#his secret talent is lighting magic

[okapiandpaste]

here's the transgender fire emblem pegasus knight love interest I conjured up in a dream (feat. a pallet color-picked from fe1 portraits)

#fire emblem #my art #image #his secret talent is lighting magic #i'm pretty sure he runs away to avoid breaking his and the protags heart before i woke up? #i can see him becoming a late game antagonistic recruit 😭 the protag wouldn't realize it's him tho #why do i cook better yaoi when i'm asleep...

[obsessivevoidkitten]

In The Minotaur's Maze

Male Minotaur Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violently painful noncon, mild bleeding from sex, size difference, belly bulge from massively huge dick, mild mention of musk, stalking, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 980 (Tried to make a drabble, failed again with a mini-fic instead. Oops. This is one of my very few works, so far, that is technically fanfiction as Asterion is the canon name of the Minotaur in Greek mythology.)

You were a talented explorer seeking ancient relics for fame and fortune.

You used a combination of minor magic to speak to the dead and serious investigation to discern the location of the fabled Minotaur labyrinth.

It was deep within an enchanted cave system that in many ways served as an extension of the maze hidden away within.

You carefully navigated the treacherous caves until you came upon the secret entrance. You placed your hand in the middle of a smooth wall and uttered the magic incantation.

The wall dissolved in a flash of light, and you stepped through the entrance as the stone reformed behind you. This was it. You were in the maze proper. What secrets lie ahead?

Of course, you knew the legends of Asterion the Minotaur, but he had been slain in them. And nothing could live so long anyway, especially without food.

You navigated the stone corridors easily. Despite their age, they still looked brand new. As you continued on, you occasionally heard what sounded like hooves plodding along behind you.

You pushed it from your mind. Your imagination was playing tricks.

As you stepped around a corner, you came to a wooden door and opened it. When you stepped through, gone were the twisting stone paths filled with the scent of earth.

Instead, there was an ancient style dwelling overlooking some farmland growing a variety of trees, bushes, and vines.

The door you had come through was still behind you, you closed it and from this side it looked like a door to a shed. So the labyrinth had pocket dimensions… You had heard about them in passing. You wondered how large it was. The realm may look like an idyllic farm on earth, but if you went far enough away, you'd surely hit an invisible wall.

Perhaps the door to the house would lead further into the dungeon.

As you got closer, you realized how large it was. When you pushed the big door open, it actually was a house. Albeit with furniture that was made for someone very large.

Suddenly, you felt a hot breath at your neck. You turned to find the very large, naked Minotaur staring down at you. He was a hairy wall of muscle. One with the head of a bull, complete with metal tipped horns. His legs were covered in dark fur and ended in large hooves, and his full nutsack dangled beneath a frighteningly large prick.

Before you could react, the Minotaur grabbed you and pulled off all your clothing.

You had no idea how Asterion could have survived all this time. He had been killed!

But apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

In the past, he had consumed most humans that wandered into his labyrinthine prison, but you were bravely entering his home, his nest.

You weren't cowering like the old sacrifices. Well, you weren't before he grabbed you anyway.

That, combined with him being in rut and driven insane by thousands of years of isolation, made him not consider you as a meal for even a moment. You were firmly in the mate category in his brain.

So small and cute.

You writhed and fought to get out of his grasp but he ignored your greatest efforts as if they were nothing.

Asterion licked at your face as you pleaded with him to let you go.

He couldn't understand your language but he could guess at their meaning.

But he had no intention of ever letting this new mate of his go.

He tossed you down on the bed and you now saw what he intended to do.

His hard cock now at full arousal, as large and thick as a man's arm.

"No no no! Pleasepleasenono!!!" Your words blended together in a garbled panic as his musk hit your nose, sharp and dominating.

The only preparation your entrance received was a few gobs of slimy Minotaur saliva before he slammed inside you.

You shrieked.

It felt as though your entrance was on fire. As if it was being ripped apart.

With every thrust you shuddered in pain and sobbed. Nearly incoherent cries for mercy dribbled from your lips and fell on deaf ears.

You felt so warm and tight around him. This was just what he needed. Surely you had been sent to Asterion in his time of need by the gods. They finally, after eons, granted him mercy in the form of your insides.

So pliant to his girthy cock. Every time he dove back into you the outline could be seen in your stomach.

Tears streamed down your face as you silently wept, no longer able to scream or even babble your silly little pleas for it to stop.

Asterion wished he could tell you how well you were doing. That you were such a good cow for him. That you fit his cock so perfectly.

But he couldn't, so instead settled for licking and nibbling at your neck before wiping your tears away with his broad tongue.

With a final thrust he filled your belly visibly cum.

When he pulled out a torrent of his seed rushed down your thighs, it had noticeable streaks of pink from bleeding. You were such a fragile little thing compared to him.

He hadn't been able to hold back since that was the first time he had ever sought release inside of someone before, but he made note to be more careful.

Even though the breeding had stopped you were helpless. Broken. At least for the moment. You still cried silently, feeling utterly invaded and defiled.

Asterion took the time to lick you completely clean before laying down beside you and holding you close, spooning you with his mighty arm as you shook beneath it.

You came here to explore the deepest reaches of the maze... but had your deepest reaches explored instead...

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #monster boyfriend #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #Yandere Minotaur #Minotaur x Reader #Yandere Greek Mythology #Yandere Asterion the Minotaur #Asterion the Minotaur x Reader #yandere fanfiction

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #29

The Heir

Imagine dis…

You know what, it’s been a while since I added the infamous Al Ghuls to my stories.

…

The Lazarus Pit, a sacred lake in the League of Assassins' fortress, was said to provide immortality and bring back life. However, its underlying nature was considerably more sinister than its therapeutic properties indicated. Ra's al Ghul, the centuries-old leader, stood before the pit, his ancient and knowledgeable gaze fixed on the pool's depths. He sought the ideal successor to take his mantle and lead the League into a new age of domination. 

Ra's al Ghul had governed the League for generations, utilizing its vicious assassins to further his goals. As his death approached, he realized he needed to safeguard the League's future for it to survive. As the Lazarus Pit continued to bubble and churn, Ra's al Ghul considered the gravity of his decision. The selected heir would need strength, talent, wit, and ruthlessness to traverse the League's treacherous internal politics.

Ra's al Ghul's ravenous thirst for power ruined his yearning for the ideal heir, Talia's son Damian. Despite knowing Damian had the detective’s DNA, Ra was concerned that his influence would corrupt his heart and undermine his ruthlessness as leader of the League of Assassins, just as Damian's compassion and sense of justice would jeopardize his legacy.

Ra's al Ghul stood in front of the Lazarus Pit, its menacing glow casting eerie shadows throughout the enormous chamber. Though he was not religious, he couldn't help but feel fascinated by the magical power hidden within. He had achieved immortality here, at the very founding of the League of Assassins, and he was now looking for something even more valuable: a worthy heir to carry on his legacy.

Ra's offered a secret prayer to the Lazarus Pit, pleading for an heir who would transcend all others. And, as if in answer to his intense desire, the pit erupted in a dazzling burst of light, temporarily stunning Ra's and his collected assassins.

When the light faded, they saw a sight that struck them with awe and wonder: a newborn floating serenely amid the Lazarus Pit's shimmering waters, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly green light. Ra's felt a rush of elation and insane glee pouring through his veins. He saw in this infant the embodiment of his deepest desires, the ideal vessel to carry on his legacy of conquest and immortality.

Ra's al Ghul approached the newborn with almost fanatical reverence, reaching out to hold it in his arms. He felt a force emanating from the child, a potential so huge and untapped that it sent chills down his spine. Here was his heir, the one who would take the League of Assassins to even higher levels of power and dominion.

As his supporters watched in wonder, Ra's al Ghul pronounced the newborn to be his chosen heir, the League's future leader. And in that moment, basking in the light of the Lazarus Pit, he realized that his legacy would last for centuries.

…

Talia stood in the shadows of the League's fortress, her heart full of mixed emotions. She had previously thought her son, Damian, would inherit her father's legacy, but the appearance of Daniel Daan Al Ghul dashed those expectations. The resentment of being passed over for a new male heir wounded her, reflecting the patriarchal norms that had formed her existence.

Nonetheless, as she watched Daniel develop under her care, she couldn't deny the wisdom and power emanating from him. His eerie green eyes appeared to look right through her, penetrating her soul with their ferocity. Despite her initial disdain, she found herself captivated by the youngster, seeing in his brilliance that much above her desires.

When Daniel was just five years old, he shocked her by entrusting her and Slade Wilson with separate sections of the League to lead. It was a gesture of trust and empowerment that left her dumbfounded, as she realized Daniel saw potential in her beyond her role as caretaker or assassin and guardian.

In epochs gone by, when the female hand grasped the scepter of might, she ascended to the echelons of immortality. Why am I precluded from such transcendence with you? I perceive the dormant titan within you, hence I proffer my dominion, both to you and to its awakening, for in you resides the essence of dominion.

He told her when she asked why. At that moment, she realized the extent of Daniel's strength and compassion, and she promised to serve him faithfully.

Talia's allegiance switched dramatically when Daniel personally intervened to save Jason Todd, her beloved’s son, from the lunacy of the Lazarus Pit.

Intervening just as her father, Ra Al Ghul, was about to order Jason Todd's execution because he was no use to him or the league, Daniel silently appeared beside her father and slowly walked down from the throne to the floor where Jason Todd was kneeling, still brain dead, as it was still a mystery to all how he was revived as he dug himself out of his grave.

Guard the tender soul, mend his wounds, for he is but a fledgling, entrusted to my care for solace and salvation.

He proclaimed to her father, who stared at Daniel, perplexed as to why Daniel wanted to keep this teenager, but agreed to utilize the pits for his purposes. When Jaosn emerged, he was already deep in the pit madness; when he raced towards Daniel, all assassins had created a wall around the heir, but Daniel told them to step aside; with a single touch, the madness left Todd and he went out.

Talia took on her job as Daniel's right hand from that day forward, leading him with her knowledge and cunning. Though her heart grieved for Damian, she knew Daniel was the rightful heir, destined to lead the League to greatness. And when she stared into his hypnotic green eyes, she saw not just a leader, but a judge and a god on the rise.

…

Slade Wilson, often known as Deathstroke, had always been a formidable force in the League of Assassins. His skills were unparalleled, and his reputation was legendary. However, as the years went by, a seed of ambition germinated within him, fuelled by a desire to seize League leadership for himself.

The discovery of Daniel Daan Al Ghul's emergence as a new heir fueled Slade's internal strife. On the one hand, he wished to stage a coup, seize authority, and establish himself as the legitimate leader. On the other side, he was captivated to the mysterious power emanating from Daniel, the heir born of the Lazarus Pits.

As Slade trained Daniel and Damian, he couldn't help but be amazed by Daniel's extraordinary abilities. The youngster was a genius in every way, with an intellect and prowess unparalleled by anybody else. And when Daniel, with his penetrating green eyes that appeared to capture the essence of the Lazarus Pits, recognized Slade's worth and appointed him to a position of responsibility within the League, Slade felt a weird mix of awe and reverence.

Untouched by the forge of opportunity, you, a blade honed in both physique and intellect, lay dormant amidst neglect, gathering the patina of obscurity. Yet, now, I bestow upon you the helm of leadership, for only you possess the whetstone to sharpen others to their zenith

Daniel informed him after he sought for an audience.

In that instant, Slade realized his fate was connected with Daniel's. He pledged his unwavering service, promising to serve his new lord until his soul was shattered. Slade saw Daniel as more than just a leader but as a being with incredible power and potential. And as he peered into Daniel's fascinating green eyes, he knew he'd follow him into the depths of hell, for even death couldn't break the link between master and servant.

…

Damian Wayne, raised under the League of Assassins, had always felt he was meant to carry on his grandfather's heritage. But when Daniel emerged from the Lazarus Pits, enveloped in their miraculous waters, Damian's fate changed.

As they grew, Damian was awarded the duty of Daniel's guardian, a position of great distinction in the League. He fully committed to this role, practicing tirelessly to prove himself worthy of defending the League's successor.

Damian was upset when Daniel unexpectedly dismissed him from the League at the age of 10. He couldn't understand why his lord would dismiss him so abruptly. Damian confronted Daniel, desperate for answers about his dismissal.

Youthful spirit, the horizon stretches before you, beckoning freedom's call. Yet, wanderer, when the winds of destiny bring you home, return to me. I relinquish the chains of selfish desire, for I discern your potential for greatness. Embrace the world, then return to my side, where together, we shall forge greatness anew.

Daniel then disclosed his genuine goals, which were to drive Damian to greatness and help him reach his full potential outside of the League. Though initially astonished and offended, Damian realized the underlying message in Daniel's actions and decided to earn his master's trust.

Going to his father's side, Damian sought out Robin's mantle, battling Tim Drake for the title. In doing so, he aimed not only to recover his place by Daniel's side but also to establish himself as a suitable successor to his grandfather's legacy, ready to embark on the path of greatness that Daniel had envisioned for him.

…

Daniel, a young heir to Ra's al Ghul, led the League of Assassins with unrivaled potential and strength. His wisdom and charisma won the respect and allegiance of powerful individuals such as Lady Shiva, Cheshire, and David Cain. Ra's al Ghul trusted Daniel to protect his legacy, knowing that the League would continue to develop and prosper under his leadership, assuring its domination for future generations.

…

Daniel meanwhile at the back of his mind kept screaming as he never thought that it would get him far. 

He was just walking around Amity when his ghost senses pinged something he could not see, one moment he was in his teen self and then he was a baby surrounded by ectoplasm and being carried by someone with major fruitloop vibes. He tried he tried, he tried to become a cryptid like Clockwork since it always makes him grit his teeth at the vague sentences that came out of him, heck even Pandora and Frostbite look at Clockwork and thought of strangling the ghost for his cryptic answers, he is pretty sure he does that for shit and giggles, but it made him look like mature and wise, someone who has infinite wisdom.

Danny thought of laying down low when it came to training but with the combined efforts in training with his mom and the various ghost mentors and fighters in the Infinite realms, he became a formidable fighter before he even reached his double digits. As years passed by each time he tried to deflect or even pass on his so-called political power to others was returned with undying loyalty that he didn't need. 

He just hopes that the Bat Furry brigade can help him out.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I posted a bit early, I am busy during May so this is another early post. bye-bye!

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton

[galedekarios]

gale, elminster & mystra: new infos from the epilogue and how they tie in with what we know from the base game

so i was mulling over bits and pieces of new information we got from the epilogue, connecting it to the stuff we already knew:

1. gale's story of how mystra came into his life in the full release

gale jumping from from "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it" to "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself" to then the teacher, muse and lover dynamic.

and from early access:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love.  Player: He sounds like a very talented individual Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

2. elminster's new letter from the epilogue

we knew before that elminster must have come into his life early-ish as well from this convo:

"While most know Elminster the legend, few know him as you have. He plucked you from obscurity. Offered you his guidance. His faith."

we also know that gale got to attend blackstaff academy.

&

now, with the new letters from the epilogue, we know that elminster met him at eight years old:

elminster coming into his when gale was just "eight summers old", gale's talents being as they were from "an early age", mystra involving herself in his life.

perhaps those two events happening are connected: the chosen of mystra. plucking him from obscurity. taking him under his wing.

perhaps on the guidance of someone? someone very clever? someone who'd later use said mentor to also deliver a message that needed to be conveyed with the utmost severity of her bidding?

someone who'd involve herself in gale's life, too? someone who needs his ambitions to be laid to rest because of a future she glimpsed at?

3. raphael's new epilogue lines if gale fails his ascension:

Raphael: I owe you a debt of gratitude. You were the spark of ambition that rekindled Gale's ambitions, after Mystra had so cleverly put them to rest.

i'm thinking thoughts not only about "cleverly", implying some sort of scheming here or manipulation.

a goddess involving her chosen, to oversee a child, so full of promise and ambition -

(a relationship forming between elminster and gale, which even by the point we see them interact in the game, speaks of the care and love they hold for each other) -

before she too involves herself: becomes his mentor, teacher, and he becomes her chosen.

making gale her chosen as a form of control, so he perhaps would not oppose her, like, for instance, even elminster is hardly capable of.

but not only did she make him her chosen, in the same breath, she made him her lover.

we know she very much is capable of using her chosen for her needs.

raphael is also very directly saying that gale's "ambition" reawakened after meeting the protag. so we are talking about mystra putting them to rest before gale met the protag, so the comment couldn't possibly be about his character arc during the game.

i already touched on this a bit earlier but:

4. we also know that mystra has foresight, being able to predict the future to some sort of degree:

History of the Chosen of Mystra: The reason why Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, invested a portion of her divine might into mortals is not known. One of the popular theories, and one that is gaining more support in light of the other goddess' during that period, is that Mystra foresaw the Time of Troubles (and her own passing at the hands of Helm) and chose to give some of her powers to mortals in order to ensure that her successor (the female mage, Midnight, as it turned out) would have a number of nearly immortal allies in the struggle against the schemes of the gods (the now dead Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal) who precipitated the Time of Troubles by stealing the Tablets of Fate.

(again, i want to reiterate that larian doesn't keep close to the dnd timeline at times, and has quite a few lore mistakes and even breaks. i know mystra was 'dead' around the time gale would have been that young. take it up with larian, please. i'm only trying to extrapolate from the things we are told in the game and the narrative in it.)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #elminster aumar #mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: elminster aumar #ch: mystra #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #grooming cw

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'm Alive (Yandere!Monster x GN!Reader)

CW: Dead Dove, dub-con, death, gore, inhuman anatomy, sexual non-sexual penetration, mind control, angst, you have been warned

Breathing hurt.

His entire body convulsed as he inhaled, the writhing mass that was his body cracked and groaned as it pulsed. He was once a man, though he no longer remembered much of his previous life. There was a torso emerging from the ball of flesh that was his lower half, and sometimes when he closed his eyes he could recall owning a pair of legs; but now he was just an abomination.

Trapped under the earth in what seemed to be the ruins of a temple or some kind of forgotten catacombs, he spent his days lying in a corner, eating the rats that came and tried to devour his body that reeked of decay.

Sometimes, he dreamt. There is a dream of a building called a "church", where a woman would clasp her hands together and speak to an invisible man. She called it prayer, and told him if he prays then her god will answer, but whenever he awoke and interlocked his red, skinless fingers together, the woman's god never granted him death.

Death never comes, nor does relief.

There was only rot, and pain, and rats.

Each and every day. He didn't know how he knew, because he hadn't seen the sun since becoming a monster, but he knew that there was such thing as a sun, and a sky, and that the day changed to night, which would become weeks, then years. And he knew that he has been down there for a very long time.

Then, one day, there was light.

And God granted him his relief.

.................................

The group of adventurers broke through the sealed entrance to the abandoned tower. It once stretched all the way to the heavens, but had sunk into the dirt centuries ago. Half of the excited group were thrill seeking scholars, willing to put their lives on the line to uncover the secrets of the Inverted Tower, and the other half were monster slaying treasure hunters, investigating the ancient rumors of forgotten relics. Among them was (Reader), a hero unknown.

The dreams began when they were just a child. Dreams of a man begging them not to leave, falling to his knees as the walls crumbled around the two and the familiar stranger's skin peeled off like cracking paint. A nun in the dreams would assure (Reader) that it wasn't their fault. But it hurt. It was too much for a child to see. Seeing themselves, but not themselves, a body foreign yet undeniably their own, reliving the moment when they chained a man to the floor, then locked the door and left him to die.

Now they stood at a hole in the ground: the magnet of fate pulling them into a place they felt would be identical to their dreams.

And they were right.

The halls seemed to be persevered by magic, dirty and dusty, but still fairly untouched by the erosion of time. Landing onto the top floor was like dropping into one of their dreams. Memories from someone else invaded (Reader's) mind, and forced them to recall things they never experienced before.

Adopted by the Tower of God, (Reader) was proud to have been chosen amongst all of the other orphans. Their skills were unmatched, as was their intellect. Only six years old, and the magical talent scouts had determined that they had what it took to learn to be a great warrior for 'The Cause'.

There was another child around (Reader's) age that had been adopted from a different country. He looked like an angel, with gold hair and eyes so clear and blue that they looked like the sky.

The floor shook dangerously as the group worked their way to the stairs. A healer tried to hold (Reader) back, concern filling his face. "You look really pale, do you need to sit down?"

"We literally just entered!" A thug stage whispered, nervous to make any loud noises. No one knew what was in the tower, but there had been many stories about monsters and demons. Some said that the devil himself pulled the tower into the earth out of jealousy towards God.

"I'm fine.." (Reader) wiped the sweat off their forehead with the back of their hand. "I'm just getting a weird sense of deja vu..."

The children entered the tower's chapel hand in hand. It was nearly empty, save for a nun kneeling before a terrifying statue of a cloaked figure. Despite wearing a habit, she was an unusual looking nun, with her eyebrows shaved off and tattoos visible from under her hood.

"Welcome, children." She gave a small smile, one that seemed more tired than welcoming.

"You look weird." The golden boy gripped (Reader's) arm tighter.

A genuine laugh erupted sharply, startling the kids. "I am a clerical nun."

"What's that?"

She revealed her hands to the small orphans before her. Sparkling light rose from her fingers like snowflakes falling backwards.

"The God that I serve gives me power. Power to cleanse the world of evil." The statue looming above the trio felt as though it heard her mention it; it's presence darkening and suffocating (Reader). "You were chosen because your souls glow stronger than most.. God has blessed you both."

"All you have to do is pray.."

An axe slashed through an attacking bat. Only on the 112th floor and the group had already began to run into creatures from the beyond. Lesser evils such as minion bats and living slime charged the group as ferociously as possible, mad with hunger. As they continued on, a growing affection for the young boy bloomed within (Reader's) heart, reliving someone else's journey of friendship and love, with a terrifying sense of anxiety. Each new remembrance of secret handholding and hushed murmurs behind closed doors gave (Reader) a rush of dopamine, but also made them fearful to continue. They knew there was a memory they didn't want to uncover; one that would connect to the dreams they've had since forever, and it scared them.

On the edge of puberty, (Reader) and the Boy could feel that something within them was changing, but being raised by a guild of monster hunters left them without the basic learnings of what was happening to their bodies and minds. The two were surrounded by loving adults who cared for the orphans like family, but continued to isolate themselves as they grew, relying on each other in secret more and more.

The two hid under the blanket, sharing a bed long after it was time for lights out. (Reader) held onto the Boy's slightly clammy hand, repeating a prayer in their head for God to make their heart stop hurting. It was as though they were allergic to their best friend and brother. Whenever he looked into their eyes they felt a tidal wave of emotion so intense it nearly brought them to tears. However, at the same time they couldn't leave his side. They wanted to hug him so tightly that his body would melt into their's.

"I don't like Mother Lillian." The Boy whispered through pouting lips. "She keeps making us take our lessons apart from each other."

"Haha. That's because you refuse to do your work when we sit together." (Reader) knocked their forehead against his lightly.

In the black of their room, they couldn't see the Boy's face blushing, so they assumed that the heat they felt was coming from their own cheeks.

"Schoolwork is boring... I'd rather spend time with you."

The thing on the ground floor could smell his salvation. That prayer he had mumbled in incoherent words for decades was finally heard by his God. A person who's name he hadn't forgotten despite his language skills diminishing to nothing but grunts and groans had finally come for him. He would no longer be alone.

A horrifying sound of flesh ripping echoed throughout the corridor as he tore his body away from the wall he had begun to fuse to. It was agony, dragging his living corpse across the floor, but he knew that it would all be worth it.

Soon.

(Reader's) talent for the arcane accelerated, like a snowball gently tumbling into an avalanche. Praise and recognition were no strangers to the young teen, but as their recognition grew they were kept apart from their best friend for longer and longer intervals. While it hurt to be away from him, the genius had no idea the absolute trauma the separation was inflicting on him.

Mother Lillian held her bleeding forehead, tears falling not for herself, but for the young man she saw as her own son. The Boy stood above her with a candlestick holder raised high above his head, ready to swing again. This was the scene (Reader) interrupted, lashing out on instinct with a holy light, hoisting their best friend off his feet with a frantic wave of their hand. "STOP!"

Blood continued dripping from the tattooed cleric as her aging body was pulled into her other child's arms. It wasn't a deadly strike, but a second surely would have ended her. She was powerful, but took a vow long ago to only use her magic against evil, so even having her brow split open she refused to defend herself, because that would mean that she thought her adopted son was evil.

And even though he didn't believe it, she did love him.

"It's all her fault! She won't let us be together! She's keepING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!"

Moisture sweat from the walls.

The heat was becoming unbearable. Cooling potions were being consumed in fairly consistent dosages as the party descended. But it wasn't the earth's core, nor the presence of hell itself that caused (Reader's) fever.

They could still feel the sting of betrayal when they threw their best friend off of their mother.

"No.. that wasn't me.." the hero wobbled on their feet, fingernails clawing at their scalp.

A clay vase nearly toppled as (Reader) clipped their hip on the corner of the little table it was resting on.

They could see the Boy watching them from behind the ugly vase, and it made their stomach feel strange. His shoulders had grown wide and his chest broad. The Boy no longer looked like a boy, and (Reader) couldn't block out the odd, scary new feelings they had for him.

"STOP!!" (Reader) took off, slamming their face into a wall with a force loud enough to draw the attention of skeletons.

Said monsters hobbled closer to the group of panicking adventurers, drawing the attention of the dizzy and confused hero, who recognized the tatters draping the undeads' bones immediately.

Clerical wizards and holy people smiled at the young adult knowingly as they tried to explain, with all seriousness, the illness plaguing their body whenever their "brother" was near.

"Calm down!" The healer begged, trying to cool the panicking person down.

"No! You should all be in heaven! Why are you here?!"

Why am I here?

Whispers seeped out of the door to the Boy's room, whispers the jealous cleric-in-training on the other side did not recognize. Unable to contain their envy, (Reader) burst into the room, only to see their exhausted blonde friend standing alone in the center.

"[•••••], who were you talking to?" They demanded, eyes narrowed and shaking. At hearing his own name his cloudy eyes widened, accentuating the bags hanging heavy underneath.

"I was just praying.." His arms engulfing his angry "friend" instantly dowsed their fire, almost hypnotizing them with his touch into forgetting that they thought they had heard a second voice. "If I'm.. If I can be as strong as you, then we'll be able to spend more time together, right?"

Your God wasn't listening, so I found a new one.

As (Reader) remembered a life that wasn't their own, so did the abomination from the basement.

Each floor that their bodies drew closer also brought back pieces of their souls; souls that could only exist together.

He came to me, and offered me a deal.

The Man woke his old friend when the sun wasn't close to rising, climbing over their body under their blankets. As soon as their lips parted to question his actions, his tongue was in their mouth.

With no light to guide them the two kissed passionately and without experience. They didn't know what they were doing, just that they needed to feel one another.

(Reader) greedily grabbed the sides of his face to pull him closer, legs shifting to feel his body against their own, instantly stopping at the realization that his face was wet under their palms.

"[•••••]?" They tried to pull back as he leaned in, trapping them against their pillows. What they first thought to be tears was too warm and thick to be water. Roughly pushing him back, (Reader) illuminated the small space with magic, frightened.

Blood leaked down and smeared across his cheeks as [•••••]'s bloated, red eyes were on the verge of popping.

"Shit, we finally got passed them!" The barbarian wheezed out. "Those boney bastards were fucking tough, no thanks to you!" He directed that last part to the nearly comatose hero being supported by the healer.

"no.."

The young magic user barely heard the sick patient whimper. They had been muttering gargles of nonsense for a few levels, so it was worrying seeing them lucid and frightened; eyes round of scared, pointing at the door the barbarian was about to open with all their strength, shaking. "No..."

"Why were they so tough..?"

The door swung open with a loud bang, and a tendril shot through, piercing the barbarian's skull and splattering the scholar behind him in brain matter.

"He had made a pact with a devil."

A man bubbling alive screamed in agony as he attempted to tear off his hands to rid himself of the holy chains keeping him tethered to the floor.

Mother Lillian made an audible sound of pain as she choked back her feelings. Years of meditation and worship, and she could not keep a stoic face despite this being her job. So many exorcisms she performed. So many monsters she'd slain.

But this was her son.

"We can exer-"

"We have already tried that." (Reader) felt their world shatter. "This was a contract, not a possession."

A paladin in golden armor offered a sorrowful expression that seemed genuine. "The only thing we can do is to put him out of his misery."

"No!" They cried out, attempting to launch themselves at the godly man as their grieving mother held them tighter to her chest. "Let me see him, please! I can talk to him! Convince him to give up the name of the devil, so we can hunt it down and save his soul!"

"That's-" The paladin was cut off by Mother Lillian's icy glare. That was a long shot. Not only would it be a reckless waste of human life to hunt down a devil for one man, said man was delirious, borderline demented. There was no reasoning with him.

Bloody holes where eyes once sat welcomed (Reader) as they entered the cellar prison.

Without his sight, he could still see. He saw with scent and sound. The sound of their blood rushing through their veins made their shape, and the natural odor of (Reader's) sweat identified the body. He smiled, another tooth falling out as he did so, joining the wet pile on the floor.

"(Reader)~.."

"Tell me the name of the devil you serve." They kept their voice even and still, despite the quake rattling their spine.

"You came for me~ Just like he said!~" A pop ended his sentence, one of his arms dislocating as he pulled on the chains to get closer.

"Just like who said?" (Reader) fell to one knee, leaning in as closely and as they safely as they could. "Please, tell me the name of the devil you made a contract with."

"And now you'll love me!" He squealed.

"I want to save you!" (Reader) grabbed his shoulders but was instantly repelled, throwing themselves away and back towards the door. His skin had slipped off and stuck to their fingers. "Please, please just tell me!"

"God made me strong so you would love me!"

(Reader) turned to run out.

"Wait. Where are you going?" His voice almost sounded like his own again. It pulled (Reader's) hand away from the handle.

"I need to hunt down the devil that did this to you." Their voice trembled, barely containing their tears.

".. what?" The smile was gone as more skin stripped off the decaying body. "No?"

The pain was beginning to return. It had left when his love entered, but now that they were threatening to leave.

"You can't leave? No! NO!" His face tore as he slammed his skull down onto the floor. "Don't leave me! You need to love me! Please don't go!"

Corpses lay around the detached person slowly coming to terms with their apparent reincarnation. They knew they never returned to that tower in their previous life. They spent their entire life searching for the devil that stole their first love's soul, and died bleeding out on a battlefield, forgotten by history and remembered by no one. Unknown to them, the tower with their forgotten family did not carry on their legacy, for it had sunk while they were searching and they had simply never heard the news.

Perhaps, there were no gods, only devils. Because even the most righteous people to have ever lived were damned to wander the tower as the undead instead of passing over to the afterlife. It wasn't fair.

(Reader) gazed up at the tumorous creature that had massacred their party with glassy eyes. The name they couldn't recall during their entire discovery of their past life rolled off their tongue as they reached out for him-

"Ydenn."

A language no longer spoken by a people that no longer lived; suddenly the language (Reader) had known their entire life was replaced by something much older.

Skinless hands grabbed (Reader) gently and raised them to eye level. "(Reader).."

He called them by their past name, bruising their hips under his fingers. (Reader) briefly worried that they were about to die, that all these years alone Ydenn thought they had abandoned him, and that all he desired for all these years was revenge.. but instead he pulled them close, smashing his face against theirs in a mock kiss.

Without lips his gums rubbed painfully against their lips, but it felt just as hungry and desperate as their first kiss under the covers. (Reader's) body may have felt different in his arms, but he knew it was them.

They parted their lips for his invading tongue, now longer and monstrous, it moved like a writhing worm inside their cheeks before pressing itself down their throat, pulsating and hot. Ydenn's hands tore off their top, effortlessly going through multiple layers to feel their bare skin against his raw muscles. He sat their body on his mound of flesh, unable to think of anything other than becoming one with them.

A bright light filled (Reader's) vision as their pants were removed, suddenly replacing the horrific scene with a pleasant dream. Lying in the bed they owned well over a century ago, Ydenn held them under his naked body, face red and glossy from his crying baby blues. "I finally have you again." With a wide smile he kissed them again, smiling harder when they eagerly reciprocated.

They pulled back just to say "I tried to save your soul, Ydenn! I'm sorry I never came back, I'm sorry for dying!"

Just like the angel (Reader) remembered him to be, his face cracked under the weight of his joy, hearing his love babble underneath him as though they were nervous of his feelings. "You came back for me~"

"I'm sorry it took so long." Now (Reader) was also smiling through tears. "I'm sorry I never told you.. that.. that I already loved you!"

(Reader) could feel his erection press against their thigh and willingly opened their legs, making room for him.

Ydenn's heavy pants hit their ear as he dropped his face into the crook of their neck, caressing his dick with one hand as he rubbed its tip between their legs. "Tell me you want to become one with me."

Shivers pimpled their skin in anticipation as they looked down between their bodies at his swollen cock. "I want to become one with you."

There was a searing pain that pieced (Reader's) core.

With a blink the dream was gone, and (Reader) was back facing the skinless half living corpse; a thick tendril made of gore and once-human meat penetrating their stomach.

Vomit and blood spat out across their chest as the throbbing entity began thrusting in and out of the wound it created. Their eyes gave away their shock at the treachery. The wound was too deep and too sudden; the immediate pain was already gone, and they felt numb from the waist down.

"Yd-Ydenn?" They choked on his name, but the gurgle of blood went unnoticed by him. Just hearing his name spurred him on. His teeth scraped against theirs as he began violently fucking the hole he had created. The tendril raped their abdomen like a prehensile penis while his hands ground their urine soaked groin against the growth that was his lower half. Each slap of their bodies bore the wound deeper, spraying blood and mulched intestine.

Between slaps were images of that dream, almost within (Reader's) grasp. They could almost feel pleasure, as they imagined running their hands through his hair as he pounded them into their bed.

They could hear the bed creaking against the hard wood floor as they reached their orgasm, excitedly moaning as they spasmed under his crushing pelvis. (Reader) could feel something building within them, threatening to pop as his dick slammed into something inside of them perfectly.

Just as it was spilling out, the rush of a climax vibrating their system, a loud thunk brought them back to their bloody reality.

Their glazed eyes lulled to the side to find the source of the loud sound.

(Reader's) severed bottom half lay on the floor, only attached to their torso by the stretched out intestines and leaky organs barely holding on.

The disembowelment of his lover didn't seem to phase the monster, still making love to them as more smaller, wriggling pieces of flesh penetrated (Reader).

They could feel the tendril writhe up into their chest, and wondered how they weren't dead yet. It rubbed itself against their heart, leaking an inhuman precum against their weakly beating organ. Through the black goop they thought they could see blue irises smiling back at them with happy tears.

"I love you, (Reader)."

Hot fluid splashed up into their brain as he came inside of their nearly hollowed out cavity, then the world went black.

There was a creature at the bottom of the tower, that no adventurer dared to attack. It never killed unprovoked, but it's kill rate was perfect.

It was a strange creature, a large ball of rotting chunks of human meat, held together by dark magic. Out of the tumor like creature sprouted two torsos, one more decayed than the other, and they were often seen embracing one another, creating ungodly sounds that echoed throughout the entire tower.

Though they forgot how to speak and see, their names never each other's mouths, repeating them over and over to one another without end. They had no need for sleep, nor rest. It was as though they forgot they needed to eat and even breathe.

They only needed each other.

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #gn reader #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #cw: gore #cw blood #cw dubcon #cw mind control #cw death #snsp #yandere x reader #angst #happy ending..? #cw gore #really high while trying to proofread #sorry this took so long

[hey-therebebes]

Draco Malfoy Dating Headcanons

Protective Partner: Draco's protective instincts run deep. You'll notice he's always looking out for you, whether it's making sure your robes are properly fastened before heading to class or discreetly checking your tea for any accidental sugar-sweetening charms.

Late-Night Patronus Walks: He'll suggest late-night walks around the castle when you're feeling stressed. With his Patronus leading the way, you'll explore Hogwarts in a whole new light, safe and cared for.

Borrowed Time-Turner: In secret, he borrows Hermione's Time-Turner to ensure you have more time to prepare for exams or simply spend more moments together.

Defending Your Honor: If anyone dares to say a bad word about you, Draco won't hesitate to defend your honor. Expect some well-worded but scathing retorts to anyone who crosses the line.

Customized Protection Charms: He spends hours researching and crafting customized protection charms to keep you safe. Your Amulet of Protection is a testament to his dedication.

Planning Escape Routes: On adventures together, he always has an escape plan in mind, just in case things take a dangerous turn. It's a mix of his Slytherin cunning and his unwavering care for you.

Care Packages: During stressful times, you'll find thoughtful care packages waiting for you in your dormitory or common room. They include calming teas, relaxation potions, and handwritten notes of encouragement.

Unsolicited Comfort: When he senses you're upset, he'll show up with comforting gestures like a favorite dessert from the kitchens or a playlist of calming wizarding tunes.

Learning Defensive Spells Together: He'll offer to teach you defensive spells, not just for your safety but because he enjoys spending time with you in the Room of Requirement, honing your magical skills together.

Occasional Romantic Surprises: Amidst all the protection, he occasionally surprises you with romantic gestures, like a hidden bouquet of enchanted roses or a handwritten love letter sealed with a kiss.

Slytherin Chill: Beyond the intimidating façade, Draco possesses a surprisingly chill and laid-back demeanor in your relationship.

Picnics by the Lake: You'll often have spontaneous picnics by the Black Lake, with Draco bringing along a magically enchanted blanket that repels insects and warms you both on cooler days.

Wizarding Movie Nights: Draco enjoys curling up with you for wizarding movie nights in the common room, complete with buttery popcorn and cozy blankets. His favorite films include classics like "The Wizard of Oz" and "Gilderoy Lockhart's Adventures."

Relaxed Quidditch Sessions: While he loves watching Quidditch, he also enjoys casual Quidditch sessions where you can both take to the skies for some friendly one-on-one games.

Ice Cream at Florean Fortescue's: On hot summer days, you'll often find yourselves at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in Diagon Alley, trying out unique magical ice cream flavors.

Shared Mischief: Draco has a mischievous side, and you'll collaborate on harmless pranks, like charmed snowballs during the winter season or making the Hogwarts suits of armor do the conga when no one's looking.

Fireplace Gazing: During the colder months, you'll sit by the common room fireplace, just gazing at the flames and chatting about everything and nothing until the early hours of the morning.

Sunset Strolls: He enjoys sunset strolls around the Hogwarts grounds, holding hands and sharing stories about your day as the sky transforms into a canvas of warm colors.

Cooking Adventures: You both experiment in the kitchens, attempting to cook up magical dishes and sometimes failing spectacularly, resulting in giggles and magical food fights.

Magical Art Classes: You take elective magical art classes together, learning to paint and create, with Draco surprising you with his hidden artistic talent.

Gardening in the Greenhouses: Occasionally, you'll escape to the Hogwarts greenhouses to tend to magical plants and have quiet, private moments among the foliage.

Romantic Gestures: Draco's romantic side is more enchanting than you'd expect, with a touch of magic and thoughtfulness.

Hidden Love Letters: Draco leaves secret love letters for you to discover around Hogwarts. These letters reveal his innermost feelings and often lead to romantic rendezvous.

Candlelit Dinners: He arranges candlelit dinners in the Slytherin common room, complete with floating candles, soft music, and your favorite dishes conjured by house-elves.

Stargazing in the Astronomy Tower: On clear nights, Draco leads you to the Astronomy Tower, where you both lay beneath a magical, star-filled sky. He even points out constellations and shares whimsical stories about them.

Enchanted Flowers: He gifts you enchanted roses that change colors and emit a soft, soothing fragrance when touched. Each color represents a different memory or emotion.

Impromptu Dance Parties: Draco loves to dance when no one's watching. He'll sweep you off your feet for impromptu waltzes in empty corridors, and you'll share laughter and twirls.

Magical Surprises: Draco is skilled at performing small, charming spells to surprise you. Picture books that come to life, floating messages, or even a magically animated scarf that wraps around you on a chilly day.

Gondola Rides on the Black Lake: He once arranged a private gondola ride on the Black Lake, complete with a singing mermaid and a personal concert by the giant squid, which he swears can play the violin.

Music Box Keepsakes: He gifts you a magical music box that plays your song whenever you open it, providing a soothing and nostalgic background to your special moments.

Magical Jewelry: Draco often surprises you with unique magical jewelry, like a necklace that changes its design according to your mood or a bracelet that glows when you're near.

Starlit Walks Through the Forbidden Forest: As a daring gesture, he once led you on a starlit walk through the Forbidden Forest, conjuring a protective Patronus to guide the way and ensure your safety.

Quidditch Dates: Draco's passion for Quidditch creates some memorable moments in your relationship.

Cheering in the Stands: You'll often find yourselves in the stands, cheering for his favorite Quidditch team. Draco's enthusiasm is contagious, and you can't help but get swept up in the excitement.

Friendly Bets: Draco enjoys friendly bets on Quidditch matches. Whether it's a bet on which team will win or a wager on who can catch the Snitch first during a casual game, there's always a playful competition.

Private Quidditch Matches: Occasionally, he arranges private Quidditch matches for just the two of you. Flying together through the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, you share exhilarating moments in the sky.

Quidditch Snacks: Draco has a penchant for Quidditch-themed snacks. You'll enjoy butterbeer together, munch on Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and share a bag of Chocolate Frogs during matches.

Quidditch Strategy Discussions: After matches, you engage in deep discussions about Quidditch strategies, analyzing the players' moves and debating team tactics over butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

Surprise Quidditch Gifts: Draco surprises you with Quidditch-themed gifts, such as a personalized Quaffle with your name on it or a vintage Quidditch poster for your dormitory wall.

Seeker and Chaser Duo: If you're a fan of Quidditch too, you may join him as a Seeker or Chaser in friendly games, perfecting your teamwork and celebrating victories together.

Quidditch Feasts: After a particularly exciting match, Draco arranges celebratory feasts in the Great Hall, complete with themed decorations and Quidditch-shaped desserts.

Quidditch-Related Adventures: Your shared love for Quidditch often leads to adventures like sneaking into the Quidditch supply room to try out different broom models or exploring the hidden corners of the Quidditch pitch.

Quidditch under the Moonlight: Draco once organized a special night Quidditch match under the light of the full moon, making it a magical experience that you both cherish.

Hidden Vulnerabilities: Beneath his tough exterior, Draco harbors hidden vulnerabilities that become more apparent as your relationship deepens.

Late-Night Conversations: On quiet nights in the Slytherin common room, Draco opens up about his fears, doubts, and insecurities. You're the one he trusts to confide in.

The Weight of Expectations: He often discusses the heavy burden of his family's expectations and how it has affected him throughout his life. You provide a safe space for him to express his frustrations and aspirations.

Boggart Lessons: Together, you face Boggarts in Professor Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Draco's boggart reveals his fear of failure, which you help him conquer by his side.

Coping with Trauma: Draco's experiences during the Second Wizarding War have left scars. Your unwavering support and understanding help him heal from the trauma he's endured.

Facing Prejudices: He admits to wrestling with the prejudices instilled in him from a young age. Through your influence, he begins to question these beliefs and grow as a person.

Strength in Vulnerability: Draco discovers that there's strength in vulnerability. He sees how sharing his fears and uncertainties with you brings you closer together and fosters emotional intimacy.

Embracing Change: Your relationship encourages him to embrace change and growth. He starts to distance himself from toxic influences and becomes more open-minded.

Supportive Partner: You're there to reassure him that it's okay not to have all the answers, and together, you navigate the challenges of young adulthood in the wizarding world.

Learning from Mistakes: Draco acknowledges his past mistakes and regrets, striving to be a better person. Your forgiveness and encouragement help him on this journey of self-improvement.

Shared Strength: As your relationship deepens, you both draw strength from each other's vulnerabilities, finding solace in the fact that you're there for each other, no matter what.

The Library Dates: Draco's appreciation for the library creates a unique dynamic in your relationship.

Late-Night Study Sessions: You often find yourselves in the library, huddled over textbooks and parchment. Draco's dedication to his studies is contagious, and together, you make the most of your time there.

Library Adventures: Occasionally, you embark on "library adventures" to uncover hidden magical texts or solve mysterious riddles tucked away in forgotten corners of the Hogwarts library.

Book Recommendations: Draco enjoys recommending books to you, especially those related to pure-blood traditions, ancient magical practices, or hidden wizarding history. You have a growing collection of these unique titles.

Shared Tables and Whispers: The two of you share a special table in the library, where you whisper secrets, exchange notes, and occasionally get shushed by Madam Pince, the librarian.

Comfort in Silence: There's a comfort in the shared silence of the library. Even when you're not studying the same subjects, just being near each other as you read or research feels reassuring.

Magical Library Nooks: Draco knows all the magical library nooks, like the one with the enchanted armchairs that massage your back while you read or the hidden alcove that's perfect for secret meetings.

Library Pranks: Occasionally, you engage in lighthearted library pranks, like using quiet spells to make books float or charming quills to write amusing comments in the margins of dusty tomes.

Researching Together: You both collaborate on research projects and help each other find obscure information or historical references, often staying late into the night to uncover hidden mysteries.

Magical Creatures and Herbology: Draco's growing interest in magical creatures and Herbology leads to joint field trips to the Forbidden Forest or the greenhouses, where you bond over your shared fascination.

Quiet Declarations: In the library's hushed atmosphere, Draco occasionally slips sweet notes or declarations of love into your books, knowing you'll find them when you least expect it.

Shared Interests and Intellectual Conversations: Your relationship with Draco is enriched by your shared interests and deep, intellectual discussions.

Pure-Blood Traditions: Draco introduces you to the intricate world of pure-blood traditions and histories, giving you insights into the intricacies of wizarding society.

Ancient Runes: You both share a fascination with ancient runes, spending hours deciphering and studying runic texts, which often leads to thrilling discoveries and moments of excitement.

Dark Arts (Responsibly): While mindful of ethical boundaries, you both have an interest in the Dark Arts, studying their history and countermeasures to better understand and combat dark magic.

Philosophical Debates: Draco enjoys engaging in philosophical debates, discussing topics like destiny, free will, and the nature of magic deep into the night.

Magical Creatures: You both embark on journeys to study magical creatures, from the majestic Hippogriffs to the elusive Thestrals, fostering a shared love for the wizarding world's diverse inhabitants.

Wizarding History: Exploring the rich tapestry of wizarding history becomes a joint passion. You visit historical wizarding sites, like the ruins of Hogwarts' original castle, and uncover hidden secrets.

Art and Aesthetics: Your shared appreciation for magical art and aesthetics leads to visits to wizarding art galleries and discussions about the symbolism in various magical artworks.

Deconstructing Spells: You spend time together deconstructing spells, seeking to understand their inner workings and experiment with spell modifications, occasionally leading to delightful magical surprises.

Potion Brewing: Potion brewing becomes a shared hobby. You challenge each other with concocting complex potions and share your successes (and mishaps) in the art of potion-making.

Exploration of Magical Locations: Your mutual love for exploration takes you to lesser-known magical locations like ancient standing stones and hidden wizarding villages.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy x reader #y/n #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter

[linddzz]

In Which Hob, a Shitty Wizard, Meets a Supposed Demon

Last week or so I made too many posts about what if Hob, still immortal, trying out occultism but kinda crap at it (which is some bullshit considering that Death is his drinking buddy), first meets Dream as the devil in the basement of The Magus Burgess. I called it "the shit-wizard Hob AU"

I still don't know if I'll finish it. But I couldn't stop it from starting.

No editing no betas we post on Tumblr like idiots.

EDIT: very mild editing still no betas we still stupid

********

In August of 1923, Hob Gadling - currently Rob Gedlen- is introduced to a demon.

It is, he has to admit, rather impressive. Or at least, the bonds keeping it tamed are. The prison space is everything a magus cellar should be. All arched, ancient stone and dim lighting that only barely illuminates the painted ceiling. Shadows so deep that even the electric bulbs only give the dark textures of colour. Green algae, the saturated grays and browns of rock, the faded blue and gold of the artificial night sky.

The oily glint of black iron chains. The sweeping ooze of the light over the curved iron scaffolding the chains held up, and the dizzying reflection off of the glass orb held within the iron like a gem clasped in dragon claws suspended over a small, mirror flat moat and an intricate golden circle.

Very impressive. Forboding even. The sort of thing a magus should have in his cellar.

The man inside of it looks for all the world like an ordinary naked man. Right number of limbs, hair and skin natural colors, everything in place where it should be. That's if one ignored the fact that he was sitting calm and clean in a fully airtight sphere of glass. Ordinary, if you were a dimwit and took human shape as a sign of humanity.

“This,” Burgess says with a wicked, bitter sort of pride, “is the Order’s secret of success.”

Hob whistles, because he thinks he should show some sort of appreciation. He's been working for Burgess for a few years now after all, and knows when to look suitably impressed. It is impressive, so he doesn't need to play it up too much when he follows Burgess past the wrought iron gate.

The man in the glass looks less like a mystical secret and more like he needs a coat. He's even sitting with his knees tucked to his chest, delicate ankles crossed in front of him, arms loosely draped forward and black haired head bowed down as if in deep thought.

With his nakedness, the curled position would look painfully vulnerable, were it not for the overwhelming sense that he's waiting.

“He's a demon of dreams. Or close enough to a demon.” Burgess explains. His cane tapping on the stone is the only other sound in that strange space. “I was attempting to summon Death itself, and failed at my task. But I did not come away empty handed.”

Yeah, that's probably for the best. If Hob had sauntered down here and seen Her displayed in a glass cage like a bauble, he would have done something stupid and violent. Best case scenario; She would just laugh at him for overreacting. Worst case; She'd do it with that sad little twist to Her mouth.

The entity Burgess did nab seems miniscule compared to the apparatus around him, to the manor towering over their heads. Yet even Hob and his absolute shit senses for magic can feel how everything is circling the center point of the man. They're all little marbles, orbiting the sphere and the mass within it.

“An incubus?” Hob asks, walking around the perimeter of the moat. His tone is mild, curious, intrigued. It's a talent of his to not exactly lie, but to use some of his feelings to mask others.

It’s a horrible thing, to take the freedom of another for your own benefit.

Her voice echoes in his head. That moment is never far from his head. The sad sweetness of her voice turned sour. The hard disappointment in her dark eyes. He will never forget the horrid, sickening twist of guilt of that meeting, and he feels it when he looks at the demon in the magus’ cellar.

The lights reflect oddly in the sphere, making it seem as if the man himself were the source of illumination. His skin is the sort of gleaming white that poets would froth over. Hob isn't a poet, but even he can tell that “white” hardly does it justice. The alabaster statues a floor above are going to appear dull and crude now when compared to the snow-under-moonlight of the man down here. The shadows of him are blue, violet, deepest velvet black.

Maybe not snow under moonlight, Hob thinks, reminded of the multi-hued winter twilight.

Now that he's closer, Hob can make out the sharply sculpted features of him. His curled body is a lean, hungry twist of muscle that reminds one less of actual flesh than of a tangled metal chord. His cheekbones are sharp and high, his eyes cast down with a sweep of raven wing lashes. The only hints of life are the faint flushes of seashell pink at his ears, his fingers, the still and plush lips.

“If you like.” Burgess says, which means the man isn't an incubus and Burgess thinks he's fucking clever again. The magus is watching Hob now, who is examining the circle, the iron chains, anything that will keep him from thinking too much about the thin form trapped within it.

“I attempted first to gain favors from it.” Burgess continues when Hob says nothing. “But it is stubbornly silent. No matter.”

Burgess has stepped past the moat, past the circle, to stand with his nose nearly touching the round glass wall. Hob stays outside of the barriers, but he is close enough that he can see the hate that always sits beneath his boss’ manners.

“No matter.” Burgess repeats, sneering at his captive. “Found a use for you anyway, didn't I? Just its presence brings power to this place. It amplifies the magic here, makes the spells wrought near it more solid.”

“Not much hope for me then, if I'm already by some magic booster.” Hob grins, and his boss chuckles almost fondly. It had been a whim that had Hob joining the Order. He’d never tried being a magician before, though he had gone to a few seances when they were at their peak. Occultism wasn't too fashionable anymore, so Hob thought it was best to try it out now before it got truly passe.

He's glad he's only been at it for a few years, because he's crap at it. All the costumes and chanting and intricate rituals seem silly, even when he's seen the true results of it. It was just a bunch of nonsense cobbled together from bad translations and old frauds that everyone knew were frauds back in the day! But if you followed the stupid made up rubbish perfectly, sometimes it would result in some actual magic.

That's one of the stupid things about magic. If all you can think about while doing a spell is that you must look like an utter berk, it won't work.

“We all have our talents, Mr. Gedlen.” Burgess says mildly, indulgently. “It's why I have brought you here, actually. You may not have the Gift,” he always referred to magic like that, you could hear the self important capitalized letters in it, “but you’re measured. Resilient. Notably unshakable.

Hob supposed that was true enough. Being in a house with a bunch of wizardy twats who were too busy going mad while practicing the perfect runes took a level head. Someone needed to have enough of a practical mindset to smother out all the fires that tended to happen, even if those fires had colors that gave you a headache.

“I've tried other magicians, promising acolytes, ruffian's from the street.” Burgess continues, sighing with remembered disappointment and gazing hard at the unmoving demon. “They would lose their nerve, complain of nightmares, or they would be too dimwitted to know the sorts of things to report on.”

Hob moves again, still keeping to the edges of the moat, until he is looking at Burgess’ back and into the lowered face of the demon. “You want me to be a guard?” He asks, voice mild because he isn't sure how he feels about that.

“An observer.” Burgess corrects. “You're sharp, though I've noticed that you try not to show it. You don't have a talent for magic, but you're quick to catch onto the supernatural.”

Hob should hope so, all things considered.

“I want you to take one of the guard shifts, yes. But I want to see what you observe compared to the thicker minds my son has hired. I want you to tell me when it moves, how it moved, if the light seemed different, if you felt tired despite the forced march pills you will be required to take. Any sign that it might be trying to wear away at the binds that hold it.

Do not be fooled by it's stillness or fair looks.” Burgess taps his cane on the sphere, making it ring like a perfect crystal. “This is a demon. If it ever breaks free, it will destroy all of us without a thought.”

The demon lifts its head then, and Hob wonders if his heart finally stops. The movement is slow, strange and dragged, a statue that can only mimic how a living thing would move. The raven wing lashes fly up. The demons eyes are shadowed. Far more deeply shadowed than they should be for the amount of light shining off his skin.

Within those shadows, the place where his eyes must be draw all the light in, refine it, refract it back in the distant twinkling of two dim, hateful, cold stars.

“Yeah. I don't doubt that.” Hob says quietly, and the demons eyes blaze in its beautiful, dead face.

#dreamling #new orb rescue mission au dropped #shit wizard hob #my fic

[flordeamatista]

𝗜'𝗺 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀

pairing: boudoir photographer!ari levinson x reader

concept: You're so pretty, I'm all yours

word count: 1.4k

warnings: new year feels, soft grey! reader, soft kisses, allusions to bj, 

a/n: daydream written for the @writerscafehub writer's cafe secret santa exchange. prompt: “Character is a photographer. Reader wants to do a boudoir photo shoot for Christmas.

I appreciate the love you both gave me when I first wrote the first draft and ideas in December @targaryenvampireslayer @navybrat817

lovely beta: @/navybrat817

line divider by the lovely @s-tarksintern / the cute gif and moodboard made by me

masterlist

It was an image of you that sparked my desire to see you.

It was impossible not to admire your own reflection as you gazed into the large vanity mirror. Expertly applied makeup highlights your attractive features, giving you an air of magic and allure. You hadn't felt this confident and energized in a long time.

Ultimately, today was the day she returned to you.

There is a charred, hollow space in your soul where the flame of your soul once burned fiercely. The time is now to reignite that flame and let it spread throughout your veins, consuming all doubts and fears.

It's time to reclaim yourself, step back into your true self, open your heart and let her back in. After years of waiting and walking through the dark, she is coming through the day and the time for hesitation is over. 

Set that flash ablaze and watch it turn into an inferno of passion and strength.

The silk robe draped smoothly over your body, providing comfort and a soft barrier as you prepared for the photo shoot. Often, a photo can convey a thousand words about a person, and your photos conveyed intensity and fierceness.

Little did you know, the man behind the camera would become the perfect match for your fiery energy. You had seen his work online, attracted by his talent and unique style. A face-to-face meeting with him, however, was a whole new experience. Your spine was tingling from his presence. The piercing blue of his eyes and the chiseled features only added to his allure. Billboards were the right place to advertise his face, not behind a camera. 

Faced with his blazing inferno, you couldn't help but feel like a mere flicker.

As the light from the camera engulfs your eyes, primal desires ignite in your mind.

The heat radiating from it beckons you closer, enticing you to grasp its alluring power and reach out and grasp it.

As you step toward the camera, your heart pounding with anticipation, you repeat like a manifesting prayer, "She will burn, she will be loved."

This new year brings you closer to achieving your deepest desires.

You breathe deeply as you step in front of the lens and release any inhibitions or doubts you may have. Hearing the air rush into and out of your body, you become aware of your own existence.

Now is your chance to shine without apologies or hesitation.

Embrace your true self and ignite it before Ari Levinson's eyes.

Feel the flames of passion and authenticity dancing within you, pleading to be released.

Making your own ambiance of beauty.

A sense of anticipation tingles your body as you lie on the crisp, white sheets. There's something unmistakably sexy and inviting about the way your legs are spread apart.

Your bare skin shivers as cool air blows over it, both excited and nervous.

Standing before you is someone who has witnessed your most intimate and sensual moments.

Through the eyes of his high-quality camera, he captures each curve and angle of you, gently guiding you so that you feel more at ease and desired.

Praise and compliments from him ignite desire within you.

He is telling you to move slightly to the left, so he can see your pretty eyes. With each shot he took, his flattery stoked the sparks of desire within.

You're so pretty, I'm all yours.

Ari emerged from behind the camera and slowly approached you, getting down on his knees in front of you. You held your position, trying to maintain composure as his fingers danced across your skin.

The tension in the room only grows as his intense gaze and heavy breathing intensify.

Inhale and exhale, you remind yourself as Ari's touch becomes more daring and electrifying. In the midst of all this intensity, he gently turns your face towards another light source.

More of this touch. It will make you want to burn with him and feel his touch. This time, more. 

Your mouth dropped open as he reverted to his vision.

An intense spark lit his cyan eyes, and he quickly grabbed his camera, eager to capture the raw emotion emanating from within you. Standing before him, you radiated fiery passion. With each click of the shutter, he immortalized your essence, capturing every detail, every surge of energy. The final click, the room reverberated with unbridled passion and boundless creativity as one, sealing the moment in time.

Your adoration grows in me, and I’m thrilled to be able to share mine with yours.  

When you look in the mirror, your lips, covered in a rich crimson lipstick, press together. You give the mirror an air kiss. A kiss to seal this moment. A moment that you achieved. 

She is getting what she was made to get on this very night.

Behind you as the sun sets, your lover now lies a peaceful state, his hands bound by metallic handcuffs under the low light. You move fluidly and seductively towards him with a mischievous twinkle in your eye. Your lips leave a trail of bold red kisses along his bare chest, each one expressing your passion and desire for him.

You are enthralled by his skin under your touch, igniting an inner fire that cannot be quenched. 

Yours.

It is a man who sees your vision and your vision sees him as your own.

An abrupt blinding light breaks through the darkness as he stirs from his slumber. Trying to adjust his blurry vision, he hears soft moans escape his lips. A sudden sense of urgency arises in him as he notices your piercing eyes and your body hovering over him. Seeing your fingers clatter against his belt, he weakly grunts and asks what you were doing. 

“Shhh. I'm just pleasuring my man," you declared boldly. "It's only moments ago that you were taking my pictures and now I'm fully taking you." 

You felt your breath tighten as you looked at him. Seeing his body under your touch was a release because this connection is real.

Curling your lips into a sensual smile, you knew his body was yours to possess.

After having been his muse during the photoshoot, now it was your turn to capture every inch of him.

The love you shared simmered between stolen glances and yearning gazes. You glide down his zipper as his eyes widen, unable to resist your intense pull towards him. 

In your arms, he belongs. 

Since that first snap with his camera captured your heart, he's yours entirely.

Our connection, strong and deep, breaking through.

Despite trying to contain his moans, they escaped as he gazed upon your completely naked and flawless form. The sensation of your fingers around him was stronger than any flash in the world. 

"You're mine," you declared, locking eyes with Ari in a passionate stare. "You belong to me, Ari Levinson. Only me. "I've been searching for you" With those words, you took him into your mouth, teasing him with your tongue and igniting a fire within him.

Despite trying to contain his moans, they escaped as he gazed at your completely naked and flawless form. The sensation of your fingers around him was stronger than any light in the world. 

"I'm yours," you said, locking eyes with Ari. "I belong to you, Ari Levinson. Only me. You've been searching for me, and now we have found each other." With those words, you took him into your mouth, teasing him with your tongue and igniting a fire within him.

You are Ari Levinson's perfect picture.

This flame is back, and let it spread throughout your veins as you go into the flare of flame, ultimately winning the light, consuming everything you touch.

Embracing each other, two souls seeking comfort found they were not themselves completely, until they descended into lust, an intense desire that devoured their muses.

#boudoir photographer!ari levinson x reader #boudoir photographer!ari levinson #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x female reader #ari levison x reader #ari levinson x you #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x latina!reader #ari levinson x woc!reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x poc!reader #ari levinson x curvy!reader #ari levinson x plus size reader #ari levinson fic #ari levinson smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #ari levinson series

[princessconsuela120]

✯ EVERYWHERE ✯

—✯

Summary: Sirius has a new found hatred for the new girl at hogwarts, or in other words…you.

Warnings: cursing, not many, it’s mostly just sirius being annoying😭

Author’s Note: might make this a series, I’m not sure yet…but there will definitely be a part two. If you couldn’t tell, I adore Hogwarts legacy and I thought it would be cute to add that into this fic. If the timeline doesn’t make sense don’t come for me, this is just for fun!!😭 also side note, anything not in italics is narration, the italics are flashbacks which tell the story.

—✯

Sirius Black had been far too lucky as of late. He wasn’t sure when it started, this twist of luck he had acquired, but he was sure the start had something to do with y/n Sallow, and her arrival at Hogwarts. That was two years ago, and somehow all of the troubles he used to feel had slipped from his shoulder with the gentle breeze she brought onto campus. She had transferred from the basic education school she attended in Wales in their 5th year of school, quickly catching everyone’s attention with her talent and wit. Having lived with her Grandfather half her life, and in a girls home the other half, both her and the boys were pleasantly surprised with her arrival late into their Hogwarts education. Since she missed so many years of magic, she was assigned a magic tutor from her class, which of course had to be the top of the class from the previous year; Remus Lupin.

—✯

“Oh come on mate, this is ridiculous!” Sirius grumbled, trailing behind Remus as brunette rolled his eyes, making his way through the school while trying to ignore his raven haired counter part. “You’re gonna miss our entire study hall. James and I were gonna make a poly juice potion and tell Snape he had to retake Care for Magical Creatures. Remember when that Puffskein stuck it’s tongue up his nose?” Sirius chuckled. “He made Madam Pomfrey flush his slug nose twice before trying to drop the class.”

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, shaking his head.

“That was good. But hey I mean you guys can do it on your own. McGonagall said this could give me extra credit.”

“Oh posh, what extra credit do you need. You want a one hundred and ten in Transfiguration?”

“Her names y/n Sallow, and Professor Dumbledore even gave her full access to the room of requirements for extra practice. This could be good for me, maybe you could even join. Teach you and extra thing or two from when you’re throwing whizz-bangs in class.”

“Whatever mate. No broad is worth the time away from your friends.”

—✯

It started as a rivalry. Sirius had decided that he hated y/n l/n. Not only did she take Remus away from their prancing time, but she had exclude access to the Room of requirement. Not like she needed it. The second Sirius found out about the new girl in school, he made it his mission to find out any and all secrets she might have. She couldn’t be trusted, of course Sirius knew this, which is why he followed her footsteps closely on the Marauders Map. The first time he had found her in an unauthorized underground location, it took him a few days to build up the confidence to follow her footsteps.

—✯

“Inferio!” Y/n shouted, a blast of bright red light shooting from her wand, as the torch hanging from the ceiling light up in fire. Inferio? Now, sirius May had been aloof during charms as of late, but he sure didn’t remember learning that one.

“Damnit!” She cursed, quickly firing another charm to quickly extinguish the fire that was growing in the far corner. Sirius’ eyes widened as he crept into the room. He was lucky to have slipped in behind her, stealing James’ invisibility cloak so he could do so. She mumbled some sort of code under her breath before making her way down into the hidden room.

“Bloody hell?” Sirius mumbled, quickly covering his mouth as y/n snapped her head around.

“Hello? Who’s there?” She yelled, holding up her wand to brace herself.

“Shit shit shit,” Sirius cursed, trying to hurry towards the exit. Now, it would probably have benefited him to somehow clip the cloak in place, to prevent what was about to happen from happening, but Sirius couldn’t be bothered to do so.

“Sirius?” Y/n called, surprised by the boys presence. Sirius whipped his head around, the bottom half of his body hidden under the cloak, only his head floating around. Y/n chuckled, looking Sirius up and down. His face turned bright red, as he glanced down to see his body was gone. He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled, and she kept laughing.

“It kinda is.”

He scoffed, pulling the cloak fully off. He huffed in annoyance as he picked it up and turned to leave.

“You followed me down here?” She called, making Sirius turn around and glare at her, holding up the marauders map that was rolled up in his hand.

“You were going off grid on the map.”

“So you stalked me?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “A little strange don’t you think?” She asked, causing Sirius to scoff again, stomping his foot on the ground.

“So, what, okay, a hidden underground room isn’t?” he whined.

“Undercroft.” She said shortly, Sirius furrowing his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed in on her.

“What’d you just call me?” He asked, making her let out a frustrated huff, gesturing around the room.

“It’s called, the Undercroft. My great grandfather found it years ago. It’s been in the family since, no one else knows of it.”

“Ha. I do I know.” Sirius teased, making y/n roll her eyes at him.

“Congrats, do you want a medal?” She asked sarcastically, and he huffed agrily.

“What are you even doing here?”

“It’s a good spot to practice my magic. Considering it’s been lost from me most of my life. The code to get in is Sallow-Gaunt.” Sirius was about to say something again, before y/n interrupted him. “And don’t try Alohomora, it won’t work.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking at her with confusion as she turned to keep practicing her spells.

“You’re telling me the code, and exactly how to get in?”

“I didn’t tell you anything.” She teased as she turned to face him, making Sirius even more confused than he had been.

“But you just…”

“And if you tell anyone else, I use that spell you watched me preform 3 times.” She raised an eyebrow at him, as he pointed at the door, confused as to how she was aware of his presence.

“How’d you know I was here that long?”

“There’s a reason why this place doesn’t show up on the map.” She said, ignoring his question. He come up to her, shaking his head as he grew more frustrated.

“But everything’s on the map, it’s a flawless system.” He explained, waving said flawless system angrily in his hands. She shook her head.

“Not the Undercroft.”

—✯

There were 4 times Sirius aproached the clock-the entrance to the Undercroft- and only once did he actually go inside. First and for most, Sirius was almost positive the code y/n gave him was false information; he was a master pranker, he’s given false codes before in his life. The first time was a quick come and go. He came up to the clock, looking around to be sure no one saw him, and waved his wand twice to try and unlock the door. “Alohamora won’t work,” Rang in his head like bells. He had heard her correctly, but he wanted to prove her wrong. Low and behold, it didn’t in fact work, and instead Sirius recieved a few dirty looks for trying to unlock a clock on the wall, and decided to quickly leave with his tail tucked behind his legs.

The second time Sirius visited the clock, he couldn’t seem to remember the code he was told. Sallow he remembered, it was her name so that part was easy. But the second line, a name he’s never heard before. He tried everything, Glum, Geltum, he even said Potter a few times shamelessly in hopes it would eventually work. It didn’t-to no surprise-and for the second time Sirius fled the scene with a scowl on his face.

Now the third time he stayed the longest. He had brought both James and Remus with him, after pestering the boys with talk of the Undercroft, and secret codes. The three boys followed the map all night, but there was still no sign of the secret room Sirius spoke. The other Marauders thought he must had lost his mind; certainly his hatred for this new girl was reaching new heights.

—✯

“Because I tutor the girl Sirius, that’s how I know.” Remus grumbled in response to Sirius’ nagging. He had been os entirely convinced that this new girl must have been bad news. In the past few weeks since he had been tutoring her, Remus Lupin had grown quite fond of y/n Sallow. They had a special kind of connection; both having been split from their families and put in childrens homes. Remus found y/n to be a nice break from the craziness that came with the marauders boys, and quite frankly, Sirius’ hatred for the girl bothered him.

“I’m telling you moony, she’s dangerous. She knows these spells that I’ve never even heard of before, I’m sure it’s dark magic.” He ranted, making James look over confused. He had been zoning out, which he usually did when Sirius went off on a tangent, but dark magic seemed to snap him back in.

“Dark magic? That’s a serious accusation pads are you sure about that one?” James asked, causing Sirius to jump up with anticipation.

“Yes! She spoke some curse and suddenly fire was shooting from her wand!”

“You mean Inferio?” Remus asked, having recognized the fire spell from when he read ahead on charms.

“Yes! Inferio!” Sirius shouted, pointing excitedly at Remus.

“Huh, impressive.” Remus said to himself, earning a nod from James as Sirius looked around shocked.

“Impressive!? It’s dangerous, she’s dangerous.”

“We aren’t even supposed to learn Inferio until 7th year. She’s ahead of the game.” James nudged Remus. “She should be tutoring you Moons.” Both boys laughed as Sirius continued to jump up and down, slapping a hand on both boys shoulders to catch their attention.

“Boys you aren’t listening to me! This room, it’s not even on the map.”

“Our map?” James asked, never having seen a room off grid besides The Room of Requirements.

“Yes, our map of the entire campus of Hogwarts, and more. Nowhere does it show this Undercroft she speaks of.” Sirius rambled, causing Remus to scrunch up his face with confusion.

“Are you sure this was some underground room, I mean…maybe she was in the room of requirements and you mixed up the location.”

“No, I’m telling you.” Sirius shouted, shaking Remus aggressively. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He grabbed both boys' wrists, pulling them to the clock.

“Here. Right here, it was this clock right here.” Sirius shouted, causing James and Remus to share a confused look.

“This old thing? This clock has been here since the 1800s, it doesn’t even work anymore.”

“Exactly, now isn’t that a little strange that they kept a clock in here that doesn’t work?”

“From what I heard it’s a gift from one of the Hogwarts families. A, Versilius Gaunt. According to History of Magic he was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin.” James explained, examining the clock to find not a single thing out of place.

“Gauntt…that’s it!” Sirius said to himself, remembering the code now to the door.

“Yeah, his portraits hung up in the Slytherin Common Room. Alongside the rest of the family.” James said, shuddering at the thought of the Slytherin common room. Sirius froze, looking at the clock as he grew quieter then before.

“You alright Padss…Sirius?” Remus asked, patting a hand on his shoulder as Sirius nodded.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Why don’t you boys get to transfiguration. I’ll meet you there.” Sirius explained, waving the boys away. They both looked at each other then back to Sirius with concern.

“Minnie’s gonna kill you for being late?” James said, chuckling to himself as Sirius scoffed.

“Yeah, how many times is that now, 8?” Sirius asked, making James shove him.

“Exactly, now she’ll have to kill you nine times. You're a dog Pads, not a cat.” Now Sirius shoved him back, making both boys chuckle.

“Haha very funny. Get to class.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Remus said, smiling as the two walked away.

“See ya.” Sirius called out, before turning back to the clock.

The name repeated in his head. Gaunt gaunt gaunt gaunt. Sallow-Gaunt. He contemplated walking in, spoke the beginning name and then froze. He said Sallow six times before he gave up trying to follow through. He wasn’t sure why, but something inside him was keeping him away. Not enough to stop trying, but enough to keep him out. Maybe because there was a chance that she could be inside, and well, there’s no way in Sirius’ mind that that instance would go down well. So he stood, and stared at the unchanging hands on the clock, and then he left. Professor McGongall informed Sirius he was now up to ten times killed for missing class.

—✯

#sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #marauders imagine #marauders #marauders x reader

[tumbleweed-run]

In the Light of Day

Kinktober 2023 Day 31 Free for all

“Are you sure this is how you want to fully test this?” Tav sounds as nervous as Astarion feels. 

Astarion does a much better job of hiding his nerves, though. He looks down at the gold band on his finger, glinting in the light as he flexes his hand. “It’s not like we don’t know it works,” he reasons.

“Yes, but that was through the windows. Maybe it doesn’t work as well in direct sunlight,” Tav looks nearly panicked. 

Astarion can’t have them both stressed, so he steps into her space and grabs her arms. “Pet,” he says sharply, and her mouth slams shut, “we know it works.”

They do. He’s spent the better part of the last three days standing in front of uncovered windows in the tower, unsinged. He just hadn’t been bold enough to step outside just yet. The memory of that day on the docks in Baldur’s Gate lingers like a bad taste in the back of his mouth. Every time he’d considered even stepping out onto the terrace Gale loves so much he would feel dizzy. But he can’t bear keeping himself locked up any longer. Astarion decided today would be the day he was going out. 

His hand hesitates on the door despite all his reassurances to Tav. 

Just because Astarion believes the ring and its protection works doesn’t mean he didn’t take precautions. His face is truly the only part of his skin exposed. Should something go wrong, it would be easy enough to flip up his hood for protection until he was safely back inside. When he finally brings himself to push open the door and walk out into the street, he’s easily the most overdressed person out there. 

His eyes slide shut as the full force of the sun beats down on him, and he waits. Nothing happens. Tav breathes a sigh of relief next to him. 

“See,” Astarion turns his head towards her, eyes opening, “it works fine out here, too.”

Tav nods, a small smile finally breaking out across her lips. “Thank the gods,” she breathes.

“Let’s keep that sentiment to ourselves,” he says with a wry smile, “lest our wizard get any more ideas.”

She laughs and grabs his hand, “we should get going if we’re going to find him by noon.”

Gale had disappeared not long after sunrise. He’d left them a map to somewhere outside of the city and told them to be at that spot by noon. Astarion wondered if the air of intrigue was to act as a further lure to get him out of the tower for the first time. He wasn’t about to tell the other man that it worked. 

As they traveled towards their secret destination, it was clear that this was turning out to be the first summerlike day they’d experienced since winter had slunk off. Astarion was a fan of the heat, his body rarely feeling this kind of warmth, but even he’d taken the cloak off by the time they’d reached the city gate. There were beads of sweat along the back of Tav’s neck that Astarion spent most of their journey distracted by. 

It wasn’t hard to follow Gale’s directions, which led them to a small clearing in a wood not too far south of the city. The wizard was sitting, leaning up against the trunk of a tree with a book in hand as they approached. 

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d be eating alone,” Gale announced when they got to the edge of the clearing. 

“Please,” Astarion sniffed, “we’re not even late.”

Gale stood and approached them. If Astarion had need for breath, his would have caught when the damn wizard stepped out of the shade. He’d forgotten how the man looked in the sun, and this was even worse. Perhaps without the orb eating him alive, the man appeared even more golden than he had while they traveled. Gale looked radiant with the sun, its rays highlighting both the silver and honey-gold strands of his hair. He would have made a glorious god if their paths had turned that way. Not that Astarion would ever reveal that thought to anyone. 

“I’m starved,” Tav announces, pulling Astarion from his thoughts. 

Gale grins, “well then, you are quite lucky to know a wizard both talented with magic and food. It’s all being kept fresh with ice.”

They sat on a blanket in the sun, eating far too much food. Gale had been prepared for an army, it seemed. There was even a bottle filled with blood for Astarion, but he took small bites of everything. It was something he often did to feel included in mealtimes. At home, he’d sit with his goblet of blood, the origins of which he’d never gotten around to asking about, and taste a little of everything Gale and Tav ate. The food would never satiate his hunger. Sometimes, it seemed to make it worse, but he’d found he enjoyed eating in the company of others. 

Once he’d grown bored of food, long before the other two did, Astarion laid back on the blanket, basking in the sun. It felt different from when he’d had the tadpole. He saw the sun's lights and was able to revel in its warmth, but something was missing. Likely whatever it was that the ring was protecting him from, an invisible shield along his skin. He could live with that, a tiny missing piece, in return for the joys of being a daywalker once more. 

“You are a filthy romantic,” he announces suddenly, turning to level his gaze at Gale.

Gale pauses midchew of something with an eyebrow raised. 

“A picnic in the woods,” Astarion clarifies, earning him an eye roll from the wizard. 

Tav leans over him, blocking the sun from his face. “You’re enjoying it, though.”

Astarion doesn’t answer except to pull her down to him. She ends up lying across his chest, and he feels her stiffen for a moment. He knows why, they all do, but he won't allow it to ruin their day. So instead, he turns to his side so Tav’s lying next to him pulled tight against his body. She smells like the sun and her hair is warm to the touch. He buries his face in her neck and inhales. 

She laughs, “I thought you were full.”

“I have no plans to eat you,” Astarion assures her even as he lets his fangs scrape across her skin, no doubt also tangling in her hair. 

Tav shivers. 

“Unless you wish me to,” he adds, hooking one leg over the top of hers and pulling her even closer. Tav squirms a little, no doubt feeling the stirring of his cock against her thighs. 

Behind her, Gale clears his throat. 

“I think the wizard is jealous,” Astarion says loud enough for the other man to hear. 

“I think,” Gale says with a touch of indignity, “that the wizard wants to remind you he is also here.”

Tav giggles but pushes against him to roll away. Astarion lets her. He watches as she crawls over to Gale, sitting in his lap before pressing a kiss against the wizard’s lips. Gale pulls her closer until she’s straddling his waist, deepening the kiss. He reaches down to grasp his cock through his pants as Tav starts rocking against Gale. 

Astarion lazily palms himself as he half watches them. His eyes slip shut after a moment, and he turns his head back to the sun, enjoying the way the rays beat white against his eyelids. He groans as he hears sweet little sounds escaping Tav’s lips, still muffled against Gale’s. He’s torn between wanting to join them and laying like this in the sun. 

It’s a soft, slick sound that makes up his mind for him. Turning again, he sees that Gale has worked Tav’s pants down under her ass, and his hand has disappeared between them. Astarion watches the pale swell of flesh roll, no doubt in response to fingers buried within her, and is overwhelmed with the desire to bite her there, hard enough she’ll scar. While it’s unlikely Tav will tell him no, he swallows that down for another moment. Right now, he’s going to commit the way they look in the sunlight to memory. He hopes to see them like this a million more times, but he needs to remember today.

“Astarion,” Tav calls to him, voice inching near a whine.

He grins, rises up onto his knees, and moves to her. Once his front is flush against her back, Astarion trails a kiss against her neck. “Is the wizard not enough for you, darling,” he teases. 

Tav cries out. No doubt Gale has retaliated with his fingers to the barb. Astarion grins. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gale tells him almost casually despite what he continues to do to Tav. 

Astarion grins at the man over Tav’s shoulder. “But you love me that way,” it’s half a statement, half a challenge. 

Gale sighs. “Of course I do,” he sounds resigned to the fact. 

There’s a swell of giddiness in Astarion’s chest at the wizard’s affirmation. It seems to grow larger in the light until he can no longer repress the certainly appalling grin that’s broken across his face. Gale returns the look with a stupidly brilliant smile, one so bright that Astarion reburries his face into Tav’s neck.

He reaches around the front of Tav until his hand finds where Gale’s fingers are slowly moving in and out of her cunt. Astarion rubs gently against her clit until she’s whimpering, hips chasing after both of their touches in stuttered movements. 

“You make such pretty sounds,” he purrs against Tav’s skin. He feels, rather than sees, her skin grow hotter with a flush. 

Astarion allows his fingers to drop lower, and slowly he presses one into her, sliding it between the two fingers Gale is using. He allows the wizard to control the way they move, his position too awkward to take control. Tav moans and her thighs spread almost impossibly wider in an effort to accommodate the three fingers now inside of her. Astarion can feel her cunt growing wetter with each second. No longer is it just his fingers coated but a good part of his hand as well. 

When he pulls his hand away from her, Tav whimpers but it’s quickly swallowed by a moan. Astarion had little doubt the wizard has replaced his finger with another of his own. Astarion holds out his hand to Gale, who leans forward just enough so he can like a stripe up his palm. He grinds his cock against Tav’s ass as Gale eagerly cleans her from Astarion’s hand. Before he finishes, Gale presses a soft kiss against the golden band.

He grips onto Tav’s hips and lifts her slightly, away from Gale’s fingers. “Let’s take these off,” he says as an explanation. Gale is the one who ends up pulling them down completely. Tav just barely helps by moving her legs. Astarion scrapes his teeth against her neck in retribution before moving back off of Gale, standing. 

Gale quickly flips them so that Tav is pinned beneath him on the blanket, her head resting just before Astarion’s feet. She grins up at him and asks, “Are you fucking me?”

Astarion shakes his head, “I thought we were rewarding the wizard’s brilliance? Let’s let him have you today.”

Gale doesn’t need to be told anything further and makes short work of his own pants before dropping down to hover back over Tav. Astarion circles around behind them but stays standing until Gale’s pressing into Tav. Her eyes roll back and then close, which is when Astarion finally drops to his knees. 

He holds only Gale’s hips as the man begins lazily thrusting into Tav. After a moment, he moves his hold until he gripping the wizard’s ass, pulling him apart lightly. Gale’s rhythm suffers just a little when Astarion does this. He grins to himself about this. Then, without so much as a whisper of warning, Astarion leans down and presses his tongue against the ring of muscle. 

���Ah,” Gale yelps in surprise. He would have collapsed forward if it weren't for Astarion holding him in place. 

“No?” He asks, allowing the breath of his words to ghost across the flesh. 

“Just surprised,” Gale clarifies with barely enough time before Astarion returns to what he’d been doing. 

The wizard tries valiantly to keep thrusting into Tav, but around the time Astarion presses his tongue just inside, he all but freezes. Astarion allows himself to be sloppy as he fucks Gale with his tongue, the wizard doesn’t seem to mind judging from his moans and the way his hips try and push back against him. Astarion keeps him held in place. 

“Astarion, if I can’t watch, could I at least get fucked?” Tav asks in a voice Astarion knows is accompanied by a pout. 

“Fine,” Astarion relents and sits up. He quickly undoes the ties of his own pants and shoves them down just below his cock. 

“Are you coherent enough?” He teases, leaning forward so his hand is probably within Gale’s eyesight. 

The words are muttered spitefully, and the oil appears, even if it’s a little more than usual. Astarion quickly slicks it against his cock before swiping the excess down the cleft of Gale’s ass. He presses in with little warning, moving slow, yet relentlessly until he bottoms out. It takes a few shallow thrusts into the wizard before he begins moving again. Tav sighs happily on the ground, one leg raising up until Astarion takes hold of it, allowing Gale to thrust into her deeper. 

It’s not quick or frenzied as they fuck. Gale’s hips are rolling languidly, forward into Tav and then back against Astarion. The only noises for a while are each of their pants and the sound of the trees rustling overhead with a breeze that doesn’t reach them. Astarion allows his eyes to slide shut, again tilting his head towards the sun. It feels like his whole body is glowing in the light, the warmth growing low in his belly, each thrust of his hips making him grow brighter. This is something he’s never experienced and something he swears he will a hundred times more. 

Astarion’s orgasm takes him by surprise. His body folds over Gale as he comes, hips pinning the other man motionless again. Gale doesn’t complain, only grinds back against Astarion. Astarion pulls out of the wizard but keeps his face buried against his back. It’s not terribly comfortable as Gale begins to move, his own hand holding up Tav’s leg now, but Astarion remains anyway. He reaches around and lazily swipes his thumb against Tav’s clit until she cries out, thighs clamping tightly against Gale. The wizard comes not long after. Astarion feels the other man’s release roll through the muscles of his back. 

“You seem happy,” Tav says tentatively a few moments later as they’re lying side by side on the picnic blanket.

Astarion opens his eyes and looks over at her, and then at Gale, who’s resting his head on her stomach. 

“I am,” he says truthfully. 

#bloodweave x tav #bloodweave #Gale x tav #Astarion x tav #kinktober 2023 #Happy Halloween everyone #and a happy last day of kinktober as well!

[amywritesthings]

the better strategy. / astarion x tav

summary: After successfully saving Druid Grove, Astarion has one goal in mind: secure his safety. His strategy? Seduce Tav. But what if that plan goes horribly wrong and he falls for his own game? pairing: astarion x tav (female, she/her) word count: 3.9k tags: tiefling party reimagined, act one spoilers, non-sexual intimacy, astarion's pov, allusions to astarion's past, selûne!tav // mature for thematic elements

part two. / masterlist.

PART ONE: THE ATTEMPT

.

“I can’t help but notice you’re not indulging.”

The minute the conflict within the goblin camp was over, the second the dust settled in the grove and the victory was imminent, Astarion knew precisely the trajectory he would need to take.

Call it his innate instinct — it wouldn’t take many brain cells to understand just who led this group of afflicted tadpole carriers, for better or worse, after such a battle.

At first he assumed Shadowheart would be the one he’d eventually stalk in the daylight, with her mysterious artifact clutched tightly to her chest. The follower of Shar, however, has about as many problems as her braid has sections.

She would not lead this group to triumph.

Lae’zel? Strong, but lacking in people skills.

Karlach? Strong, relatively agreeable, but suffering greatly from her fiery defect.

Wyll? Too many contracts, so little time to absolve them.

Gale? Not a chance in any of the Hells.

Tav, however…

Calm and collected Tav. Skilled and cunning Tav. Diplomatic and equitable Tav.

Brilliant in all shades of red, peppered across her skin in blood spatter — that Tav.

From the beach where he held a knife to her throat all the way to securing a victory for the refugee tieflings at a grove that never deserved her help, he’s watched this elven woman go from a nobody to a savior overnight.

Everyone vies for her attention. Everyone wants her approval.

Even now he witnesses her flutter through the throngs of beggars invading their sleeping space, trying their hands at flattery and praise. 

(Incredible, that her ego hasn’t shot to the heavens with the gods and goddesses themselves.)

So when she finally — finally — stops in front of his tent after her lap around the camp, he knows he must catch her attention.

Keep it. Suffocate it.

He holds an empty goblet for the sake of saving face amongst the traveling tieflings, not quite willing to divulge his little secret so willingly to strangers.

Tav stops walking to stand before him when she catches that he's talking to her. “Am I not?" she challenges, holding up her goblet. "I’m drinking.”

“Not as heavily as others,” he quips, blinking his attention to the downtrodden no-name tiefling to his left still going through the motions of war and loss.

Tav’s eyes follow Astarion’s, resting there on the tiefling for a moment. Astarion blinks back to watch her expression soften — empathy.

(He hates it when she does that.)

“No, I suppose not,” she begins to reason. “That being said, I must admit I was not born with an iron stomach like Gale — or given a gifted singing voice like Alfira — or find myself in the mood to expose my talent of strength like Lae’zel.”

He can see it in his peripheral — Wyll and Gale sharing a bottle of wine, discussing the parameters of magic while crowding a most-eager Alfira as her slender fingers strum well-loved strings. Shadowheart sits quietly to the side of Halsin, nodding her head to the steady stream of tunes, and Karlach whoops and hollers as Lae’zel takes down yet another tiefling opponent in a series of arm wrestling matches.

Astarion hums indifferently. “But you were the one who secured the demise of those leaders. They all should grovel at your feet.”

“I recall seeing a fire bolt or two ignite from your hand,” Tav teases, returning her attention to his face. The licks of light from the fire compliments her complexion so well. “It wasn’t an effort finished alone.”

“It was an opportunity for violence,” he reasons. “I wasn’t about to squander it.”

“Is that so?” she asks, seemingly unconvinced by his removed reasons.

“Besides, fighting and swordplay is all well and good, but you were the one to spin the spider’s web to convince that rigid drow to believe we were rallying to her cause,” he tut-tuts with his tongue. “I didn’t think you had it in you to lie.”

After a brief huff, Tav shakes her head. “Not my best strategy.”

Astarion’s brows slide high. “No? I beg to differ.”

“I just needed to buy more time so no one would get hurt,” Tav explains, and Astarion wants to outwardly groan at her heroics. He doesn't. “I had no interest in aligning myself with someone who wanted to bring so much pain. Zevlor led his people well — they ought to be the ones you praise.”

Gods, he really likes her best when she’s focused on battle. Feral, merciless, bold — not whatever this at the end of the fight. She’ll list the damned stray dog for valor before herself.

Still, Astarion catches himself before he can ruin his own performance and sharply inhales. He puts a knowing smile back on his face, voice smooth like tainted honey nectar.

“You could still stand to take a little credit, my sweet,” Astarion replies, “but if you’re not willing to take it, then allow me to personally pay it forward.”

The dance is as old as time itself. Astarion steps from the makeshift rug of his tent, finding himself in the plush earth beneath their feet. The party rages on around them with copious laughter and impromptu music and sloshing ale, but the vampire hears nothing, sees nothing, smells nothing — except her.

And, if he’s calculated correctly, she only sees him.

Jogging up to him after missions to check in on his opinion as if she truly gives a damn. Glancing back when she’s talking to all sorts of lowly creatures as if his opinion means anything to alter her otherwise fortified decisions.

He tries to goad her into the worst possible ideas — no, this person doesn’t need help; no, this idiot can rightfully get fucked for creating their own problems; no, we’re not accepting a mere thank you for payment of our services.

(It’s any wonder she has any gold in her pockets at all.)

Sometimes she listens. Sometimes she’ll demand payment — though, if he had it his way, Astarion would turn these godforsaken degenerates upside-down and shake them stupid until Tav drains them of every last coin for acting like she’s anything but a saint.

Sometimes she stands up for herself, and Astarion can’t help but giggle when these little leeches scramble to reroute back to her good graces.

If he was a lesser man, if he didn’t know better, then the vampire would have an insane thought behind these random acts of acknowledgement: that she values him.

Somehow, in some way, even after he’s managed to violate her trust, her body, her blood — all for his gain.

For his survival.

Now he’ll offer something similar as a sort of payback for her kindness. Unfortunately, his talents are something of a one-trick pony: take a ride, any ride, and he’ll provide the best bloody night of your life. Cazador all but forced it to be a guarantee.

In the end, offering his body to Tav will secure his position in this merry band of misfits.

It will keep him safe — even if he feels the bile rising in his throat as he prepares himself to bite his lip and play coy to her every desire and whim.

(He can prove she’s just as vile as the rest.)

“Pay it forward?” Tav asks as if she doesn’t already know.

“Everyone appears occupied,” he begins, each word dripping with intention. “I can’t imagine they’ll miss us for a spell.”

His crimson eyes find hers, searching for the answer he needs: desire – for him, for stress relief, for a chance to use a willing body to let go.

“There’s a clearing not far from camp,” he purrs, taking yet another step as he ducks his chin to meet her gaze. “You can see the moon brilliantly. And the trees will catch your pretty little cries, so I implore you to be as loud as you’d like.”

Yet he’s met with widening eyes without a single thought behind them. Her lips part, close, then part again. Astarion waits for the telltale signs he’s memorized for the last agonizing two centuries — quickening of breath, dilated eyes, shifting in her stance.

“I promise it will be a night you shall never forget.”

He smirks with haughty confidence, his swagger undoubtedly catching her eye. He won’t touch her , not yet — it’s always best to make the anticipation —

Wait.

There: her eyes widen a fraction larger, lips parting with a sharp inhale.

Then her nose scrunches as if… amused, and he’s lost the script.

The hells?

“Astarion,” she starts.

“Yes, my dear,” he coos, keeping that seductive air about him.

“I don’t…” Tav gives a small smile, apologetic in nature. “I appreciate what you’re offering. Flattered, even, but I’m not someone who…”

Astarion stops moving forward, taken aback by the hesitance in her voice. For someone so headstrong in their decisions within this group, this is the first he’s seen her so… girlish? Up until now, he’s never seen Tav react to anything without conviction.

He senses a running theme between such an annoyance and the unwavering faith of a cleric.

“Am I meant to use our wiggling little friend to complete that thought for you?” Astarion presses, fluttering his fingers parallel to his temple for dramatic emphasis.

Tav sighs, and he hates it. “It’s hard to find the right words.”

“Then we needn’t use them,” he persuades airily. “That’s what bodies are for.”

Gods, she gives this look — and by now, he knows it well. The same knowing stare she gave that wretched little gnome who dared speak ill of her even after his rescue. The same knowing stare she gave Wyll when he threatened to attack their fiery friend.

The game is up.

Astarion feels… cold. Rejected?

He didn’t wish to sleep with her in the first place, but he’s never been outright denied.

“Is the gaudy wizard that eats magic trousers more your type, then?” He flippantly twists the problem away, raising a brow of feigned disinterest. “Or perhaps it’s the bloodthirsty Githyanki who gets off on smelling sweat.”

Tav snorts, rolling her eyes in a way that makes his stomach churn.

Does she think him a joke? Not attractive? Not worthy of sleeping upon her bedroll?

He runs through a list of grievances the cleric may have with him when she finally finishes the lingering thought: “I’m not someone who deals in one-night trysts.”

Tav explains slowly, cautiously, as if trying to spare his feelings. Astarion would be offended if he wasn’t so confused.

“I recognize many of us are seeing these hours as our final to live. Yet I find no comfort or pleasure in sleeping with someone I barely know.”

“But you know me better than most,” Astarion argues under his breath, jutting his chin back. That isn’t entirely a lie — Tav’s has taken the inner workings of his past, his plight, and the monster itself in stride.

Tav is the one to take a step forward this time, her cup half-drunk from the wine Halsin poured. Suddenly another feeling twists in the vampire’s sated gut: surely she’s letting him down gently because she’s interested in that beast of a man.

(The druid is certainly less jagged around the edges, teeth and all.)

“Not well enough for something like that, though,” she replies, her smile light.

Astarion’s brows knit as he considers his options. His usual form of seduction hadn’t worked. Should he spin a story, a web of lies, to make her think she truly knows him? Should he push a little harder, make promises of delight and pleasure, to—

“I’d like to see this clearing you speak of, to see the moon. Connecting with Selûne would be wonderful to experience with you near,” Tav adds, interrupting his inner monologue, “if you’re still willing to show me.”

Oh.

That’s so…

Odd.

Why does he suddenly feel so out of place and odd?

“I…” Astarion has half a mind to wave her off, to say it’s a massive waste of his night when he could get his quota filled by someone else in this camp. Yet he’s compelled to stay, to stare, as he takes in her expression. “...if that is what you wish.”

Is this a game? Play ignorant, then arrive at the clearing for sex?

He can’t read her. He can’t place her smile into any sinister category. It only widens, bright like the moon above, and she brings her goblet to her lips.

The vampire finds himself watching as her neck bobs with the gulp she takes.

“Shall I see you once everyone rests?” Tav asks, suddenly having the upper hand in a situation that was supposed to be his and his alone.

All the vampire can do is nod, sensible not to say anything that will jeopardize the private meeting, and smiles with a strain when she walks away to talk to the tiefling moping on the edges of the camp.

Of course she talks the sad sack into joining the party.

Of course she fucking does.

.

.

.

.

There’s still a chance she might want him.

All this talk about not wanting to rush things or explore another person could have been for show. She’s the diplomat of this group of imbeciles, lest he forget. She probably couldn’t afford to look interested in him, much less anyone else, so not to cause tension.

No worry — he’ll come prepared, may the cards fall where they must.

Astarion creeps past his tent, shedding his white tunic to hang on a sturdy branch a mere foot’s step away from the clearing in question. His pale skin practically glitters and glistens in the light poking through the treetops, his complexion a stark contrast to the scars and lines of a body that’s only recently belonged to him.

He leaves his trousers on. He’s not a goddamn animal, after all.

“Astarion?” a rushed whisper sounds to his right, so the vampire turns in all his slender glory.

“You came,” he greets, grinning ear to ear with his entendre.

The wood elf stares back at him from a thick cluster of trees, notably confused by the way her brows knit and her nose scrunches. She assesses his vivid nakedness, but doesn’t make a comment — not yet.

Well, she doesn’t particularly look lustful.

Then her attention disappears entirely when she realizes just how clear said clearing is: a damn near perfect circle, where he’s prepared a small blanket held down by sizable rocks he’d found by the river while everyone started heading into their tents for sleep.

To an innocent eye, it’s nothing more than a midnight picnic.

If he had anything to say about it, then it would certainly become that. The only road block is Tav as she nears the makeshift lovebed in the center of the clearing.

“You didn’t have to use your blanket, you know,” she mentions, and Astarion is yet again left sputtering for a suave answer.

How the hells did she know that was his blanket and not that wretched Gale’s?

“It isn’t mine,” he tries — smooth, very smooth.

Tav makes a noise as she sits down on the blanket, head turning as she studies the lack of patterns or love in its weave. 

“I saw this in your tent,” she argues without conviction. “Lae’zel hates blankets. Mine are all accounted for. And Gale—”

“Alright, yes, it’s mine,” Astarion interrupts, peeved she’s more interested in playing detective than commenting on his broad chest.

The vampire awkwardly meets her on the blanket, sitting down with his heels dug into the dirt.

His legs stay in a raised triangle, knees to the sky, while Tav sits tall and crosses her legs under one another. Her slender fingers sit in her lap, annoyingly so, and Astarion stares at them to calculate a way he can smoothly bring them into his.

All he needs is to wriggle his way into this bizarre outing, to find what makes her tick, and he’ll be safe. It’s the only word running through his head at lightning speed.

Safe, be safe, make yourself safe—

Her gasp is light, possible to miss, but it takes him right out of the mantra to look up at Tav. Her smile is practically glowing as the moonlight bathes over her body, generous and… beautiful.

“You’re right,” she murmurs. “This is… beautiful, at this time of night.” Tav pauses, searching the constellations. “It’s so hard to pray, really, at camp. I don’t wish to offend Shadowheart.”

“What does Shadowheart’s approval have anything to do with your praying?” the vampire asks, feeling surreal that this is what her pillow talk has started with. Prayer. Religion.

(He’d gotten himself at least somewhat hard at the sight of how pretty she looked in the midnight air, ready to try his hand again, but now it’s all but softened with flattened disinterest.)

“Well, she worships Shar — the twin sister of my goddess, and they are not friendly.”

“So?”

“So,” Tav explains slowly, dipping her chin to observe him at her side. “I don’t wish Shadowheart to see me as an enemy just because of our differences in worship. But now you’ve shown me a place I could visit where I can properly speak to her — so thank you."

Astarion must look perplexed as all hell, because Tav studies his face, his naked torso, then back to his face again. He sits up straighter, unable to hide his annoyance in his rigid movements.

Tav shifts in her seat as well, but before she can continue her soft little chat about useless goddesses and Shadowheart’s temperamental feelings, Astarion clears his throat.

“Do you mean to tell me we are really not going to…?”

Tav’s lips purse, and Astarion’s gaze drops to them. They’re plush, soft – they wouldn’t be the worst to kiss. Hells, she looks soft. Her neck was delectable; her blood divine. It wouldn’t be the worst lay of his miserable little life.

“Sex,” he bluntly states, slashing straight through the bush instead of beating around it for the one-hundredth time when Tav doesn’t ask. “Are we not having sex tonight?”

Tav rears her head back, pulling away from him with a lean. “I… thought I already said we weren’t, back at the party—”

“Yes, and playing coy is all well and good, but I know you hold a candle for me, darling.” Astarion gestures around to the nothingness that surrounds the clearing. “No one is here to judge. No one is listening. It’s just us, so if you want—”

“I don’t.”

Talk about a sobering response.

The vampire squints, and finally — finally — Tav raises her chin with what can be considered a glare.

It’s cute, he’ll give her that.

“I already told you that I don’t simply sleep with people to do it.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s never any good when it’s not with someone you care for, now is it?” Tav replies, exasperated by his poking and prodding. “Is this what all of this is for? The blanket, the… lack of a shirt?”

Astarion leans in. “Was it not obvious to you?”

“I thought you were overheated in the night!” she reasons, the blush on her face creeping up her neck to her cheeks. He sees it. He fixates on it. “I thought you were genuinely being my friend.”

Friend.

Oh, that one stings — he hates that it stings, that somehow he’s disappointed in himself for kicking the hornet’s nest when he had mostly been in her good graces up until now.

“If.. that’s all you wanted from me tonight, Astarion,” the wood elf slowly begins, curbing her temper with each word spoken, “then perhaps it’s best I leave—”

“No.”

Before he realizes it, the vampire grabs ahold of her free hand to stop her from pushing to her feet. His pale hand cages her wrist in, anchoring her to this shared spot, and he feels… well, not great.

But he can’t screw this up.

He cannot, under any circumstances, have her hate him.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology feels disgusting on his tongue, because he doesn’t quite mean it. He means a fraction of it, however, and that’s enough to push a genuine tone in his voice. 

“Please, just… sit with me, then.”

He continues to hold her wrist, taking it as a good sign that Tav hasn’t ripped it from his grasp yet. That, or she’s just giving him the nicety treatment she gives to all of her companions.

Slowly the woman lowers back to the blanket, and he realizes a beat too late that she’s turned her palm to face his.

What?

Tav sighs heavily and turns their hands with a delicacy that feels too sacred for an undead such as himself. Astarion’s palm faces the mercy of the moon when his long fingers, one sinful digit at a time, let go of her wrist.

She doesn’t move away.

“Intimacy is a gift so many people crave,” she begins softly. “I know I do. I know all of us do. It’s why we choose to stay together.”

“The bloody tadpoles in our heads are what keep us together,” Astarion flatly argues, but his voice is tighter as her fingers draw against the life line of his palm.

She huffs with a laugh. “That, too.”

She sits her fingertips atop his palm, hovering. A lump forms in his throat.

“I like when physical intimacy is just that — intimate. That’s not to say Lae’zel’s views or your own are wrong, but… just isn’t how it works for me.”

Astarion is immobile. Lost, quite frankly, in the sensation that’s so little yet feels like it could move mountains.

He’s terrified to breathe, to think, as she continues to press her hand gently to his.

“For me?” she continues. “This — knowing you have my back, and I have yours? That you sit here in front of my goddess and allow me a moment to think — that is intimacy.”

He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, before raising a defeated brow. “And this is pleasurable, for you?”

“Is it not for you?” she returns straight back like a rapid-fire arrow to the gut.

The vampire doesn’t know how to answer that. Yes, this feels… nice, but it also feels wrong. Like he’s holding a lamb before the slaughter.

She is too trusting.

This world, as horrific as it is, will swallow her whole. He will swallow her in a singular gulp, right down the gullet, before she can process his inevitable betrayal.

Yet what does that say about him — holding her hand, allowing her to manipulate his palm at will, in front of a goddess he doesn’t believe in? This is her sanctuary yet he does not burn.

When she returns her gaze back to the moon with the wonder of a person who doesn’t believe in eternal damnation for merely existing, Astarion cannot help but stare.

Not at the moon, no.

At her.

Astarion’s fingers experimentally curl around hers, testing the boundary.

He notices the way she smiles not long after.

It takes a second too late to realize that he is smiling, too. 

Well — shit.

#baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #amywritesthings #the better strategy #baldurs gate 3 fic #baldurs gate fanfic #baldurs gate fic

[softsan]

ateez hogwarts houses (aesthetic)

| Masterlist |

Hongjoong

ravenclaw

half-blood

head boy

potion wiz, top of the class

ridiculously talented at conjuring spells 

wears the finest robes and paints his nails with muggle nail polish

smuggles food to feed the thestrals

fave subject: potions

Seonghwa

hufflepuff

pure-blood

head boy

the definition of sweet and kind

always willing to show new students around 

goes on dates to madam puddifoot's tea shop

is an animagus and can transform into a cat

fave subject: transfiguration

Yunho

gryffindor

half-blood

quidditch captain

super easygoing and always late to class

likes to playfully tease the first years

endless supply of honeydukes’ candies

likes visiting the grounds to see hagrid’s salamanders

fave subject: care for magical creatures

San

gryffindor

pure-blood

quidditch chaser

warm and good intentioned 

bashful when students chant his name during quidditch practice 

falls asleep during classes, especially in history of magic 

has friendly rivalry with slytherin’s quidditch chaser wooyoung

fave subject: defence against the dark arts

Yeosang

hufflepuff

muggle-born

prefect

notoriously bad at quidditch

studies and volunteers at the library

students come to him for tutoring and swoon over his good looks

undisclosed to him but he has his own secret fanclub

fave subject: charms

Wooyoung

slytherin

pure-blood

quidditch beater

master at jinxes and naturally skilled dueller 

daring prankster, gets along well with the poltergeist peeves

sneaks into the library’s restricted section for kicks

has a friendly rivalry with gryffindor’s quidditch chaser san

fave subject: divination

Mingi

slytherin

half-blood

prefect

charming and and known for his light-hearted humor

has a bag of tricks from zonko's joke shop

effortlessly memorizes the encyclopedia of toadstools

almost died in the forbidden forest while looking for herbs

fave subject: herbology

Jongho

ravenclaw

muggle-born

lead singer in the frog choir

comes off as cold and disinterested 

sweet and sentimental on the inside

loves wandering the castle to find the perfect place to stargaze

declines the efforts of others trying to recruit him on the quidditch team

fave subject: astronomy

#ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez scenarios #ateez hogwarts au #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop reactions #kpop moodboards #ateez moodboards

[trrsseea]

Lesson for lesson

We agreed to meet at Charles' apartment. When I got there, the apartment was empty. I headed into the living room and walked past Charles' piano. I always loved listening to Charles playing, his focused expression and the smile that played on his face was breathtaking.

I turned on the TV and some show was on, but I wasn't paying attention to it. All I could think about was the piano. Finally, I couldn't help myself and went over to it.

I sat down on the stool by the piano, picked up some sheet music Charles had laid out beside it, and flipped to the beginning, where there were light melodies.

I put my fingers on the keys and tried the first notes. My fingers slid over the keys and the melody seemed disorganized and inharmonious. I tried a few more times, but the result was always the same.

I rubbed my face in frustration and saw movement to my left. I turned my head and saw Charles leaning against the door frame, watching me with a smile.

Wordlessly, he parted to me, sitting down on the piano stool next to me.

“Y/n, will you let me help you?” Charles asked with a kind smile.

I was a little surprised at first, but I nodded. There was something magical about how quickly he took on the role of teacher and his calm attitude.

Charles began to show me how to hold my hands properly, use my fingers and play a chord correctly.

____________________________________

After a few lessons, I began to understand the language of music and why he loves it so much. My movement improved and became smoother. The melody sounded clearer and more harmonious.

At each of our "lessons" Charles seemed happy that I was improving or it was the fact that he could share one of his passions with someone. Although I doubt, I had the musical talent he did.

I love music, and on several occasions Charles and I explored each other's music playlists together and even found common favourites. But the way Charles always relaxed when he sat down at the piano to play was amazing view.

I loved that look, watching and listening to him and several times I fell asleep on the couch while he played.

____________________________________

I got better and better over the next few months. One afternoon, when I arrived a little earlier than Charles, who was late from training, I decided to train.

Last week I found one of our favourite songs and practiced it in secret so I could surprise Charles.

My fingers carefully moved across the keyboard with the grace and delicacy I'd gained from practicing with Charles, filling the apartment with a lovely melody.

The melody penetrated to the core of my bones, and sometimes my hand slipped a little, but I didn't stop and continued to play.

____________________________________

Charles pov:

Today's practice was a bit long, the mechanics needed to make some more adjustments and wanted to know if everything was working as it should. I knew Y/n would be at the apartment waiting for me.

So as soon as I got out of the garage, I headed to the locker room. I took a quick shower packed my stuff and headed to the parking lot where my car was waiting for me.

I got in my Ferrari and pulled out onto the road towards the apartment. I parked in front of the apartment, grabbed my stuff from the trunk and almost ran as I couldn't wait.

I put my keys in the lock, turned it and the lock clicked. The first thing I noticed was the melody from the piano. I walked into the apartment, which was filled with a lovely melody. I carefully closed the door and put my things on the floor. 

Quietly, I walked in the direction the melody was coming from. Y/n played carefully, but with a delicacy that she had lacked before. Her song was full of emotion, and at that moment I realized it was our favourite song. She must have practiced it in secret.

I stood in the doorway and listened to the melody, completely entranced by the moment. I was happy for her, for how much she had improved. Most of all, I appreciate her effort and dedication to the music. It was a beautiful moment and I didn't want to disturb it.

____________________________________

I led Charles to the kitchen where I prepared all the necessary ingredients.

I showed Charles all the ingredients and explained the process, which I printed out just in case so he could look at it as he worked.

Last week I was wondering what I could get Charles for his piano lessons, so I thought I could teach him to bake something. His passion is music and mine is baking.

I was scrolling through internet looking for a simple recipe and came across chocolate cake. So, the plan was clear, I'm going to teach him how to bake a cake. 

After work, I went shopping for everything I needed to make it and I still had to buy a cake pan.

____________________________________

Charles pov:

I stood in the kitchen next to Y/n and listened to everything she said, I loved the look.

After the explanation, we got down to business. I was amazed at the precision and concentration with which Y/n worked.

I watched her every move and learned how to handle everything Y/n showed me, what temperature to heat the oven, how to grease the cake pan properly, and most importantly how to tell if the dough was properly made.

Y/n let me do all the work and checked that I was doing it right.

I was just mixing the last two ingredients together: “You have to be careful that everything is mixed and there are no lumps left."

I slowed down and made sure I was careful with every movement.

The dough was ready, I carefully poured it into the cake pan, and it placed it in the preheated oven and set the alarm.

I walked over to Y/n and pulled her close to me: "I was wondering how we could entertain ourselves in the meantime."

I kissed her and was about to continue, but Y/n broke the kiss and turned me towards the line.

“Who's going to clean this?" She pointed to the counter full of dishes.

“We can clean it up later." I leaned in for another kiss.

“This is part of the process." She smiled at me and started cleaning up.

After a few minutes, we were done and the cake was about to be ready. The cake was successful, just baked and smelling lovely.

We sat together at the table and shared the amazing sweet treat we had created together.

We both laughed while baking and I realized that we had managed to combine our two passions.

And so, we continued our piano and baking lessons together.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 x you #charles leclerc one shot #ferrari f1 #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc x female reade #cute #charles leclerc piano #piano

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Hidden Gems 6: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have the 6th hidden gems grab bag! Check out under the cut for 9 fics that have less than 150 kudos and cover a wide range of genres, and don't forget to kudos and comment if you like them!

Perfection by Defira (330, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Through the luxon, drow spend lifetimes reaching for perfection. Essek has already found it.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Burn to Gold and Crumble Away by The_Hybrid (1526, General) Reccer's Content Notes: Major Character Death

It's a funeral fic for the m9 set in the future.

Reccer says: It's sweet.

How to Rest by eeveev (14420, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

After Aeor, after making their feelings clear, Caleb is in Rexxentrum and Essek is on the run. Still, they find ways to be together. or Six months in the lives of wizards falling in love.

Reccer says: Cute!

Dawn by Allinna (2950, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

a really short and sweet dive into essek's canon story arc, themed around the sun

Reccer says: the sun is caleb!!! the darkness and light imagery!!

Love in Creation by LuckyOwlsFoot (1662, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek works on a project for Jester's wedding

Reccer says: A sweet and tender moment, some fun worldbuilding, and that feeling that if you start something even before there's any hint of a need of it, you might finish in time felt so real.

we'll be gone just like the gentle breeze of yesterday by quinn_of_aebradore (3351, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek Thelyss is many things: a master of dunamancy, a scholar of the arcane renowned across Exandria, and rather skilled when it comes to the theft of magical artifacts. The third, unfortunately, puts him in the path of Caleb Widogast, another talented thief. When social circumstance pushes them to complete their latest heist together, Essek finds his carefully maintained house of cards beginning to crumple and his orbit drawn ever closer to Caleb's.

Reccer says: It's a delicious crime/thief AU that hits all of the right notes - rivals, having to pretend closeness, secrets and mystery

Cascade Effect by firefright (6867, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Omegaverse

Essek follows the Nein into Aeor, where the already daunting task of saving the world is further complicated by yet another twist in his and Caleb's fractured relationship.

Reccer says: A wip continuation of an already wonderful a/b/o series

come back to me (i've been waiting patiently) by glossolali (1286, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: disassociation, ptsd

Memory overtakes Caleb, but Essek is at his side.

Reccer says: Soft and cozy and tender

Whiskey Waltz by echoplexx (1742, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

During an evening of merriment with the Mighty Nein, Caleb convinces Essek to dance. Post-main campaign, pre M9 reunited.

Reccer says: A sweet and lovely moment between the two of them

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with fake relationships!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #aeor is for lovers #critical role fan fiction #cr fics #cr fic #hidden gems

[zarvasace]

The last, and probably my current favorites of the bunch: Prince and Mirage, dark Warriors and dark Legend! I keep trying to put the images side-by-side so they don't take up as much room but Tumblr HATES that. Sorry.

My document with all these boys' descriptions on it is over 7k words. Holy heck. Hope you like them. XD Masterpost

More information and art beneath the cut yayyy

Prince

Prince is dark Warriors. 

Cia gave Warriors a lot of unwanted attention, which he spurned. Prince, on the other hand, wouldn't just accept the attention, but would have welcomed it. He wasn't entirely autonomous when he was summoned, but he remembers everything. He knows that he never wants to not be in control of himself ever again.

Instead of championing freedom, however, Prince makes a point of controlling others. If he controls them, they can't control him. Shackle is similar, but they have different methods. While Shackle prefers physical subjugation to be sure they're in his power, Prince uses manipulation. He pretends to be your friend, all the while gaining your trust. His job is made all the easier by his own special talent: Charm. 

Prince’s Charm is a supernatural ability to influence people. Where Madness takes over bodies, Prince sways the mind. His Charm is something he can turn on and off at will, at different intensities. It doesn't work well on any being with too much light, but it does work on criminals or people with guilt and secrets. The other Darks are susceptible to it, though after… an incident… Prince doesn't do it to them. Usually. 

It works like this: Prince identifies his target, which can be an individual or an entire crowd. He turns his Charm on intentionally, and depending on how hard he pushes, his target’s attention is drawn to his face. Because he does not look human, he then has to quickly begin talking, to pour even more Charm on. If he does it right (it does require skill and charisma), the target forgets his appearance is anything out of the ordinary. He needs a minute or two of conversation and rakish smiles to dig his claws deep enough that they don't remember anything unusual once they stop looking right at him. Prince uses his Charm to get information, favors, and generally spread his anti-Link agenda. The riskier or weirder his request is, the more Charm he has to layer on, and some people just straight up won't do some things. The Charm wears off after a while, depending on the target and how long they were exposed to it, which takes anywhere from a few minutes to a few weeks, averaging out at a day or two. 

Prince has to choose his targets wisely, which can be difficult to do because he does not look human and does not have any kind of magical disguise. That last point is a sore spot. He doesn't want a disguise, he just wants people to stop looking at him like he's going to burn their house down, thank you very much. He only has their best interests at heart. Prince is bitter and extremely envious about Warriors winning hearts so easily thanks to his good looks and natural charisma, so Prince does his best to do the same without them. His Charm is better anyway. 

…It's a good thing he hasn't actually been let loose on a population yet. 

(Warriors is a bit of a flirt, but not too badly. Prince makes a game out of trying to make people fall in romantic love with him as fast as he can. (Author’s note: I'm not touching sex. That is not the sort of story I want to tell here.))

Prince doesn't need food, and he doesn't need to breathe, but he does need to use his Charm. Because he magically learns a bit of information about his targets when he's focused on them, his theory is that he leeches from their emotions, or their identities, or something of that sort. He hasn't shared the theory with anyone, but the Dark Chain does know that Prince needs to use his Charm or he starts to get very, very hangry. It's a physical need for him. Of course, pushing too hard or trying to Charm too many people at once gives him migraines. 

Prince considers himself a leader, and it rankles him a bit that Depth is the one in charge. He contents himself with sitting back and letting Depth do all the hard things, though he has Charmed Depth several times into going along with what Prince wants to do. Prince sees Shackle as a sort of protege in the ways of manipulation, and occasionally provides pointers about how to subtly get under people’s skin. Prince and Madness end up working together a lot, since Prince can Charm Madness’s thralls into forgetting they ever lost time, or he can make up memories for them. Sometimes the two of them get migraines at the same time, which spells out lots of “fun” for everyone else. He fights a lot with Mirage and is always trying to catch Agony off-guard to give him a good scrubbing. He's the only reason that Nothing or Dire get baths, too. 

Prince is arrogant and ambitious, yes. He's proud of his appearance and does his best to stay clean and orderly—he doesn't mind the memories of military training that he gets from Warriors, since those routines help him to be efficient. He wears a copy of Warriors’s outfit, but fancier, with a fluffy shirt and a corset on top, and his tunic is purple because (1) it's opposite green on some color wheels and (2) it's the color of royalty. His silvery hair is a little longer than Warriors’s is, and he wears a luxurious red cape.

Sometimes he puts a little too much flair into his moves, but he's proficient with as many weapons as Warriors is, if less practiced. He talks a lot, boasts a lot, and casually jabs where it hurts. He holds a lot of jealousy and hate in his heart, and if he gets a little drunk, he'll go on and on about how much he dislikes Warriors, specifically. 

Prince’s ultimate ambition is to rule his Hyrule as undisputed, beloved emperor. He wants to do that by winning the hearts of every soldier, every servant, every noble. He wants to steal Warriors’s relationships right out from under him without him noticing. Prince knows that he can't rely on his temporary Charm to do that, though, so his plan is to ally with the organizations of traitors throughout Hyrule and add his persuasive charm and Charm to their efforts, eventually rising to become their leader. 

Prince’s best dreams involve him standing over a defeated Warriors on the balcony of the castle, a crown on his head and a queen on his arm (or king. He just thinks stealing Artemis or Impa would make it all the sweeter), with crowds below cheering for him. He has plans to keep the aging Warriors as an honored “guest” in the castle for as long as he lives, doomed to watch his beloved, darkened kingdom flourish under Prince’s ruby eyes. Someday, Prince will change his name to Link, stealing that from Warriors, too. 

Prince Link. Wait, no. King Link. No, even better… Emperor Link. 

Actually, he doesn't like the sound of Emperor. He’ll workshop that title.  

Mirage

Mirage is dark Legend, patterned after the Nightmares that Legend fought on Koholint. He knows Legend will know that immediately. 

Mirage is truly shape-fluid. His form is extremely malleable, though he can't keep up looking perfectly like a human for more than half an hour or so—he starts to melt and revert back to his most comfortable state, which is a close copy of Legend, his matter constantly shifting and dripping and melting. (Most comfortable state, not his true form. Does he have a true form? He doesn't know what it is if he does.) He is best at mimicking nonspecific human forms and small reptiles. He pretended to be a bush once, but wasn't very convincing. 

Mirage’s gooey flesh doesn't have many pain or touch receptors, and he doesn't need any kind of structure beneath the goo to stand up. He's very good at energy dispersion, so punching him means that you're either punching a brick wall or that your fist is getting absorbed. His goo is as warm as flesh and very slightly acidic, so touching him for too long can burn. He doesn't need to breathe, but he does digest organic material or minerals to build on his mass. He's weak against energy-type attacks, like acid or fire or ice, but it doesn't hurt him in the traditional sense and he can always build himself back up. He can drop entirely flat and easily squeezes through small gaps. 

Most traditional dungeon traps do absolutely nothing to Mirage: spike traps don't hurt him, as holes in his form mean nothing; he doesn't really take fall damage, just splatters a bit until he can pull himself together; giant axes that cleave him in two don't actually hurt him, either. There is one small part of Mirage’s matter that is his core. If he gets cut into pieces, the rest of him will shrivel up and evaporate in an hour or two, but his core stays alive and can regrow in a matter of days. If he gets to any cut-off piece before it evaporates, he can reassimilate it. He often messes with his form to take on any physical challenge: looking around corners with an eye on a hand; growing taller to see over a wall; spreading out his feet and legs to float on water; squeezing into cracks in an ice block and expanding in the right spot to make it all shatter. 

Mirage doesn't speak often, preferring to keep quiet. His voice is soft and slithering, with hissing Ss and a pitch that ranges from whispery to shrill. It's the worst voice in the group after Depth’s. He isn't the smartest of the Darks, but he is quite observant and if he does speak up, there's something important to pay attention to. Mirage often just goes with the group decisions, performing whatever role they require, though privately he absolutely resents having to work with anyone else, because Mirage works alone. He doesn't need companions, friends, shopkeepers, or family; he doesn't need vehicles, mounts, money, magic items, or even weapons. When he means alone, he means Very Alone. 

The thing about Legend—despite the masks and attitude he puts on—is that he cares, so so much. He cares about people being happy and safe, he bonds with everyone nice he meets whether he knows it or not, he is self-sacrificing and always working for a better world, even when people don't ask for it. Mirage does not care about much of anything except himself. He would be most content wandering around a mountain, causing a bit of chaos in a nearby town, and using his abilities to traverse impossible paths, especially through caves, just because he can. He doesn't care about the other Darks (that's a bit more of a lie than he thinks it is), he doesn't care about Legend, he doesn't care about covering the world in darkness. He’s just dragged around and knows that they have to finish this stupid mission thing before he can be left in peace. 

Mirage is somewhat fascinated with the way humans work. He's closer to an octopus or other eldritch sea creature himself, and mimics reptilian forms, but the more he learns about humans, the better he can mimic them. He might not care much about many things, but he's curious. He likes to investigate corpses (especially if he can eat them—the Dark Chain’s favorite way of “disappearing” people) and find out new things about their anatomy and chemical compositions, things he knows about and can memorize to reproduce in his own gooey flesh later. As such, he sometimes annoys the other Darks by poking at them or “testing” their senses or limits. 

He gets along best with Lost, who doesn't care much, either, and doesn't get mad at his questions or testing. Mirage responds by taking Lost babysitting duty more than his fair share. (His apathy means he's really patient with Lost and Nothing and Madness.) He makes a good team with Agony, who he sees as very similar to himself, except Agony is clearly more driven. Agony is the quick and sharp counterpart to Mirage’s slow and inevitable destruction. (And it doesn't hurt that Agony is the electricity wielder among them, so if Agony sort of likes Mirage, then all the better.) 

In a normal fight, Mirage is all but indestructible, walking through battle without problems. He doesn't bother attacking until someone hurts him, usually with fire or something similar. Then Mirage will focus to get rid of the threat—and he’s aware that the others expect him to target and take out Legend, so he does that if he has to. He's all but impossible to fight without elemental aid, and while he isn't too quick, he hits HARD and has a lot of tricks up his metaphorical sleeves. 

Still, the fact remains that if you manage to hurt him, you hurt him a lot. Mirage isn't complicated, but he's very flexible and can do things nobody is prepared for. 

(sorry for the low contrast. But hey, my goo-drawing skills are finally relevant! Look at that hat! And the foot!)

#my art #linked universe #lu z darks au

[writing-for-marvel]

Cause That’s When I’ll See You Again

DBF!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The one time of year your dad’s best friend is in town is during the holiday season - the perfect opportunity for some no strings attached, filthy sex with a man who actually knows what he’s doing, but year after year it becomes harder to convince yourself you’re only in it for the orgasms.

Festive prompt: a roaring fireplace

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, a little angst (cause it’s me and I can’t help myself), happy ending, fluff and soft feelings, age gap is implied although exact ages are never mentioned

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Happy Holidays to my Thot Neighbourhood Secret Santa, the lovely, beautiful and talented @jobean12-blog. Jo thank you for being such a ray of positivity and love on this site. You are one of kindest souls with the warmest heart, thank you for being you. I hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful holiday season ♥️ also a HUGE thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for putting so much time and effort into organising this Secret Santa - I love and appreciate you Jen 💜 banners by @vase-of-lilies and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

A sense of déjà vu washed over you as you laid a tartan blanket in front of your crackling fireplace.

It was that time of year again, where colourful festive lights were strung throughout your neighbourhood and flurries of snow dusted the town, the combination of which produced an intangible magical quality, one you wished you could forever encapsulate and preserve in a snow glow.

The festive season was finally upon you.

Despite the chilly temperatures, most people’s spirits were warmer than ever, including yours. This time of joyful celebration also happened to coincide with the one time of year your dad’s best friend, the beefy and dangerously handsome Ari Levinson, returned home from his almost year long stint working overseas.

And to ensure that he wouldn’t be spending the holidays by himself and celebrating Hanukkah alone, your friendly father invited Ari to spend the festive season with your family.

The first time you slept together had been accidental - well, if you can call finally giving in to the massive crush you had developed on the burly framed, sex god, who never failed to affectionately refer to you as ‘Toffee’ because the chewy confection had been stuck in your teeth the first time you met, an accident.

But once you kissed him, allowed his large, assertive hands to roam over your every curve, and let his tongue taste every drop of your arousal for him, you knew you were in trouble.

You swore you’d never cross that line and act on such feelings, but when said sex god, with eyes as blue and inviting as a warm summer sky, looked at you like a ten course meal he wanted to devour, well, all logical thinking and restraint flew out the window, along with your panties.

The entire following year, you wondered if your dalliance was fated to be one glorious night. Whether Ari considered it a moment of weakness on his behalf and if he regretted what the two of you did, or if he was as desperate for it to happen again as you were.

The following holiday period, your questions were answered almost immediately.

The first time you two were alone again, all it took was one quizzical glance and you knew he too was thinking back to the night a year ago.

Perhaps it should have concerned you just how easily you gave yourself up to him, but you were honestly so desperate for him to have his way with you, to utterly ruin you again, that the desire between your legs overruled any self-control your brain tried to exert.

From your experience, none of the men your age knew anything about how to satisfy a woman, but there was no doubt with Ari, by your third orgasm, when you were floating on a cloud of pure bliss, you were convinced your bodies were made for each other.

This particular year he had a whole two weeks at home before departing again, and you made use of all fourteen euphoric days.

“Fuck, Toffee, so wet and messy, just for me - your pretty pussy gonna cum on these fat fucking fingers again? You gonna make a mess all over daddy?” His low growling voice was already such a turn on, but when he talked to you like that, you couldn’t stop yourself from cumming right then and there.

“That’s it, pretty girl, doing such a good job for me. Look how beautiful you are bouncing on my cock.” His praise spurred you on, lifting yourself up and sinking down on him again so he filled you completely, but when he reached to where your bodies connected, strumming on your clit, the coil in your stomach tightened as he brought you closer to your orgasm. “Wanna feel you cum around me baby, can you do that for me?”

“Still can’t get enough of me, can you Toffee?” He spoke into your ear as he pinned your hands above your head, fingers interlocked with yours, his weight pinning you to your bed, hips rolling into your own filling the room with salacious sounds of skin slapping skin. “You’ll never get enough, will you? I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you either.”

As you laid beside Ari the day before he was due to leave, content listening to the crackling fireplace, head resting on his broad chest, his strong arm wrapped tenderly around your waist, pulling you back into him as if your touch itself sustained him, you couldn’t help your mind from wondering if you meant more to him than simply an easy fuck; someone he knew would be available to take his sexual frustrations out on for the couple weeks a year he was home.

You had never met someone who fucked you so rough, but also treated you with such tenderness, as if you were something worth taking care of.

There were moments throughout the past couple weeks, when his eyes weren’t consumed with just pure lust for you, there was something else swirling around those desire-blown pupils. But you told yourself it must be your imagination. Surely he couldn’t truly be looking at you with the devotion you wished he felt for you.

When time came for him to leave again, you didn’t have the words to express to him how you had treasured the past two weeks. You were fully aware that he was your fathers best friend, and even if that weren’t reason enough to prevent your heart from becoming attached to him, you knew his position which took him overseas for the majority of the year should be. Whatever this was between you two, it could never turn into something real.

But that didn’t stop you from wishing it could.

The following year was pure torture. When you had only hooked up just once, you could at least resign yourself to the thought that it was a one time thing that meant nothing to him.

But now, knowing you had both been so eager for it to happen again, and the expectation that come the next holiday season you would pick up right where you left off, made you miss his presence even more.

The thought itself was exciting, but also agony.

Because, even if you wouldn’t admit it aloud, you missed not only the toe curling orgasms, but the way his eyes softened when they looked at you, how your body fit so perfectly with his as he cradled you to sleep, and the tranquil happiness you seemed to only find in his company.

Unbeknownst to anyone else in his life, Ari had made the executive decision to have an additional two weeks at home this year, designed to be spent solely with you.

He knew he couldn’t offer you the life or relationship you deserved, but just in this one aspect of his life he wanted to be a little selfish.

He wanted his sweet Toffee all to himself for these next four weeks, watching as your face contort in the most exquisite way as pleasure washed through your entire body; he wanted to wake up beside you and spend the cold mornings bundled up with you, listening to your voice as you read chapters of your new favourite book; but more than anything, he wanted to kiss you every chance he got, roughly kiss you until you were completely out of breath, sweetly kiss you when you were in the middle of a sentence because he just couldn’t wait until you were finished, tenderly kiss you right before you fell asleep so you would dream about his lips on yours.

Being able to spend a whole month with Ari was like a dream come true.

He spent an entire day teaching you to make sufganiyot just as his mother had done every Hanukkah when he was growing up.

Promised to beat you at every board game you kept stored at your place, but you were also convinced he let you win every time.

You sat by the roaring fire, one blanket stretched to cover both your laps as you read in peace, simply enjoying being together, even if you were doing something separately.

Someone could be confused into thinking that given the intimate nature of how you spent your days together, the pure tenderness which softened your gaze and the doting, involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips whenever you gazed at him, your relationship was much more significant than occasional fuck buddies.

But you couldn’t allow yourself to think like that - not only did Ari live most of his life oceans away from where you did, but he was best friends with your father. There was no way the two of you could ever have something that sembled a real relationship.

However, it was undeniable that when the two of you were together, it was something even more magical than the holiday season itself. The sex was incredible, that was evident by the number of life shattering orgasms he could pull almost on demand from your body, but it wasn’t just the sex.

He could make you laugh like nobody else, helped you feel confident in your body, provided an environment where you were comfortable enough around him to divulge secrets you hadn’t even told some of your friends. He brought out the best version of you you didn't even realise existed before him.

After a particularly sensual and passionate night, you laid together by the roaring fire, however it was the warmth which came from snuggling beside Ari’s strapping naked form which you were most interested in. For the first time in your life you felt truly content, protected, but most of all, loved.

The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, he made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, he could so easily fool you into thinking you were the only one for him.

Saying your inevitable goodbye was excruciating. Each year it became progressively more painful, and you weren’t sure you could manage the searing heartbreak which would come next year when you were positive you were already in love with him.

You couldn’t keep living like this, wondering for close enough to an entire year if the man you loved would still want you next festive season, whether in the time you were apart he had found someone else to settle down with, or if he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the next holidays, or came to the realisation of any one of the numerous reasons he wouldn’t want to continue sleeping with his best friends daughter.

You made a pact to yourself that the next time you saw Ari you’d tell him. Tell him how insanely happy he made you, how all you could think about was if next holidays you would get to experience that feeling of pure rapture when you were together, and how it killed you to consider that might not be a possibility. Tell him how possessive you were over him and that the thought he satisfied his needs with anyone else over the period you were apart ripped your heart from your chest. Tell him how even though it was entirely impossible and beyond impractical, you wanted to spend every moment of your year laughing with him until your cheeks ached, learning every aspect of his passionate soul and making love to him every chance you got.

Tell him that you loved him.

A knock on your front door pulled you from your reverie as you straightened the corners of your tartan blanket. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and your heart clenched with dread.

This was it.

When you opened the door Ari looked handsome as ever, broad and tanned as if he had spent far too long in the sun. But it was the twinkle in his striking eyes at the recognition that it was you behind the door that made your heart flutter in your chest.

He didn’t speak a single word as he dropped his bags inside the entrance and pulled you into a tight hug. His embrace was warm and familiar, and even though it was Ari who was technically returning home, in a way it felt like you had as well.

“Ari?” The inflection in your voice indicated it was a question. Ari pulled back and studied your face before answering.

“Yeah Toffee?” His features stiffened and all of a sudden he looked worried. You had never seen him look this anxious before, and you made the quick determination that you didn’t like it one bit.

“I’ve had something on my mind literally all year and I need to come out and say this before we pick up where we left off.” You nervously babbled, peering down at how your hands were shaking.

“You’re in a relationship?” His voice was filled with sorrow which tore your heart in two.

“What? No. Actually, it’s sort of the opposite.” You nervously giggled, the sound of which seemed to calm his nerves. You took a deep breath to summon the courage you needed to confess your secret when his gorgeous eyes looked at you so expectantly. “I’ve been so hung up on you the past year I haven’t been able to think straight - well if I’m honest it’s probably been longer than just this last year. And I know this might ruin everything, and that it probably puts you in an awkward situation because of my dad, but Ari I think I’m in love with you.”

He took that moment to finally kiss you, like he was a suffocating man and your lips were his air. Lord, you had missed the tickle of his beard and how he smelled warm and musky, with a hint of tobacco. Every intimate feeling you had left unsaid you poured into that kiss, finally feeling free to convey every last emotion into your expression of love for him and not have to hold back as you had previously.

When you finally pulled away, needing air, Ari rested his forehead against yours, scrunched his nose and affectionately rubbed the tip against your own.

“My darling Toffee, I know wholeheartedly that I am in love with you.” You had never seen Ari smile as much as when he confessed those words.

“You do?” You asked, and he responded with an ardent kiss to your lips.

“This moment right here, reuniting with you, that’s what got me through the whole year. You’re the person I come home for.”

This time it was you that kissed him, eager, luscious and downright possessive. His luggage long forgotten, you steered him towards your living room and the cosy space you had set up next to the fireplace for an occasion just like this one.

You’d already had some very memorable holidays with Ari, but you were certain none would compare to this year.

#em writes #Ari Levinson #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fic #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x reader #the thot neighbourhood #tis the season to be thot-y #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #dbf!ari levinson #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson one shot #Chris evans #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans one shot #chris evans imagine #holiday #holiday fic #Hanukkah #festive fic