually God talking!? Are you-"

"Some of us clearly need to start working on our relationship with the Lord!" The priest said, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to calm himself, "Some far, far more than others, but regardless. God is patient and will wait for us until the end of time."

"If God's so patient why are you getting so upset?" Gary argued.

"God is a patient man, I am not," John said calmly, "And that's okay! Because God gives us strength. Strength to overcome any challenge like frustration, or an inability to respect your church leaders."

"I fail to see how-"

"God gives us strength!" The priest spoke over him, "I believe we all have it in us to become better people through the Lord. Amen!"

Gary wanted to speak up, but the congregation seems to have accepted it was time to shut up. Unbelievable. How does a man who looks so pathetic manage to control the situation so well? Oh well, at least he can still figure out the weak points in the sermon simply by listening.

Meanwhile, said priest was glaring at him. A far older priest had taken over, but he still was looking straight through Gary with furrowed brows. Gary stared back, not that the priest could see past his sunglasses.

When the sermon was over, Gary was about ready to collapse. How does an hour of doing absolutely nothing become so exhausting? He would never blame his acolytes for their boredom during a meeting ever again.

He stood, prepared to leave, only to be stopped.

"Excuse me sir," it was the priest. He had gripped Gary by the sleeve, a soft smile on his face, "May I speak with you for a minute?"

Gary tried not to let his confident smirk falter, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

The priest chuckled slightly, "Oh no, I meant at the front. I have a couple things I'd like to discuss with you."

"Ah," Gary said. Had he been anywhere else, there was no doubt in his mind he'd be able to strike down the priest with a single glance, but this was a church. He was already weakened here, but this is where the priest would thrive. And yet, he was cocky, "Well, I don't see why not."

"Good," the priest said, "Follow me."

The priest waited for the entire congregation to leave. He stared up at the stained glass window as he waited to be alone with Gary. Gary kept a hand in his pocket, rubbing over his claw-like nails.

"I can explain," Gary said, "It's actually my first time in a catholic church, I didn't know the proper proceedings for the gospel."

"No no, I have to thank you," John said, "When one questions the bible, it means they simply wish to apply it to their life. I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to expand on what I had to say."

"Wait, really?" Gary said.

"Of course," the priest said, his nails digging into his palms, "Although, I would like to make a request." He turned towards Gary.

"Oh?" Gary raised an eyebrow, "What can I do for you?"

"Take off your sunglasses," John said, "I'd like to look you in the eyes when we speak."

"But my eyes-"

"I am not a child," the priest said calmly, "I will not panic at the sight."

"But-"

"Is that a no?" The priest asked. Gary felt that he didn't have a choice.

"Yes, of course," Gary said, reaching for his glasses, slowly taking them off. He and the priest's eyes never stopped looking on to each other.

"Mmm," the priest looked at his eyes, black with glowing red irises, "You're a demon."

"Nonsense!" I'm a normal human being just like you!" Gary argued.

"I'm no fool," the priest said, "I knew you were a demon from the moment I saw your face. Your eyes are a simple confirmation."

"I apologize," Gary said, "I simply needed information about the church."

"I'm afraid that this isn't your territory," the priest said, "Now I have to request you leave before I exorcise you."

Gary chuckled, despite the priest's clear advantage, "I'm afraid I won't be doing that." He used a clawed finger to tuck a piece of the priest's hair behind his ear, "For you see, I have a new interest to pursue, and I have no reason to leave just yet."

"Then allow me to give you one," the priest said. Before Gary could even process what was being said to him, the priest gripped him by the wrists and pushed him backwards, slamming his back against the altar, "Leave this church. If you come back I will give you a fate far worse than an exorcism."

"Heh, I suppose you reciprocate my interests," Gary smirked, only for the priest to increase the pressure he was using to hold him down.

The priest glared at him before speaking again, "You will not come back, but I will keep my eye on you. When I find your lair then we can...discuss things as adults. But for now, I expect you out of my sight, understood?"

Gary's breath hitched slightly. It's been so long since someone's given him a command without solicitation, "Yes sir~"

"Ah-ah," the priest said, "Use my proper title."

Gary rolled his eyes before smirking, aiming to piss the priest off, "Sure thing, daddy."

The priest's eyes remained unamused. He slid his right hand away from Gary's wrist and down to his throat, "I said..." his grip tightened. Not enough to constrict, but enough to cause pressure, "My proper title."

Gary did not want to admit out loud the things that those words did to him, "Of course...Father."

"Good," The priest's voice was quiet, mumbled only so he could hear. God he'd kill to have that done to him with a mattress beneath them, "Now go on, get out and don't show your face. I expect to be meeting with you very shortly."

"Of course Father," Gary said, turning to leave before the priest could get any ideas about exorcising him.

After all this, perhaps information wasn't the only thing he could get out of the church. This would be far less boring as well.

[creadigol]

Can you continue hero x villain teacher hero?

Thank you so much for the request! This is actually one of my favorite prompts and it was one of my first writing prompt ideas ever, years back before I even had a Tumblr. Due to my love of this one, it kinda got away from me and I wrote a lot. Like a lot. Lol.

I hope y’all enjoy! 

Part 1 and Part 2 here! 

Hero’s very shitty day was taking a turn for the better. 

This morning Hero had woken quite late (due to the extended hero-ing from last night), skipped breakfast, tripped on the curb, spilled their cold coffee, lost their parking space to a visiting mother, and almost got disciplinary action for arriving three minutes past their classroom attendance slot. 

After hearing the ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ of various fourth graders, all of whom watched the principal reem Hero out in the hallway; Hero had finally obtained a sense of control over the class just after lunch. Of course that was after one of the kids had accidentally spilled finger paint on Hero’s chair and didn’t feel the need to tell them until Hero found themselves with a neon pink ass. 

As it was, just after lunch was their history time and Hero, not feeling too great about standing in front of the kids looking this disheveled; nor wanting to show off the new color of their pants, simply opted to play two episodes of Liberty’s Kids while the students sat on the carpet. The ploy seemed to work as not one student strayed from the carpet or asked to go to the bathroom. Hero stayed at the classroom sink, located just behind their desk, and tried to clean themselves as much as possible with the children distracted. 

Hero couldn’t help themselves from laughing along with the kids as the characters in the show told jokes and got into trouble while learning about the creation of The United States. Hero had forgotten how enjoyable the PBS show was and felt very nostalgic as they remembered the show premiering back when they were a child. Some things never age, Hero thought. 

So, all in all, the shitty day was getting better. Perhaps after the show Hero would give the kids a break from memorizing the different kinds of rocks and do a fun science experiment instead. With Hero’s powers they were sure they could make the demonstration look very cool without outing themselves as a super. Maybe they could win back their ‘awesome teacher’ status in the eyes of the kids after it had taken such a hit this morning. 

“Not exactly in style, but I must admit you wear it well.” Hero jumped and turned. How had they not heard someone come in? 

“I’m sorry?” Hero addressed the unknown adult. They turned from the sink, suddenly very aware that they had been wiping their backside with a wet paper towel. Pink was on their hands and now the floor at the attempt…not to mention still on their ass. 

Hero very nearly froze at the sight of the intimidating man. If not for their hero training they surely would have. 

He was tall, tall and brawny, but not in the typical sort of way. The muscle in his physique was evident underneath the expensive Italian silk suit; but there was also a leanness to it, like a coiled spring that spoke of agility and readiness. Hero wasn’t sure why, but they instantly felt off kilter, instantly felt tense, like when they are about to face off against a criminal or a villain. 

“Your ah…” the man smirked and chuckled, “choice of presentation…or should I say style, on your…well…” 

“Oh,” Hero noted the visitors-pass around the man's neck and felt a little of the apprehension fade. Perhaps they were just on edge due to the circumstances the man saw them in. “Not exactly my choice. This is courtesy of a young aspiring artist. She’s just too young to  know where her canvas is.” 

The man laughed jovially, “What a kind way of putting it!”

Hero heard some of the children snicker to themselves from over on the carpet, evidently finding the new stranger and their painted teacher much more interesting than the Revolutionary War. Hero tilted to one side so as to see past the newcomer and give their students ‘the look’.

“Pay attention please,” Hero chided. “You never know…I may be inclined to give you a quiz on this at the end of the day.” 

A series of ‘awwwws’ followed their remark. 

“But if you pay attention now, I might be in too good of a mood to write a quiz…”

All the kids turned back to the television with such force Hero was surprised there was no neck damage. All except for one. 

“Daddy!” 

Oh god. 

“Why hello Maria,” the man stooped down and scooped up the child who had run over from her place on the carpet. He hugged her and then placed her back down. Her stature only reached just past his waste. 

Hero felt their blood go cold. 

Daddy…Maria…

Maria, the student who was first in their class in everything but English…Maria, the student who all the other students named most popular…Maria, the student who aspired to be a veterinarian one day because she loved the class rabbit so much…Maria, the student Villain was most concerned about…

Maria, the student who was the daughter of Supervillain. 

Shit. 

“Are you here to talk to Teacher?” She asked sweetly, her gaze never leaving her father. 

The man nodded, “I am, so you best be a good girl and go back to watching what Teacher has put on.” 

She scrunched her face up in a pout, “But you’re going to talk about me.” 

He nodded as if it made no difference, “I am.” 

“So you’re not supposed to talk about people when they aren't there.” She crossed her arms and gave him a look of determination. 

The man, no Supervillain, laughed. “Is that so?”

She nodded sagely, “Yes. Teacher said so.” 

Supervillain fixed his gaze on Hero. Hero clenched at the sopping, paint dripping paper towel in their hand. 

They knew this day would come. Of course they did. But they had somehow hoped it wouldn’t. Hero was under the impression that Supervillain was not that active in his child’s life. Parent-teacher conferences had always been with Maria’s mother, who had stated that she was happily divorced, and all open houses and concerts had been devoid of Maria’s father ever since she had enrolled at the school. 

When Villain had brought up who Maria was, Hero had already known. After all, they were well connected in the hero world. 

It wasn’t that Hero purposely got Maria in their class, in fact it was the opposite. Hero tried to keep their two lives as separate as possible, but that was just how the dice fell. Hero didn’t get to choose who was in their class and Maria had been assigned to them. 

It was how Villain had found out their secret identity in the first place, their research into Supervillian’s private life had led them straight to Hero. 

Hero had said it was a small world.

Villain had said they best be careful. 

“Really? Well, I guess you better leave me and Teacher alone so they can teach me lessons like that.” Supervillain smiled at Hero. 

Maria was not deterred. 

“No, you just want to talk about my report card. But you can’t, because it’s not parent teacher day.”

Supervillain laughed again and ruffled her hair. “Not all parents need to wait for parent teacher day to talk about their children. It’s a parent’s right to bring up concerns to their children’s teachers, isn’t that right Teacher?” 

Hero gave a hesitant smile, “Yes, of course it is. Though most call first.”

Hero looked down at Maria, “You go back to the show, Maria, Benjamin Franklin’s about to speak to the French Parliament. I know how much you like him. ” 

She looked at Hero with suspicion, though with a hint of apprehension at the idea of missing anything involving Benjamin Franklin. 

Hero smiled warmly at her, “You won’t understand the book I’m loaning you if you don’t know what he did in France for the revolution.” 

Maria’s eyes lit up, “I can take your book home?” 

Hero nodded, “But only if you promise to take care of it for me. Now off you go.” 

“I will!”

She turned to her father and gave him a quick hug before hurrying back to her spot on the rug. Hero almost laughed when they saw her place her head on her fists in an effort to concentrate more on the words Benjamin Franklin was speaking. 

“Nicely done. Though I can’t say I condone bribery,” Supervillain crossed his arms, but still held the smile from before. 

“Well, at least it’s enriching bribery. I told her two weeks ago I had a book at home about Benjamin Franklin and she’s been after it ever since. I guess now I’ll have to bring it in.” Hero found themselves slipping into their normal Teacher to parent tone, though they were sure the tension in their shoulders was noticeable. 

“We’ll make sure to get it back to you just as it was,” Supervillain leaned on the desk and looked down at Hero in a conspiratorial way. Hero tried not to think about how Supervillain was taller than them even while leaning. “Now about Maria’s last report card…”

“Mr….” Hero cut them off.

“Escole,” Supervillain filled in easily, though his eyes rose. “Maria has my last name.” 

“Mr. Escole,” Hero hoped their voice held more bravery than they felt. “I didn’t want to say this in front of your daughter, but this is rather unorthodox. If you wanted to speak about her grades you could have made an appointment for later in the evening or perhaps during their lunch time…”

“Yes, yes,” Supervillain waved them off, “I meant to stop in during lunch but work got ahead of me. I’m sure you know how it is…” Supervillain gave them an up-down, no doubt seeing the old coffee spill mixed with paint and the tear in Hero’s pant leg from when they tripped earlier. “Some days are just chaotic.” 

“I know but…” Hero stopped at Supervillain’s raised hand.

“My darling Maria is too precious to be put on the wayside because of work, don’t you agree?” 

“Of course, but as I said…” In an instant Supervillain was in their face. Their tall body leaned over the desk as though there was no barrier between them. 

“I am a very busy man Teacher, so I’ll get right to the point. I don’t make appointments, people make them with me. When it comes to my daughter, I honestly don’t care whether you’re on lunch or in the middle of a lecture, I’ll be here and when I’m here we will talk. And when we talk, I expect you to listen and do what I want. Is that clear?” 

By the time Supervillain was done, not only was he only an inch away from Hero’s face, but his hand had found its way to Hero’s arm. The grip was tight and bruising, making Hero’s hand that held the pink paper towel shake. 

Every part of Hero wanted to fight, to get themselves out of Supervillain’s hands, but a stronger part of them was hyper aware of the children. They couldn’t fight here. They couldn’t do anything to endanger the children. 

“What do you want to talk about Mr. Escole?” Hero asked in a shaking whisper. 

Supervillain smiled, “Maria was right. You are smart.” 

Supervillain lounged on the desk and pulled on Hero’s arm to bring them down closer. “That new repairman that’s been hanging around…what’s their name?” 

Hero looked them in the eyes with confusion, though in their mind they started panicking. 

Good god, did he know about Villain? 

“I thought you wanted to talk about Maria’s English grade?” Hero spoke. 

“I know you’ll do what you need to with that. I’m not concerned about her grades. What I am concerned with is her account of her teacher being buddy-buddy with a new repairman. One that seems to do the majority of their work only in this classroom.” Supervillain narrowed their eyes at Hero’s large ones. 

“I don’t know what you mean…” Hero stumbled when a hand gripped their throat. Not tight, but plenty threatening. They hoped to god that the children were absorbed in the show. 

“Are you saying my daughter is a liar? That there is no repairman? Now, now Teacher, remember what Maria said? Can’t be talking about her while she’s not here.” 

“I,” Hero breathed raggedly. They couldn’t let this escalate with the children so close. “Every school has repairmen. I…I don’t know what you want.” 

Supervillain squeezed a bit tighter as he stared directly into Hero’s eyes. It took all of their willpower not to look away. What if Supervillain recognized them? They used to think their costume was foolproof, but after Villain had figured it out…now Hero wasn’t so sure. 

“Are all repairmen so attentive?” 

“I don’t know. They come and do their job.” I’m more focused on the kids, Hero almost said, but stopped. They didn’t want Supervillains attention turning the children right at this moment. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” Supervillain’s grip on their arm was so tight it felt like it was going to break. Hero suppressed their whimper.

“Not that I’ve seen.” They shook. 

“Then why are they here so often?” 

Hero blinked away tears of pain. “The classroom was in disrepair. It has been for a while. I thought we finally had the funds to fix everything,” They lied. 

“Why no funds?” Supervillain tilted his head. 

 Hero brought their hand up to grip Supervillain’s wrist by their neck when it got tighter. It only made Supervillain shake them. 

“Why no funds?” He asked again.

“I…I’m not sure,” Hero wheezed. “I think the city cut the money during the recession.” 

The hand got tighter. Hero started to see spots. Oh god, did Supervillain see right through them? 

Hero was pulled so close that they were nose to nose with Supervillain. Hero could smell his breath and feel every puff of air that came from his nose. The way Supervillain had positioned himself perfectly blocked what was happening from the children. At least there was that. 

“I want that repairmen gone. Immediately.” He paused, his gaze unwavering, “I expect you not to tell anyone of this encounter. If you do…well Maria will be upset, but there are always other teachers. She’ll get over it.”

Supervillain unceremoniously pushed Hero away. Hero collided onto their wooden swivel chair making the whole thing topple backwards. The crash called attention from all the children. 

“Teacher!”

“Oh no!”

“Teacher are you okay?” 

“What happened Teacher?” 

Supervillain gave a fake look of shock and placed their hand over their heart. “Oh my! Kids, it seems Teacher slipped and fell. Better make sure they’re alright.” 

It was through a throng of worried children that Hero saw Supervillain slip out of the room with a pat of goodbye to his daughter. 

Hero assured the kids that they were okay, just a few bruises. 

“That’s why we never leave water on the floor,” Hero said with a smile. “It was my own doing.” 

All the students laughed at Hero’s rare klutzy moment and were more than delighted when Hero told them they could eat snacks and watch Liberty’s Kids for the rest of the day, no quiz required. 

Once they were settled once again, Hero put their head down on the desk and tried to slow their breathing. 

They had only just got their heart-beat back down when they heard one of the kids approach their desk talking. 

“Teacher slipped and fell. It was after the mean man whispered at them. Now Teacher doesn’t feel so good.” 

“Mean man?” Asked another voice. 

Shit. Not now! Why are they here now? They already practically fixed everything in the school. 

“It was Maria’s dad, but we all call him the mean-man because he didn’t help Teacher up when they fell down.”  

“Maria’s dad?” The shuffling stopped at Hero’s desk. “And Teacher fell after they talked?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Well, you better get back to the show. I think Washington’s about to cross the Delaware. Don’t worry, I’ll check on Teacher.” 

“Okay! Thanks Repairman!”

There was silence. Hero could feel Villain’s eyes staring into as they kept their head down on the desk. 

“Hero,” Villain whispered. “What happened?” 

At first Hero said nothing, then, 

“Are any of the kids around?” Came Hero’s muffle reply. 

“Nope, they’re all eating cookies on the rug.” Hero felt the air change as Villain bent down closer. Unlike with Supervillain, Hero didn’t feel threatened at all. “Why?” 

“I don’t want them to see. It’s sure to have set in now.” 

Villain placed a hand on Hero’s shoulder, “What’s set in?” Hero could hear the urgency in their voice. “Phillip said Maria’s dad was here…”

“Supervillain was here.” Hero confirmed. “And,” Hero lifted their head. Villain sucked in a breath as they saw the dark bruising along Hero’s neck and the mark on their forehead from when they hit the ground. “We had a talk.” 

…

…

…

“I’m going to kill him.” 

@crow-with-a-typewriter @stevihj @waterflower20

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

A force more powerful than gravity

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU, where you can feel the pain of your soulmate, and it looks like yours is a reckless idiot.

Warnings: angst, hurt, cliffhanger, english is not my native language

Word Count: 3.3k

taglist: @ettadear, @hakkaishiba91, @more-a-then-i, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @alexis04fangirl, @aislinrayne, @elipsisx, @tessas4, @spicybirdpepper, @wisteriaandauroras, @capailluiscedove, @fearlessmoony, @kurtsmellsliketeenspiritt, @redgummybears, @mackncheese1243, @mrsklockwood

There was nothing but silence as a searing pain pierced your left shoulder. It felt like a small object sought his way through your flesh with force. Before you could realize what was happening, the world around you exploded in pain. Panicking, you tried you gasp for air, but everything hurt so much. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could do was let out a shrill scream.

Hurried footsteps sounded near you and the next moment someone sank to the ground next to you. You hadn't even noticed that you had fallen to the floor. There was just too much pain.

“Y/N where are you hurt?”, freaking out, your best friend and teammate roamed her hands over your body, searching for a wound, that would explain the pain you felt. But you knew that she wouldn’t find any. It wasn’t physical pain you felt, at least for you.

Things looked completely different for your soulmate. He got hurt, bad like it seems, and it was his pain you felt. You weren’t new to his pain. He got often hurt, and sometimes you asked yourself if he was just reckless or if he hated the idea of soulmates so much, that he intentionally injured himself. This was of course an awful thought, but when you laid in bed, crying silently while trying just to breathe through the pain, you couldn’t help yourself. What if your soulmate hated you even before meeting you? You couldn't blame him, not when you hated him sometimes yourself.

Last year alone, he got shocked with electricity, ghost touched, punched and cut in various body regions and one time it even felt like he survived an explosion. First you thought he was an agent like yourself, but after the last year you weren’t sure that he may have been involved in illegal activities.

“Y/N?”, the urgent voice of your best friend Willa, brought you back to the presence, where nothing more than a sea full of pain was waiting for you. The waves were crashing over you, threatening to pull you down and never let you go, and for a short moment you just wanted to let them take you. But you knew better than this. Sharply breathing in and out, you fought not to lose your consciousness.

“It’s him”, you managed to whisper.

“This asshole”, Willa muttered under her breath, but you heard her nevertheless. If you weren’t in so much pain, you maybe had laughed, an asshole indeed.

“I think he got shot, and then felt from a great height.”

“Fuck, that must hurt like hell.”

Indeed, it did.

“We should get you to safety before your pain attracts any ghosts. Can you stand?”

You felt like dying, but if you wouldn’t move, you could actually die. To avoid situations like this, soulmates at Fittes didn’t work at the same time. But you were pretty sure, that your soulmate didn’t work at Fittes, otherwise you would have found him long ago. Fittes even had a data bank where they could compare the pain you felt with other agents’ injuries. But so far there had been no match. That meant your soulmate was either not an agent or an agent at a small agency without access to the data bank.

“Help me up”, the pain was still pulsing through your body, made it hard to breathe, but with a soulmate like yours, you had learned how to function with pain. Breathing heavily, you let Willa pull you up from the floor. At least your movement didn’t affect the pain because it wasn’t your pain, you just felt it.

You only managed to walk three steps, before a new hot pain shot up your left arm. With an agonizing yell you staggered against the next wall. In a blink of an eye Willa was next to you.

“It’s not your pain, breath through it”, easy to say for someone whose soulmate wasn’t in this line of work and therefore wasn’t often injured. But you held back the cruel worlds, which were already laying on the tip of your tongue. Biting your teeth together, you continued your way to the iron circle your team had set up early this night. You wouldn’t let him wear you down, not today, not tomorrow.

Whatever your soulmate did that night, three days later it still hurt. Not as much as at the beginning, but enough to curse him in silence. Didn’t he know what painkillers were? For the first two days it wasn’t bearable, but tonight you would venture out in the night again to hunt some ghost.

“You will not believe what Christ just told me”, interrupting you in the research for tonight’s case, Willa plopped down next to you. Curious, you tilted your head. Chris was another Fittes agent. He and Willa weren’t soulmates, but that didn't stop them from dating. According to Willa, life was too short to wait for this one special person, who apparently was your perfect match. She wasn’t exactly wrong. Not everyone met his soulmate, some felt the pain of their soulmate their entire life without ever crossing parts, others felt a very strong pain, before they never felt anything again over this connection. You knew a few agents, whose soulmates died before meeting them.

“And?”

“Three nights ago, when you did feel this agonizing pain, Quill was apparently on a mission where an agent was shot before falling down a shaft.”

For a short moment, your heart stopped beating. Could that mean? Without minding your work, you jumped on your feet. You had to find Quill Kipps. Maybe he had the answers you were searching for so long. You didn't even dare to hope, but nevertheless your heart was skipping a beat as you hurried away.     

You didn’t know where to find Quill Kipps, you just started running and to your surprised you found him not long after. Like it was fate. Maybe he was really the missing key to find your soulmate. You didn’t want to get your hopes high, but you couldn’t help yourself. When you came to a stop in front of Quill, you were excited.

“Y/N, is everything ok?”, worried Quill’s soft eyes locked at you and for a moment you hesitated. You and Quill weren’t friends, he was Chris best friend and you Willa’s, therefore you talked a few times. Through Willa, you knew that Quill lost his soulmate a few years ago without ever meeting them. This was a fate you didn’t wish on your worst enemy. Now asking Quill about your soulmate, he might consider as rude. And you didn’t want to be rude, but you had to know!

“Three nights ago, did the agent get shot in his left shoulder?”, you blurred out and for a moment Quill just opened and closed his mouth confused.

“You think he is your soulmate?”, stunned, Quill blinked and didn’t answer your question.

“Three nights ago, I felt a piercing pain in my left shoulder followed by bone crushing pain, like I felt from a very far height”, you explained, and Quill looked dumbfounded at you, like you grew a second head. Unsure if you weren't making a fool of yourself, you closed your mouth. Maybe your theory was too far-fetched. Without realizing it, you started to play nervously with your hair.

With something in his eyes, you could only describe as pity, Quill took a step in your direction. Before he even opened his mouth, you knew what he would say. Nevertheless, it hurt, and that's why you didn't want to get your hopes up.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but he isn’t your soulmate and to be honest you can be glad about it.”

After this event, life went on. And on its way at some point Willa managed to convince you to start dating. You knew that your soulmate was still somewhere out there, on occasion you still felt his pain, but you didn’t meet. A part of you was afraid that you would never meet your soulmate and because you didn’t want to die alone, you let Willa convince you to go on a double date with her, Chris and Quill.

It was a lovely day in the late summer, and the four of you were sitting outside a small café, sipping on your lemonade. It felt strange to be on a date with someone who wasn’t your soulmate. But at least there wasn’t the possibility, that Quill would leave you for his soulmate. That thought made you feel like a bad person.

Taking a big sip from your lemonade to wash down the bitter taste in your mouth, you tried to listen to the story Quill was telling. Something about a case he and his team managed to successfully solve. But you got distracted by the appearance of a tall dark hair boy in a dress shirt. Anthony Lockwood, founder of Lockwood and Co., and a thorn in the side of all other agents in London. You had been lucky enough not to have to work with him so far, but you knew the stories. He was a reckless idiot without any sense of safety. He was also the agent who got himself at Quill’s case shot and fell down the shaft. Noticing your distraction Quill followed your gaze.

“Oh hell no”, he muttered next to you, so quiet that you almost didn’t catch it.

“Just ignore him”, you suggested, but even for you, it was hard to look away from Lockwood. He had something you couldn’t describe that was screaming for your attention.

“You are right, where was I?”, without waiting for an answer, Quill plunged back into the story. Tearing your gaze away from Lockwood, you took another sip from your lemonade.

Five boring minutes passed, Quill was still telling his story, when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your shin. Interrupting Quill, you let out a surprised yelp.

“Sorry my Soulmate-”, you started, your mouth once again faster than your brain. Then you remembered that you were on a date and shouldn’t mention him. However, before you could apologize, you got interrupted.

“Did you just feel how I hit my shin?”, non-other than Anthony Lockwood nervously asked, after he appeared by your table. Too stunned to speak anyone was just gawking at him. Quill was the first to catch himself.

“Get lost Tony!”

“I wasn’t talking to you, stop interfering”, Lockwood shot back, before his brown eyes found yours.

“You are crashing my date, so it’s my good right to interfere!”, with a red face, Quill pushed his chair back, and it looks like both were ready to fight. But before it could escalate, you did the only thing you could think about, you pinched yourself.

“Ow, what was that for?”, rubbing his arm, Lockwood’s gaze shot to you.

“You felt it?” Slowly Lockwood nodded and you couldn’t believe it. He was your soulmate! You finally found him. But you didn’t feel happy, like you always had imagined. You just felt betrayed and angry. Only seeing red, you whipped your head around to Quill.

“You lied to me! You told me he wasn’t my soulmate.” Fighting back the tears, you slowly stood up. “Just to get me on a date?”

“Of course not, I didn't tell you to protect you. Everybody who gets too close to Tony ends up in a grave.”

Everything next happened way too fast for you to react. Lockwood spun around to punch Quill in the jaw. While Quill stumbled back, your hand burned with pain. You didn’t even know the identity of your soulmate five minutes ago, and he already hurt you again.

Before Quill could get a punch at Lockwood, you pushed between the two boys. You had felt enough pain for a lifetime, you didn’t need to feel them fight.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will not punch him back, unlike him, I don't want to hurt you”, snarled Quill behind you, but you only had eyes for Lockwood. Under your gaze he seemed to shrink.

“My life would have been so much better, if you weren’t my soulmate”, your voice was laced with poison, and as if he had been burned, Lockwood recoiled. Without waiting for a response, you did the thing you could do best, you started running.  

   

You didn’t know how long you were running. You only stopped when no breath was left in your lungs and your legs were burning. Unknowingly, your legs had brought you to a park. Collapsing on a park bench, you closed your eyes exhausted.

As a kid, you often had imagined how you would meet your soulmate. Never would have you expect a situation like this. You should be happy, but you never felt more lost.

The wind was rustling the leaves about your head, and took a deep breath in.

You had set your trust in the wrong people, again. You had hoped for too much, again. You had been an idiot, again. Your mother always said that everyone got what he deserved. You had always asked yourself what you had done to deserve all this pain. Slowly, one single tear ran down your cheek. You could have just gotten your answers, but you ran away again, like always when things got hard. No backbone, your mother would say, if she could see you now. Lost, you wrapped your arms around your frame. Another tear dropped down your cheek. Sniffing, you wiped it off.

“Are you ok?”, his voice startled you. Surprised, you looked up, to see through your veil of tears Lockwood standing unsure next to your bench. Did you look like you were ok? A mean remark was already on the tip of your tongue, but you had already told him that you were better off without him as a soulmate, there wasn’t much more to say. Therefore, you just shook your head. Nothing was ok, but someday you would be fine with it.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. I was always hoping to meet you, but never taught it would just happen so random”, he rambled on, and your eyes widened in surprise. He had hoped to meet you? After all this pain he put you trough, he wanted you as soulmate? You always thought he hated you.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you. I always welcomed your pain with open arms, because every time I felt your pain I knew, that somewhere out there, there is someone for me, and I’m not alone.”

That was everything you had always wanted to hear from your soulmate. He wanted you. But why weren’t you happy? Why wasn’t this enough?

Standing up, you looked up to him. Although there were dark circles under his eyes, adorning his face, he appeared wide awake, and his eyes sparkled. A sparkle you would probably dim with what you had to say next.

“You hurt me over and over again. And now knowing it was you, I can’t help but think, you could have avoided getting hurt, but you didn’t care. So, tell me, why should I be happy?”

As if you had hit him, Lockwood stumbled back. You had learned long ago that words could hurt just as much as punches. And a small part of you was satisfied to cause him pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered and looked at you like a kicked puppy. Of course, looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel bad.

“You are right, I could have been a little bit less reckless, but I never thought about it. Can you give me another chance?”, you couldn’t say no to the look he gave you, and you didn’t want to. The bond that tied you together could only be cut through the dead of one of you. If there was even the slightest chance that this could work with the two of you, you had to try it.

“Yes, but please don’t hurt me again.”

“I will not, I swear!”

You agreed that if Lockwood stopped being so reckless and hurting himself all the time, you would go on a date after a month. He stuck to the agreement exemplary. Of course, you felt his pain every now and then, but that came with the job and was totally ok.

At the end, it was you, who brought both of you agonizing pain. It was a case at a graveyard. Besides your team were two other Fittes teams and, to your surprise, Lockwood and Co. set on this. The fifteen of you should comb the cemetery and look for the source of the spirit that terrorized the resting place and the surrounding houses.

As you discussed the division of the teams, you could feel Lockwood’s gaze burning on your skin, but you didn't dare look over at him. If your supervisor found out he was your soulmate, you would be taken off the case. You couldn't risk that. And it looked like, Lockwood understood it, because he didn’t try to approve you.

It should have been an easy case. The graveyard was, besides this one source, already cleared. It was one ghost against fifteen of you. If it hadn't been for that relic man.

As his knife pierced your skin, your only thought was Lockwood. Hopefully he wasn't fighting the ghost. Hopefully your carelessness wouldn't result in him being ghost touched. Clutching the wound, you sagged to the ground. Only your second thought was about yourself. You would die. Even while you tried to apply pressure to the wound, you could feel the warm blood running through your fingers. It was running away, and you couldn’t hold on to it. You would die before help could arrive. You would die before you could go on a date with Anthony Lockwood.

“Oh shit, Y/N, stay with me”, you’ve never had seen Willa like this in your life. Full on panic mode, she let herself fall next to you on the ground.

“Stay with me!”, without warning, she pressed down on your wound, and it hurt like hell. Yelling, you tried to push her off, but she remained stubborn.

“You will not die on me, I will not let you”, she cried, and her tears were dripping down her face and mixing with your blood. You were also crying. Reaching for her wrist, you left a bloody trail.

“I’m afraid”, you whispered, and it was true. Never in your life you had felt such fear, not the first time Lockwood got seriously hurt, and you didn't understand why everything hurt, not in your childhood when your mother yelled and yelled.

“Help is already on its way, and I will not leave your side. I will stay with you, and you will stay with me. Deal?”

You tried to smile, more for Willa’s sake than yours.

“Deal”, you lied, knowing that this was a promise you couldn’t keep.

But before Willa could say something else, hurried footsteps sounded and then Lockwood stumbled in your direction. His right hand was pressed to his lower abdomen, where you had been stabbed.

“I’m sorry”, you cried as he dropped down next to you. It was never your intention to hurt him. And nothing hurt more than losing a soulmate.

“It will be ok, you will be ok”, softly he caressed your hair, and it sounded like he was telling this more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry”, you repeated, as you tried to fight the lightheadedness that wanted to take over your body.

“I can't lose you too, please stay with me”, Lockwood begged, and, in the distance, you heard the sirens. Help was really on its way; you just had to hold on a little longer, endure the pain for just a little longer. But you could feel your time running out. Before the darkness could take you, you forced yourself to one last smile.

“If we had more time, I would certainly have loved you”, you whispered, before you welcomed the darkness with open arms.            

To be continued       

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants James Hook x Reader: Melting Under His Gaze

Request: Hi, me again! You don't have to do this lol, but I was wondering if you could do one where Elsa's daughter / us go to Auradon or more so Merlin Academy and meet James.

Reader: Female

Word count: 4307

Average reading time: 15 min 40 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of grief, self-doubt and fear of losing control. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

Author's note: Due to the time period of the movie, the reader is Elsa's sister instead of daughter.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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Y/n had always known her place in Arendelle. As the middle child, she was neither as responsible as Elsa nor as carefree as Anna. But like Elsa, she was burdened with a secret. The same icy powers coursed through her veins, a frosty magic she was taught to suppress. "Conceal, don't feel." had become her mantra, whispered to herself during sleepless nights and quiet, lonely days.

After the devastating news of their parents' death at sea, the castle felt emptier than ever. The corridors that once echoed with laughter now held only the heavy silence of grief. Elsa, at eighteen, was suddenly thrust into the role of queen, while Y/n, at sixteen, found herself struggling to keep her emotions and her powers in check. Anna, fifteen and still full of youthful innocence, tried her best to lift everyone's spirits, even as she dealt with her own heartbreak.

Tonight, as the sisters sat together in the dim light of the castle’s drawing room, Y/n unfolded a letter she had received earlier that day. The parchment crinkled in her trembling hands, the weight of the words inside pressing down on her.

“What’s that, Y/n?” Anna asked, glancing up from the embroidery she was working on. Her voice was light, but there was a trace of concern in her eyes.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze flickering to Elsa, who sat quietly by the window, lost in thought. Elsa met her eyes and gave a small, almost unnoticable nod. Y/n took a deep breath and forced a smile. “It’s... just something from school.” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Anna’s face lit up with curiosity. “School? Are they starting classes again? It must be a distraction at least, right?”

Y/n nodded, though her thoughts were far from the normalcy of schoolwork. “Yeah, something like that.”

Anna frowned slightly, sensing something was off, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she returned to her embroidery, her movements slower, more distracted. Y/n could tell that Anna was still struggling with their parents’ death, just as they all were.

As the evening wore on, Anna excused herself, saying she was tired. “I think I’ll head to bed.” she said, standing and stretching. “You two should get some rest too.” She leaned down to hug Elsa first, then Y/n, before slipping out of the room with a soft, “Goodnight.”

The moment the door closed behind Anna, Y/n let out a shaky breath. She unfolded the letter again, staring at the elegant script. “I’ve been accepted to Merlin Academy.” she said quietly, more to herself than to Elsa.

Elsa turned her gaze from the window to Y/n, her expression a mix of pride and concern. “It’s a great opportunity, Y/n. You’ll be able to learn so much about your powers, about yourself.”

Y/n’s voice trembled as she spoke, the fears she had kept buried for so long surfacing in a rush. “But what if I can’t control it, Elsa? What if I hurt someone? What if they find out?”

Elsa stood and crossed the room to sit beside Y/n. She took her sister’s hand in hers, her touch cool but comforting. “I know it’s scary. I feel that fear too, every day. But Merlin Academy is where you’ll be safe. It’s where you’ll learn to control your powers, to understand them. You won’t be alone.”

Y/n nodded, but the doubt lingered. “And what about Anna? She doesn’t know. How can I leave without telling her the truth?”

Elsa’s expression softened with sympathy. “Anna has already lost so much. I think it’s best if we keep this between us, at least for now. She doesn’t need another burden to carry, not right now.”

Y/n’s heart ached at the thought of keeping such a big secret from Anna, but she knew Elsa was right. Anna was already struggling to cope with their parents’ death, adding the truth about their powers might be too much for her to process.

“I’ll write to her often.” Y/n said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll tell her it’s just a regular school. But Elsa... I’m scared.”

Elsa wrapped an arm around Y/n, pulling her close. “I know, Y/n. I’m scared too. But you’re strong, stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.”

Y/n leaned into Elsa’s embrace, drawing strength from her sister’s calm presence. The path ahead seemed intimidating, filled with uncertainty and fear. How could she hide what she was for an entire school year?

-----

When Y/n arrived at Merlin Academy, the grand stone castle seemed to tower over her, its ancient walls full of mysteries and magic. The place was alive with energy, a big contrast to the quiet halls of the castle in Arendelle. Here, students openly showcased their powers and talents without fear. Fire danced on fingertips, water swirled effortlessly, and the earth itself seemed to respond to the commands of one particularly enthusiastic student. But Y/n, true to her promise, kept her powers locked inside, her heart frozen with the weight of her secret.

Everywhere she looked, there was something magical happening, yet Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. Her steps were cautious, her demeanor guarded, as if any wrong move might shatter the fragile control she had over her powers. She avoided the crowds, keeping to the edges of the bustling groups, hoping to remain unnoticed. But she quickly realized that in a place like Merlin Academy, secrets were hard to keep.

It was during one of those early days, as she wandered the academy’s grand gardens alone, that Y/n first encountered James Hook. The moment she saw him, she knew he wasn’t like the other students. He stood out in every possible way. His crimson coat, tailored perfectly to his tall, lean frame, contrasted sharply with his dark hair, which fell in unruly waves just above his sharp, blue eyes. There was a dangerous sort of charm about him, the kind that warned of trouble even as it invited you closer.

Y/n had heard the rumors, of course. Whispers that followed him wherever he went about him being a ruthless pirate, about the lost treasure he was supposedly seeking within the academy’s walls. She knew enough to keep her distance, but it seemed that James had other plans.

While Y/n tried to find a quiet spot to study, she heard a voice behind her, smooth and laced with a hint of amusement. “What’s a delicate thing like you doing all alone out here?”

She turned sharply to find James leaning casually against a tree, his piercing blue eyes locked on her with a gaze that felt almost predatory, yet strangely protective. Her heart raced, a mix of fear and something she couldn’t quite place. 

“I prefer it that way.” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Less… complicated.”

James’s lips curled into a sly smile as he pushed off the tree and came closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. “Less complicated, hm? Or less risky?” He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “You don’t strike me as the type to avoid a little danger.”

Y/n swallowed, instinctively taking a step back. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “I’ve seen you, you know. Always on the outside, watching, but never participating. It’s as if you’re afraid of your own shadow.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. How could he have noticed her when she’d tried so hard to go unnoticed? “I’m not afraid.” she lied, lifting her chin slightly, trying to appear more confident than she felt.

“Is that so?” James mused, stepping even closer until he was just a few feet away. He looked her over, as if trying to unravel the mystery she had so carefully wrapped around herself. “You don’t fool me, Y/n. There’s something different about you. Something… intriguing.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at the way he said her name, like it was a secret only they shared. “What do you want, James?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

He smirked, leaning in just enough that she could catch a hint of the sea on his clothes. “Maybe I’m just curious. You don’t seem like the other students. You’re too… restrained. It makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” she insisted, her voice sharper than she intended. She could feel the cold creeping into her fingertips, and she clenched her hands into fists, trying to suppress the icy magic that threatened to reveal itself.

James’s eyes flickered down to her clenched fists, a glint of understanding or perhaps amusement crossing his features. “Everyone has something to hide, darling.” he murmured. “The trick is knowing when to reveal it.”

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, and she stepped back again, desperate to put some distance between them. “I need to go.” she said quickly, turning to leave before he could say anything more.

But James wasn’t one to be dismissed so easily. “I’ll be seeing you around, princess.” he called after her, his voice laced with a promise that made her heart skip a beat.

As she hurried away, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that James Hook was more dangerous than she’d first thought and that he had already set his sights on discovering her deepest secret. But there was something else too, something that lingered in the back of her mind, unsettling and confusing her. The way his gaze seemed to see right through her, as if he understood her fear better than anyone else. Y/n found herself questioning whether she could truly keep her powers and her heart, frozen.

-----

One afternoon, Y/n sat near the sea, trying desperately to lose herself in the pages of a book. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore had always been a way to calm herself, a place where she could momentarily forget the icy storm brewing inside her. But today, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the thoughts swirling in her mind, the fear, the loneliness, the unbearable weight of her secret.

The book in her hands was just another attempt to distract herself, but the words blurred together as her anxiety crept up, tightening its grip around her chest. Just as she was about to close it in frustration, a shadow fell over her, blocking the sunlight and pulling her back to reality.

She looked up to see James standing before her, his familiar smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair was tousled by the sea breeze, and his blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something that made her heart skip a beat, even as her fear bubbled beneath the surface.

“Mind if I join you, princess?” he asked, but without waiting for her response, he settled onto the bench beside her, his presence both comforting and unsettling all at once.

Y/n stiffened, clutching her book tighter as if it could shield her from the emotions threatening to spill over. “I was hoping for some peace and quiet.” she murmured, her voice betraying the fear she was trying so hard to hide.

James leaned back, completely at ease. “Aye, I could tell.” he said, his voice smooth and warm, like honey. “But it’s the quiet ones who always have the most interesting stories.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the book, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to read another word. “There’s nothing interesting about me.” she replied, her tone flat, hoping to end the conversation before it could begin.

“Is that so, princess?” James raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something more genuine, though no less intense. “I’ve seen the way you look at the others, like you’re afraid to get too close. What are you hiding?”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. He was getting too close, digging too deep, and Y/n felt her control slipping. She stood up abruptly, the book nearly falling from her grasp. “Nothing that concerns you.” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. Panic was clawing at her now, threatening to break free.

But as she turned to leave, James reached out, his hand catching her wrist with a gentle but firm grip. His touch was warm, so different from the cold she carried within. “I think it does concern me.” he said softly, his voice losing its usual playful edge. “I can see it in your eyes, darling. You’re afraid, but of what?”

Y/n tried to pull away, but the warmth of his hand, the sincerity in his gaze, it all made her want to crumble, to let go of the iron grip she had on her emotions. She could feel the cold creeping up her spine, could sense the frost forming on her skin, and she knew she was losing control. “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort to keep herself together.

“Try me.” James urged, stepping closer, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing, almost tender gesture.

But it was too late. The storm inside her was raging, and she could no longer hold it back. The fear, the loneliness, the crushing weight of her secret, all of it surged to the surface. A cold gust of wind whipped around them, and before she could stop it, frost began to spread across the ground, spiraling out from where she stood. The book in her hand fell to the ground, forgotten, as she clutched at her arms, trying to contain the icy power that was slipping out of her control.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, terror lacing her voice as she backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The ice was curling around her like a cage, and she couldn’t stop it. She felt the cold seeping into her bones, the frost creeping up her arms, and she knew she was seconds away from losing herself completely.

But instead of backing away in fear, James stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers, determent. “Y/n.” he called to her, his voice cutting through the chaos in her mind. “Look at me.”

She did, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The ice crackled and snapped around her, but James wasn’t afraid. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, the warmth of his touch chasing away the cold that threatened to consume her.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” he said, his voice low and steady, grounding her in the here and now. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/n’s breathing was unstable, the panic still clawing at her insides, but James’s touch, his words, they were like a lifeline pulling her back from the edge. “I—I can’t stop it.” she choked out, the tears finally spilling over and freezing as they fell.

“Yes, you can,” James whispered, leaning in until their foreheads touched, his warmth seeping into her skin, melting the frost that had begun to form. “You can control this, Y/n. I know you can.”

She wanted to believe him, but the fear was still there, gripping her heart in a vise. The cold was still there too, a deadly force she had never been able to fully tame. “I’m going to hurt you.” she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of her fear.

“You won’t.” James murmured, his thumb brushing away the frozen tear on her cheek. “Not as long as I’m here.”

And then, before she could protest, before the fear could take hold of her again, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and firm. The world around them seemed to freeze for a moment, literally and figuratively, but then the ice inside her began to melt, slowly, as if his warmth was thawing the cold she had kept locked away for so long.

The kiss deepened, and with it, Y/n felt the storm inside her calm. The frost that had been spreading across the ground withdrawing, the biting cold in her veins dulled, and the panic that had consumed her began to fade. All she could feel was James, his warmth, his strength, the way he held her like she was something precious, not something to be feared.

When they finally pulled apart, James rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cool air. “You’re not alone anymore, love.” he whispered, his voice full of quiet determination. “You never have to be.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heart finally starting to slow to a normal rhythm. The ice inside her had faded, leaving only a faint chill that she could handle. She looked up at James, searching his eyes for any hint of fear or regret, but all she saw was warmth and an unexpected tenderness that made her want to cry all over again.

“Thank you.” she whispered, her voice still trembling but stronger than before.

“Anything for you, princess.” he replied with a soft smile, stealing one more kiss that made her feel a warmth she hadn’t known in years.

As the warmth of James’s kiss lingered on Y/n’s lips, the tension that had build up inside her began to loosen. The frost on the ground had melted away, leaving only damp patches where the ice had once spread. For a moment, the world felt still, as if holding its breath with her. But reality crept back in, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n took a shaky step back, her hand still entwined with James’s, but her mind already racing with a thousand thoughts. What had she just done? She had lost control, let her powers loose in a way that could have endangered him, and yet… he wasn’t afraid. Not only that, he had calmed her, brought her back from the brink, something no one had ever been able to do before.

“James,” she began, her voice hesitant as she tried to find the right words. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I could have—”

He silenced her with a gentle kiss on her hand, his eyes soft as they met hers. “You don’t have to apologize, Y/n.” he said, his voice steady, reassuring. “I told you, you don’t have to hide from me. I’m not afraid of what you can do.”

His words were like a balm to her unsettling nerves, but they also stirred something deeper within her,something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time, hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

“But you should be.” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “Everyone else is. They always have been. Just like they have been of Elsa… She tried to protect me, to help me, but I could see it in her eyes. She was scared too.”

James’s expression softened even more, his gaze filled with understanding. “People fear what they don’t understand, love. But I’m not like them. I see you, really see you. And I’m not going anywhere, other then being by your side.”

Y/n felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto the warmth he offered, but the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of her mind. “But what if I lose control again? What if I hurt someone?”

“You won’t.” James said firmly, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to ground her. “Not as long as I’m here with you. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice, the confidence he had in her, was almost overwhelming. Y/n felt the last of her defenses crumble as she nodded slowly, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and gratitude. “Okay.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

James smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Good ” he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. She hesitated for a moment before leaning into him, letting herself be held, letting herself feel safe.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, the sound of the waves crashing softly in the background, the world seeming to fade away. Y/n felt herself relax more with each passing second, the ice within her settling into a quiet, manageable calm. 

But as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the shore, Y/n knew they couldn’t stay here forever. She pulled back slightly, looking up at James with a mixture of resolve and uncertainty. “What now?” she asked quietly.

James tilted his head, considering her for a moment before responding. “Now,” he said, “if we’re going to figure all this out, maybe it’s time you started practicing, really using your powers.”

Y/n held her breath, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at him. “You mean… now? Out here?” The idea of intentionally using her powers, after everything that had just happened, sent a shiver down her spine, but not entirely from fear. There was a part of her, buried deep, that longed to be free, to see what she could truly do.

James nodded, his expression earnest. “Why not? You’ve been holding back for so long, love. What if you tried letting go, just a little? You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be right here.”

His encouragement, so simple yet so powerful, struck a chord within her. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding, to stop fearing herself. She took a deep breath, feeling the familiar cold rise within her, but this time, she didn’t push it away. She let it fill her, let it flow through her veins like a river of ice.

“Okay.” she whispered, more to herself than to him. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of the cold, on the power that had always been a part of her. The air around her began to chill, the wind picking up as she let the ice take form.

James stepped back slightly, giving her space, but his eyes never left her. There was no fear in his gaze, only wonder and something that looked very much like admiration. “Don't fight it.” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Just feel the ice course through you and work with it, not against it.”

Encouraged by his words, Y/n opened her eyes, her heart pounding as she raised her hands, palms facing down toward her clothes. With a gentle flick of her fingers, the cold surged outward, wrapping around her like a second skin. The fabric of her clothes shimmered and began to change, the colors deepening into a rich, icy blue. The material lengthened and flowed like water, forming into a dress that sparkled with the light of a thousand tiny snowflakes. The bodice hugged her figure, intricate patterns of frost weaving themselves into the fabric, while the skirt flared out in an elegant, sweeping train. Even her shoes transformed, the delicate heels now made of glistening ice, as strong and tough as winter itself.

When she finally lowered her hands, Y/n could hardly believe what she had done. She stared down at herself, at the beautiful dress she had created, and for the first time, she felt a sense of pride in her powers, in who she was.

James, who had watched the entire transformation in awed silence, let out a low whistle. “Y/n.” he breathed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “You… you look absolutly stunning, I have never had the honor to be in the pressence of such a beautiful and powerful woman.”

His words made her blush, the warmth of his gaze almost overwhelming. She glanced up at him, suddenly shy, but the way he looked at her, like she was something you would only read about, made her heart skip a beat. “Thank you.” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

James took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You should never have to hide this, Y/n. You’re amazing, and what you can do… it’s indescribable how beautiful it is.”

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like this, had ever made her feel like her powers were something to be celebrated rather than feared. The sincerity in James’s voice, the way he looked at her with such affection, it was almost too much to take in.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. The warmth of his touch melted the last of her doubts, and she found herself smiling, really smiling, for the first time in what felt like forever. “I don’t know what to say.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything.” James replied, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture that sent a thrill through her. “Just remember this feeling. This is who you are, Y/n. Not the fear, not the doubt, this.”

The intensity of his words, the raw honesty in his eyes, made Y/n’s heart swell. Without thinking, she stepped closer, drawn to him by something she couldn’t quite name. And when James didn’t pull away, when he instead cupped her face with that same gentle touch, she knew, this was where she was meant to be. Y/n found herself glancing at James, feeling something new, a warmth that had nothing to do with her powers and everything to do with him.

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