#should get to work and draw James too some day

[valoale]

Keepin’ it professional

Been reading chew me up, but don’t spit me out by damagecontrol religiously for these past few days and let me tell you I am DEVOTED I mean, like, I love everything about it and my soul is for sale and I just had to draw Regulus is his docs despite being awfully rubbish at drawing shoes but shhhh it’s a good practice

[moonstruckme]

vampire!james biting you (consensually) during sex pleasepleaseplease

Ohhhhhh absolutely (ty for requesting <3)

cw: smut mdni, blood, some praise I guess, a bit of rough play

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

There are little love bites in several places on the insides of your thighs, and you could never lose your appreciation for the way James uses his teeth, but it’s not the way you’d like him to use them now. 

“James.” The end of his name pitches with a gasp as the tip of his cock pushes up against your entrance, already wet and worked open from the wonders of his tongue. The same tongue that’s now pressed flat against the underside of your tit while he sucks a mark into your skin. 

“Hm?” He takes his lips from you with a lewd suctioning sound. “What is it, lovie?” 

“You know,” you nearly whine. 

James grins, pressing a sloppy kiss over the bruise he’s left you. “I’m not sure. You can’t donate blood only a few days apart, you know. You wouldn't be allowed.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not a clinic.” 

“I’m not,” he agrees. Big hands traveling up your sides as he closes his teeth lightly around your nipple. You make a soft, stymied sound when his cock sponges over your hole again. “Is this not enough for you anymore, lovely girl?” 

“It is.” You roll your hips to make contact again. “It is, m’just thinking. I mean, I sucked you off already.” 

James laughs so loudly he has to lift his mouth from your tit. He looks at you, lips swollen and pulled back in an appalled sort of smile. His eyes dip momentarily to your seeping entrance. “Sort of thought I already repaid that favor.” 

You shrug, your own smile sheepish. “Just saying.” 

James’ laughter becomes a low thrum as he kisses up your throat, lips mushing into the soft underside of your jaw. “My little blood addict.” 

“I think that’s more your thing, actually,” you qualify, though your eyes are already falling closed, neck arching with anticipation. “And I’m not addicted. It’s just nice.” 

“Mm, not sure I should be enabling you.” His nose draws a line down to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. There are no hickeys there, which can hardly be said about most other parts of you. You suspect James has been avoiding it out of fear of a Pavlovian response. On the opposite side of your neck, two small puncture wounds from the last time he’d fed on you are still healing. He doesn’t do it often (though you’ve voiced your willingness frequently), only when he can’t find an alternative, but you love to be the source he turns to. You love to feel like you’re doing something for him, even if you get pleasure from it, too. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice gone whispery in that way that lets you know his fangs have come out. His breath fans hot over your skin, making you shiver. 

Your answering hum is pitchy with eagerness. 

“Remember the rules?” 

You nod. Squeeze James’ shoulder if it’s too much. If it hurts, if you start to feel lightheaded, anything. “Yeah,” you breathe. “James, please.” 

His teeth sink into you. 

Your mouth tips open on a cry, instinctual and unrestrained. You grip James’ back, pulling him closer to you, pushing your pert nipples up against his chest. His low moan rumbles over your skin. Now that you’ve grown a bit used to the initial high of the bite, you’re more able to focus on the details, the minute sensations you’d overlooked at first. You can feel his other teeth, his molars, pressing bluntly on your skin as James makes sure his fangs puncture your artery. He extracts them slowly, careful not to damage you any more than he has to. He’s so sweet with you, so attentive and meticulous despite the instincts you’re sure are screaming at him to hasten the process. 

When his lips suction to your skin, they’re just as kind. He holds the back of your neck to keep you both steady, and you feel blindly for his cock, guiding it to your folds. You want to fill him up while he fills you, want for both of you to get the most out of these two kinds of pleasure. 

The feeling of your warm cunt meeting his tip makes James release a tight, hoarse sound and sends his hand into your hair. You tilt your hips to take him better, and he sinks into you in one languid motion. 

You cry out, nails biting into James’ back as tears prick your eyes. It’s the most sensation you’ve ever known, on the brink of overwhelming but kept pleasurable by the comforting fuzziness of your brain. 

James drinks greedily as he starts to move inside you, growing messier as he picks up the pace until he’s slurping you up, moaning around mouthfuls, and you’re weeping with ecstasy beneath him. When he decides you’ve had enough and he can’t keep his mouth still anymore, he licks the wound gently, sealing it closed. 

Normally you hate when it’s over, but this time you’re ready for it. You catch his mouth with yours, not minding when his still retracting fangs nick your bottom lip. James meets you all the way, nipping and sucking at your lip in the way you like. He kisses a tear off your cheek. 

“Y’okay, baby?” he asks. “Not too much?” 

“No.” You shake your head ardently, nearly sobbing as his cock drives repeatedly into the sweet spot along your inner wall. “It’s so good. So good, Jamie.” 

“That’s my girl.” He grins, squeezing the flesh of your tit so you keen and arch up off the bed. “My sweet girl, getting off on taking care of me. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

It does. You like it, all of it. You like wearing high-necked tops to cover the marks he leaves you. You like the feeling of a secret shared, something only the two of you know about. You like the look on James’ face right before, and the different one right after. You do, really, really like feeling like you’re taking care of him, giving him what he needs, bleeding life into him. And he knows you do. 

James’ kisses sweeten even as his hands move to your waist, holding you still so he can pound into you. You choke on a sob mixed with a moan, and you finish faster than you ever have, James not long after.��

When you’re both limp and lazy from exhaustion, James lays down pillowy soft kisses in a meandering line from your ear to your shoulder. His hand rests splayed over your sternum, heavy and grounding.

“Y’know,” he says, lips sponging gently over your puncture marks, “when most girls say their boyfriend is a leech, this isn’t what they mean.” 

You let your eyes flutter closed, focussing on the feel of his lips on you. Gentle, devout. “I like our way better. You’re my leech.” 

You feel James smile against your shoulder. “Just what every guy wants to hear.” 

“Mm, I know. I’m generous like that.” 

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants James Hook x Reader: Melting Under His Gaze

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

Reader: Female

Word count: 4307

Average reading time: 15 min 40 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wanted to believe him, but the fear was still there, gripping her heart in a vise. The cold was still there too, a deadly force she had never been able to fully tame. “I’m going to hurt you.” she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of her fear.

“You won’t.” James murmured, his thumb brushing away the frozen tear on her cheek. “Not as long as I’m here.”

And then, before she could protest, before the fear could take hold of her again, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and firm. The world around them seemed to freeze for a moment, literally and figuratively, but then the ice inside her began to melt, slowly, as if his warmth was thawing the cold she had kept locked away for so long.

The kiss deepened, and with it, Y/n felt the storm inside her calm. The frost that had been spreading across the ground withdrawing, the biting cold in her veins dulled, and the panic that had consumed her began to fade. All she could feel was James, his warmth, his strength, the way he held her like she was something precious, not something to be feared.

When they finally pulled apart, James rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cool air. “You’re not alone anymore, love.” he whispered, his voice full of quiet determination. “You never have to be.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heart finally starting to slow to a normal rhythm. The ice inside her had faded, leaving only a faint chill that she could handle. She looked up at James, searching his eyes for any hint of fear or regret, but all she saw was warmth and an unexpected tenderness that made her want to cry all over again.

“Thank you.” she whispered, her voice still trembling but stronger than before.

“Anything for you, princess.” he replied with a soft smile, stealing one more kiss that made her feel a warmth she hadn’t known in years.

As the warmth of James’s kiss lingered on Y/n’s lips, the tension that had build up inside her began to loosen. The frost on the ground had melted away, leaving only damp patches where the ice had once spread. For a moment, the world felt still, as if holding its breath with her. But reality crept back in, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n took a shaky step back, her hand still entwined with James’s, but her mind already racing with a thousand thoughts. What had she just done? She had lost control, let her powers loose in a way that could have endangered him, and yet… he wasn’t afraid. Not only that, he had calmed her, brought her back from the brink, something no one had ever been able to do before.

“James,” she began, her voice hesitant as she tried to find the right words. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I could have—”

He silenced her with a gentle kiss on her hand, his eyes soft as they met hers. “You don’t have to apologize, Y/n.” he said, his voice steady, reassuring. “I told you, you don’t have to hide from me. I’m not afraid of what you can do.”

His words were like a balm to her unsettling nerves, but they also stirred something deeper within her,something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time, hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

“But you should be.” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “Everyone else is. They always have been. Just like they have been of Elsa… She tried to protect me, to help me, but I could see it in her eyes. She was scared too.”

James’s expression softened even more, his gaze filled with understanding. “People fear what they don’t understand, love. But I’m not like them. I see you, really see you. And I’m not going anywhere, other then being by your side.”

Y/n felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto the warmth he offered, but the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of her mind. “But what if I lose control again? What if I hurt someone?”

“You won’t.” James said firmly, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to ground her. “Not as long as I’m here with you. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice, the confidence he had in her, was almost overwhelming. Y/n felt the last of her defenses crumble as she nodded slowly, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and gratitude. “Okay.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

James smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Good ” he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. She hesitated for a moment before leaning into him, letting herself be held, letting herself feel safe.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, the sound of the waves crashing softly in the background, the world seeming to fade away. Y/n felt herself relax more with each passing second, the ice within her settling into a quiet, manageable calm. 

But as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the shore, Y/n knew they couldn’t stay here forever. She pulled back slightly, looking up at James with a mixture of resolve and uncertainty. “What now?” she asked quietly.

James tilted his head, considering her for a moment before responding. “Now,” he said, “if we’re going to figure all this out, maybe it’s time you started practicing, really using your powers.”

Y/n held her breath, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at him. “You mean… now? Out here?” The idea of intentionally using her powers, after everything that had just happened, sent a shiver down her spine, but not entirely from fear. There was a part of her, buried deep, that longed to be free, to see what she could truly do.

James nodded, his expression earnest. “Why not? You’ve been holding back for so long, love. What if you tried letting go, just a little? You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be right here.”

His encouragement, so simple yet so powerful, struck a chord within her. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding, to stop fearing herself. She took a deep breath, feeling the familiar cold rise within her, but this time, she didn’t push it away. She let it fill her, let it flow through her veins like a river of ice.

“Okay.” she whispered, more to herself than to him. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of the cold, on the power that had always been a part of her. The air around her began to chill, the wind picking up as she let the ice take form.

James stepped back slightly, giving her space, but his eyes never left her. There was no fear in his gaze, only wonder and something that looked very much like admiration. “Don't fight it.” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Just feel the ice course through you and work with it, not against it.”

Encouraged by his words, Y/n opened her eyes, her heart pounding as she raised her hands, palms facing down toward her clothes. With a gentle flick of her fingers, the cold surged outward, wrapping around her like a second skin. The fabric of her clothes shimmered and began to change, the colors deepening into a rich, icy blue. The material lengthened and flowed like water, forming into a dress that sparkled with the light of a thousand tiny snowflakes. The bodice hugged her figure, intricate patterns of frost weaving themselves into the fabric, while the skirt flared out in an elegant, sweeping train. Even her shoes transformed, the delicate heels now made of glistening ice, as strong and tough as winter itself.

When she finally lowered her hands, Y/n could hardly believe what she had done. She stared down at herself, at the beautiful dress she had created, and for the first time, she felt a sense of pride in her powers, in who she was.

James, who had watched the entire transformation in awed silence, let out a low whistle. “Y/n.” he breathed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “You… you look absolutly stunning, I have never had the honor to be in the pressence of such a beautiful and powerful woman.”

His words made her blush, the warmth of his gaze almost overwhelming. She glanced up at him, suddenly shy, but the way he looked at her, like she was something you would only read about, made her heart skip a beat. “Thank you.” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

James took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You should never have to hide this, Y/n. You’re amazing, and what you can do… it’s indescribable how beautiful it is.”

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like this, had ever made her feel like her powers were something to be celebrated rather than feared. The sincerity in James’s voice, the way he looked at her with such affection, it was almost too much to take in.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. The warmth of his touch melted the last of her doubts, and she found herself smiling, really smiling, for the first time in what felt like forever. “I don’t know what to say.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything.” James replied, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture that sent a thrill through her. “Just remember this feeling. This is who you are, Y/n. Not the fear, not the doubt, this.”

The intensity of his words, the raw honesty in his eyes, made Y/n’s heart swell. Without thinking, she stepped closer, drawn to him by something she couldn’t quite name. And when James didn’t pull away, when he instead cupped her face with that same gentle touch, she knew, this was where she was meant to be. Y/n found herself glancing at James, feeling something new, a warmth that had nothing to do with her powers and everything to do with him.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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Requested by: @GlitchyDaRat

[babydollbucky]

I have this vision of a teenage (16ish?) Neal having some drawings in his room, and his mother goes in there on a good day (idk why), while he's out.

She sees a drawing of...idk Ellen or her or something, and all at once she understands that she doesn't know her son at all.

She didn't know he liked drawing, let alone that he was apparently fantastic at it. She didn't know if he had art class at school. She didn't even know if he liked school, if he was doing well.

(James took that away from them.)

And she can't help it, can't change it, can't make it right. She can't. It's too much, too hard.

But she knows that her Danny (Neal!-another thing James took from them) has lost so much because of them. And he doesn't even know it.

So in 2 years, on his 18th birthday, when Danny comes home from Ellen's with tears streaming down his face and a determined glint to his eyes, and he packs his backpack, she knows that he knows now.

She knows that he's leaving.

She tries to stop him, wants to stop him, tries to make her voice work. He notices-Danny notices everything. He looks at her with something like pleading but says nothing.

She tries one more time, but she can't do it. She can't steal more from him by keeping him here. He deserves to see the world and find out who he wants to be.

She looks to the floor and doesn't see Danny's face fall. Doesn't see him silently begging her to ask him to stay, to care, even a little bit. To worry about what he's doing, where he's going (he doesn't know yet, all he knows is he can't be here anymore).

She can't speak, and as she tells herself that it's better this way, Danny stands in front of her, two inches taller and miles away already, and hugs her.

The last thing she hears him say is, "I love you, Mama. I'm sorry."

And he's out the door.

He's gone. Her Danny-her Neal is gone.

She cries for days. Ellen screams at her. She doesn't get out of bed for a week, until Ellen drags her out of it. She stays silent.

Ellen gives up on her. She stops coming after getting no response or acknowledgement that she should be looking for her son, goddammit! Don't you care?!

She does. She loves her son.

That's why she let him go.

[noble-atomics-railway]

I saw @shikariiin 's MLP AU and I had to do my own take on it. I first learned how to draw from pony art from Tumblr all the way back in ~2013 and couldn't pass up the chance to mash my fandoms together.

James, of course, had to take up half a page to himself because he is fabulous (and I love drawing Pegasi).

It's a toss up between James and Henry being my favorites on here. I really love both.

Random Info I came up with while I spent way too long drawing this under more.

Percy - A shy and nervous earth pony. Has a talent for communicating, but took his cutie mark more seriously and became a mail pony instead.

Thomas- A bold brash and cheeky earth pony who never lets his earth pony status hold him back. He joined the railroad because he wants to see the world and go everywhere. He can be nervous but is talented at his job. His cutiemark represents his ability to shunt (being strong) and being a ray of sunshine in people's lives, being infectious with joy, warming people like the sun.

Gordon - A strong and ill mannered Earth Pony. He's jaded by the world, and angry at the hand that he has dealt by being born an earth pony. He believes that railroad work should be for Earth Ponies as it relies on physical strength (This is probably based in the IDW post G4 era of comics where bad feeling was being stirred up between different pony classes). This means that James and himself but heads over everything because he thinks James could do better than railroad work. Gordon's cutiemark represents his need for perfection and obsession over small details. Gordon can't imagine anything worse than letting other people down by being late.

Henry - A shy unicorn who suffers from magic fatigue. He earned his cutiemark by casting a plant based magic spell that backfired and caused him to grow flowers and vines permanently in his mane. This means most of his magic is dedicated to keeping these magical plants alive, and he has little to spare to normal spell casting. The flowers in his mane represent his mood and his health. If he suffers magic fatigue, they begin to wilt in his mane. He works on the railroad because he can't cast magic constantly enough to get a unicorn magic based job.

The Flying Scotsman - A pegasi (I will draw him at some point). Lucked out genetically to be a pegasi born to a family of earth ponies. This means that he isn't as strong of a flyer as other pegasi, as his bones aren't hollow, but this doesn't stop Gordon being resentful of him. Also works on the railroad as he is physically strong, and has more earth pony traits than Pegasi ones.

Edward - Works as a navigator for the railroad. He does the jobs that require magic to do. I was thinking very Fluttershy with his cutie mark. It represents his softness and kindness. He never lets anything the others say get to him.

James - Drives Gordon insane. He's the only Pegasi in the team and likes to show off because he feels that it makes him more splendid and attractive than the others. He takes any opportunity to preen and show himself off. He loves to insult the others and then fly up to where they can't get him. Henry has at least once lost his temper with him and pulled him back down to earth only to deeply regret it when he feels ill for the rest of the day.

James' talent is for seeing fine details, but the others insist that it's a mirror because his only talent is bragging about his looks.

They do this Job \/

[moesasaur]

ALL TBOM ELDERS + all canon information on them

I am making this to help out anyone who is writing fanfics or drawing fan art of The Book Of Mormon and wants to draw the elders accurately or keep them in character. I will involve all lines from each character + their fandom given first name and other small things that indicate their personality or traits. I will also state the animal they brought up in I Am Africa since I believe the animals do reflect their personalities in some way.

Elder Church

- Elder “James” Church

- Given the name James by the fandom

- OBC actor: Brian Sears

- Comes from Cheyenne, Wyoming

- When he was young his parents were in an abusive relationship, with his alcoholic father abusing him and his mother

- “Okay, okay, HOLD ON! I mean… We COULD… SAY that we had some baptisms” Is the elder that suggests lying about how many baptisms district 9 has achieved

- “We were SO worried about you” Is the first elder that tells Kevin they were SO worried about him when he fell asleep at the bus station

- In I Am Africa he sings “(with) The Noble Lion King”

- In I Am Africa he also sings “A tribal woman who doesn’t wear a bra”

Elder Michaels

- Elder “Michael” Michaels

- Given the name Mike by the fandom

- OBC actor: Clark Johnsen

- Comes from Provo

Elder Thomas

(I could not find a photo of him, please accept this photo of the actor as an offering)

- Elder “Chris” Thomas

- Also goes by Elder Poptarts

- Given the name Chris by the fandom

- OBC actor: Scott Barnhardt

- His sister died from cancer and he was unable to say goodbye since he was at the apple store in line for a new iphone. Her last words were “Where is my brother”

- “You, too?! I had the hell dream after I accidentally read a Playboy!” Had his first hell dream after accidentally reading a playboy

- “Well, somebody needs to tell that General Butt-F-ing Named that people should be free to do what they want!” Is the elder that gives Kevin the idea of speaking to the general.

- In I Am Africa he sings “(with) The meerkat”. A lot of the fandom compares him to being like a meerkat

Elder Davis

Same thing, take this photo of him (right) standing next to Andrew Rannells (left)

- Elder “Robert” David

- Given the name Robert by the fandom

- OBC actor: Jason Michael Snow

- Is the first elder to ask if Elder McKinley is okay when he is panicking about the mission president

- “Elder Cunningham we must always work in PAIRS. Remember?” Is the first elder to complain about Arnold and Kevin arguing before being shut down by Elder McKinley

- “Looks like you fell asleep at the bus station!” (to Kevin after SMHD)

Elder Schrader

- Elder “Brian” Schrader

- Given the name Brian by the fandom

- OBC actor: Benjamin Schrader

- Please note that he isn’t called Elder Schrader in every performance, he sometimes takes the last name of the actor that plays him since he is named after Benjamin Schrader, his OBC actor

- “Are you an IDIOT?! MORMONS don’t LIE!” could come across as him being outspoken + rude personality wise

- In I Am Africa he sings “With the rhino”

Elder Neeley

Same thing AGAIN. Have a photo him (left) standing next to Jason Michael Snow (right)

- Elder “Ted” Neeley

- Given the name Ted by the fandom

- OBC actor: Kevin Duda

- “I told a lie once when I was twelve, and I had a dream that I went to hell! It was REALLY SPOOKY.” Had his first hell dream after telling a lie when he was 12

- “Yeah, we have to go home!” “But the mission president said we’re all as far from the Latter-Day Saints as it gets!” Seems to be the elder that wants to go home most after being shunned by the mission president

Elder Zelder

I scoured the internet and found no photos of him at all this is all I got sorry guys

- Elder “Elder” Zelder

- Given this name by the fandom, frequently referred to as an alien. I assume this is due to him having fewer lines compared to the other elders. People joke that Elder Zelder is his full name

- OBC actor: Justin Botton

- In I Am Africa he sings “(we are) A monkey with a banana”

PAIRINGS

Here is a photo of the chalk board that lists the pairings of all the elders:

If you can’t read it,

Elder McKinley + Elder Thomas

Elder Zelder + Elder Michaels

Elder Neeley + Elder Schrader

Elder Church + Elder Davis

also it’s a good example of Elder Schrader’s name changing based on the actor portraying him!!

Thank you for reading my little infodump, I did this mostly for myself but I would be happy to know that other people found this helpful!!

[buckybarnesisdaddy]

All is Well Part 3

To Be Frank

Summary- Frank really can’t stand Ransom and his stupid shiny hair.

Pairings- Frank Adler x Dutchess!Reader, Bucky(Winter Soldier) x Dutchess!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x Dutchess!Reader, Steve x Bucky (James) x Daisy!Reader, Jake Jenson x Precious!Reader.

Rating- Explicit, 18+

Warnings- polyamorous relationships, sex mentioned (PiV), Hand job, Oral (f receiving), 18+ only!!

Word count- 3.4 k

Authors notes- This was co-written with the lovely @theinheriteddutchess so go give her some love!! 💕 She knows Frank best so I had to follow her lead on this one! 🥰

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Previous

A kiss to you, his wife, his Dutchess, a glance at the man next to you in bed; get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and check on the rest of the guys. Everyday started like this, it was perfect. Frank Adler is a simple man, he loves his wife, loves his boat, loves his niece, loves his job, and he has even grown to love some of the people in this house. Key word ‘some’ of them, and even that took time.

“Bucky? Breakfast ready?” He is answered by a grunt and a plate full of eggs and bacon shoved his way. He quickly eats his food and drinks is coffee in the silence of the morning. It’s blissful. He heads downstairs and checks on the guys down there. Jefferson gives him a wave through his open door, Cap grunts and pulls on his chains, Frank just shakes his head as he walks around the corner. He is greeted by a naked Ransom walking into his bedroom.

“Morning Frank!” Ransom says as he waves over his shoulder before he closes the door. Frank rolls his eyes, he keeps walking and grabs the bag of Mary’s things. He brings them upstairs and tucks them away in her bedroom. Shes off visiting her grandma for the summer but she will be coming back soon and her room should be ready. He grabs another cup of coffee before he heads out the door.

Frank goes to work as a part-time professor at the University. A job he got on his own merit and not by the strings pulled by his wealthy family. It’s only part time because he enjoys working on his boat too much to just give that up. Also, he needs to get out of the house sometimes because living in a home with two other women and about ten men wasn't easy. It is noisy, and there is always a mess wherever he goes. Frank suspects Ransom is the culprit because he doesn’t know how to clean up after himself, he prefers others to do it for him. Frank does not like Ransom, no one does. Except for Daisy and Precious and apparently you. And Jake, but Jake likes everyone. It is infuriating that you like hanging around Ransom… Frank doesn’t get it; the man is insufferable, yet Frank can hear you laugh in the other room when the Ransom makes another wisecrack on someone else's behalf. He dreads the day Ransom has a chance in your pants. It was bad enough that Winter moved in on you. That was a hard adjustment and Frank finally gave in but he draws the line at Ransom.

Frank likes Winter; the man is quiet and polite, careful. Too careful if you asked him, but with everything he'd been through, it was understandable. But over the past year Frank went from having just one person in his bed to having two. Winter is a blanket hog, woman hog, and a living furnace! He likes Winter, he does, but in the beginning Frank found himself a little frustrated. It was frustrating because it had taken you months of being with Frank before you allowed Frank to hug you. To get comfortable enough to relax and let your guard down around him. Frank had to work overtime with you, earning your trust to allow him in, allow him to change your life. But Winter walked in and within a week, the two of you had your arms wrapped around each other. That was the sight Frank was met with whenever he walked into any room. "He needs it", you would explain. And that was it. For all your bossiness and hard edge, when you saw someone in pain, you couldn't help reaching out.

Thankfully Ransom still has his own room in the basement with the others, because if you ever moved him into the bedroom, He thinks he might actually leave! Fucking Ransom, with his fucking sweaters and his fucking perfect hair. At least Winter has the decency to have bedhead when he wakes up. But not Ransom…and if he did, it still looks like it was styled by a professional. Winter doesn’t like him either, which helps them bond over the weeks that Ransom weaseled himself into their lives. Before that, they had eyed each other a little wearily at times. You were Frank’s, his Dutchess, and Winter was the wounded warrior who desperately wanted to be loved. Frank should have seen it coming.

Frank is a married man, and Winter isn’t a homewrecker. Feelings grew and Frank had seen it slowly developing. You, Frank’s wife, his Dutchess, had seen Winter hurting, desperately needing comfort and love; you couldn’t help allowing him into your heart.You wanted nothing more than to show Winter that he had a home and was safe with you, with Frank even. When Winter arrived at the house he would only talk to Steve. Steve was a friend, even if he couldn’t remember everything, he knew he could trust Steve, and you. For some reason you felt… safe. With only two friends, Winter was bound to fall for you, Frank couldn’t fault him for that, you are wonderful, you are everything. After a few months went by Winter noticed how ‘at ease’ he felt with you, Frank noticed as well. The little things made him worry, the cuddles, the soft touches, they were intimate touches, ones that Frank would share with you and now you are sharing them with another man. Frank didn’t truly worry until you started to look at Winter the way you looked at him. Frank knew then. He had to bring it up.

“You like Bucky- Winter- whatever we are calling him.” It hung in the air for a moment. You smile for a moment at Frank being tongue tied but then you realize what he is saying and the smile fades.

“Yes.” You sigh. There was no denying it. You wouldn't lie to Frank. You wouldn’t lie to your husband.

It wasn't instantly okay though.

Frank didn't want to lose you, and you wouldn't do anything to hurt him. You had to stop, Frank was your husband, you made a choice, you love Frank not Winter. But Winter was slowly opening up, trusting you and a few others in the house. He was starting to feel safe and at home. So when you stopped he couldn’t understand why there was distance, no cuddling, no touching?! And why you seemed to hesitate when just talking to him. It broke him, the first time he felt seen and loved in decades and now he messed it up, it had to be his fault, you are too good. Winter withdrew and kept to his room. Even Steve couldn't get him to come out and talk to him. Steve had to get to the bottom of it, asking you what was going on, if Winter had done anything or if you were upset with him.

“What?! No! Winter is perfect.” You exclaim. “I- Frank and I realized that feelings were starting to develop… and I love Frank.”

Steve nods and sighs. Steve wanted to help Winter but how could he tell you to forget about your husband to help his friend?! The mood changed after that and it made everyone on edge. Winter was different from the others, in all his strength, he was still a vulnerable man. Frank couldn’t help but feel guilty. Which was ridiculous, He had the right as the husband to not share his wife. Even if Jake and Steve don’t care, he does. Although Bucky turned out fine, too, right? He'd made tremendous progress. But Winter wasn't Bucky, the same face, same experiences, but a completely different man. Winter was still starting his road to recovery. And you…are a natural caretaker, Frank could see how hard it was not to help. To stand back and not do everything possible to make the man feel better, that wasn’t who you were. So, Frank made a decision.

“You have feelings for him and he needs you.” Frank sighs as he crosses his arms and leans against the counter. It’s late, everyone else is already asleep for the night. Frank worked on the boat a little too late, he was so caught up in trying to get his words just right that by the time he looked at his watch he knew he’d have to wait for the house to be quiet at night before he could have his word with you. “I still need you though. I love you and we made a vow-”

“Frank I’ve kept my distance-”

“Let me finish. I love you and I am your husband, so I know you. And I know it’s killing you to not be there to help him.” Frank rubs his face and the stands up straight. “I don’t know how this is going to work, but I know we need to make it work because I can see how sad you are. I can even see how sad Winter is. He needs you.” Frank admits, it’s a weird weight off his chest. He didn’t need to be coddled but Winter did, you need someone to coddle, take care of, it’s something you rarely got to do with him. It’s that moment he realized you need Winter as bad as he needed you.

“Thank you, Frank.” You pulls him close and kiss him. “I love you. Nothing and no one will ever change how much I love you.” Frank nods and kisses you again.

At first Frank didn’t want to see it at all. When he left for work, whatever went on, was separate. He didn’t see or hear and no one told him about it. It grew from there, walking into rooms without knocking, or sweet moments that just couldn’t be contained till Frank left, he grew to be slightly okay with it all. Nowadays, Winter seems to trust Frank and Frank even lets Winter help with the boat. As ‘horrible’ as Frank might have thought this would end up, it actually ended up to not be a disaster. Winter is better at calming you down when you are worried, Frank could do it but Winter is just better at it. Frank is better at coming up with solutions and fixing the problem. It was the best of both worlds. If Frank ever spotted you two kissing, it wasn't weird anymore. Seeing touches and hearing noises that Frank also pulled out of you wasn't odd. He wasn't even bothered by the look on Winter’s face afterward. That's when Frank realized Winter was part of this life you all were living and it was strangely fitting.

Now, the ‘Winter Soldier’ made Ransom think twice about sneaking in and taking “advantage” of his wife, his Dutchess. And it was Winter’s loathing that turned out to be the thing that genuinely bonded them. Winter is a great bodyguard, constantly making sure Ransom didn't find a way to get his slimy hands on their woman. Frank doesn’t understand how Precious and Daisy even look at the man. He was just glad you didn't. You wouldn't. No way. No matter how Ransom made you laugh! You had him and Winter, that would be enough.

Frank really can’t stand Ransom, he doesn’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s his stupid perfect hair, or his privilege that makes his hands soft and smooth unlike Frank’s rough ones. Maybe it’s the way he just assumes everyone should know who he is. Frank can’t put a finger on it exactly, he just knows he can’t stand the guy. Honestly, he didn't even feel sorry for washing his red Christmas sweater with that pretentious white sweater. Pink fitted Drysdale's bloated face perfectly. His yelling sounding through the house when he found out it was ruined? That still puts a smile on Frank’s face to this day. Winter glanced at him from the side of his eyes, quickly took another big bite out of his stack of pancakes, freshly made by Bucky for breakfast, and wisely remained silent. Though Frank swears the man's lips had lifted slightly.

Frank didn't feel guilty, not one bit. Not even when you theatrically held the Christmas sweater up that evening, "You forgot to put this away; it's freshly washed. Weird though, I could've sworn we put it away, seeing as it's summer!" You eye him, and Frank shrugs. He didn't need to say anything because you both know it had been him. "Ransom’s going to find out it was you when you wear it at Christmas."

"If he's still here at Christmas." Frank challenges and you sighs.

"He never wants to leave. He's already having fun with Daisy and Precious. He likes it here."

"As long as you don't-" Frank says under his breath.

"What?! Like him?" Dutchess asks.

"Sleep with him.” Frank corrects. You look away from him, which makes him suspicious. “You won't, right?” Frank asks a little more unsure and suspicious.

"The man probably doesn't even like me." You mutter say. That was bullshit, Ransom liked anyone he couldn't have and the man was already trying. There was a reason Winter had put a lock on the door a month ago.

"He does." Frank states. You blush, Frank notices.

"He does?" Even if Ransom had been standing in front of you naked saying, 'I want to fuck you!' You probably still wouldn’t have believed him.

"He's not getting in," Frank says firmly. "Also his hair is too shiny.” Frank says with a little annoyance, you can’t help but laugh.

"His hair is too shiny?? Come on, you're being ridiculous." You kiss his cheek and leaves the bedroom, bumping into Ransom along the way, your laugh drifting down the hall and pulling at Frank’s heart. What he really meant was, I don't want you to love him more than us; he's a dick that doesn't deserve you or anyone. Please don't fall for his stupid tricks. But he also really hated that stupid hair…and everything under it. He is lost in thought as you walk back in to retrieve your phone. You see Frank, his brow furrowed and lost in thought.

"Frank," you speak softly as you walk closer, placing your hand on his cheek, "I have you and Bucky; what more could I want?” You kiss him and leave again. Frank still can’t help but worry, sadly he has seen Ransom naked, and he's heard the others when they fucked him. Frank notices how Ransom watches you when you aren't aware. Maybe they should put another lock on the door or this time on his you. Frank didn't trust him one bit.

*** 4 Months later- September ***

“Fuck!!! Yes, keep going!” Ransom moans as you stroke him in your hand. He stares down at your chest, still contained in your bra. “Please let me touch you?!” He begs. You smile and shake your head as you lean forward and press a kiss to his chest, grazing over his nipples while you quicken your pace with your other hand. Ransom moans loudly as he cums hard all over your chest, a little bit slipping beneath your bra. “Mmhmm fffuuuckkk!” He screams. You work him through it and then leave him to come down from his high a little more as you clean off your chest and hands with a wet rag, you toss him the rag after you’re done. “When will I finally be able to fuck and cum in that sweet pussy of yours. I mean I love your hands, chess but-”

“You know the rules, Ran. Now go, I still haven’t cum yet.” Ransom smiles and pulls your body close. You are still dressed except for your shirt. Ransom goes to lift your skirt, scrunching it right at your ass. You decided on a long flowy skirt today and Ransom is about to make that a problem.

“You know I’d love to stay and help you with that.” Ransom leans in to kiss you when the door swings open and Frank appears, Winter standing beside him.

“You know the rules, Ransom. You got your fuck, now leave while we take care of our girl.” Frank says as he moves close to you. Winter stares Ransom down as he walks by. Random sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t get to cum in her and I don’t get to make her cum.” Random says as he picks up his clothes. “Seems to me you’re just devaluing her. Making her nothing more than a wet hole for me.” Winter turns to attack and you call him off.

“Winter, come here.” Winter walks over and you run your hands through his hair as you pull him into a kiss. You then push him to his knees, he goes willingly. A leg thrown over his shoulder and your flowy skirt thrown over him for privacy since he is still shy about being sexual around anyone other than you or Frank. He is eating you out in seconds, starting the job Ransom isn’t allowed to do “You want in my bed Ransom? This is how we are doing it. You have to earn your privilege,” you place your hand over Winter’s head, who is still below your skirt. “Mmhmm just like that, baby.” You moan and close your eyes for a moment. When you open them you look at Ransom, “Also, I’m the wet hole?” You question. “You’re the one who is already thinking about finding someone else to ride you after you leave. You are more than that but until you can be honest with yourself about what you need, then this is how it will be.” Ransom scoffs as he leaves the room. Frank turns his gaze back on you and kisses you deeply.

“I love you, Dutchess.” You smile against his lips.

“I love you too, Frank. Mmhmm I love you, Winter.” You say as you pull the man up from his knees.

“I love you, Dutchess.” He kisses you, you taste yourself on his tongue. “Who do you want to bring you over the edge?” You smile as you look at your husband.

“Frank, baby please.” You say and you pull him close.

“Gladly” he says as he kisses you and starts to undress. Winter kisses your shoulder.

“I will make sure you’re not disturbed.” Frank nods a thank you and Winter gives a small smile back.

When Ransom finally managed to get you to believe him when he said he wanted you, the only way Frank agreed were two rules. These two things had to remain for him and Winter alone. Only they get to cum inside you and only they get to make you cum. Making you cum was special and only the men who truly loved you deserved that privilege. And cumming inside you was because Frank and Winter wanted to be the ones to claim you in that way. They have earned your love and devotion and they wanted that to be left for them. There was no birth control reason for it seeing as you are on the pill, it was more a relationship step that Ransom was nowhere near. Surprisingly Ransom agreed although he seems to be rethinking the agreement now. Your moans traveling down the hallway, the moans he hears but never gets to cause, they are different then the ones you make during sex with him. He wants to have all of you one day. He walks by Daisy’s room and hears late night sex happening in there too, then he hears a soft question and a happy, tearful answer.

“Yes, Bucky! I’d love to marry you. Stevie?”

“Looks like we’re getting married again, Daisy girl.” After is filled with more quick breaths and moans from what Ransom can only assume is the three of you. Daisy gets two men, Dutchess gets two men, does Precious, or whatever Jake calls her, have two men?

“Hey, precious!” She turns around and faces Ransom. “Got any room in your bed?” He smirks. She shakes her head.

“That is not a name you get to call me. Besides, is that really what you need.” She asks. Ransom's lip curls up as he fights to roll his eyes. “If you can't answer, then no bed. For now you need to go shower and clean up your room downstairs.” Ransom pouts a little. “Go now, no pouting.” Ransom leaves and Jake comes up behind Precious.

“Oh no, are you bringing home a stray?” He teases and Precious smiles and shrugs.

“Hmm, what do you think?”

Next

Taglist: @rainydayandmondays @theinheriteddutchess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @cjand10 @janineb86

[adorethedistance]

About a Month - Jamie Drysdale x Reader (platonic!Trevor x reader)

Based on this post by @mack-samo

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, making out, mild roasts

Words: 1475

Summary: A rest day with Jamie is rudely interrupted by Trevor’s return home, and your relationship is uncovered once and for all.

A/n: So I’m in a tiny tiny block but whatever it’s fine. This definitely isn't my best work but if I kept hacking away at it I would hate it and then never post it so voila.

“And I thought you invited me over to watch a movie,” I say softly against the surface of Jamie’s neck. He moves my head gently to meet my eyes before pressing another kiss to my lips. He mumbles,

“Are you complaining?”

“Not yet,” a cheeky grin spreads across my face despite neither me or Jamie pulling away; both of us nervously and excitedly breathing into each other’s mouths. Jamie reciprocates my smile and surprises me by excitedly grabbing my face in his hands and crashing our lips together once more. Running the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip causes his breathing to flutter dazedly and I bite back a cocky smile. The rookie duck chases after my kiss but I push him back by his chest and he hits the headboard of his unmade bed. He looks at me hazily, in awe of my entire being. Swinging my left leg over both of his, I’m kneeling over him leaning down to reconnect with Jamie. I take his adorable face in my hands and draw him back in for another kiss. Once intertwined again, I lower myself onto his lap and I feel him involuntarily sigh at the new point of contact. His hands are practically twitching with anticipation before coming to rest awkwardly on my waist. His touch is light, too light. I can tell he’s unsure of how much he should do.

The consideration is sweet but I’m aiming for something more.

Without breaking our kiss, I place my hands on his wrists and trail his hands up the length of my body before resting them on my ribcage. When he still doesn’t move, I take a moment to appreciate his extensive respect before guiding his hands over my grey graphic t-shirt, over the lace fabric of the black bralette I’m wearing today. Jamie lets out an involuntary whimper of excitement which makes me laugh into the kiss.

“You’re so adorable.” He flushes in embarrassment and buries his face in the exposed skin of my neck. “No, come back!” Jamie peeks up at my face long enough for me to tangle my fingers in his lengthy black hair. We resume our kiss, less frenzied this time; there’s a piece of innocence that wasn’t there before. We unintentionally sigh simultaneously and I look into his eyes, playing with the ends of his messy hair.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?” He answers without breaking eye contact.

“Can we get Chinese for dinner?”

“...Sure?” he laughs, seemingly confused.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Whaaaat?” I pester and pout, placing a soft kiss on his lips which he reciprocates.

“You’re cute.” Jamie presses another kiss on my lips, wrapping his arms around my waist. We’ve been switching between cuddling and making out for most of the day, just trying to rest as much as possible. Rest days are rare for us between hockey season being in full swing and the holiday season. But when our days off sync up, it’s inconceivable bliss.

The only issue is getting rid of Trevor. Easier said than done. Jamie and Trevor do everything together so naturally, they’d spend their off days together too. As a result, Jamie and I had to find a way to get some of the other ducks involved without them finding out either. Figuring out how to sneak around Trevor was a pain in the ass early on but Jamie and I have got a routine down now. Whenever they have time off, Mason unknowingly takes one for the team by hanging out with Trevor the whole day.

And it’s not that I don’t want to meet Trevor, I’m ready for anything! Jamie is the one with reservations. He said he would tell Trevor when he was ready, but I feel like he should be ready by now.

“Jame.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you gonna tell Trevor soon?”

“About us?”

“No, about the nepo baby article- yes about us!” I say sarcastically, waiting for an actual answer.

“Well-” Suddenly, we jump apart, startled by the sounds of the front door opening.

“HONEYY I’M HOOOOOME!” Jamie and I snap up at the sound of the front door opening and look at one another in panic. Both of us stare at each other in fear as we hear Trevor shuffle into the apartment. I quickly swing myself off his lap to plop down on the bed next to him. He gives me a pouty look.

“What do we do?!” I whisper shout.

“I don’t know!”

“HEY JAMIE, HAVE YOU SEEN THE-” Trevor’s familiar voice cuts off. I sit anxiously tuned in for the reason he stopped talking. After a long pause we hear him say, “Oh, Jamie, you dog.”

“I left my shoes by the front door,” I confess in a whisper. Jamie looks at me panicked. Trevor’s footsteps come closer.

“You invited someone over without telling me? Oh-” he cuts himself off again, leaning in the doorway upon seeing me and Jamie on the bed. Taking in Jamie’s messy hair and my shirt’s disheveled placement; it’s not hard for him to piece together what had been happening prior to his arrival.

“You’ve got yourself a girl, Jamo?” Trevor says incredulously.

“You’re not supposed to be back until 5.” I stare dazedly and absentmindedly pick a loose strand of my hair off of Jamie’s shirt. It didn’t even take me a moment, the comment is just instinctively fired out.

“How do you know that?”

“Oh my god, Z, get out.”

“No way, dude. I have too many questions. How long have you been keeping her from me?” Jamie hesitates to answer before deciding that what’s done is done.

“About a month.”

“Yeah, see, I have some lost time to make up for,” Trevor says before launching himself through the doorway and flying head-first onto Jamie’s bed where the two of us scramble to move out of the way. He lands directly in the middle with Jamie on the right and me on the left. “Sooo, where’d you guys meet?”

“You remember that one day I needed to go to Target and it was raining really hard?” Jamie butts in to contextualize our meet cute for Trevor.

“Yeah, I don’t know why you insisted on going.”

“Well, we were both leaving around the same time and as I’m about to step out I hear her say something. And at first I thought she was talking to me or something but when I turned around, I realized she didn’t have an umbrella and so I walked her to her car, we exchanged numbers, and the rest is history.” I snort out a laugh at Jamie’s abbreviated version of the story.

“That’s the skeleton of how it went. I asked him if I could hitch a ride under the umbrella and he was so nervous he didn’t speak the whole time. When we got to my car I gave him my number and the rest was history.” Trevor howls with laughter at the visceral image of Jamie being nervous.

“I give you too much credit, Jimbo. As if you could pull her.”

“And you’ve been single for how long?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes.”

“Only when my boyfriend is being made fun of.” Trevor looks at me and then quickly over to Jamie. I follow his gaze and look at Jamie who’s glowing bright red. I guess I haven’t called him my boyfriend in front of him yet.

“Have you been dating for a whole month or does that include the talking stage?”

“Uh, no, two weeks of talking, two weeks of dating.”

“Is this even legal by the way?”

“What? We’re the same age!” Jamie argues against Trevor’s nonsense.

“Okay, okay, just making sure. I wouldn’t put it past you to go for someone a bit older.”

“Are you sure you’re not just projecting?” I seize the opportunity to poke fun at Trevor once more and he looks at me playfully. I stick my tongue out at him and laugh before leaning my head on Jamie’s shoulder. I feel him relax underneath me and as extra reassurance, I grab his left hand in both of mine.

“Seriously Jame, how did you end up with her?”

“Look. As fun as it is to see you flabbergasted about the idea that Jamie could ever date someone, we’re just trying to watch a movie.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I know when I’m not wanted-” Trevor gasps, cutting himself off, “Are you watching Top Gun? I love this movie- wait can you rewind?” He then squirms his way up the bed, settling between me and Jamie, forcing us to accommodate him and break our connection. Jamie looks at me, trying to apologize silently but I just smile and shrug. I reach an arm up around Trevor to play with the ends of Jamie’s hair once more.

“I forgot how comfortable your bed is!”

***

[mycupofrum]

Hi!! Heres a drabble prompt if you are still taking them 😊

Sirius/James and a lazy weekend morning together ❤️

Hi!! 😊 Thank you for the lovely prompt! 💞 This is a slice of life drabble where they get to be happy and just enjoy life for once. Here's James and Sirius spending a lazy weekend morning together. Nsfw.

Rating: M

__

Husband

The white and grey curtains before the balcony are parted, exposing a blue lake and a mountainous view in the soft hues of the morning light. Everything is quiet, save for the panting that fills the air.

Sirius's hips buckle up as the hot mouth sucking him off beneath the cover brings him to his climax. His back arches, and he clenches the sheets, a million stars exploding in his mind.

Ecstatic, he comes down slowly, still shivering when James's head emerges from beneath the blanket, his hair sticking everywhere even more than usual.

The hazel eyes appear bigger without the glasses, and he licks his lips, wearing a smug grin.

"How's that for a wake-up?"

Sirius huffs a laugh and rubs the sleep away from his eyes. "Very pleasurable."

They look at each other, grinning like idiots.

"Good morning, husband," James says softly, reaching down to kiss Sirius on the lips.

"Mm, morning."

It still sounds incredible. Less than 24 hours ago, they said "I do" in a beautiful ceremony in the Scottish Highlands and celebrated well into the night with their loved ones before taking a portkey to a small village by Lake Garda, Italy to start their honeymoon.

Sirius bites his lower lip as he reaches to stroke James's hair. "I can't believe I got to marry my best friend."

It's all a bit ridiculous how giddy he can be. They've both just entered their 40s. Who knew you could begin a whole new chapter at this stage of life?

A few years ago, they found themselves single at the same time. They brushed shoulders more often, their gazes lingering and mouths curling into secret smiles. They did have some hurdles to work out, but Sirius finally stopped fearing and expecting the worst when James made a shaky and heartfelt confession that he couldn’t imagine life without Sirius, and they found the happiness they always had the potential for.

"What would you like to do today?"

"It's Saturday. I want to spend the day in bed with my husband."

"You just love saying 'husband'." Sirius grins as he runs his hand across James's back. Truth be told, he loves that word, too. "But we're in Italy. We should have breakfast and go see some sights."

"Mm. Later." James nuzzles his face in the crook of Sirius's neck, lying on top of him like a heated blanket. "I preordered breakfast from room service last night. It should be here at 9am."

A quick glance at the clock on the wall says it's only 8:30.

"You thought of everything, hm?" Sirius feels James's hard-on pressing against his hips. "Well, in that case…" He rolls them over quickly, eliciting a surprised laugh from James when his head hits the mattress.

"I think I know how to pass the time in the meanwhile." Sirius stares down at James, his elbows on either side of his head.

James smirks as he curls his hands around Sirius's hips, drawing tiny circles with his thumbs on his skin.

"Would you care to show me?"

"With pleasure." Sirius nips James's neck before smoothing the skin with a lick. "Husband."

It's James's turn to pant and moan, when Sirius kisses his way downwards along his body, leaving no sensitive spot unexplored.

It isn’t until late afternoon when they make it out of their room, ready to start the day as a newly married couple.

__

[oldestenemy]

In the end the ship does not make it to the world’s surface.

But the wizard doesn’t need to be that close.

“There.” They point directly into the hailstorm of glass. Towards the largest whole chunk of Xiabalba that seems to be left. Where they can see a remnant of the path they followed towards Malistaire. Feel the thread of magic that was their trail from the mountains to its surface. “I can get us back to the grove if you can get us there.”

“You’re actually out of your mind!”

“Can you do it or not!”

Evidently he can. Though he doesn’t look happy about it.

The ship impacts with a crash that splinters wood and bows metal—but the shield keeps the pair of them from the worst of it. Left standing in the wreckage, the frozen chill of Xiabalba all around them. The remnants of their duel with Malistaire still marking the surface, the cavity he’d left when he’d been thrown into the sky.

They hate this.

They hate everything about this.

Broken shadow mirrors. Footprints undisturbed on this far side of the comet chunk.

They hold out the base of their staff to Duncan as they draw nearer to the point where they had first touched down on the comet itself, feeling it as their magic follows the line back down to the surface. The recall sigil should work from here. It should take them to the grove.

“I saw this place.”

The wizard stops dead, looking over to Duncan in confusion.

“What?”

“In Nidavellir, remember—when we were all looking for you—”

“What do you mean you saw it?” Their memories of that day are…hazy. Too much at once. Nidvallier. Darkmoor. They hadn’t considered the other dungeon to be anything beyond the room they had come crashing into. Had there been reflections there too? Pieces of their past laid out in shining crystal—

“You fought Malistaire here, he—”

They cut him off “—I don’t need the reminder. I was there.”

It is sharper than it needs to be, but the last thing they want is to drag more pain to the surface. Both their own, and in reminders of the things they’ve inflicted on each other. Tilting their staff again in offering, accepted this time, so they draw the recall sigil with their free hand.

It works.

The frigid chill is exchanged for damp rainforest warmth.

Quiet. For the moment.

Though it looks as though the world door has been damaged, even here in its enclosure.

They head for the trail, not looking back, not wanting to absorb any reaction to the avoidance.

The sooner this is over, the better.

“Wizard?”

“Stay close to me.” The wizard tells him as they near the edge of the Quetzal Grove. “I don’t want to be here longer than—” Words catch in their throat. It hurts, seeing the Zocalo again. Hailfire of glass, a mix of solid and molten, still raining from the sky. Impact marks line everything, no building is untouched, no piece of stonework unmarred. Eventually the world will be pounded into nothing but rubble.

The whistling of the comet shards sharp in their ears.

“How are we meant to get through this?” There is an open disbelief in Duncan’s words.

It’s almost satisfying.

Someone else seeing this.

Seeing what they couldn’t stop.

What they had no choice but to run from.

It might be, if it didn’t feel as though they were on the edge of disintegration.

“I can put up a physical aura bubble—just—like I said, stay close.”

They don’t have far to go.

They can see a ship—more suited for this situation than Taylor’s—likely belonging to the Sky Captain they seek. Taking refuge from the hail beneath it is…a pig. The wizard feels a spark of doubt at the idea that the captain they’re after is Wysterian. But then, the non-magical inhabitants of the world had seemed more competent than the Pigswick students—and faculty. So there was some hope yet.

Admittedly it dims when they hear how that captain—James T. Pork—refers to the Priestesses of the Crying Sky, who had captured him for interfering with their ritual prayers. But first impressions…aren’t everything. Luckily he seems willing to make a quick escape with Beans, they do not stop to question why he knows about the Arcanum. Just lets him go, leaving the wizard and Duncan alone with the priestesses.

They don’t need to do this.

Except.

They do.

Time is short, but—

—it had been even shorter last time.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion.” Sorry for more than that, but apologies for those things are useless here.

“You are the wizard—are you not? The azure one of legend.” Out of the corner of their vision, they see Duncan incline his head, just the slightest bit of interest in the words, in the way others interact with them and their absent personhood.

“If that’s what you want to call me,” the wizard replies, “Pacal Redmask—the other mystics—are they all—?”

“—secluded but alive—each at one of the focal points of the world—attempting a shielding ritual far stronger than our own. It will not succeed.”

Something like relief. This feeling.

Flooded immediately by guilt.

Survival, however fleeting, is prolonged suffering here.

Yet they are still glad the trio of Mystics live.

For now.

For now.

“We need to go,” Duncan is quiet, unwilling to intrude and they appreciate it. “Azteca’s connection to the rest of the spiral is tenuous at best—you can feel it can’t you?”

They can. Probably not as clearly as him. But the way their magic feels a little more…muted the longer they remain. While Azteca blinks slowly out of history in worldline after worldline. Routes closing. The window for teleportation getting smaller.

The wizard looks towards Cameca, the head Priestess of the group. There are things they could say. None of it will escape sounding hollow and bitter. “I’m sorry again for the intrusion—I doubt the Captain intended to do you harm.”

“He was a pest, his chatter disruptive—but he was no threat. You save us the trouble of driving him away.” Something about her. Something familiar.

A tug in their mind that has been absent a long while.

A warning.

There are more reasons to leave quickly than the wizard is aware of. The Celestial Calendar is vague at best, and it’s never been any use trying to force answers for the lingering sense it gives them. They just nod, making for the exit before their own tongue can cause problems.

~*~

“Go on,” The wizard mumbles, once they’ve materialized safely back in their apartment within the Arcanum. “I can practically hear the gears in your head stalling out in an effort not to say something.”

“You tried to stop that.”

The wizard looks back with one hand on the door to see Duncan still standing in the center of the room where they’d both appeared. He’s staring at them like he’s somehow only just noticed they’re really there.

If he’s implying what they think—

“Yup, and failed. Let’s go.” Clipped and cold. Every word like sheet metal against glass. Every syllable a chorus of don’t. Komeka may have helped soften the ache of Azteca’s loss. Zenzen may have escaped to live on, to carry the memory of her people. Xol Akmul may still flourish, hidden away from the rest of the Spiral. But that doesn’t stop the ripping open of the wound that is was seeing it again. Hearing it. “We’re wasting time.”

Read the whole series here <3

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #18

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: sickness

Elliot had an itch in his throat. At first he thought it was leftover from screaming during James’s visit, but that was a while ago and it hadn’t gone away. 

He kept on with his chores regardless. It was his place to serve, and a little cold shouldn’t stop him. Master had been rewarding him at the end of every day with a shiny gold coin and Elliot didn’t want to disappoint him. It would be just as bad as the beating that would follow.

He was tired now, too. It wasn’t the satisfying kind that he’d gotten used to after a day of being a good boy. Instead of sleeping pleasant and deep, he tossed and turned at night. Cold and hot all at once, and his beloved blanket wasn’t doing its job. It wasn’t fair. Elliot had been eating more than he’d ever gotten before. He slept well. He had no open wounds (the scratches had faded just like Ambrose said), so there was nothing to infect. It wasn’t fair!

And it wouldn’t be fair to Master Ambrose to stop working. So he didn’t.

___________________

He couldn’t get out of bed. Oh gods, he couldn’t get out of bed.

The fire had gone out during the night, and the fall air chilled him. He shivered, burrowing into the quilt, blanket, and pillows. His jaw barely creaked open enough to breathe, as his nose was clogged. Why did everything hurt? His limbs weighed him down and his muscles protested at the slightest movement.

Light began to filter through the windows. Dawn was approaching. His room faced the sunrise, and it was too bright. Just yesterday, he’d cleaned the windows and now he couldn’t get up to draw the curtains closed. How pathetic. 

He watched the beams of light grow longer on his floor. Master Ambrose would be awake soon. Please help me. 

___________________

Elliot wasn’t up and about yet. Odd. He wasn’t in the kitchen, or the dining room, or even outside watching the sunrise. 

Ambrose knocked on the bedroom door. He heard a faint whine from behind the wood.

“Ellie,” he called, turning the knob, “I’m coming in, sweetheart.”

Elliot was bundled in both his quilt and blanket. Shivering and squinting, he panted and looked absolutely awful. The fire was out, and cold. 

Ambrose crossed the room, closing the curtains. Dimming the light would help Elliot’s obvious headache. 

He arranged a few logs in the fireplace, striking a flint to light them. He would need to bring more wood from a neighboring room later.

___________________

“Oh Ellie,” said Master, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’m so sorry.” 

Master’s cool hand brushed away his sweaty hair to take his temperature. Master tutted, and guilt swirled in his gut. If Ambrose wasn’t panicked, it must not be that bad. If it wasn’t that bad, Elliot should be working. 

He tried getting up, but Master Ambrose gently pushed him back onto the bed.

“None of that, love. Just stay in bed, and I’ll take care of everything.” Elliot was relieved. Now he could rest and obey at the same time. He’d make it up to Master later.

He let Ambrose rearrange the blankets, untangling them from between his legs. The fire was already warming the room and the pleasantness made his eyelids heavy. 

___________________

Ambrose let Elliot doze as he tiptoed down the stairs. Luckily, he’d made and canned a huge batch of chicken stock for soup season. Made with roasted chicken bones and bits with peppercorns, bundles of herbs, garlic, and vegetables, the hearty stock would be perfect for Elliot. And it would provide some fluid and nutrients. 

He grabbed a pint from the storeroom and set to work. He drizzled some oil in a copper pot and set the heat. Ambrose minced some garlic and ginger and tossed it in the pot. Ginger would help reduce the croaking pain in Elliot’s throat. He diced an onion while the aromatics became fragrant. He added the onion and gave it a stir. Ambrose uncapped the pint of stock, and carefully plopped it into the pot. It was so rich, it had partially congealed. Perfect.

Ambrose held off on adding potatoes. They would be fine for Elliot if cut small enough, but Ambrose knew swallowing would be tough for him. Better to start off with a thinner soup and gradually thicken it as Elliot recovered. Instead, he added some cream for protein. A generous amount of salt, and it was nearly ready.

Soon it was the perfect temperature and the scent was delightful. He ladled a portion into a wooden bowl and carried it up to Elliot’s room.

___________________

Elliot tried to sleep, but the rumble of his stomach kept the fuzziness in his brain from working. The ache in his joints was uncomfortable, and he just wanted everything to go away. He felt so heavy.

“Love, I’m coming in,” said Master.

Elliot saw the bowl and spoon as Master entered. His stuffy nose kept him from smelling anything, but even the promise of food made his mouth water. Master Ambrose sat the bowl on his nightstand, and helped him sit up. Ambrose even propped up the pillows to keep his head from lolling, and Elliot was too tired to even feel ashamed for being useless. 

___________________

He couldn’t lift the spoon. Damn. He should have thought of that.

Elliot stared at the soup, despair on his face. Elliot was so fond of food, and for good reason. Sympathy panged in Ambrose’s heart. It must be killer for Elliot to be so close and yet unable to eat without assistance. 

Ambrose put the bowl to Elliot’s lips, tilting it ever so slightly. He’d intentionally made it just warm enough to eat right away, thank goodness. Elliot drank, his eyes fluttering. After a moment, Ambrose pulled away to let him breathe. 

The look Elliot gave him was halfway murderous and it was almost comical if it weren’t for everything else. 

“I don’t want you to choke,” explained Ambrose, and Elliot settled down. Hiccups wouldn’t help either. They were unpleasant if your throat was raw. 

Ambrose fed him until the bowl was empty. Elliot had finished it quickly, drinking it down as greedily as a bottle-fed lamb. 

“Let’s wait to see how your stomach does,” said Ambrose. “I’ll get you more if you can keep it down, okay?”

Elliot gave him a small smile; he understood. 

“Do you want to sleep?” 

“Mhm.”

Ambrose helped him lay down again. He’d have to stay by Elliot’s side today. Thankfully it was the third day of the week, so he didn’t have to put out notice that he had closed.

But as he grabbed a book from his shelves and went back to Elliot’s side, he wondered. How did he get sick so fast? He understood why Elliot was hit so hard; he was still not physically recovered from before, and the stress of the recent fight must have contributed. But these things didn’t happen overnight. 

He watched Elliot’s chest rise and fall. The soup had loosened his stuffy nose a little, but he still couldn’t breathe through it. Ambrose would have to whip up some medicine to make that easier.

If Elliot had hidden his developing sickness from him, Ambrose needed to know. He’d ask as soon as Elliot could tell him.

___________________

Elliot’s fever broke as he slept, but a cough had taken its place. Ambrose dashed downstairs and hastily made a salve for Elliot’s chest. It was a sticky thing, full of strong scented herbs that would help Elliot breathe. 

Carefully, he pulled back the bedclothes and reached under Elliot’s nightshirt. The salve was still warm as he didn’t wait for it to set. He smeared a generous amount on Elliot. 

He barely stirred at the touch. It worried Ambrose, but at least he was sleeping. 

___________________

Elliot woke up groggy. His head was stuffed with cotton but he could breathe a bit better. Ambrose sat next to him, a book in his hands. He had stayed, and that meant the world to him.

“How are you feeling?” asked Ambrose, setting aside the book. 

“Better,” he croaked. And then he coughed and Ambrose sighed a little. His shirt stuck to his chest when he coughed and it felt… sticky under there. Alarmed, he clutched at his shirt and looked down. No blood. And hey, his arm was responding now. But what was it?

“What- what’s on-” he coughed again. 

“Just some breathing cream. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you to put it on. You needed to rest.”

Oh. That was nice. It seemed to be working, at least.

“Do you want some more soup?”

“Mhm.”

___________________

The next few days were a blur of tissues and various teas and soups. Elliot’s fever had returned a couple times, and scared the hell out of Ambrose. He’d even gone delirious at one point and begged Ambrose to let him go. It broke his heart.

Elliot had nightmares, too. Eventually Ambrose started reading to him, and that seemed to help.

His cough had gone from a dry nuisance to a wet hack but a steady treatment of the cream and hearty, steaming food kept the worst of it at bay. At one point he’d hacked up something green and nasty and the cough significantly diminished. 

Elliot kept everything he ate down, and Ambrose was proud to say Elliot hadn’t lost any weight while bedridden. 

By the third day, Elliot was up and moving. His cough was gone, and the weakness subsided into a simple tiredness that could be treated with an afternoon nap. The worst of it was over, and Elliot would be fine.

Thank the gods. 

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[dorminchu]

alone in the town

Summary: There was a pack of chalk in the supply closet. Next time she'd bring enough to share. Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort Rating: K+ Characters: Laura, Pyramid Head

ao3 | ffnet

Before Mary got sick enough to come home from the hospital, she'd sit with Laura during freetimes and watch her draw. They'd sing Ring Around the Rosie until Mary had another wet coughing fit and Laura would move her paper out of range of the flecks of spit and blood, darker under halogen lights.

The nurses would complain about what a bitch Mary was during their smoke breaks. That husband of hers had a thankless week ahead of him, but there was nothing that could be helped. Laura had nothing better to do but listen. Mary's letter to James, wrinkled where Laura kept it stuffed in the pocket of her dress, was smudged a little but otherwise clean. Aside from her clothes it was the only item she got to keep when she was transferred over to Silent Hill, Brookhaven Hospital.

Tourist season was over for the year. The only people around were the staff and the warden and a few patients who Laura never saw or spoke to at length. Nobody seemed to care whether or not she ran away, but she kept coming back to the town no matter how far she walked.

Most days, Laura had the whole town to herself. She bummed some chalk from one of the supply rooms and could draw as long as she liked without being scolded or smacked upside the head. In the alley by the apartments was a wall perfect for her scheme. She drew a crude cat as tall as she was, then added a bear as a companion. Cats were her favorite animal aside from bears. Tough, able to take care of themselves, but also cute.

The old air siren went off. Laura kept drawing.

Too soon, the warden's heavy bootsteps echoed off the alley walls. His usual foul smell masked under a heavy stench of disenfectant. This time, she caught a whiff of sulfur.

Laura sneered. "What's the big deal? I go out on my own all the time. Nobody comes around here anyway."

His grimy, gloved hand outstretched. If she fessed up she wouldn't have anymore chalk. But lying to the disinterested staff and lying to the warden were two different situations.

"All right. You can have it back, OK? Just as long as you don't tell on me."

She put the chalk into his palm and squared her shoulders. The warden closed his fist and opened it again. Like he had never held a piece of chalk before. He leant down in front of the alley wall and started to scribble. Rough strokes wore the chalk down to a nub.

"That was all the chalk I had!" she groused.

The warden emitted a low groan. Like a whale, adrift at sea. Laura had never seen his face, even when she looked up at where a face should be. He was nonsensically tall. Despite her gut instinct to get as far from him as possible, he'd yet to lay a hand on her or raise his voice. She couldn't picture what he got up to when he wasn't working, or if he had a name or could even speak. Straightening up, the warden lumbered down the street as if they'd never interacted.

Scowling, Laura looked back at the wall. A portrait of himself joined her cat. His art skills were comperable to hers.

There was a pack of chalk in the supply closet. Next time she'd bring enough to share.

a/n: An idea that came to me while replaying Silent Hill 2. Laura interacting with PH like he's the local janitor or ward in Brookhaven Hospital amuses me greatly.

[pomegranateshrimp]

⚕️Always (James Wilson x Reader)

Fluff Oneshot

No NSFW

Decently short read

—————————————————

You had a rough day yesterday. You work as a psychologist at the Princeton–Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and no matter how much you tried it seemed like everything was going wrong with your work, and you had developed a sore throat of your own. When you finally came home you took a melatonin. You usually don’t take any because it messes with your sleep schedule, but tonight was going to be one of those sleepless nights; you could feel it. You finally went to bed at around 9 or 10pm. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t help.

You had just woken up from a nightmare, one where you lost James. It was terrible. You looked around to see he had his arms wrapped around you. It was still nighttime it seemed. You felt terrible. You had a headache and a sore throat, you were congested and nauseous as well. You went out into the kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge to somewhat soothe your throat and you noticed the time on the microwave. “2:18am?!?” You think to yourself. It was obviously early but you didn’t think it’d be that early. You thought about going to bed but quickly realized you wouldn’t be able to, you had already woken up, and if you took a melatonin you were worried you would be asleep for the next 8 hours, and you had to be in at work by seven. But at this point you weren’t sure if you were even gonna go. You groan and stumble across the kitchen to grab tissues, having ran out of the ones in the bedroom and needing to unclog your nose. You stand there staring at nothing in particular, in a sort of sick half awake haze. Suddenly you feel a familiar hand wrapping around your waist from behind you, with his head resting on your shoulders.

“Mm.. What are you doing up?” He mumbled with his face still leaning on your body, he was obviously much more tired than you. It was no surprise you woke him up though, he holds on to you almost for dear life when you guys are in bed

“I’m sorry did I wake you?”

“That doesn’t matter, what’s wrong?” He turns you around to look at him despite the dark atmosphere

“Nothing I just don’t feel the best… my throat is sore and I didn’t have the greatest day at work yesterday I guess”

“Are you sure that’s it? I may be half asleep but something doesn’t feel right”

“I… I don’t know, it’s really childish and.. weird” You struggled to get the words out. Although it was just a dream, it was bothering you a lot, but you weren’t sure whether to tell him. Tears pricked your eyes.

“You can tell me anything, I won’t think it’s ‘weird’, trust me”

Tears start threatening to roll down your cheeks, and you let some of them go.

“I- I had a dream where.. where I lost you”

He pulls you into a tight embrace.

“It’s not childish, or weird. I’m scared of losing you too. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me”

You both stay there like that for some time, just holding each other and crying on the other persons shoulders as James draws circles on your back with his fingers.

After a bit James pulls away and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“As much as I would love to continue doing this, we should probably go check your temperature.” He says with a soft giggle and wipes away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He pulls you into the bathroom and sits you up on the sink counter and takes your temperature.

“No fever.” A slight beep comes from the machine. “But you’re still hot to me.” He smirks and leans in closer to you

“Oh shut up!” You blush and lean in a bit closer as well. He closes the gap of space between you two and kisses you. You pull away after a few long seconds.

“I don’t want you getting sick..”

“I’d be honored to get sick by you but.. you’re probably right especially with work tomorrow.”

“Yea”

“Hey uhm, speaking of work tomorrow, what did you wanna do? Because it’s really early and I know you can’t go back to sleep because you’re ‘already up’. I mean if you’re going to stay home I’d be willing to cancel tomorrow to take care of you if you’d like.”

“That actually sounds really nice, especially with some of the cases I’m working on at work right now.” You smile at him. “Thank you, for everything this morning.”

“I’ll choose you always.”

He picks you up from the counter and takes you to the bedroom where he cuddled and took care of you as you rambled on about your work troubles, giving you water, tissues, a hot towel for your headache, and even a lot of kisses despite your protesting and concern for his well-being.

-Blooper thingy!!!

Cuddy: *Enters Houses office* “Hey have you seen Wilson or L/n?”

House: “Oh please they’re probably staying home cause Wilson fucked them too hard or something.”

Cuddy: *Rolls eyes at him* “Thanks for the helpful very needed input.”

House: “Anytime!” *The door slams*

[myloveforhergoeson]

hiiii everyone <3 if you're a fan of that's all she wrote, this post is for you!!

if you didn't know from my relentless nagging and big hullabaloo today marks the first anniversary of james and roxy getting together in the tasw canon :) tasw is also now a little over one and a half years old!!!!

like... i honestly can't believe it. at the risk of sounding sappy, i didn't know there were even btrtv fans left since i was coming into the fandom so late in the game, let alone ones who were interested in reading about some random character i created falling in love with one of the show's main characters. i truly can't thank each and every one of you enough for your support, whether you've read 1 or all 449,787 words of my story. i love the little community we have so much, and i can't even put into words what it feels like to work for so long and so hard on such a project and know that people look forward to reading it and want to engage with me and my characters so fully... it's such a fulfilling feeling and i'm sincerely grateful for all of you. i hope this shows in my works and how i interact with all of you.

but, BWAH. enough with the sappiness. i'm putting together a post full of my top underrated rames moments - pre and current relationship to celebrate. just to draw some attention to parts i love that sometimes get lost in the nearly half a million words of the story and to give some insider perspective on how i chose to write my story. including things i left out, things i ended up changing, and ideas for the future! :) it should be out sometime later today :)

if you want to celebrate with me, feel free to share your favorite rames moments too! i might have missed it in my post and we all know i have so so so much to say when it comes to tasw! or share anything else with me. tell me about your day idc. let's just talk and celebrate such a fun day together :)

i'm bad at endings but, i am truly honored to share that's all she wrote and roxy with all of you <3 they're both very near and dear to me. and i'm sure you've learned much about me through my work lol...

i'll say thank you one million times over for as long as i want to and mean it every single time <3

MWAH! i love you all - happy anniversary rames!!!!

[lunastarnight]

Another small writing thing. This one's mostly about Den, and got inspired by the first/second chapter of 'Iris Japonica' by @turkeyinnovember over on AO3. (Once again, sorry for any mistakes, tips/criticism are appreciated)

Honestly? This felt fucking weird.

Den hadn't quite gotten used to this whole thing, how were you supposed to get used to something like this anyways? Yeah, just casually assended to Godhood, no big deal.

It had honestly even taken time to just adjust to the changes of her own body. She felt taller for some reason, couple inches at least. The sharp teeth had been annoying, Den biting her cheek and tounge accidentally, but now her teeth making them bleed. And those claws had been suprising as well, Den almost scaring herself when those accidentally came out, but now they were quite useful, wether it be cutting stuff up for dinner, putting holes where ever needed, or threatening Ivan on occasion.

The changes in her body had been managable, but her mind...The Souls she had absorbed back at the Tournament were quite talkative, and it was quite hard to concentrate on things like work, when you had hundrets of voices in your head, from god knows where or when, most of which weren't shy about sharing their opinions, and even less about starting fights.

"You're drawing yourself like that?"

"Seriously? This is what you call a job?"

"Might I suggest something more calming?"

"Madam, I'm sure your husband will provide, there's no need for you to work."

Den sighed in annoyance, rubbing her temples as if the pressure could make the voices go away. "Can you shut up? Yes, I'm drawing myself like this, yes this is my job, I would be calm if you were quiet, and my husband is already working, just like me. So, whoever you guys are, fuck off!"

Den had never bothered to learn their names. Why should she? There were too many anyways, and it wasn't like she liked them. She knew some names, one of the guys constantly telling her to "settle down", "let the husband do the work" and "go look after your children" (even though she didn't have any besides her dog) was named James, or something like that. There was a shrill one ironically named Karen, some guy sounding like he'd belong in a Skate Park with a B name, and a suprisingly young child who Den was pretty sure was named Tom. He was one of her favourites, suprisingly optimistic, even if his constant demand for sugar could get excausting.

Later, when she tried to make dinner, things didn't get any better.

"How about a nice, hot soup?"

"Ice Cream! Ice Cream!"

"Let's just get takeout, way less work"

Den slammed her hand down on the counter. "I'm the one that actually needs to eat, I'm making Pasta, and that's final!"

Christian, having heard the commotion, came into the kitchen, standing in the doorway with a mixture of confusion and worry on his face. "Yo, you good in here?"

Den sighed. She didn't know. Her eyes started watering when she admitted to herself what she had been avoiding for the last couple weeks. She didn't know. She honestly had just been feeling more mentally drained every day, always having voices in her head, always breaking up fights, having to listen to complaints...she was loosing it. She was loosing it., and she had no idea what that meant for herself, the others, or the souls. She didn't know anything. Wasn't she a god? Gods were supposed to know this stuff right? They were supposed to know stuff about their powers, weren't they?

She slowly got pulled back from her rabbit hole of endless questions when she felt a hand on her shoulder, Christian now standing next to her, looking at her worriedly.

Without looking up, she spoke, admitting what she never thought she would ever have to say.

"No...I'm not."

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

james lives AU prongsfoot bingo pls? 🥺❤

Thank you for asking! This is one I've been working on recently and hope to finish at some point🤞

It's about what might happen if, instead of dying, when Voldemort came that Halloween, James was temporarily separated from his body and just had to watch what happened without being able to interact or do anything. (Which is probably not good, I think it was supposed to be a fluffy prompt and I made it super-angsty)

November 7th 1982 The Janus Thickey Ward is always quieter than James feels it should be. They moved him here after two months on Spell Damage, and he’s still not used to it after almost a year. He sits on the bed where his body rests and tries to figure out how long he’s been gone this time. It’s happening more often now – and for longer each time. He blacks out, loses time, and wakes up beside his body. It's the only time he comes back to the hospital. The rest of the time he spends with Harry or Sirius, though every moment breaks his heart a little more. When he manages to get back in his body, he’s going to murder everyone responsible for him having to know how long it took Harry to realise no-one was going to come when he cried, to curse them with the pain he felt when he watched his son quiet his own sobs and curl up on himself. James hasn’t heard him cry since, and it breaks his heart with every passing day. He’s going to make them scream for the way he felt watching Sirius turn into Padfoot to howl with grief, because his human voice was too ruined by screaming. He’s going to make them scream for how James sobbed when he realised Sirius wasn’t coming back. He’d been the dog for six months now, and James desperately misses the sound of his voice. Misses how he used to talk to James and Harry to keep sane in his cell. Because James did hear, even though Sirius thought he didn't. James goes to stand from the bed, and for the first time in a year he feels resistance as he does. He looks down at his own face and has to let himself hope. Because that’s the way his existence goes. He watches the people he loves suffer, he mourns Lily, and he forces himself to hope. Forces himself to keep trying, because if he gives up – he can’t give up. So, he has to bear the disappointment when it doesn’t work. He lies down in bed, letting his form line up perfectly with his body. He makes himself focus, matches his breathing with that of his body’s. Tries to feel the sheets under his body, or imagine an itch on his nose. A tiredness beyond words washes over him and he lets it, lets it pull him down until he knows he’ll pass out again if he lets it pull him deeper. And then he strains. He forces his eyes open, forces his chest to draw breath. The tiredness doesn’t abate, and he sighs. He wills himself to Harry’s side, but he stays put. Confused, he sit’s up, fighting the exhaustion. But something is different. He can feel the bed as he braces against it to sit. He hurts. Because his body hurts. And when he looks down at the bed, nothing’s there. An alarm goes off, and in seconds the Healer that checks in on him most days comes rushing through the doors. “Mr. Potter,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re awake.”