#count down to immortal reign

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 02. Bad Idea

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Y/n Wayne knows that this is a bad idea. But well, going against the law is something that runs in the Wayne Family.

Word Count: 4.4K

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“Is B really going to buy an F1 team?”

Y/n looked up from the plate of dessert in front of her towards where Jason was sitting. The both of them are in the VIP lounge of the Monaco GP, waiting for the race to start before being ushered towards the Ferrari garage.

“What makes you say that?”

Jason gave her a pointed look. “I’m not dumb,” he said. “I can see a business talk even if it’s miles away.” At this, he pointed towards the paddock that could be seen from the windows in front of them.

They could see a glimpse of Bruce, laughing and talking with people with different team kits. Y/n recognized most of them as the team principals or even the management team from different F1 teams.

“Y/n, seriously, I don’t have time to become a driver,” said Jason. “And I’ll probably suck at it, most of these guys had been racing since they were in diapers.”

“Still,” defended the woman, fully aware that Jason’s argument was fairly logical. “You don’t have to be a driver, but I think being around Formula One, something that you’re passionate about, can help you, Jason.”

He doesn’t have to be a driver if he doesn’t want to. Hell, truthfully, if Jason really puts his foot down and strictly declares that no, buying a whole Formula One team is not going to help him, then y/n and Bruce will stop. The both of them will leave this silly idea behind and never look back once more.

But she had seen him. How his eyes followed every garage that they passed in rapid attention. How he attentively listened to what John had said about Ferrari’s Formula One team, how he had watched the free practice and qualifying alone the days before.

It’s been a while. Maybe the last time she saw him being this passionate about something was before his death. To see Jason looking forward to something, to see his brother actually enjoy doing something outside of his crime-fighting activities.

“I-“

“Jay,” she said again, reaching out to hold the older man’s hand. “I- I know we’re not the best family. B is not the best father and the rest of us have not been the best siblings but still I-“ she stopped at that, eyes searching for Jason’s own. 

Years of guilt appeared inside of her. Years of missing memories between the two of them. Years full of regret and anger that had soured their relationship beyond words. 

Y/n, only wants what is best for her brother. “I still want you to be happy,” she said, blue eyes with a hint of green meeting hers. “I want to see you laughing again, be integrated into society, and live your dream-!”

Jason looks lost and y/n is really glad that this section of the VIP lounge was reserved for them.

Because the man in front of her looks so fucking vulnerable. 

She still remembers that time when Jason just returned to Gotham. All Lazarus green eyes and rage oozing out of his form. How he had practically attacked Tim, taunting the rest of them, and begged their father to choose him over that clown.

Y/n also remembers the emptiness that appeared in his eyes when they informed him that the Joker was dead.

It was one of the most terrifying moments of her life. Because Jason had it made his mission to kill that clown. To avenge the fallen Robin that had remained unavenged. To finally end the reign of terror that the prince of clowns had put upon Gotham City.

To know that he’s dead?

Well.

There are just so so many things left unsaid between the two of them. Too much pain and history that had happened between the two of them. To see, Jason who had always raged and raged looking this lost is-

“I’ve been wondering-“ said Jason, leaning forward. “Ever since that clown died, I’ve been wondering what the fuck I should do with my life-“

It’s a familiar conversation. Something that Jason had told her months ago under the darkness of the night. When there are only the two of them on top of his safehouse rooftop, sharing a stick of cigarettes to fight off the cold.

Y/n leaned forward, touching their shoulder together. It’s something that they often did before Ethiopia all those years ago. When Jason was nothing but a short and skinny kid that’s not too far off y/n own size. 

It’s been years since Ethiopia and a lot of things have changed.

“Have you decided, Jay?” she asked, eyes closing and head leaning towards his shoulder. “Whatever you want, you know that we will support you.”

Jason was silent for a bit.

The female too, sat there in silence, giving the older male a chance to think it through.

“I still want to be Red Hood,” he whispered, far too low for anyone to hear except y/n. “I still want to make Crime Alley a better place for people to live in.”

Y/n has to fight off a smile at that. Such a typical answer for a bat. Such a typical answer for the son of Bruce Wayne.

“Yeah?” she said. 

Jason hummed. “But I also want to live my life.”

A smile appeared on y/n face. She can feel the excited thrumming of her heart as she continues to listen.

“Oh?” she asked. “And that is?”

“Going to university, getting an English degree,” at this, he stopped. “And living the dream F1 fan life ‘cause my family owned a fucking team here.”

Y/n laughed at that; happiness clear on her face.

Bruce got the honor to wave the checkered flag that marks the end of the Monaco GP.

Her dad looks pleased, but she also knows that inside of that large smile and laugh, her dad simply doesn’t care. This business trip to Monaco had been a risky move after all, if it’s not for Jason’s happiness, y/n doesn’t think her dad would even consider going on this business trip.

In the end, when her dad was handed the checkered flag, the man put the flag into Jason’s hand.

“Do you want to do it, Jay?”

Jason blinked. “Huh?”

“Waving the flag,” answered her dad, letting out a smile. “Instead of me, my son can do it, right?” asked Bruce, turning his head towards where the president of FIA and the chairman of Ferrari stood.

“Of course, of course!” Said Ben, the president of FIA. “It would be an honor for us!”

“But they literally asked for you” answered Jason.

Her dad merely laughed at that. “They said you can do it, son.”

Jason may look like as if he wants to protest, but y/n knows that the man is far too excited at the prospect of waving the checkered flag at the Monaco GP. He may grumble and curse her dad a few times, but he really can’t hide the happiness that’s shining through his eyes at the mere thought of it.

The older man too, seemed to notice his son’s excitement as he let out an indulgent smile as he watched her brother being escorted to his position.

“Jason looks happy,” she said. “It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

“I know,” murmured her dad. There was silence between the two of them before her dad leaned forward towards her a bit. “I saw you earlier.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow. “What?”

“I saw you flirting with one of the drivers,” replied her dad. “The Ferrari one.”

Ah, she thought. He was referring to Charles. “It was an act, Dad,” she simply said. “You know, like your Brucie Wayne persona? I just think that it will do us some good if we’re on a friendly term with the paddock.”

Her dad stared at her. “There are better ways to do that, like chatting with the FIA president, for instance,” replied the man as he turned his gaze toward where Ben and John were talking with Jason near the track. “I don’t think flirting with a driver will really help our cause.”

Y/n shrugged, “He’s cute, what can I say?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” she hissed out. “I have to watch you flirt with Selina the entirety of my life, let me flirt with cute boys for a change!”

“You know it’s different,” pointed out her dad, leaning closer towards her. “Don’t associate with anyone outside of the masked community.”

The woman rolled her eyes at that.

She knows that the older man has a point. She knows that he’s doing this in order to protect all of them. Not only his hidden identity, but the rest of the family and possibly the rest of the Justice League. Bruce has always put a tight leash on all of his children regarding the interaction and the social circle that they all kept. Most of the time, the man didn’t have to worry considering most of his children worked inside the masked community, resulting in most of their friends being another superhero.

But y/n?

Despite her close association and frequent presence in their nightly activity, she sometimes thinks that her dad forgets that she’s not a vigilante or a hero. Yes, she knows all of their secret identity, yes, she often assisted her brothers on their not-so-legal work.

Outside of all of that, y/n is a civilian. She’s just a normal doctor who’s not saving the world during her past time. She’s a normal woman that’s working in a perfectly legal job.

Friends are hard to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world. Friends are harder to come by when you’re the daughter of the richest man in the world who is also hiding the fact that he’s the dark knight himself.

“I know,” she hissed out. “It’s a persona dad, I doubt we’ll talk again.”

Her dad gave her a look as if he didn’t believe in that.

And well.

Um.

Charles won the Monaco GP. The first Monegasque driver to do so in the last 93 years. Jason had failed to hide his excitement as he waved the checkered flag.

Her family was there, right in front of the podium as they watched the Ferrari drivers and the McLaren driver celebrating the win that they acquired. Y/n was standing there, smiling politely as she watched the champagne shower that was happening in front of them.

It was also then, that their eyes met.

She was not sure if Charles was looking at her or at someone near her, but the man’s already wide smile had gotten wider as he locked his eyes with her. And it was also then, that Charles sent her a wink.

Huh.

Okay.

Oookay.

I’ll meet you later, he seems to mouth off, a bit quickly, before he continues the champagne shower with the rest of the drivers.

So much for not talking with him anymore.

“Hi, stranger.”

Y/n can’t help the quirk of her mouth at that greeting.

The woman turned her gaze towards the source of the voice, eyes immediately falling towards where Charles Leclerc stood next to her. There’s a smile on his lips, hair tousled and green eyes twinkling.

“Hello,” she greeted back, raising her glass of champagne. “Drink?”

Charles chuckled. “I had enough champagne for the day,” replied the male as he took a seat next to her.

She can’t help but laugh at that. “I mean, you won today,” answered the female, putting down the glass of champagne on top of the table in front of them. “How does it feel to be a Monaco GP race winner? And did you actually drink the champagne that’s being sprayed earlier?” Being sprayed with a bottle of champagne sure is an experience, it seems. 

“Amazing,” he breathed out, inching closer to her. “I guess a change of mindset is the only thing needed to break the curse.”

“I told you,” said the female, amusement dripping on her tone. “Guess I did become a really lucky girl today.”

“I hope so,” answered Charles. “I did remember your words throughout the race.”

“Oh? You did?” teased y/n. “Seeing Charles Leclerc win the Monaco GP live and being constantly on his mind? What a lucky girl I am.”

Charles let out a laugh at that.

The dinner party around them is buzzing with blaring music and drunken chatter. The event itself was hosted by WE and the FIA. A collaboration work between the two entity that marks the beginning of WE’s involvement in the motorsport industry. It was the reason why her dad – a reclusive who hardly leaves Gotham if he can help it – needed to do a business trip in Monaco.

And of course, for the simple reason of buying Jason an F1 team. 

Not that y/n is complaining. She had wanted to visit Monaco forever and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. Watching a Formula 1 race live is a bonus that she will never miss out on.

The dinner party that they hosted was the formal event that they made for the winners of the race. Though, it seems most of the drivers are in attendance. No doubt advised by each of their respective team to gain the elusive Wayne sponsorship.

She knows that the news of Bruce Wayne wanting to buy an F1 team or become a major sponsor had already made its rounds. Even the bigger teams who don’t really need more money came in order to make some kind of connection with Wayne Enterprise.

Truthfully, this dinner party made her nervous a bit. After all, it’s not like she attended a party outside of Gotham.

But still, Charles’s sudden presence helped ease up her nervousness for a bit.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Charles, eyes flickering around the room.

“Ah, Jason is not feeling well,” replied the female. “He decided to stay in our hotel.” Which is a blatant lie. Y/n knows that Jason brought his Red Hood gear all the way here. He’s probably prowling the streets of Monaco, searching for that gang boss who made him join this business trip to Monaco initially.

Charles hummed at that, taking a seat next to her.

“I heard you helped orchestrate this whole dinner party,” started the man.

Y/n laughed at that. “Orchestrating is a big word, considering me and my family just throw some money at the event organizer.”

“Still, I really like the red accents, it was as if you already know that Ferrari is going to win today’s race,” said the male as he gestured towards the red flower as well as the red napkins on top of the tables.

The woman grinned cheekily at that. “Who said I don’t? Maybe I have the power to see the future?”

Charles raised his eyebrows at that, amusement clear in his eyes. “Oh?” he prompted out, leaning forward. “Can you see my future then?”

Y/n hummed, mouth closing in a wide smile as she too, leaned forward. Both of their face are really close to each other. “Hm…” she let out. “I think… You’re going to be really drunk tonight.”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling. “It’s given,” he said, grinning.

“Really?” she said, sounding amused. “Do you want me to see further into your future?”

“You can?” asked Charles, with a tilt of his head, mouth still grinning. “What a fearsome power that you have.”

The female giggled. “I think I can see…” she whispered. “A future world champion here.”

Now, Charles is full-blown laughing, the glass of champagne that he had been holding now forgotten as he lets the amusement to envelop his very being. 

“Seriously,” he said the first part in French before he switched back to English, “You really know how to appease someone.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” said Charles. “You better be careful, or I’ll think that you’ve been flirting with me.”

It’s a bold thing to say, especially to Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

She knows that she’s one of the most desirable women in the marriage market, considering her looks and her family. Many people had attempted to flirt with her, to trap her with their honeyed words and kind gestures. 

But still, it’s been a while since there’s someone this bold.

“Well, I’ve been flirting with you,” replied y/n instead. “It would be embarrassing if you thought otherwise.”

Yeah, the moment she uttered those words, she knew that this was a bad choice to make.

Because at that moment, she could see the sparkle of interest in Charles’s eyes. The light that suddenly shone behind those green orbs as the man leaned forward toward her. Y/n could faintly smell the cologne that he wore, a masculine one that reminded her of her dad for a bit.

“Oh?” he said, mouth quirking up and eyes crinkling. “I’ve been flirting with you too, if you haven’t noticed.”

Okay, this isn't good. She needs to stop this before they go further and ignite her dad’s anger. 

“I see,” answered y/n with a smile. “Anyway Mr. Future World Champion, I think your team principal is looking for you-“

It was the perfect excuse because she really did have seen Fred wandering around the room in search of his driver. However, whatever she was going to say stopped immediately when a hand reached out to grab her wrist. She immediately looked down, staring at Charles’ palm.

“Hey,” said the male, grinning. “Wanna go somewhere fun?”

She should say no.

Y/n can already imagine her father’s disappointed sigh and the loud protest from her brothers. She can already see her doing the walk of shame tomorrow, with Jason silently judging her. It would be stupid of her to say yes because there are just so many consequences waiting for her if she took up that offer.

There’s literally no reason for her to say yes to someone that she barely knows.

But well-

Charles looked at her with those bright green eyes of his, the corner crinkling up from how wide his smile was. There’s something about his expression – so transparent, so genuine, something that she rarely saw in Gotham – that tickled her heart at the right place.

Maybe it’s the dimpled smile, maybe she was simply swept up by the moment.

But the next thing that she knew was-

“Yes,” she answered.

The smile that Charles let out can ignite the room.

The music is loud. Louder than what she used to.

There’s a huge misconception of her back in Gotham. Due to her father’s public persona, as well as her brother’s less-than-idle nature, the media had portrayed her as a party girl once upon a time.

But really, this is the first time for her to be in a club.

Clubs are not that common to start with in Gotham. Due to the high crime rate, and the many many dangers, clubs scarcely exist in the city. Galas though? Galas happens almost every week. Due to that, y/n only ever attended galas and galas.

So this, this is a new experience for her.

She could see the throngs of people around her, dancing and laughing, fully immersed in the music around them. There’s something about the air that just made everyone highly excited as if there’s no tomorrow.

It didn’t take long for her to be swept up by the atmosphere too.

 “So, how are you enjoying the night?” Yelled Charles as the two of them laughed and danced in the middle of the dance club. Y/n was glad that she had opted for a short dress because really, the ball gowns that she used to wear for galas will be sticking out like a sore thumb in this kind of scene.

 “It’s been fantastic!” answered the woman, amidst the loud music. Her mouth is a bit aching from how wide she’s been grinning but that really can’t dampen her mood. “It’s not my usual scene, but I guess a change of environment is not that bad.”

“Oh? Gotham doesn’t have a lot of parties?” laughed Charles, hand finding themselves around her wrist.

She stepped closer, face almost touching. “Mostly galas, or gatherings,” said y/n, letting out a shrug, before a grin overtook her face once again. “It’s not exactly safe to throw a wild party like this in a city like Gotham after all.” 

Something flickered in Charles’ eyes as he let out a hum.

“So,” started the woman, wanting to change the subject of the conversation. She leaned forward, cocking her head for a bit. “Is Monaco nightlife had always been this lively?”

“It is when it’s my party,” said the man, as they stepped out of the dance floor towards the bar.

Ordering for the both of them, Charles sidled close to her.

“You’re really trying to get drunk tonight?” teased the woman.

“Not too much,” replied the man. “I wanna remember you.”

She hummed. “Well, what’s stopping you?” she asked. “Don’t you think we should make more memories then?”

Charles turned to her, and the grip that he had around her waist tightened.

“Oh?” he said, voice lower. “Are you sure?”

The grin that she lets out must’ve been enough of confirmation because the next thing that she knew, they’re stumbling into Charles’ Ferrari, lips interlocked with each other in a desperate and sloppy make-out session.

She’s grateful that the parking space is located in a discreet place because her appearance right now is less dignified than what Bruce Wayne’s daughter should be. Though, she really can’t seem to care right now. All she knows is the taste of Charles’ lips on her and how his hand traveled all across her body, giving her a delicious tease of pleasure.

They fell into bed together.

That night had been a bit of a blur, to be honest. He remembers dancing with y/n, laughing, and touching her under the club lights. He remembers dragging her to the edge of the dance floor, head leaning forward.

“Can I?” he had muttered, head cocking sideways.

Y/n had let out a laugh at that, hands winding around his neck before she too, leaned forward.

He remembers the sweet taste of her mouth, how she had opened her mouth, letting their tongue meet in a wet mess. How his hands had wandered around, starting from her back before reaching downwards towards the edge of her short dress.

“Let’s take this somewhere,” muttered y/n back then, releasing his mouth with a string of droll still connecting them. “Somewhere more private,” the last part was whispered and he remembers the jolt of arousal that hit him at that very moment.

Charles doesn’t have a clear memory of how they managed to get into his apartment. All he remembers is how he pinned y/n by his front door, savoring her as they rutted against each other like a teenager. 

The night ended with them on his bed, rustling against each other and-

Charles cracked his eyes open, watching the sun filter into his room from the crack of his curtain.

He could feel the pounding headaches as the memories from last night rushed into him like a tsunami. Of him winning the Monaco GP, of him attending the formal dinner, of him and y/n stumbling into bed together-

His eyes widened as he immediately turned his gaze toward the other side of the bed.

Sitting there, still topless with a blanket covering her, is y/n Wayne, brow furrowed as she scrolled something on her phone. That sight immediately warmed something across his heart as he stared at the woman silently, not wanting to avert his gaze for a second.

“You’re awake?” asked y/n, turning her gaze towards him.

He let out a hum, shuffling closer towards her.

At that, y/n’s hand fell on top of his head, caressing his unruly mop of hair. It’s soothing, something that he really needs amidst the headache that’s been throbbing inside of his head. They stayed like that for a couple of moments, basking in each other presence.

The moment didn’t last long because y/n phone rang.

“Yeah?” asked the woman before she stared at him for a moment before she began talking in a language that he didn’t understand.

Charles faintly recognizes it as German. He knows a couple of words, but with the way y/n talking as if she’s a native speaker, well, it’s safe to say that he really doesn’t have a clue about what she’s talking about. The phone call didn’t last long. Only a couple of minutes at best. Though, at the end, y/n let out a sigh.

“Something wrong?” he asked, sitting up.

“Charles, listen,” stated the woman. “This is a bit awkward, but I gotta go.”

He ignores the disappointment that erupted inside his chest. The driver had been hoping that they could have breakfast together before taking a stroll around Monaco before he had to see her off.

“I really enjoyed last night but-“

Before she can even finish that sentence, Charles interrupts her again. “Can I see you again?”

Y/n blinked, staring at him. “Yes?”

“See you again,” said the driver, leaning closer. “I really enjoyed last night. More than simply enjoying it,” he continues. “I like to do it again.”

The woman is still staring at him.

“Of course, I mean not only fucking, but like, I would love to have a date with you,” he continue, tongue a bit tied at the sight of an angel in front of him. “If you give me the chance?”

Honestly, he was not expecting much. A woman like y/n must have had a lot of suitors or partners all her life. Charles will be the luckiest man on earth if y/n even gives him a chance for a single date, let alone dating her.

It was silent for a bit, as the both of them stared at each other with no words being exchanged.

The moment was broken when y/n let out a loud laugh.

It startled him a bit, Charles doesn’t really understand what’s funny about his declaration and yet, he doesn’t really mind it. After all, the sight of y/n letting out such a carefree laugh is something that he will integrate into his memory forever.

“Yeah,” said the woman, finally. “Let’s see each other again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” grinned the woman. “But next time, bring me to a proper date, okay?”

Charles laughed at that, giving her a single kiss.

taglist!

@piceous21 @myloveforfandom-blog @barnestatic @ilivbullyingjeongin @fangirl-dot-com @halleest @a-beaverhausen @sagestack @redcellghost @mac-daddy-210 @kellysthilaire

[nebbyy]

Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?

Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds

A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹 

Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3

Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!

Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.

Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.

And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)

Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)

Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.

Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.

Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!

The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.

Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".

Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.

"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.

Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it." 

"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.

For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."

He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.

He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.

"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”

With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.

Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.

The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.

He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..

No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.

Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."

“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.

“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."

"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.

"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.

"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."

Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."

"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.

"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.

The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.

She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.

"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.

You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another." 

Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."

"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.

"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."

"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.

Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.

He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.

In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood! 

You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.

"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"

"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.

You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!" 

He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."

Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.

"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over. 

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2961

warnings/notes: violence, murder, blood, death, mentions of abuse

Chapter 2: A Desperate Call

Bonnie Barlow. His Bonnie. After what felt like an eternity, she was finally on the other end of the call. Her voice, like a gentle melody, washed over him and brought back memories of happier times. But underlying that beauty was an unmistakable panic. Something was wrong. Very wrong. His heart hammered against his chest, threatening to burst out as he stumbled across the room, frantically reaching for his jacket once more. Through the phone, he could hear her soft sobs, tears evident in every quiver of her voice. He had to get to her, no matter what obstacles lay in his path.

“What’s wrong, Bon?” His voice quivered with emotion as he made his way back out the door.

“I need you, Austin…” Her words were muffled by her sobs, but each one pierced through him like a dagger. He knew he had to get to her quickly.

The sound of her heart-wrenching sobs cut through him like a knife. “Please, baby…tell me where you are.” He pleaded, his heart pounding in his chest. The thought of her being in danger made it difficult for him to catch his breath. Bonnie remained silent, and for a brief moment, he feared she had ended the call. With trembling hands, he pulled the phone away from his cheek and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the call was still connected. Bonnie leaned in close, her voice a low whisper as she recited the unfamiliar address. Austin's fingers flew over the keys of his GPS, determined to reach this mysterious destination. He didn't dare hang up the phone, afraid that he might lose contact with Bonnie forever.

Like a bullet fired from a gun, Austin tore down the road on his sleek motorcycle. He weaved between cars and disregarded any semblance of traffic laws. The roar of the engine echoed off the buildings. If a police car had spotted him, they hadn't bothered to give chase. And even if they had tried, he wouldn't have stopped anyway for them tonight.

As Austin rode, the cool breeze whipped past him, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. The dark expanse of night enveloped him like a shroud, making the world seem surreal and hazy. But his mind was focused on one thing - Bonnie. Her soft voice still echoed in his ear and the sound of her heartrending sobs reverberated through his mind. He gripped his bike's handlebars tightly, feeling the worn leather of his riding gloves beneath his fingers. As he picked up speed, the engine's growl grew louder and more urgent, matching the racing beat of his heart. His gut twisted with unease as he drew closer to the unfamiliar address, a nagging feeling gnawing at him that something was dreadfully wrong. Finally, the building came into view as he rounded a corner - an old house nestled in the middle of the dense woods. Its decrepit walls and windows gave off an eerie aura, adding to Austin's growing sense of unease.

With a quick twist of his wrist, he brought the bike to a stop and hopped off, feeling the weight of his body shift as he landed on the ground. Without hesitation, he flipped up the kickstand and grabbed his phone, grateful once again that the call was still connected. “I think I’m here.” As he jogged towards the front steps, his breath quickened with anticipation.

With a creak of protest, the old door to the house slowly opened, revealing Bonnie's haggard appearance. Her clothes were torn and blood stained, while her face was marred with deep bruises and dried blood. Her usually radiant features were now twisted in pain and fear as she stood in the doorway.

Austin's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, pounding with such force that he could feel it reverberating through every inch of his body. The blood in his veins turned to ice and a shiver ran down his spine as he saw the pure terror in Bonnie's once bright eyes.

His legs moved forward on their own accord, driven by an overwhelming need to protect her. But as he reached out for her, his hands trembled with fear and hesitation, afraid that she would break apart at his touch. The pain etched on her face tore at his soul, threatening to consume him with its intensity like a raging fire.

Bonnie managed a weak smile, her lips trembling with agony. "Austin," she whispered hoarsely, her voice strained from holding back tears. She looked up at him, determination shining through the fear in her eyes. With all her strength, she threw herself into his arms, clinging onto him as if her life depended on it. "I'm so glad you're here," she cried out.

Austin's powerful arms envelop Bonnie's broken body, cradling her with a fierce protectiveness. She is his everything, and the sight of her battered and bruised fills him with a boiling rage. The sweet scent of wildflowers and fresh rain that clings to her skin only intensifies his desperation to make things right for her.

"What the hell happened to you, Bonnie?" His voice trembles with emotion as he presses his lips against her hair, trying to absorb all of her pain and suffering. She shudders in response, seeking solace in his embrace as she buries her face against his chest, unable to put into words the horror she has endured.

"In...inside," Bonnie muttered, her voice barely audible. She pulls away, wincing at the pain that follows, and starts to lead him inside the decaying house.

His blue eyes scan the room, taking in the dimly lit interior. Every corner seemed steeped in shadows, shrouding the room in an ominous veil. An uncomfortable chill fills the air. He steps inside cautiously, his boots making soft thuds against the wooden floorboards.

And then, he sees it. In the middle of the room laid a body, cold and lifeless. The man’s face is stuck in a permanent grimace, eyes wide open in terror as if he were still trapped in the moment of his death. A knife protrudes from his chest, glinting menacingly under the faint light from the overhead lamp.

Bonnie's voice caught in her throat as she whispered, "His name is Liam. We started dating a year ago."

Austin's gaze remained cool and unmoved, despite the lifeless body lying on the floor between them. "Did he do that to you?" he asked, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

Bonnie nodded, tears streaming down her face as she recounted the horror of her recent encounter with Liam. "He was so angry...I could see it in his eyes. He was going to kill me this time, I just know it. I didn't have a choice," she sobbed, her body shaking with fear and regret. The room felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in on them, carrying the weight of Bonnie's pain and trauma. She couldn't bear to look at the body on the floor any longer, but she knew she would carry its image with her for a long time to come.

“This time?” Austin growled, his anger bubbling up like a volcano ready to erupt. He longed for the satisfaction of killing the jackass all over again, cursing the fact that he was already dead. How dare he lay a hand on her, let alone think about hurting her? Every muscle in Austin's body tensed as he fought to contain his rage, but his grip on self-control was slipping fast. The mere thought of someone harming her sent a wave of fury through him.

Bonnie nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor as she began to recount the numerous times Liam's outbursts had gotten out of hand. He had always been quick to anger, but in that moment, he was a different person - a monster. And in her fight for survival, Bonnie too had become a monster.

Austin's grip on Bonnie tightened as he processed her words. The image of this petite woman having to defend herself against a man like Liam infuriated him beyond measure. "You did what you had to do," he said, attempting to offer some comfort, but his voice was lined with an undercurrent of beastly rage. Not only had this despicable individual caused her physical pain, but he had also manipulated her to do the one thing she had always feared: take a life. As a blood born werewolf, taking a life meant triggering the dreaded werewolf curse itself. No longer could she hide behind human form - on the next full moon, she would transform into her true beastly self for the first time.

The thought sent shivers of dread down her spine as she remembered the stories her father had told her about the uncontrollable rage and carnage that accompanied the first transformation. "Austin," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I'm scared." Her eyes were pleading, filled with terror at the thought of her impending transformation. Her heart pounded in her chest like a wild drum, echoing the dreadful rhythm of her fate.

His heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in Bonnie's eyes. He was a leader, a protector, and seeing her in such torment was more than he could bear. "Listen to me," Austin said firmly, cupping her chin to make her look at him. His gaze bore into hers, the intensity making her breath hitch. "You're not going through this alone. I'm here. I'll help you."

The promise in his voice was a lifeline, a beacon of hope in the storm that raged within Bonnie’s soul. But despite his reassurance, she couldn't shake off the fear that clenched around her heart like a cold fist.

Austin kept her gaze on him purposely using his body to shield her from the sight of

Liam’s dead body lying on the floor behind him. “Go pack your stuff.”

“But what about…?” She trailed off, trying to see Liam's lifeless body on the floor.

He firmly refused, determined to protect Bonnie from any further pain. “I’ll take care of it. Go, now.”

With no energy left to argue, Bonnie nodded and swiftly disappeared behind a nearby door to begin packing her belongings. Left alone with Liam and his blood-stained body on the floor, Austin looked down. He didn’t even feel sorry for him. With a deadly calm, Austin approached the body. His nostrils flared at the scent of fresh blood and death filling the room. His instincts were pulling him in two directions. The werewolf inside him was poised to revel in such carnage, yet the man in him recoiled at the sight of what Bonnie had been driven to do. The room was silent save for the faint rustling from the other room where Bonnie was packing. A shiver of disgust went down Austin's spine as he stood over Liam's lifeless body, his cold eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. The blood under his chest had already begun to coagulate, darkening the pale wooden floor beneath him. Austin's jaw clenched with fury, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the man who laid a hand on Bonnie.

Kneeling down, Austin pulled the knife free from Liam’s chest with an efficient tug. The metal looked cold and unforgiving in the dim light, a stark contrast against the spreading crimson stain on Liam’s shirt. He wrapped the knife carefully in a rag he found lying haphazardly on one of the chairs. Austin stepped away and made his way to the back room where they kept the cleaning supplies. He returned with a bucket of water, bleach and a brush. The sight of Liam's lifeless body greeted him again, but with grim determination he set to work, methodically scrubbing away the blood. When he was done, he made quick work of dragging the body outside and rolling it into a nearby river. It would be so destroyed by the elements that the police would never figure out what had actually killed him. The silent night held its breath as the lifeless body of Liam disappeared beneath the dark, churning waters. Bonnie’s haunting cries of despair seemed to echo in his ears as Austin stood there, watching the river claim its gruesome prize. A sudden rage roared through him, a savage desire to tear everything apart with his bare hands for what had been done to Bonnie. But he reined it in, focusing on the task ahead. He returned to the cabin, ignoring the lingering smell of fear and death, and grabbed a bag of lime from their utility shed. The sharp stench of bleach still hung heavy in the air while he went about covering the patch of the floor where Liam had lain with lime. It would speed up the decomposition process and help eliminate remaining traces of blood or odor that might lead anyone to them.

As he finished, a soft sound from behind made him stiffen. He turned around slowly, finding Bonnie standing at the entrance of the small living room, her wavy hair cascading over her shoulders like a protective curtain, dark eyes wide and shining in the pale light. Her small frame was covered in a loose cardigan despite the muggy summer heat outside, as if she was trying to shield herself from her own actions.

“It’s done,” Austin announced quietly.

Bonnie nodded, her gaze averted from the spot where moments before Liam's lifeless body had laid. She clung to the straps of her bag like a lifeline, her knuckles white from the strain. The comforting presence of Austin was the only thing that stopped her from collapsing under the weight of her guilt and fear.

Austin moved towards her, moving slowly as if not to startle a skittish deer. He reached out and took her bag from her trembling hands then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. For a moment, Bonnie stiffened under his touch but slowly relaxed, allowing herself to lean into his warmth.

"We need to leave," Austin said quietly, his voice soothing in the otherwise silent cabin. “You can hide out at my place.”

“What about the gang?” Bonnie's mind was overwhelmed with all that was going on, but she couldn't push aside the thought of her pack. As the alpha, Austin was responsible for punishing deserters and loyalty meant everything to their kind. If they found out about Bonnie, they would expect Austin to execute her as punishment. She knew he would never harm her, let alone kill her. His position as alpha would be threatened, and his loyalty to the pack would be questioned.

His voice was firm, allowing no room for argument. “They don’t have to know that you’re staying there. For now, we just need to focus on getting you through the next few days. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

Bonnie found solace in his resolve. His confidence was contagious, and despite her trembling heart, he made her feel safe. Austin had always been a rock in her life; looking at him now, she felt hope bloom within her."Alright," she whispered, nodding. Her trust in him was implicit, thought not without fear. But if there was anyone she could rely on in this treacherous journey, it was Austin. A tear slipped down her cheek as the reality of her situation began to sink in further. She felt Austin's grip tighten around her, as if he could sense her internal struggle.

Bonnie looked up at Austin, suddenly consumed by an inexplicable urge to memorize his face. The sharp contours of his jawline that made women weak, his intense blue eyes that reflected loyalty and a steadfastness she could always count on. His blonde hair that fell onto his forehead, stubbornly refusing to be tamed. Despite the harsh exterior, there was a kindness that lurked beneath the surface. A kindness that compelled him to risk everything for her.

Austin looked down at Bonnie's tear-streaked face and felt a familiar ache in his chest. Over the years, he had watched her grow into a beautiful woman who deserved so much more than the hand life had dealt her. He couldn't help but feel responsible for bringing this darkness into her life. It was the curse they both carried within them - their shared lineage as werewolves. But it was this same curse that drew them to each other. Bonnie, the girl who was afraid of her own strength, and Austin, the man who was too strong for his own good. Both were anomalies in their own world. He was a hardened gang leader with a heart that bled for Bonnie; she was a runaway who ran straight into Austin’s arms. It seemed like fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Austin led her towards his motorcycle, parked just beyond the cabin’s porch. The roar of its engine echoed through the silent woods as it rumbled to life. The sound seemed to pierce the eerily calm night and Bonnie wondered if it was a precursor to the storm that was about to break in her life.

“Austin,” Bonnie started as she hopped onto the seat behind him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist for support as he began to pull away from the cabin. Her voice couldn’t hide the tremble in it, yet she continued on bravely, “Thank you.”

Austin didn’t respond immediately - he didn’t need to. His hand came to rest over hers where it held onto him tightly from behind and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The message was clear: he would protect her, no matter what cost he had to pay.

Stay tuned for part 3!! Click HERE to view!

[lowkeyrobin]

James Hook x gn!Bill Cipher!reader :D

I don't know if you understand the character I'm referring to, but it would be a reader with the powers of Bill Cipher and the same sadistic and carefree attitude that caught Hook's attention

xoxo ᰔᩚ

okay I can definitely try, but I can't promise this is good. I haven't watched gravity falls since like elementary school and I wasn't even that much of a fan so I had to use a lot of Google, so sorry if this is ooc ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I saw that he has immortality so I wanted to play on that a bit bc music influenced me to do it lol ; also this essentially has no plot and is just some dumb rambling

JAMES HOOK ; cipher

summary ; a post-bridget going evil apocalypse au thing where you're super op, somehow died, and are now sifting up a plan with hook

warnings ; language, death, blood, kinda gore (?), stitching together body parts, reader is kind of a sociopath

disclaimers ; set post-bridget turning into QOH, aka the timeline where red and chloe didn't go back (completely just a oneshot this isn't what I think entirely happened)

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

You had died at the hands of Bridget, now the Queen of Hearts, a tyrant.

She took control of Wonderland, and nearly all of what what would eventually become Auradon.

Bridget's happy-go-lucky personality and princess pink aesthetic had mutated. She'd turned only into the Queen of Hearts, a woman barely even out of her teenage years, angry and cruel, her signature pink becoming red. Everything red. No more happiness or joy. She wouldn't be the laughing stock now.

She beheaded you just as quickly as she'd gotten her hands on you. Her year-long reign above Wonderland commanding her Queen.

Your friends had gone into hiding, now realizing what they'd created. A tyrant, a murderous monster.

But, she'd forgotten that you were immortal, among many things.

Yes, you were essentially dead for days, your friends having been carrying around your body, waiting and waiting for you to snap back to reality. Maleficent had stitched your head back to your body, knowing your regeneration took a hell of a long time.

Immortality was like Klaus Hargreeves, something you hadn't mastered. You had to walk the terrains of whatever middle world existed between Heaven and Hell, the Devil and God themselves rejecting you for all eternity.

Outside Merlin's Academy rained soldiers from maroon clouds.

They lay dead flowers for the torn apart, you, at your feet, knowing one of these days you'd wake up. One of them you would. They'd just have to hope. You could end this.

Maleficent stands before you, spellbook in hand. Hook, Morgie, Uliana and Hades stand behind her, watching closely.

"Let it rain until it floods, let the sun breathe life once more, reborn. Dead flowers for the torn apart, laid at the grave to heal a broken heart"

The group stands silent, waiting for anything to happen. Then, the stitches melt into your skin, fusing your body together. You gasp, awakening suddenly, choking up blood and air. James rushes to your aid, hand on your shoulder, trying to help you breathe.

Maleficent shuts her book, stuffing it in her bag.

As you regain your voice, thankfully rather quickly, you look up at your friends.

"How long was I dead?"

Hades looks across the other's faces before answering. "Over a month."

Your jaw slacks, looking to the others for confirmation, which you receive. You'd never been dead that long. But then again, you'd never been beheaded. It'd only felt like an hour or two for your soul.

"You know who did this to you, right?" Uliana asks you.

You nod.

"Together, we can force her back down into Wonderland. We can not let her take over everything."

"Give me a few days. That sounded cringe as fuck" You groan, cracking your bones. "Plus, the magic doesn't work if I'm still practically dead"

"I've got frozen waffles-"

"Get a toaster. And a couple more boxes of those"

"On it!"

"Couldn't you just rewrite the laws of the universe or something?"

You sigh, "It doesn't work like that. If I do that, it'll screw us all over, not just Bridget. If you want me to laser her head off or something, I can, but I'm not gonna get myself killed again or any of you for that matter."

James softly smiles beside you, his eyes locked to the ground. "You can shapeshift, right?"

You nod. "Must I go over everything I can do? I'm not a master at anything, but..."

James nods.

"Uhm..." You count on your fingers as you list your abilities. "Regeneration, takes a long time when it's major. Reality warping, telekinesis, strength, dream manipulation, durability, immortality, time manipulation, range, speed, duplication, invisibility, intelligence, laser eyes, omnipresence, shapeshifting, soul removal, and stamina."

Your friends share awkward stares, slowly looking back at you.

"Look," You continue. "I doubt I'm the first person she wants to see. I tortured her the most out of all of us, I practically killed her over and over again for enjoyment, which is kind of sick, but it's funny"

Hades blinks. "Not very funny now that she's trying to take over the world"

Maleficent slaps his arm, hushing him.

"Anyways," you continue. "This is my battle. I'm not letting you guys die, nor am I sitting back to watch it happen. This is between me and her. I will cut her head off over and over until the end of time if I have to."

James shares a look with you, quickly placing himself on board with whatever your plan would be. Uliana, Morgie, Maleficent, and Hades decide to listen to you, not wanting to die. They retreat to their hideout in the academy, wishing you luck.

You turn back to look at James, silently questioning why he was still here.

"Do you have a plan?" He asks.

You shrug. "Go with the flow, I guess"

He nods slowly. "Where are we going?"

"Closer to Wonderland, I guess. I'd expect her to be locked up in her ugly castle"

"Wait, couldn't you reverse time-"

"I'd reverse it back to the day you were born and kill you before you got to exist if I tried."

Over the past few days, Hook had one hundred percent grown more infatuated with you. He already had been before, hypnotized by your power and personality. He wished he could have you.

Realistically, it would never happen. You were trillions of years old, stuck inside a teenage body.

You sit beside a fire, warming your hands, the pirate at your side.

"Why did you stay with me?" You ask out of the blue. "You could die"

He shrugs. "I'd willingly die by your side if it meant I'd be helping you. I'd do anything for you"

You furrow your eyebrows. "You sound like your brain became mush under a love spell"

He chuckles. "No. I'm infatuated with you. Really. Might as well know before I probably die"

"Huh?"

"You're actually so smart, and powerful, and sadistic, but it's so likable. Something draws me to you, more than any treasure could. Like, I genuinely see the stars in your eyes like they're every memory you've ever had. You're literally a God and I'm just some pirate"

"You're not just some pirate, you're the captain of the seas. That's a hard accomplishment" You reply. "Give yourself some credit"

He sighs. "I need you. I need you to not die to take Bridget down. So don't. She doesn't even have any serious magic, she has strength and no morality, which... you do too, but my point is, don't let her properly kill you again. Because if this ever ends, I want to spend every moment with you until I die"

You blink, slightly surprised at his ramblings.

"I couldn't live a few decades with you to live trillions more without you, James." You whisper, gaze locked onto the flame in front of you.

"That's fine," he replies.

You look to him, knowing he wasn't finished talking. He always had another word to say.

"Just please don't leave me. If you die again, I can't save you this time."

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |15|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Last Olympian, War, Fighting, Death, Blood, Stabbing

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You and Chris held on tightly as Clarisse flew through the air, pushing the chariot as fast as it could possibly go. Despite your speed the three of you had never caught up to the other chariots. They were within sight for a few seconds when you first got in the air and then they were gone. You could tell you were getting close to the battle as the sounds of monsters and screams began to fill the air.

“There!” Chris shouted pointing at something off in the distance.

You squinted your eyes to see a line of chariots through the clouds. The chariot took a dive and Clarisse narrowed her eyes, aiming for the line of chariots. The three of you passed chariot after chariot fighting monsters but none of them were the one Silena was in. You finally spotted Silena’s chariot as she attempted to fight a drakon but was quickly defeated.

Clarisse jumped out of the chariot before it could properly land, forcing you and Chris to grab the reigns. When the two of you got the chariot to a full stop you both followed after Clarisse. You arrived just as Clarisse was cradling Silena’s body. You gripped your bow tighter, Silena was a friend, but you didn’t have time to grieve her yet, there was a war going on. You rested a hand on Clarisse’s shoulder, she looked up at you, through her tears you could see fire burning. You gave her a small nod, you didn’t care if what motivated her was revenge, as long as she fought and stayed alive, there would be time to grieve after.

“The Hunters are covering the Lincoln tunnel,” Percy said, looking at you.

You gave him a nod, squeezing Clarisse’s shoulder one last time before running off to meet up with your sisters and help them hold the tunnel. You glanced back one last time only to see Clarisse attacking the drakon head on without any armor. It didn’t take long before the drakon was defeated, quickly turning into dust. You stopped in your tracks as Clarisse was coated in a red glow. You couldn’t help but smile despite the current situation, it was the blessing of Ares. That was the highest honor one could get from Ares, Clarisse did what she always wanted, she proved herself to her father, she made him proud.

You turned back, continuing your run a few blocks down to where you knew the tunnel was. One of the perks to being immortal and traveling all over the country, specifically New York, you knew the city like the back of your hand. You pulled out your bow, quickly notching an arrow and releasing it, letting it sail straight into the monster that had been about to attack Thalia.

Thalia whipped around, her eyes widening as the monster that probably would have killed her turned to dust. She gave a relieved smile when her eyes landed on you. “It’s about time,” she said. She quickly turned around, stabbing an arrow through the eye of another monster.

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. You quickly joined your sisters, fighting side by side with them as monsters continued to pour through the tunnel.

You kicked a monster away and then shot an arrow through it. You did this over and over again. You looked around, seeing your sister all doing the same, shooting monsters they could easily pick off or pushing them away to create enough distance to fire an arrow into them. Thalia was running around, sending bolts of lightning down from the sky into several monsters at a time.

You knew none of you could keep this up for much longer. You all might have been immortal and enhanced in many ways thanks to Artemis, but you could still exhaust yourselves. Your arrows might have been magic, but you didn’t have an endless supply, you knew it was only a matter of time before you and your sisters ran out of arrows, then there truly wouldn’t be any way to guard the tunnel.

“We need a better plan!” You shouted towards Thalia.

Thalia raised her hand then quickly brought it down, sending several strikes of lighting into a large horde of monsters. “I’m open to suggestions!” She shouted back, spinning around and shooting a monster in the back of the head with an arrow.

Your eyes darted all around your surroundings, searching for anything to spark an idea. You needed a better plan, this current one wasn’t working, you just didn’t know a better solution. If you abandoned the tunnel and moved to a better position you would be allowing the monsters to waltz right on through. If you stood your ground and did nothing, then you’d eventually get overwhelmed by monsters and still lose the tunnel and many would die in the process.

Your eyes landed on the tunnel, seeing the shadows of hundreds of monsters moving through the dark, slowly making their way towards you. Based on some of the silhouettes it seemed there were some cyclops, various flying creatures, and something with tentacles. Your eyes widened and a crazy smile broke out onto your face as you came up with one of your more insane plans.

“We need to collapse the tunnel!” You said.

You ducked as a monster swiped at you with its long claws, using that opportunity to bring an arrow up, stabbing it in its gut. You ripped it out, smirking as you gently pushed the monster back before it turned to dust. You furrowed your brow when you realized Thalia hadn’t acknowledged you. You turned around to see Thalia staring at you in the midst of battle, with a look you could only describe as pure shock.

“Got any better ideas?” You asked, pointing to the tunnel.

Thalia sighed, reluctantly nodding in agreement. “Fine!” She sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “How do you want to do this?”

You looked around before your eyes narrowed in on a crack in the stone above the tunnel. “There!” You pointed to the spot. “Can you aim a bolt of lightning at an arrow as it makes contact with the crack?” You were already pulling out one of your explosive arrows from your quiver. The regular explosion was good but adding some lighting would only make more of an impact, which is exactly what you wanted.

“Are you sure you can hit the spot?” Thalia asked. You paused your movements, whipping around to glare at her only to see her chuckling at you.

“Just be ready,” you snapped. You were in the middle of a war; you were not in the mood for someone to be questioning your capabilities.

You ignored Thalia as she continued to lightly chuckle at you. You twirled the arrow in your fingers, narrowing your eyes at the target. You slowly notched your arrow, then raised your bow. For half a second it was like the world went quiet and you weren’t literally in the midst of battle. You glanced out of the side of your eye to see Thalia had her hand partially raised, her eyes fixed on the same position as yours. Then you let your arrow fly.

The arrow sailed across the battlefield, past other arrows flying in the air, past your sisters, and past monsters. It sailed perfectly across the path you set for it and as soon as the tip was about to lodge itself in the crack in the stone a bolt of lightning came down from the sky. The second the lightning hit the explosive device there was a loud explosion.

The force from the explosion caused you, Thalia, and many of the other hunters to fall to the ground. When you pushed yourself back up, your ears were ringing and you were covered in a layer of dust, along with everyone else on the battlefield. You blinked, trying to clear your vision as you tried to see through the cloud of dust. When your vision finally cleared you saw some of your sisters back on their feet already fighting the monsters, a fire blazing all around you.

You couldn’t help but smile, letting out a yell of victory when your eyes landed on the tunnel that now had several tons of stone blocking it. You pushed yourself to your feet, quickly jogging over to Thalia and offering her a hand as she came too as well. You smiled excitedly as she looked past you, her eyes widening at the destruction the two of you had done with one arrow and some lightning.

As soon as Thalia was on her feet the two of you were thrust right back into battle. You took down any monster that dared come your way, seeing Thalia do the same on the other side. After several more minutes of fighting all the monsters were finally done, you looked around, letting out a sigh as you watched your sisters help others who were injured. The battlefield was caked in the dust of all the monsters, the bodies of a few of your fallen sisters scattered about.

You ran over, swinging your arm around the waist of one of your sisters and helping her hop to safety. As you and the other Hunters left the battlefield you made your way to a few shops that some of the other demigods had taken over. Fights were still going on all around you, but you made sure all your sisters got to safety. The Apollo cabin had a little triage place set up where the wounded and some of the dead were being brought. An Apollo kid you didn’t know pointed you to a corner of the room where you could set your sister.

You glanced around, the only way to describe the system was organized chaos. Children of Apollo were running around, healing and patching up demigods. They clearly had a system as the older and more experienced kids worked on the more severe injuries, while the younger kids helped with the smaller injuries like a twisted ankle.

You furrowed your brow when you saw an Apollo kid talking to Thalia and then her taking off rather quickly. You pushed through the crowd of people, grabbing the kid by the shoulder and turning him around. “What did you say to Thalia?”

The kid was stunned at being whipped around so quickly but before he could complain you raised an eyebrow, glaring at him. “Annabeth, she was hurt.”

You released the kid, and he quickly ran off, probably to continue helping take care of the injured. You looked around the makeshift infirmary, there were already so many injured, so many dead, you knew it would only get worse. You hoped Annabeth would be okay, you liked Annabeth but if anything happened to her then Percy and Thalia’s head wouldn’t be in the fight and that’s exactly where they needed to be. As you looked around part of you hoped to see Clarisse but the other part of you didn’t want to see her because if she was there that might mean she was hurt.

“Hey,” someone said from behind you.

You knew who it was just from their voice, but you still whipped around to confirm with your eyes that it was in fact Clarisse behind you. “You’re okay,” you sighed.

Clarisse nodded. “Physically at least,” her grip on her spear tightened. “Had to help bring some of my siblings by,” she nodded to the door where more children of Ares were stumbling in, carrying their siblings over their shoulder or sporting their own injuries.

Before you could say anything more a loud roar interrupted you, cutting through the chaos of everything going on. Everyone in the little infirmary went silent, their eyes darting around as they waited for a monster to burst through. You gripped your bow tighter, not even daring to breath too loudly. A few seconds passed before another roar, followed by various others, echoed throughout the building and down the streets.

“The next wave is coming,” Clarisse said.

You nodded and without another word then you ran back out into the fight. Clarisse’s siblings that weren’t injured, along with any Hunters that weren’t too injured. You made your way back out onto the streets, getting away from the infirmary as best we you could, you didn’t want to lead any monsters there.

Demigods met monsters in the middle of the streets of New York. It was hard to pay attention as swords swung and arrows flew. You were vaguely aware of more bodies dropping, both monsters and demigods. The dirty and grimy streets of New York were now caked in layers of dust and blood from both allies and enemies alike.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Thalia called, releasing an arrow that sailed just barely an inch above your head and into a monster that had been right behind you.

“You were taking too long!” You called back. You spun around, stabbing a monster through the eye with your celestial bronze dagger. You were out of arrows and now only had the dagger to rely on.

You continued to fight off various monsters and demigods who chose the wrong side. Keeping a wide enough distance so their weapons or claws didn’t get you. When you got an opening, you’d quickly close the distance, stabbing them in the gut, the heart, the eye, once in the mouth, and really anywhere that you could. You saw flashes of your surroundings during your fight, seeing everyone fighting just as ferociously as you.

You stabbed your dagger through another monster, ripping your dagger back out when you kicked the monster back. Just as you looked up you saw a demigod approaching Thalia. Your eyes darted from Thalia back to the demigod. Thalia was preoccupied with fighting off another monster, she would never notice in time.

You didn’t hesitate as you ran forward, putting yourself between Thalia and the other demigod. You raised your dagger, blocking his sword just in time. You gritted your teeth as you tried to hold back his sword, a dagger wasn’t meant to fend off a sword though. You let out a choked breath when you felt something sharp pierce your side.

You glanced down seeing the demigods other hand stretched out, pushing a dagger deep into your right side. You looked up, seeing his face twist into a sinister smirk. He ripped out the dagger, not bothering to be gentle. He stepped back, letting his sword fall to his side. You could only stare at his smiling face as your grip loosened until eventually your dagger fell from your grasp.

“No!” You heard a piercing scream. Everything was muffled, the scream had sounded far away but you could swear it sounded like it came from Clarisse. Clarisse only yelled when giving a battle cry though, but this hadn’t sounded like a battle cry.

You felt Thalia whip around. The demigod who stabbed you looked up, smirking as he tightened his grip on his sword as if he intended to attack Thalia again. Before he could even raise his sword though, a spear came flying out of nowhere, impaling him in the chest, going straight through his heart.

His mouth dropped open, but no words came out before his lifeless body fell to the ground, the spear still in his chest. You stumbled back, your knees quickly giving out, you weren’t sure how you didn’t collapse instantly after being stabbed. Instead of hitting the ground though you fell into someone’s arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Thalia’s voice came, managing to sound less muffled than the rest of the world. You looked up, staring into Thalia’s concerned eyes.

“I-I-I-” you tried your best to speak but you couldn’t finish a thought let alone actual words.

Thalia quickly shushed you. “It’s okay, don’t talk.”

You nodded, staring up at Thalia as she looked around, probably looking for help. The next thing you knew Clarisse was at your side. It almost looked like she had tears in her eyes, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. Your vision was starting to blur, clearly your eyes were playing tricks on you. That’s what you thought before everything went black.

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @fictionalwhor3

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

Ch Summary: After you threaten Velaris with war. Azriel is tasked to find you and bring you to the prison above the mountain. He shadows have other plans when they confront you.

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I hope this Ch sheds a little light as to what reader is and about her powers. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

In the beginning there was Khaos. The first God in existence to precede creation. Khaos filled the space between, invoking darkness and shadow. Unable to witness her work, her intense desire to see flickered before her. Discovering her own spark, she flew towards it, the force of her wings igniting, leaving a trail of stardust; giving birth to the vast universe. From her own will khaos had created the primordial deities that would reign over the elements of the universe. And thus terra, sky, darkness, light, night and day were created.  

 From the very desires of the first primordial gods, Demi Gods emerged, living among mortals and immortals. Soon enough these half gods no longer wanted the responsibility of mortals. Thanatos and his sisters, the Gods of Death grew tired of being witness to so much violence and bloodshed. Leaving their duties caused a riot. No other God would carry the burden of their responsibilities on top of their own. Those loyal to the Divine fought in the war of Gods, neither side backing down regardless of how much blood had been spilled. Khaos wept as she witnessed her slain children. Fighting against her kin, tears streamed down her face as she slaughtered her very own. Devastated, she fell to her knees in defeat, between her sobs she whispered in the ancient tongue, “I bind myself to the darkness of death, overpowering my light within so long as my spark prevails through the moonless journey.” All fighting ceased as every God witnessed khaos, bringer of life, descend to the lands in the form of a falling star. The fates of two entwined. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house of wind was anxious, each door closed with a slam, rattling the photos that hung along the walls. The foundation, made from the mountain rock, shook and with it pieces of rubble and dust would float to the floors. Often the roaring would come back, leaving its inhabitants wide eyed and on edge. 

every member of the inner circle sat in Rhys office. The air thick with tension as Azriel explained his actions, why he blocked Cassian from hurting you, why he needed to be the one to search for you. Many questions left unanswered. How did you find Velaris? And what kind of ancient magic would allow you to pass through his wards so easily?

“Rhys, I know her! We were childhood friends!” Azriel pleads, “let me find her.” 

Elain’s eyes darted to Azriel, questioning his reason for his blatant lies. She knew he saw you once and never again. Yet she remained silent, a question for another day. 

Rhys sighed, leaning back in his chair. All eyes were on him as he stared at the map of Prythian that lay across his desk. He took a sip of his whiskey, considering his next move. One by one he informed them of their duties, sending every member away as soon as they received their mission.

Cassian was sent to Windhaven to ready the warriors and ensure their weapons were up to par for battle. Amren and Nesta were to stay in Velaris to survey and defend the city in case you returned. Mor was to revisit the courts that had scorched farmlands and buildings, to see if there were any more details that they overlooked. Elain wished to stay in Velaris and investigate the reason the house was slowly deteriorating. Rhys agreed. Finally he ordered Feyre to accompany Azriel in his search for you. 

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “No Rhys it has to be me alone. You can trust me.”

“After what I saw today, I’m not so sure where your mind is. I trust that you ‘ll do the right thing, but I don't agree with your current judgment so I’m sending Feyre with you.” 

Azriels shoulders slumped as he nodded in defeat. Feyre placed a gentle hand on his back, attempting to soothe his disappointment.

~~~~~~~~~~

Feyre walked Azriel back to his room but before he entered she grabbed his arm moving him to face her. “ I have a friend I need to visit and he doesn't like when others tag along,” she whispered, hoping no one else would hear her. Azriel narrowed his eyes. “ So I hope you understand that I won't be joining you on your mission,” she winked, releasing her hold on him. Azriel just smirked, mouthing her a ‘thank you.’

Back in his room, Azriel cleared his desk of all the healer books he had meticulously studied.  All these years he’d been searching for a healer when in fact you were a God, at least according to Amren. He spent hours searching Death Gods and tracing back their lineage and none had the powers you possessed, the power in which made him search for you. The power to heal. “You've been at it for hours, come to bed honey,” Elains sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts. “None of this makes sense,” he said mostly to himself as he shook his head, ignoring Elains request.

She stood behind him, gently kneading his tense shoulders with her slim fingers. His back tensed at her touch, purely focused on his work. Determined to get him to bed, Elain rested her chin on his shoulder, angling her head towards his ear as she whispered seductively her desires. His eyes fluttered closed in frustration, as she placed wet kisses to the curve of his neck, humming at the taste of him. “Not tonight.” Coldly he shrugged her off, hating the pain she held in her eyes. Without a word Elain stepped away, leaving Azriel to drown in his work, drown in his thoughts of you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And then I pushed through, you should have seen their faces,” you chuckled, recounting the events from Velaris to your dearest friend.  “No matter the job you always try to make it fun.” He replied, petting the hen that sat in his lap; a gift you had brought him for the delicious tea leaves he had acquired. 

You smile, enjoying his company that you often missed. Out of the corner of your eye, a wisp of shadow scurries into the darkness of the night, earning your full undivided attention. Nothing but silence is heard. “What was that?” you ask, turning back to the Suriel. “An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.” you gape at him, blinking your eyes rapidly, “I don't even want to know.” A chuckle rattles in his throat, “go before he finds you.” Without another word shimmer and darkness envelope you, winnowing you far from the Night Court.

Azriels shadows darted through the low grounds of the woods, swerving through a dense thicket of birch trees and rock formations, scouring each bush and body of water in search of you. Once they spotted you, they quickly returned to their master, curling around his ear ,whispering ‘Suriel.’  

Just as you winnowed away a blade launched itself toward the Suriel; flying through the air from a shroud of darkness, pinning his cloak to a tree. “Where is she?” he asks, tone impatient and demanding.

“Here, there, everywhere.”

Azriel pinches the space between his brows in annoyance. Shaking his head he asks another question, hoping for a straight answer.

“How do I find her?” 

“Evoke emotions without a single touch, no wings yet able to fly. To catch this God let her hear the cords of the night.” 

“I don’t…..these riddles. I don't understand.” Azriel paced in front of the Suriel, wracking his brain for any clues. 

“The touch of a memory will carry her to you.”

“Stop with the riddles!” Azriel fumed, teeth clenched tight as he stared the Suriel down. 

“Are you not a shadowsinger?” he replied, pulling out the blade that held his cloak to the tree. “I've answered your questions, whether you can decipher the meaning is no business of mine.” Finished with Azriels questioning, the Suriel made his way through the woods, hen in hand for a fresh slaughter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken Azriel a few days to figure out the riddle. Repeating the words over and over, analyzing each term and its meaning. The line ‘hear the cords of the night’ was what led him to realize it was a song, but what song was what stumped him. He felt like a fool singing his favorite songs in the middle of the forest, belting it out with his whole chest.

He sang songs that made him teary eyed and even sang songs in the ancient tongue, but none of those had lured you to him. The Suriel mentioned ‘the touch of a memory,’  “oh Gods, I’m an idiot,” he said to himself. He only had one encounter with you, so it was easy to remember the events of that night, all these years he could never forget. He would never forget the song, the song he thinks is about you. His mother sang this song to him as a child and he wonders if she knew the dark power you possessed, was she singing to a God in hopes to answer her prayers, to lift her from the chains that held her down. 

The house of wind kindly provided warm tea and honey. It's eagerness to assist him piqued his curiosity. He would ask Elain about her findings another day. Soothing his vocal cords, a plan was formed to capture you and send you to the prison on top of the mountain.

You're the chaos of the night, 

A little girl lost in the woods

You're a folktale, the unexplainable

You're a bedtime story

The one that keeps the curtains closed

And I hope you're waiting for me

'Cause I can't make it on my own

I can't make it on my own. 

Azriel sang the words from his childhood, voice harmonious with a smooth baritone that held the memories from the past. He sang from the depths of his heart in hopes that the meaning behind his words would grace your ears and become a light in the dark. Guiding you towards his waiting arms.

Weathered leaves crunch under the weight of your relaxed body, grass floor cold and damp from the night. But the view of the stars in the Night Court were your favorite, they called to you as if saying 'stay.' Stars glitter like rare diamonds, and the crescent moon smiled brighter than the sun. The evening scent of mist and night felt familiar in the way that reminded you of home. It had been so long since you’ve been home, the thought of never returning grew closer and closer.

The midnight breeze caresses your skin, its gentle touch has your eyes closing, focusing on  the chirping of crickets and running water. A mellow voice sings the harmonious music of the night, its soft whisper tickles your ear like a past lover, luring you to follow the rich sound.

I hope you're waiting for me

Across your carpet of stars

You're the chaos of the night,

You're everything that we can't see

Chaos, you're the possibility.

Azriel ceases to sing once he spots you round a thick tree, his shadows excitedly rush towards you and Azriel curses under his breath at their eagerness. He observes as they affectionately coil around your neck, fluffing about in your hair before they trail down your arms. You giggle at their curiosity as they loop around your fingers, “you wanna play?” you ask, as you slowly move your fingers in awe at their closeness. They playfully bounce from one hand to the other, and you take that as a yes. Azriel is dumbfounded as he admires his shadows from afar. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against a tree, his gaze slowly trails up the delicious curves of your body and he imagines what it would be like to lay with a God. He sees you smile and nod at whatever they’ve whispered in your ear and he fears you both are up to no good. As the shadows dance in a circle just a few feet in front of you, they rapidly circle around and around creating a whirlwind of darkness. Cautiously you near the edge of their tornado and zap one of the shadows, creating an orb of light within the vortex. You're mesmerized by the display in front of you. Your power bounces off the shadowed wisps like an elegant dance, the wisps gently stroke the flame of your power, careful to not get scorched.

With the blink of your eye the orb bursts, spraying the ground and trees with thousands of specs of glittering starlight. Azriel feels a jolt of electricity zip up his body, shaking him so hard he loses balance off the tree, quickly righting himself before you notice. His effort is too late, you've already spotted him.

“You're not a stalker are you?” you ask, voice playful and curious as you near him.

If you only knew, Azriel thinks with a smirk.

“No, but I can be. Nice party trick by the way.” Azriel pushes off the tree to meet you. The first thing you notice is his eyes, hazel and dreamy framed by long thick lashes. His nose is straight and a little too perfect for a warrior, you wonder if he’s ever been punched in the face before, or maybe he's just that good at fighting. His high cheekbones and strong jaw remind you of the many demi gods that have been sculpted throughout the years. You eye him up and down, taking in his stature and broad shoulders. He’s a little too handsome and in your experience these types of males are conceited snobs who only enjoy their own reflection and company. Meanwhile Azriel does the same, completely entranced by the sway of your hips and how your hair flows over the swell of your breasts. 

“They seemed friendly.” you respond, tipping your head to the shadows that have swirled around the both of you, appearing to close the distance between you.

Azriel shakes his head, “I meant in Velaris. You threaten my home, my friends and my High Lord and expect to get away with it? How did you get past the wards? And how did you find Velaris?” 

Before you could respond the ground shakes as a blast erupts creating a cloud of dust and forest debris. Instinctually Azriel pulls your body flush to his, shielding you from injury. Dark membranous wings curl around your body, cocooning you safely in his arms. Your hands find the planes of his toned chest as you peer up at him through your full lashes. You know what the blast was but the feeling of his body pressed against yours had your knees weak, and you couldn't break away. 

Azriels heart is ramming against his chest at the proximity, his gaze is locked on your brilliant eyes as he dares to cup the side of your cheek. Angling your face to meet his, your exposed collarbone catches his attention when a bargain tattoo vanishes before his eyes; breaking the trance you had him in.

“What did you bargain?” he urges, hands now tightly gripping your upper arms.

“Your worst nightmare.”

Azriel staggered back, paling in horror as he registered your words.

Only one creature carried that name.

Bryaxis.

Part 3

Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit

[astarionancuntnin]

Taming a Tempest

summary: oh, to be the Vampire Ascendant's dark consort. to have eternity and enhanced powers right at her finger tips - only to be denied. but two could play this game, and Malva would make Astarion regret witholding anything from her.

rating: E

word count: 3.5k

pairing: ascended astarion x consort malva (oc, evil!sorcerer!tav)

cw: 18+. post-game setting with an "evil" ending, mention of violence/murder, smut, hate sex, vampire sex (blood/bites), bdsm (Master/Pet, teasing, choking, slapping, degradation and praise), semi-public sex, overstimulation, p in v, possessive sex, creampie. full list on ao3

a/n: song inspo was BURY YOU by ari abdul

read on ao3

or keep reading down below~

Love.

It was such an alien concept to her. 

A weakness, something to take advantage of, to manipulate. 

A weapon.

Charming people, luring them away, leading them to their demise — for business or for fun, although the two coincided more often than not in her case.

So when Astarion first flirted with Malva, she saw right through his little games, but instead of giving him a taste of what she could do, she decided to play along. After all, he could be a distraction, but one she could afford.

Until it turned out to be more, and she realised she had fallen harder for him than she anticipated, and soon enough he was offering her eternity by his side, as his consort. Obviously, as the promise of everlasting life and uncontested power were all that she desired and more, her choice was clear.

However, after a few years of this, life became dull, and Malva found herself wanting — no, needing, more. She had had as much fun as she desired, killing, torturing, draining, now too. She had risen to the top of the city’s hierarchy, along with Astarion, while the city itself became a shadow of its once glorious self. But it had all become dull, and she wanted more, always more power. 

A routine had settled, and with the rules her Master established to keep a minimum of decency around the palace, she couldn't indulge as much as she would've preferred, and recently, it had become an itch that she urged to scratch. If she was already bored after a measly few years, eternity would be dreary.

“Kill only the targets I assign you, and no matter what, you are forbidden from bedding them.” He had ordered her. “You can seduce them, tease them, even, but I won’t allow anyone to lay their tainted lips on your body. You are mine, and mine only.”

Following this command was simple enough; next to her Master and herself, all her victims were considered lowly people, insignificant. 

Tonight, her Lord organised a soiree of debauchery to share a part of his ever growing army of spawns; those who specialised in pleasures of the flesh. He had repurposed the mansion’s rooms to turn it into a luxurious whorehouse, inviting the remaining power figures in the city — all more corrupt than the last — to establish an alliance.

That’s what he made it out to be, but really, everyone knew this was only meant as a show of power from the Vampire Ascendant. To show everyone else who owned this city, and exactly what their fates could be if they accepted his reign, and make an example of those who were to challenge his authority.

Just like this pretentious Lord who dared to gossip about him and his consort, questioning their position, but it didn't matter; he would be dealt with, just like the others.

Malva was well known across town; the Ascendant’s whore, she had heard, being passed around by the visitors that the vampire Lord deemed worthy. How ignorant of them, how perfectly blind they were to reality.

Her shoulder-length, light purple hair was let down for the night, and she wore a simple eyeliner and mascara, emphasising her soulless, black eyes. Her natural features hid her vampiric nature perfectly, blending in as nothing more than a mean-looking high elf, and Astarion made sure to keep this a secret. The only piece from her ensemble to hide the one proof of her immortality being her neck piece: a dark, thick choker, that hid the otherwise evident bite marks depicting her ownership, with a conveniently placed silver ring in the back of it, barely hidden by her hair.

She made sure to wear one of her most revealing dresses to fit the occasion, one that fit Astarion’s ensemble; a dark, see-through dress, with vines of bright red oleander flowers embroidered onto the long sleeves and bleeding over her chest, barely covering her nipples, knowing anyone who looked at her for too long would get their eyes gouged out by her Lord. A smile crossed her dark lips at the thought.

As Malva scanned the ball room, sitting in display over her Lord’s lap, she found her target: Lord Azarzi. 

He might’ve been considered handsome by mortal standards; with his deep brown eyes, short, wavy hair and a full moustache of the same colour, a bright smile and tanned skin. Faerûn would lose yet another soul tonight.

How tragic. How exquisite.

Through their bond, Astarion felt her delicious hunger for blood.

“Now, now, pet, no need to be hasty.” he purred close to her ear. “Remember what’s at stake; I'll reward you if you're good,” he let go of her waist, pushing her towards the open floor, where the remaining guests waited for an available room. “Now go on, make me proud.”

She always did; seeing her work her way around their enemies was a delightful sight to him, she was his most precious possession, and he loved to see her in action. 

Although Astarion’s rewards were nothing short of delightful, she was dying to know what a punishment would look like.

She had to have her fun one way or the other, and if he wasn’t going to allow it, she would show him that she never asked for permission in the first place.

Her bloodlust naturally guided her next movements, fluidly passing through the crowd as she made her way to her victim of the night.

“Lord Azarzi,” she greeted him, his name gracefully rolling on her tongue. “I'm pleased to see you have accepted our invitation.” 

“Ah, Lady Tavaler,” he reached for her hand, lifting it to give it a light kiss before letting it go. “Of course, I could never refuse an invitation from the mighty Vampire Lord.”

She despised the use of her name, but tried to shrug off its mention, along with the vivid images she had of how long and painful would this man's torturing be. All in due time.

“Call me Malva, please. I don't believe titles are quite necessary for this kind of occasion, don't you think?” She moved closer towards him, her hands finding the front of his shirt, tracing her way down his chest. “Have you had the chance to enjoy our exquisite company yet?”

He shivered under her touch, her sharp, dark nails digging through his shirt, “I'm afraid I haven't yet, no. Your rooms are quite busy, as it turns out.”

She clicked her tongue, “That simply won't do.” She took a hold of his hands, guiding them over her waist where they now laid, and pressed herself into him. “You're our guest of honour, you deserve the best treatment.”

His eyes peered down her dress, where her breast squeezed against his chest, with his hands lowering towards her ass, fully bare under her dress. “Do I now?”

She would enjoy killing him.

Her lips ghosted over the shell of his ear as she whispered, “Absolutely.” 

Her eyes darted towards Astarion, and she smiled wickedly when she noticed the way his hands dug into the armrests at his side, fighting to contain the seething fury within him. 

“Why don’t you follow me into one of our classier suites, reserved for the richest of our guests?” She continued, with her hand dancing around the back of his neck, guiding him into her, “I’ll personally take care of you tonight, if you will have me. Consider it a gift from the Vampire Ascendant, for accepting his invitation.”

He smiled, his brown moustache lifting along his lips, “Well then, who am I to deny the Vampire Lord himself?”

Her dark smile reached her cheeks, keeping her lips closed to hide her fangs, “I was hoping you would say that.”

As she grabbed his hand to carry him away to her special chambers where she guided all her victims, she felt the reach of Astarion’s mind.

“Careful, pet, wouldn’t want me to be jealous, would you?”

“Jealous? Of this meek mortal? My Lord, that doesn’t sound very highly of you,” she answered back through her mind.

“You know how I feel about people touching you, Malva. This is my last warning.”

“And here I thought you were the most powerful being of this city. I wasn’t planning on bedding this man, but maybe I should now. Maybe he’ll show me how a real man fucks and he’ll make me come in ways you never could.”

Oh, she could feel Astarion’s anger even from this distance. Good.

She didn’t make it to the room before she felt the Lord at her back pinning her to the nearest wall, his body pressing against her, rubbing his bulge between the curves of her ass.

“So the rumours were true; the vampire Lord has a whore as a wife…” He chuckled deeply, his hands roaming at the front of her dress, groping her breasts through her dress. “I have to admit, I always wondered how the Ascendant’s witch would feel stretched around my cock.” He breathed hard down her neck, his tongue tracing just below her ear, “Do you wanna find out, doll?”

She tilted her head as an invitation, “I believe I can please you in more interesting ways, my Lord.”

“That so?”

She smiled a toothy grin, “Ways you could only ever dream of.”

He scoffed, pulling back to free her from his hold on her, “Fine, I’ll bite, show me what you can do.”

The irony of his choice of words wasn’t lost on her, as she turned back to face him, unbuttoning his shirt to expose his muscled chest. A shame he had to die really, he had at least some potential.

Pulling back on his rolled down shirt, she guided her head into his neck where she breathed in his essence; pine and charcoal, with hints of citrus. Not the most displeasing, but would he taste the same?

She closed her eyes as she licked along the vein popping from his neck, her next feeding point, and he groaned, “You’ll have to try harder than that to please me, sweetie.”

Just as her tongue licked over her threatening teeth, about to dive her fangs into the delicious vein put on display just for her, she felt him being pushed into her, and when she opened her eyes, she was met with the very face of her Creator.

He twisted the blade into his back before pulling it out to slam it back into him countless times, blinded by his anger, as Malva was sprayed of his coughed up blood, adding a nice shade of red onto her pale, tattooed face and staining her skin through her dress. 

Lord Azarzi, now nothing but a lifeless corpse, sank to his knees before collapsing on the wooden, waxed floor.

“Really? That was a waste of perfectly fine blood,” She grunted as she crossed her arms, dismissing the body at her feet. “Now how am I going to feed tonight? This is as good as rotten.”

“Oh, you don’t get to give me that attitude,” He growled, grabbing her by her throat and pushing her against the same wall she was pinned to moments ago. “Not after teasing me like you did.”

She smiled, flashing her fangs, “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“You insolent, little brat,” He tightened his grasp on her neck and her mouth opened up with a gasp. “I’m a lenient Master, giving you liberties and letting you practice your art in the comfort of our own home, and yet here you are, spitting on my generosity.”

“I just followed your orders, Master.”

“Oh no, no, no,” he clicked his tongue. “I ordered you to kill this man, and I had to do it myself, because you decided to play with your food.”

“It’s not my fault you’re an impatient bastard,” she spat out, defying his gaze.

His eyes turned a darker shade of red and Malva knew she had pushed him to his limit.

“That’s it. I’ve had it with you.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a leash he clipped to the back of her collar before yanking on it, sending her to the floor. 

“I think you’re long overdue for a corrective measure, don’t you think, my dear?”

She pulled back against it, pointing towards the remains of the lord she had lured away, “What about my drink? Are you really gonna make me starve?”

“I don’t think you deserve it, frankly,” he sneered.

“Gods, I hate you.”

“Now, now, where are you manners, dear? This isn’t how I trained you, is it?” He pulled her up, grabbing her by her throat. “Is it?”

She hissed through her teeth, “I’m not yours to tame.”

“Let’s see about that.”

He walked her to the nearest chair and bent her over his lap, keeping a tight hold on his leash to have her stand upright.

“Now,” he lifted her dress to reveal her bare ass, “I will give you a slap for each victim you have claimed within these walls.”

As she opened her mouth to speak up he gave another yank on her leash, silencing her. “Don’t you worry, I am a merciful Master; we’ll keep it to the number of souls you’ve claimed just this year. Twenty, was it?”

She tried to turn around to contest his claim, only to be met with a first slap on her ass.

“However, any other words you utter will count as an additional slap, understood?”

“Fuck you.”

Another slap, stronger this time, made her yelp.

“Twenty two, then.”

She gritted her teeth, debating on her next comment.

Slap. “Cat got your tongue, my sweet?” Slap. “Please, I would love to know what you think of me now—” Slap.

She cried, the sting spreading to her thighs.

“Do you still hate me?” Slap. “Do you fucking loathe me?” Slap. “Answer.” Slap.

“Yes!” She shouted. “Yes I do, fuck!”

“In that case, let’s make this more interesting; any sound coming from you will warrant an additional gift from my hand, hm?” Slap. “How’s that sound, darling?” Slap.

She yelped once more, the burning sensation of his palm against her taking her by surprise.

“One more, then.” Slap.

She bit her lip, silencing her moans. 

“That’s better.” Slap. “See how pretty you look on my lap?” Slap. “With your cheeks all red and your pussy all wet?” Slap. “Wet from me punishing you—” Slap. “ — like the little brat you are?” Slap.

“Would this be as fun if I didn’t have control over you, pup?” Slap. “Do you see how silly of you it is to desire anything more than I already have offered you?” Slap. “Don’t you love to be my little whore to put on display?” Slap.

Tears swelled to the corner of her eyes and her fists balled up, nails digging into the soft of her flesh as she held back the cries stuck in her throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, so incredibly well, my love.” Slap. “And look at you, not making any sound at all.” Slap. “Such an obedient little consort, all mine.” Slap.

“Last one now, are you ready? You can speak.”

She breathed hard, taking a moment to utter an answer, “Yes.”

He landed the last slap, harder than all the previous ones, and leaned in to whisper into her ear.

“Say ‘thank you Sir for my punishment’,” he rubbed her ass, bright red from his abuse.

Her mascara ran down her face, mixing in with the dry blood from the corpse laying not too far away.

“Thank you, Sir… for my punishment,” her voice was small and quiet, tamed.

“Now,” he easily dipped two fingers into her drenched pussy. “Do you think you’re ready for your reward, pup?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Get up, and remove my pants.”

Her shaky legs made it hard to stand up, but she followed his orders nonetheless. Removing his trousers, she set his raging erection free, veins popping out and already leaking from his arousal; the sight was both terrifying and incredibly exciting.

“Lift your dress back up and sit on my cock. You’re going to take all my come inside of you, and then we’ll go back to the party, understand? I want everyone to smell me on you. We can’t have people doubting my ownership after seeing you walk away with another man, can we?”

She nodded and did as he asked, straddling him with her hips lowering themselves onto his shaft with ease, and finally allowing herself to moan as she felt his length filling her up.

“Fuuuuuck,” he sank his nails into her hips, pushing her deeper. “You’re perfect my love, so perfect. Keep going for me, you’re doing amazing.”

The echo of their thighs slapping against each other faded with the sounds of pleasure from the neighbouring rooms, and Astarion wanted theirs to be louder.

His thumb found its way over her clit, pushing her closer to the edge as he rubbed circles around it, striking every nerve in her. Her hands grabbed onto the armrests, holding on for dear life as the stimulation became too much and her moans grew louder with each thrust.

“Come on, pet. If you come around my cock I’ll give you a little treat. You love treats, don’t you?” She nodded, words failing her. “Good, now make your Master proud, come for me, and scream as loud as you can.”

When she cried out from her earth shattering climax, it's as if the rest of the world paused around them, and it was only her and him, lost in one another. Every touch, every thrust, was all too much, pleasure blending in with pain as Astarion kept pounding into her.

The sight of Malva losing herself on his lap was almost enough for him to implode, she was only missing a single thing.

“Are you thirsty, my dear?”

She nodded, tears rolling down her defiled cheeks.

“Come here,” he pulled the collar of his shirt aside, giving her an opening. “Drink.”

Without losing another second, she bit down into his exposed neck, and she drank. She drank like he was the oasis in the middle of a desert; parched and ravenous from her stolen meal from earlier, exhausted by how he had used her body.

He grabbed the base of her scalp and pulled her away from him, making sure she didn’t drink too much. He could only allow enough that would satiate her thirst without freeing her from him.

With his forehead pressing against hers, he groaned, ”Say that you're mine. Say that you love me.” 

“I… love you,” her voice trembled.

“Mhmh, that’s right, my sweet. That’s right.”

Whether she knew it or not, ever since he made her his, he guided this dance. Everything she did was carefully thought through by him, knowing exactly how she would react every step of the way. He was the one pulling her in, like a pet on a leash. His pet.

And no matter how much she wanted more power, she couldn’t deny that the pull of his control felt delicious against her neck.

“Now, let's try this again, pup. Who owns you?”

“Y- You.”

He pulled the leash backwards, “Who?”

“You, Master.”

“That's right little love, you're all mine. Even if your dark, stubborn heart thinks it hates me, even if you don't see it, even if you try to deny it, deep down, you love me, because you know I am everything you need.” He breathed hard into her ear, “I’m the only one who understands you, the only one who could truly love you the way you deserve it.”

With one last push of his hips, he came roaring inside of her, filling her to the brim with his thick ropes of warm come. His hands over her waist held her tightly around him, making sure her womb would take every drop of him.

He enraptured her lips with his, kissing her fervently to taste himself on her mouth. When he finally pulled back, they were both panting, “Was I too harsh, love?”

She shook her head, her eyes half-lidded still dizzy from her unbecoming, “No, you were perfect, Astarion.”

It was rare that she used his name, but he allowed it in moments of intimacy like this one. The sound of his name rolled deliciously on her tongue, it was as much a reward for her to say it as it was for him to hear it.

He lifted her to her feet, pulling down her dress to give her a minimum of decency before putting his pants back up, straightening his jacket, and replacing his hair to appear as graceful as he was before taming his consort.

She smiled, linking her arm with his as they walked back to the ballroom, completely enamoured, “I love you, my Lord.”

He smiled back, giving her a quick peck on her cheek, “I love you too, my sweet.”

Was it love? She doesn't know for sure. Maybe some twisted version of it.

Was it passion, in its most depraved and unhinged state, an obsession for one another that would leave this city in ruins? 

Most definitely.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79 @ladycroft5245 @lets-just-daydream @pursuitseternal

[queerfanfiction]

hi!! could i request a Lucifer fic where the reader repeatedly tries to persuade them into taking her flying? and when they do go flying, it’s really cute and fluffy!!

thank youu, i hope you have a great day <33

Flying

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 1.5k includes: fluff; no content warnings i don't think?

“Oh, come onnnnn.” Your singsong voice badgered at Lucifer. “Pleeeeeeease??” They hated when you got stuck on an idea and wouldn’t let go of it. So far, you have bugged them about eating dinner together as a date (even though they don’t technically need to eat), making a music streaming account, and why they don’t have 300+ degrees being immortal and all. Humans were so stubborn—you especially. The past few weeks you were relentless about Lucifer taking you flying.

“I want to feel untethered! From the ground. From everyone. From reality.”

“Being untethered is not what you imagine it to be,” a pensive voice recounts softly, almost as if they were reliving a memory and providing a cautionary tale. At this, you reign in your excitable energy and peer at the once-angel before you. They normally reacted in an annoyed manner when you brought up flying. Now their eyes were distant and unfocused, giving you a rare chance to examine them without their awareness. You knew they often masked their interior thoughts and feelings, probably as a deflection or defense. You didn’t know why they did it, since no one dares to mess with one of the most powerful beings in the universe.

An overwhelming need to wrap Lucifer into your arms arises within your chest, aching to be fulfilled. You’re not sure how that would be received, though… Lucifer usually initiated contact between you two, and being new to a relationship together, you were unsure about the unspoken boundaries between you.

You settle for slowly approaching. Your steady hand extends to graze the pale, fixed jaw of the god before you. In a whisper, you plead, “Come back to me.”

Another moment passes. The change in them is almost imperceptible—a hardening or tucking away of memories and emotions occurs. Their eyes focus and lose the glossy, distant shine to them. With a mischievous smirk extending over their features, Lucifer retorts, “You’re sure you don’t want to be untethered?”

“Tether yourself to me.”

With that, you shift onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to Lucifer comfortingly. You knew the time for playful nudging was over. After a few moments of gentle and precise kisses, a hunger replaces the careful, sweet energy. You think about how flying can wait.

Finally, one day Lucifer relents to your requests to take you flying. The requests were now a routine between you two—a dance of sorts. You would endear yourself to Lucifer and sit in their lap with rather large puppy dog eyes. With each stern and polite decline, soaring through the air while clutching onto the lean, capable torso before you became seemingly improbable. That’s why you were surprised when they relented to your begging. It felt out of place almost. You would have thought Lucifer’s newfound agreeance was a joke or prank, but their eyes were deliberate and decided.

Their body language turned more serious and direct, and they ordered you to sit down in front of them. Lucifer took your hands in theirs, not caring that their abrupt and direct actions had caused yours to turn clammy. What came next was a long discussion of consent, boundaries, and what to expect when flying.

“At any time, you may signal for us to slow or stop.” Then, Lucifer reasoned, “You may feel uneasy. It is not for mortals…” You could swear you heard affection and concern in their voice.

You didn’t know what to expect, and questions filled your mind. Would Lucifer run off the balcony in Hell? Do they need momentum to fly? Is there a secret way to exit Hell when flying? How do mortals not see them in the sky? Had Lucifer ever taken another human flying before?

Unsure of how to proceed, you only nodded obediently. Lucifer reached for you, sensing your hesitation now that you are presented with the very thing you desired. Your heart reacted—thrumming faster in your chest at the contact and anticipation. “Come now,” Lucifer cooed.

You climbed into their lean arms, feeling safe and secure against them. Funny how the ruler of Hell, the eternally damned, was the one you trusted with your life. The irony was not lost on you. Still, though, it wasn’t something you were ashamed of. The Lucifer you knew was charming and mystifying…and really cared for you. You knew they did, because it was apparent in their actions and demeanor. They made sure you were comfortable and unbothered by others in Hell when you visited. They dropped in on you throughout the day when you were on Earth living your life. Lucifer didn’t even break your phone or make you turn off the music when a One Direction song came on shuffle. 

Lucifer’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Ready?”

In only a blink of your eye, you and Lucifer were somewhere outside on Earth. If you had to guess, you’d say some U.S. national park in the northwest—some of the trees were as wide as cars and the air felt crisp and cool against your skin.

“Hold on tightly to me.” This whisper from Lucifer fills the air between you two, giving you goosebumps across your arms. With that, they stretched out their wings and pushed away from the ground with only one substantial thrust. 

Being airborne…it was almost like…..gliding through the sky, rather than powered flight. Lucifer’s wings were definitely moving, but unlike anything you could have imagined. They weren’t flapping or producing thrust. Instead, the wings reminded you of how things move and distort underwater. The flight stroke was so unusual, defying physics. It was as if there was no effort or strain for them. 

Meanwhile, you felt pressure all over your body. You expected to feel like Rose at the front bow of the Titanic or a happy dog with its head out the window. You expected the cool air to whip against your face and burn your cheeks. However, this…produced tingles all over your body. A wooziness in your head, almost as if you were in a slowed-down dream. You didn’t feel sick; you felt intoxicated. Is it from a lack of oxygen? You could breathe perfectly fine, though. You think back to Lucifer’s words of caution, and you’re still not frightened. Flying with Lucifer felt almost like being both in yourself and outside yourself simultaneously. It was magical.

The evening sun glistened against your lover’s blonde curls. You found yourself wanting to admire the view below and around you, but the determined face of the once-angel before you was too mesmerizing. You hope this won’t be the only time they take you flying, because you haven’t been able to focus on any of the beauty from the aerial view you found yourself in.

You could feel Lucifer’s steady breathing, which boggled your mind considering the activity you two found yourself in. Then again, you expected your own breathing to be choked or unwieldy. You felt so calm and trance-like. Lucifer was holding you with such care, occasionally glancing down to ensure you were okay.

Unknowingly, tears began to wet your cheeks. They started slowly but fell quicker and quicker. It took only moments for Lucifer to see that you were crying. Worry immediately plastered itself over their face. Their concern led them to land (in a vast field of rolling hills) as soon as they could. You questioned in your head how far you two had traveled to go from cedars and firs to grassy meadows.

“Are you okay? Was it too much? I never should have taken you. Foolish.”

Confusion hung over you, because you felt amazing. Well, a bit sad to be torn away from the experience so abruptly. You had so many emotions swirling through you, and you couldn’t translate how severely you felt for the being in front of you.

In response, all you could utter was, “W-what? I’m happy.” So very happy.

Lucifer swipes at the wetness on your cheeks and brings a finger in front of you as a way to question why you were crying.

“They’re good tears. I’m…leaking joy.” You couldn’t quite explain how you felt, and you knew your spacey rambling probably wasn’t satisfactory in reassuring Lucifer. In fact, a puzzled look appears on their face. You knew Lucifer didn’t like to be befuddled or to misunderstand a situation, so you quickly clarify, “You bring me so much joy.”

Lucifer’s concern subsides a bit. It’s been so long since Lucifer was the cause of pure joy. They almost forgot what it was like, how addicting it could be. It made them want to never let you down, give into your every silly, human request. The glassy, pleased look in your eyes made Lucifer want to crawl out of their prison of pompousness and self-hatred. Here you were appreciating them and getting closer to them with no ill intent or expectations of anything in return.

Lucifer stroked your hair and kissed your forehead—thankful you were okay. It was in this moment that they decided taking you flying would be a regular occurrence.

[mysticreigns2]

Thunder bolt and lightning 1

Au!Roman reigns (Perseus) x Katerina (OC)

⚡ warnings: heavily based in Greek mythology with some imagination thrown in, angst.

⚡tag list: @acknowledge-reigns @romanreignshairdresser @zillasvilla @romanthereigns

⚡Banner is made by me. Do NOT repost my fics without my permission! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

⚡word count: 1.2k

Argos

"without the humans worship, brother, we will cease to be immortal!" Zeus bellowed, his brother Posiden wanting to give the humans mercy for defying them. Zeus was watching his creation turn on him, anger filling his eyes. His once beautiful humans had turned on him, just like Hades had predicted they would.

"they destroy my statue and I'm just supposed to show them mercy?" Zeus's voice boomed. Posiden wasn't afraid of his brother by any means but he was tired of his arrogance "perhaps that's the problem brother, you demand to much of them" Posiden said, disappearing in a splash of water. Zeus wasn't going to listen to anyone, his arrogance was always his downfall.

"I will have order!" Zeus bellowed, slaming his fist onto the arm of his throne.

On earth, acrisius, king of Argos was leading an army of men to a siege on mount Olympus. He grew tired of being forced to obey whatever the gods wanted. He dreamed of a world where humans would be able to live without being forced to worship the gods to feed their immortality. Like Zeus, his arrogance would eventually lead to his downfall.

Zeus, angered that acrisius had destroyed his home, visited the Queen of Argos, acrisius wife, Danae, while acrisius was away. He disguised himself as the king, and ravaged Danae in a way that acrisius never could. When Danae realized it was Zeus she had slept with and not her husband, she tried to hide it, but Zeus' sees had begun to grow in her womb. When acrisius discovered the child wasn't his, he put Danae and her newborn child in a wooden box and threw them into the ocean.

Zeus having seen this, struck acrisius with a lightning bolt, horribly disfiguring him. Acrisius had no choice but to hide in the underworld with Hades, plotting his revenge, seething at the idea of Zeus' downfall. Hades, tricked by his brothers into the underworld, was all to willing to help acrisius, but made him wait until the time was right "the child is the key!" Hades haunting voice echoed "he is the key to Zeus' downfall! Time is on our side, my friend. Here let me share some of my power with you" Hades said, putting his hand to acrisius' forehead.

"you can now do all the things I can do, my army is at your fingertips. But until the child is grown he is off limits. If you break this rule, you will lose the power I've given you" Hades said, waiting for acrisius' answer.

Acrisius agreed, though begrudgingly "off you go. I will let you know when the day comes. Until then keep yourself busy."

In the Mediterranean sea, a small fishing boat had heard what sounded like a baby crying. They had come across a wooden box floating in the middle of the ocean. The closer they got, the louder the babies cries became.

When they reached the box, they opened it to find Danae dead, and a child wrapped carefully in her arms, as if her last breath was given to protect her child. They closed her eyes, laying a coin in each one, a tribute to Charon, the ferryman.

The woman grabbed a blanket, wrapping the baby in it, his cries settling when she pressed him against her "Perseus" marmara said, looking up at her husband, who gave a nod of agreement.

As the child grew up, his parents never told him about how they found him. They saw him as a gift from the gods. A gift that they cherished and loved as their own. He grew to love fishing the seas, making the couple wonder if he was the son of posiden.

Off the shores of Argos, Perseua saw townfolk tearing down the statue of Zeus. They tied ropes around it, pulling it to the ground, the stone shattering as it hit "why do they provoked Zeus?" Perseus asked, before a loud screech echoed across the water. A creature of death flew over them. It's wings tattered and firey, as if it had been destroyed previously only to be brought back again.

The tail of the creature flicked the top of the sail, sending the fires from its body into the ship "Perseus! We have to out the fire out!" His father yelled, grabbing a bucket and giving it to Perseus. Before Perseus could scoop up the first bucket of water, another creature crashed into the boat, turning it on its side. It sank quickly, trapping his parents with it. Perseus swam quickly to the boat, trying to free his parents before the sea consumed them. Pulling as hard as he could on the boat, only for it to fall further into the abyss.

He swam to the surface, his lungs burning for air. At the surface, the debris of other sunken ships scattered across the sea. Perseus had crawled on the last remaining piece of wood that could hold his weight before passing out.

10 years later

Perseus sat alone by the fire, aware of the possible creatures that could come from the forest. Giant scorpions, hades' flying minions, and boundless other creatures that stalked the night. All his men were asleep, blissfully unaware of the danger that could appear at any time. He envied their ignorance, envied their ability to think the best of every bad situation that had occured on their journey to find the stygian witches.

His wife, Katerina, had been pulled to the underworld, prisoner of Hades insidious plot to get his father back for trapping him in the underworld in the first place. Perseus knew it was a trap and Katerina was the bait, but he had no choice. He wasn't going to let his wife be the bride of that walking corpse! The more he thought about it, about Hades laying his hands on his wife, the angrier he became.

Zeus has offered him his help, but Perseus had refused "I don't need the help of a god!" He yelled at his father, his eyebrows furrowing "why didn't you save my family when the boat capsized?"

"Perseus, that wasn't your family! I'm your family!" Zeus's voice boomed, hoping he could talk some sense into his son.

"some father you are!" Perseus scoffed, as Zeus disappeared. He knew Perseus would eventually come around in time, right now the wounds of losing those closest to him were still raw. He understood his son's anger but if he didnt learn to control it, it would be his downfall.

The sound of a branch snapping brought him out of his thoughts. He Drew his sword, fully prepared to fight whatever creature the forest had conjured up. A moment of silence, his breathing quick as if he was ready to run. A sudden neighing changed his stance. His breathing slowed as a peagasus appeared.

"the peagasus!" He turned around to see his best friend Adonis, walking towards him, in awe of the peagasus "it's a rare gift and only given To those chosen by the gods!"

Perseus rolled his eyes, disdain on his lips, but he decided to stay quiet, fearing what the others would do if they knew he was the son of Zeus.

Peagasus began to neigh in fear, the ground began to tremble, and Perseus saw the trees being thrown. Out of the forest a tower figure emerged, only one eye in the center of it's forehead. Hades had thrown Perseus his first hurdle, a cyclops.

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Five

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Next Chapter

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3k

Chapter-specific CW: compulsion, light emotional manipulation (but it's ok bc he's a hot vampire)

A/N: "how am I supposed to live laugh love under these conditions?" -y/n to kylo probably

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

“After you, my dear.”

The threshold of the doorway was all that stood between you and the prospect of freedom. Or at least, so you thought.

Moonlight peaked through the dark clouds above, flooding the spacious courtyard Ren had brought you to with silver light. Disappointment sank through you like a stone—not that you were expecting him to loosen your invisible lead enough to allow you to roam an open area of the castle’s property. All things considered, this was generous.

Tentatively, you stepped out into the night, disregarding your lack of footwear as you followed the ivory tiles lining the path. Short, frostbitten hedges surrounded you, perfectly manicured despite their leaves being brittle and sparse. Snowflakes dusted the earth, falling like tiny, frozen kisses on your skin.

Woven throughout the foliage were dozens of rosebushes, their thorns now all that remained of their beauty. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the garden in bloom, with rays of sunlight bathing the roses until their petals unfurled, inviting bees to collect pollen from each colorful bundle. But spring had long since passed. The stems had morphed into skeletons, their wilted petals cracking under the blanket of frost. It was oddly beautiful; something that was once so vibrant, now faded and cold, preserved by winter’s embrace.

Around you stood the high walls of the castle, with elegant archways and stained windows. Everything felt venerable, even down to the footsteps immortalized in the tile from centuries of tread, aging the fortress well beyond the Empire’s rule. Judging by the weathered state of the walls encasing you, the castle was likely constructed during the Grand Republic’s reign, dating it beyond the past three hundred years. To think that there was a time when its halls had been occupied by diplomats—ones who placed the interests of the people above their own aspirations. Much like the garden, their memory had faded in the presence of the First Order.

You stopped in front of two black iron benches arranged in the center of the court. They accented the focal piece of the garden: a pond, sheathed by a layer of glistening ice. You pictured a family of ducks paddling through it in the summer, creating tiny ripples as they splashed the cool water onto their feathers. The irony of peace existing in a place of such violence.

“What do you think?” Ren asked behind you, joining you in observation of the frozen water.

Releasing a long breath, you answered bluntly, “It’s hard to say. Everything’s dead.”

He chuckled at your honesty. “Yes. But even now, there is a certain beauty to it, wouldn’t you agree?” He stepped closer, pressing his chest flush against your back, offering you no heat. There was nothing warm or soft about him. For all you knew, he was made of marble beneath the layer of black fabric—his body temperature suggesting as much.

You instinctively pulled away, turning to face him. Quick breaths passed through your lips, the wisps of vapor lingering in the air like ghosts. Ren was frightening and beautiful, making him the most dangerous kind of monster. Not the kind that mothers warned their children of through tales, hoping to deter them from venturing too far into the woods, but the kind that the ladies at court would gossip about. The handsome devil.

“From a certain point of view, I suppose,” you finally said, turning your back on him once again. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing—even if he had heard your inner dialogue earlier.

Ren walked alongside you as you continued to meander through the garden. Even the slightest brush of his arm made the hair on the back of your neck stand. Although, in fairness, the culprit could very well have been the winter air, too.

You considered making conversation with him, less because you were interested in what he had to say, but rather as a pleasantry in return for the change of scenery. When you opened your mouth to speak, you found that the words were lodged in your throat, impossible to push out. Perhaps it was the icy air burning your airway, or another force entirely. Regardless, you continued to walk in silence, sorting through your thoughts—as you suspected he was, too.

It seemed as if the tile path had transformed into shards of glass by the way your feet ached, each step sending a wave of pain through your nerves. Determined to stay outside as long as possible, you ignored it, slowing your pace to accommodate.

“You’re shivering,” Ren stated, as if you were somehow unaware of your chattering teeth.

“Yes, I know.”

“Would you like to go inside?”

You froze in place, but unlike in the forest, this was not his doing. He came to stand in front of you, tracing your face with eyes as black as obsidian.

“I doubt that decision is mine to make,” you countered. The illusion of free will—as if you weren’t trapped in this castle because of him.

“You would be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, yes, how could I forget? The man who slaughtered my entire squadron—my savior.”

His jaw tensed. “It’s not as if I was acting of my volition. I was merely protecting my men, keeping my oath. Surely that is something you can understand.”

Of course it was. But you had failed to do that, and now you would spend a lifetime being haunted by it.

“Enough,” you said, tearing your eyes away from him as you turned to face the withering garden. The frayed threads holding you together snapped, allowing the flood of emotions to pour in. As it did, you wondered if it would always be like this. Reminded of the carnage every time you laid eyes on him. Sentenced to a miserable existence with the man responsible for your nightmares.

A hand came to rest on your shoulder. You shuddered at the touch. “For what it’s worth, their deaths were wholly unnecessary.” There was a trace of remorse in his words, quickly replaced by his usual tone. “But such is the nature of war, my dear.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your tongue before you could say anything else. When you opened them again, Ren was standing in front of you, close enough to hide the moonlight behind him. 

“Why did you do it?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, fighting desperately to hold back your frustration.

He furrowed his brows, confused by your question. “The Supreme Leader’s orders were clear–”

“No,” you snapped, a harsh edge replacing the weakness in your voice. “I mean, why did you capture me? How is it fair that I should be the only survivor, condemned to live out the rest of my days under your thumb?”

As soon as the words had left your mouth, you wished you could reach out and shove them back into the depths of your mind. He didn’t deserve to see you like this, brimming with raw emotion. It was a state you reserved only for those closest to you, those who you would likely never see again.

Ren was silent, stoic. In a moment like this, you wished you possessed his ability to probe minds. Instead of offering you an answer, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone and jaw, tracing a line as light as a whisper over your skin.

Immediately, the tension in your shoulders dissolved, washed away along with every concern occupying your mind. Despite his cool touch, warmth rose to your cheeks.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that this arrangement could liberate you in ways you’ve never imagined?” His voice was silky, falling on your ears like a symphony of angels. A soft cloud settled over you, eliciting a strange feeling within your chest as you gazed up at him, searching his black eyes for an answer to his question.

“I have not, my lord,” you whispered, the words leaving your tongue like a prayer.

Ren’s lips parted, revealing brilliant white teeth as he grinned, amused by your response. “Of course not. And why should you have? Such thoughts have no place in a mind as troubled as yours.” He swept his fingers over your cheek again, soothing you.

You nodded into his hand. The cold that gnawed at your fingers and toes was nothing more than a distant sensation, an ache quelled by his touch. He glanced down at your figure, frowning at the sight of your dress. In the time that the two of you had been standing outside, a light layer of snow had melted into the thin fabric of your gown, clinging to your skin. With deft fingers, he tied the strings of your cloak into a small knot and smoothed the fabric over your shoulders.

“Now, let’s go inside. I can’t have my bride freezing to death,” he said in a low tone, leaning closer to your lips. “Next time, I advise you to wear more fitting attire.”

Next time. Intoxicated by his words, you nodded in agreement, your eyes still fixed on his.

As if you were a sack of feathers, he hoisted you off the ground, holding you as he did in the forest. Only this time, there was no fear in your heart, no panic closing off your throat. With your hands clasped behind his neck, he carried you back into the castle, moving swiftly through the courtyard. Although the taste of freedom was dwindling with every step he took, you were content—almost pleased—to be returning to the safety of your chambers.

Your head felt as light as the cushions of the chaise lounge as Ren set you down upon it. The memory of where his hands had gripped you remained after he released you, leaving your skin tingling at each spot. In the darkness, it was nearly impossible to see him moving through your chambers, an issue remedied by a fire roaring to life in the hearth.

Satisfied with his work, Ren stood behind the sofa, peering down at you laying across it. Golden flames flickered in his eyes, softening his strong features. Your cloak had shifted, exposing more of your nightwear than you would’ve preferred. But you didn’t mind. In fact, you liked it—how the sleeves had fallen past your shoulders and the hem of the dress had gathered above your knees. You felt ethereal, basking in the glow radiating from the hearth. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been this relaxed.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you relished the warmth spreading through your toes. “Who should I thank for starting this fire—you or your magic?” You made a vague gesture with your hands, wiggling your fingers as if you were casting a spell.

He chuckled quietly, moving to sit in the chair across from yours. “Neither. Thank the tinderbox that was left on the mantle.”

Propping yourself up with your elbow, you turned to face him, letting your dress drape over your hips. The knot at your neck loosened with every movement you made until you finally grew tired and pulled it free, shedding your cloak onto the sofa. Under any other circumstance, you would be scrambling to cover yourself. This was completely unlike you—to allow anyone other than your handmaid to see you like this. Harlot, your mother would say in her scolding tone, coupled with a scowl. But she wasn’t here—only Commander Ren.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re incapable of starting a fire, given everything else you can do.”

“Unfortunately, I was never any good at it,” he said, his eyes wandering to the golden flames. “Pyromancy, however, has always been one of my strongest suits.”

The conversation stalled for a moment as you watched his fingers glide over the armrest, hypnotized by the patterns he traced in the black velvet. His veins mingled with tendons as he moved—an intricate dance beneath his ivory skin. Somewhere deep within you, an ember flickered to life, its warmth spreading throughout your being. It was unusual, but not unwelcome.

“How can you do these things?” you asked, your voice floating through the air like the wisps of a dandelion.

He sighed, rolling his tongue over his teeth in thought. Finally, he said, “I was raised by witches.”

Your eyes widened—not in shock at his answer, but because he had answered at all. Rey’s words echoed in your mind. Commander Ren is a very private man.

“Witches? As in, multiple?”

He snickered softly. “Just two.”

“I see,” you whispered, watching him intently. There was something inherently alluring about him, an appeal that had drawn you in the instant you laid eyes on his portrait. An indescribable—yet persisting—quality. A charm.

After the success of your first question, you found the courage to pose another. “What were they like?”

A beat passed before he spoke, unease filling your stomach as you waited. The look in his eyes told you that your valiant effort was in vain. “What else did the handmaid tell you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat.

His words hit your chest like a thousand stones, shattering your confidence. Rey had warned you—begged you—to not discuss the matter of the Commander, fearing the consequences awaiting her if she did. Guilt crashed into you.

“Nothing. She said nothing else,” you stammered, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. With pleading eyes, you turned to him. “I swear it by all the gods.”

Ren stood to his feet, shushing you as he strode toward you. “There’s no need to call upon the gods, dear. I believe you.” His long fingers caressed your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. “I also believe that the girl is sensible enough to want to keep her head attached to her body. You asked her about me, didn’t you?”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, as if it were attempting to leap out and crawl into Ren’s hands. There was no use in arguing—he already knew the truth. The outcome of your fate depended on any ounce of respect you could earn from him. Lying now would be a disservice to everyone involved.

“Yes, I admit, I asked her to tell me what she knew of you, but she refused. It was only after I continued pressing the matter that she finally answered. Please, have mercy on her, she is innocent–”

He silenced you by pressing a finger against your lips. “If I beheaded every servant who spoke ill of me, the castle would be swept by ghosts.”

You said nothing, an unspoken understanding passing between you. While you believed him, there was also validity in Rey’s fear. Even the servant boy cowered in his presence. If one thing were true in this life, it was that rumors carried weight, and at times, merit.

“Why do they fear you so much?” you asked as his thumb brushed over your chin.

Ren let out a long sigh as he ran his fingers down your neck, pausing at your pulse point. “People fear what they do not understand.”

The air grew thick in the silence. A familiar sensation embraced you, igniting every fiber of your being under his touch. Much like the fire in front of you, the ember in your belly became an inferno. Your gaze fell to his pillowy lips, imagining what they would feel like against yours—what they would feel like on every inch of your skin. As soft as sin, probably. His eyes were coals, twinkling in the amber light, a tell that your thoughts were not as quiet as you had hoped.

“What do you fear most, darling?” he asked, his voice low and inviting. “I imagine that a woman like yourself doesn’t fear much, but everyone has their weakness.” He tilted your head slightly to the side, eyes wandering down your neck. “What is yours?”

Blood rushed in your ears, making you dizzy. Through the haze in your mind, a tiny voice broke through, begging you to resist him—resist the urge to bend to his will. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to barricade your thoughts, and as his eyes bore into yours, irises now a deep shade of red, his devilry won.

“Purpose.” The word passed through your lips like a specter, carrying a cadence that was foreign to your ears. “I fear a life without purpose.”

Satisfaction radiated off of Ren. “I see. And that is exactly why you were the only survivor.” He stretched his hand over your throat, applying gentle pressure to either side of your neck. The rhythmic drumming of your heart pulsed through his fingertips. “Because your purpose is so much greater than serving the Resistance.”

“What do you believe my purpose is, Commander?”

The backlight of the hearth cast a halo around him, deifying him. Ignoring your inquiry, he said, “The night is almost over. I suggest you get some rest.”

With that, he left you, somehow more cold and alone than you had been before. As the latch clicked shut, the haze lifted, quickly replaced by dread. Your vision tunneled on the fire in front of you, the black edges snuffing out your surroundings, narrowing your view to only the flames dancing over the logs.

As you stood from the lounge, your knees buckled, forcing you to summon all your strength to reach the bed before collapsing. Chest heaving, you stared up at the canopy, hoping to find anything but flecks of light dancing across your eyes. The voice in your head was shouting now, building to a deafening pitch, its message clear.

In the wake of his presence, two things remained: your distrust of Commander Ren and the strange warmth that had settled in your stomach.

[insurrection-if]

This will be hard to do I think :). Can you describe the romanceables' routes in a few words?

Ah, ‘a few words’?! ∑(; °Д°) My worst nightmare, haha!

Apologies for not cutting this all down further, and for the quality of what’s below, but I hope this is satisfactory! ദ്ദി(˶‾᷄ᗜ‾᷅˵ ᵕ) I tried to rush this to force the word count down as much as I could, but my poor wordy habits die hard (and not at all)!

Onto the main romances . . .

Akil: Forbidden. Challenged. A false betrayal to old ideals, corrupted loyalties. Learning to accept. Declaring his own path, following his heart before his mind. A tenuous tomorrow . . . unless he makes a better one for you both.

Kamiko: Fearful. Guarded. Bridging the divide, a new kind of strength. A new meaning for sacrifice. Quiet, devoted, a love built by trust. The shadow to your light.

Sigmund: Deceptively Slow, Suffocatingly Quick. Loyal, Sacrificial. Safer apart, but you're his. He wants you to be. Fears—and knows—he doesn’t deserve it.

Imka: Nervous. Startled. Helpless. Falling too quick, caring too much. Learning to be bold, to be herself. Learning to love herself like you do.

Elouan: Scarred. Wanting. Pleasant, but cold. Burning up within. Real love for the first time. Forgiving, or Forgetting.

Jae: Flighty. Teasing. Scared to Commit, Scared to be Yours. Looking past the present, washing down the past. She’ll be with you, sticking through hell and tomorrow. Bird without a cage.

Niccolò: Clumsy. Genuine. Flawed, imperfect, real. Peeling back the layers of the self, loving every bit. Facing eternity, immortality. And then, facing chaos before the end. What it means to be a human who loves.

Mutya: Grounding. Pinning. Unwinding, unraveling. Letting loose, standing firm. A pillar to lean on, one to support. Opening up to the vulnerability of love and hurt.

Fyodor: Star-Crossed. Soulmates, artificially made. Broken pieces forced together, ripped apart. Unstable. Glorified. Putting all his hopes in a dream, and learning to love the reality.

And for the others . . .

Dearil: Unwanted. Tearing up stitches, reclaiming what was lost and never his. Desperate to keep, bound to ruin.

Curadora: Wrong place, wrong time. Covert. Watched. Reunited, yet slipping from her grasp, pulled apart by the need for a new age and new people. Wait for her, please.

Retriever: Fast, messy, reigned back, and broken free. Hesitant on the outside, drowning within. Now or never, before the final piece of him meets the fall.

Lempo: Saccharine. Selfish. Unbound. Escaping the world, and oneself, together.

Bones: Regret. Recovery. Letting go. Pushing and pulling, the madness of love.

Mishka: Humanizing. Bitter. Eternal. First Love, Only Love. Doomed.

Thank you for this interesting ask! (´∀`)

[youaremyspecialz]

I don't know what to do without you.

suicidal and immortal! dazai x mortal! chuuya. content warning; major character death, attachment issues, mourning of loss, mental breakdown, slightly graphic description of wounds, suicide (it's dazai, come on), overall pretty sad and angsty.

╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼ thirty minutes. if osamu would've gotten there thirty minutes earlier, he wouldn't be here today, dressed in black and placing flowers on a coffin, on his beloved chuuya's coffin. he would most likely be at home, chatting with chuuya, or having a glass of wine to kick off their afternoon. but here he was instead, being met by mourners, though none would weep and sob as much as he did. he remembers the day like it was yesterday, despite it taking place one month, five days, fourty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds (and counting) ago. he had been all the way on the other side of yokohama when he got the call that chuuya was losing control of his ability. dazai was the only one who could stop him, but of course he just had to be so fucking far away. he sped through those streets, not having a care in the world for who he'd nearly hit, who got in his way. he just needed to save his beloved, just like his beloved had 'saved' him so many times. that was the difference between the two of them, actually. dazai may have tried to kill himself so many times, either it be by him trying to hang himself from a bridge that would ensure he'd break his neck one way or another or floating down the riverbank in the middle of a hot summer afternoon, but he could not die no matter how many times he had tried. he was immortal. chuuya, on the other hand, was not. he was but a vessel for the god of calamity, arahabaki. although he could control gravity as he pleased, he was also a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any moment, if dazai was there or not. this was one of those times that dazai was not there to stop him and his reign of destruction to whatever his eyes were laid on. finally arriving, thirty minutes after getting the call, it was too late. it was far too late. poor chuuya had so many burn marks in his skin, his clothes damn near torn to the very threads that first sowed them together, blood spilling from every part of his body, the land around him that once was their shared garden now looked like the aftermath of a tornado that that francis guy from america described to them once.

immediately running over to him, dazai shook his figure, his hot tears pouring down his cheeks like the riverbanks he'd try to kill himself in. this couldn't be happening, no. he swore to protect chuuya, he couldn't let this happen to him. he saved him all those other times, surely, he would save him this time too, right? right? right?

but no, he couldn't. that wouldn't stop him from trying to, though.

"nakahara, don't- you dumbass, you absolute dumbass.." osamu cursed at the man he held in his arms who was blinking in and out of consciousness, his ability activated in an attempt to get him out of this state. oh, he got him out of that state alright, but there is one thing his ability couldn't do, and that was heal what damage was already done.

"dazai, you're here.. boy, is it nice to see you." chuuya spoke, his vocal cords sounding like they were ripped to shreds. he sounded so sarcastic as he spoke, but he genuinely meant it. it really was nice to see dazai, even if it was for one last time. "i'm so sorry, babe.. i just-" one of dazai's slender fingers cut him off from speaking, a ragged 'shhh' sound escaping from his trembling lips. "don't waste your breathing on words, please.. just hold on a little longer, please chuuya. for me." he begged him quietly, his hands now covering as many wounds as he possibly could to stop their bleeding, his hands becoming soaked in crimson as a result. "no, dazai.. i don't think i'll be able to bounce back from this one." those words hit dazai harder than a train he'd thrown himself in front of once. "chuuya, no! you're going to live, you absolutely must live, there is so much we.. there's so much we still need to do together, just hold on, please?! for me?! for our future?!" dazai wailed, shaking him gently, but a smile formed on the others face. "i'm so sorry for all the trouble i've caused you. from when we were younger til now." chuuya shook his head, sighing. "i think my biggest regret will be not giving you this sooner." after saying that, he takes one of dazai's hands, placing a beautiful ruby ring in its palm. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, chuckling slightly. osamu felt his heart break into a million pieces hearing this, before he smiled too. although he was sad, the least he could do was show chuuya a sign of happiness, to give him even a sliver of hope. "yeah, it is.. it's a ruby ring, isn't it? my favourite gem?" he asked, earning a nod from chuuya. "yeah, it is.. i remember when you told me that you favored rubies above any other gem, so i just.." he began coughing up blood. "so i just had to, you know? anything for my dazai.." he places a hand on his cheek, a sigh of infatuation escaping his lips as he admired dazai's face. "you know, the moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" he asks. as much as dazai wanted to look at the full moon that was in the sky before him, he didn't want to take his eyes off of chuuya in his dying moments. "yes, it is.." he slowly nodded, more and more tears hitting chuuya's neckline, rolling down to his chest. "but.." more blood he coughed up, this time a wheezing sound getting out of his lips as he did so. "but you're more beautiful than that damn ball in the sky.." his smile didn't waver.. "i'm so glad i got to see you one last time, even if it was like this." his eyes slowly shut.. "i hope in another universe things didn't end this way." his breathing slowed down.. "i love you, osamu dazai." "i love you too, chuuya nakahara."

"i love you most.." chuuya spoke quietly before his breathing stopped, and shortly after, the hand that held dazai's cheek fell. dazai held onto him as tightly as possible, wanting to scream into the night sky, but he did not want to disturb his beloved's eternal slumber. "rest easy, chuuya. your work here is done." were the only words he could get out of his mouth. he let his clothes get soaked with the other's blood, he let the other's warmness absorb into him for one last time. his eyes glancing up into the night sky after what seemed like forever, a small smile formed on his lips. he could've sworn he saw a dimmed star him and chuuya always stared at grow a little brighter that evening. ╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼╼ authors note; first post and i actually like this fic what, shoutout to some instagram reel that gave me the idea for it and shoutout to my partner that helped me develop a plot!!

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 10)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 1557

warnings/notes: This chapter is NSFW, my lovelies!!! 18+ ONLY!!! Proceed with caution (gif source: felixscatton)

Chapter 10: The Wolf's Embrace

Bonnie could feel his hardness pressed against her, reminding her of his primal desires. She ached for him, craving the release that only he could give her. She moved her hips, inviting him to take what was theirs. Their kisses were hot and passionate, their need for each other tangible in every touch and taste. Their tongues danced together, exploring each other's mouths in a sensual ballet only interrupted by the occasional sharp intake of breath as they both struggled for air.

Austin's hand slid underneath the waistband of her pants, tracing the curve of her lower back.

With a growl of desire, he broke the kiss, his eyes burning with raw passion. "Tell me you want this. Say the words, Bonnie." His voice was guttural, the accent thickened by arousal.

"I want you, Austin," she breathed, her hands shaking as she clutched at his shirt. "I want this."

Austin's response was a feral growl of approval before he was crashing their lips together once more. The world faded away into nothing but the two of them, their bodies moving in a primal dance as old as time itself. With one fluid motion, he rid her of her pants and panties. His rough hands explored every inch of her, leaving behind a trail of desire in their wake.

Bonnie gasped, arching her hips towards him, her body craving his possession. Austin growled low in his throat, a predatory sound that sent shivers down her spine. With one swift, searing thrust, he entered her, their union a collision of need and want that had been simmering for years. As if their bodies were always meant to be joined as one.

Their bodies moved together in an ancient rhythm, their moans and pants mixing with the crackling fire. Bonnie's nails raked against his back, digging into the taut muscle as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was aware of her own transformation now complete, the wolf within surfacing to claim its mate.

Austin's control shattered, his teeth grazing her neck as the beast within him surged forward. He growled with the ecstasy of their connection, his movements becoming more primal, more intense. Bonnie's grip on him tightened, her nails lengthening into claws as she met him stroke for stroke.

Their passion-filled mating ritual continued, fueled by the raw power of their primitive natures. The room felt like it was on fire, the air heavy with their combined scents of lust and desire. Austin's rough hands roamed over her body, leaving fiery trails down her flushed skin. Bonnie clung to him, her nails drawing lines of pleasure across his back. Their bodies moved together in a primal harmony, their heartsbeats thundering in unison.

The sounds of their flesh meeting filled the space between them - a slapping rhythm that echoed throughout the room, punctuated by the occasional gasp or moan. Their breathing was ragged and labored, hot puffs of air mingling with each other's lips and cheeks. The smell of sweat and desire mixed with that of wood smoke from the fireplace fueled the sensory frenzy they had created.

Austin's hips pistoned faster, deeper into hers, his muscular body flexing as he claimed what was rightfully his. His teeth grazed her earlobe, nipping gently as she writhed beneath him in ecstasy. The sheets beneath them were damp from their sweat and passion. Bonnie's cries mingled with Austin's growls as they reached their peak together, their bodies shuddering in unison. The air around them pulsed with the energy of their release, electricity crackling in the silence that followed.

Exhausted, they collapsed against each other, their hearts racing like two wild beasts running side by side in the dead of night. Austin's arms wrapped around her protectively, holding her close as they both fought to catch their breaths.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, "I always have."

Bonnie, still quivering from the intensity of their union, nestled closer into Austin's embrace. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart as it slowly returned to a more serene rhythm. The warmth of his body enveloped her, providing a sense of security she hadn't felt in ages.

"I love you too," she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the firewood. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his skin, each touch reigniting small flickers of desire that pulsed warmly through her veins. In the stillness following their tempestuous union, Bonnie's mind drifted to the precarious situation they were embroiled in. The danger that lurked just beyond the safe confines of Austin's hideout whispered to her in the crackle of the fire. Yet, nestled in Austin’s arms, she found a sanctuary that felt far removed from her haunted past and the violent world she had fled.

Outside, the wind picked up, howling like the distant cries of wolves, reminding Bonnie of the reality they would soon have to face. Austin sensed her tension, his hold tightening slightly. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured against her hair, his voice a soothing balm. “Together.”

The reality of their situation settled heavy on her shoulders. Being with Austin wasn’t just a rebellion against her fears; it was a direct challenge to the very structure of the pack. Austin ran a hand through her hair placing his lips to her forehead. He spoke against her skin. “Why don’t you go shower?”

Bonnie nodded, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of sadness and resolve. She slid out from under his embrace, feeling the chill of the room contrast sharply against the residual warmth of their love-making. She looked back at him, a silent yearning in her eyes. Even though she didn’t say the words, Austin knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said with a soft smile.

Bonnie nodded suddenly feeling at ease once more. Was it her wolf’s need for him to be close? Or perhaps a deeper, more human desire to never be apart? Whatever it was, it had her heart swelling with emotions as complex and tumultuous as the storm raging outside their refuge. She headed to the bathroom, each step echoing slightly in the otherwise silent house.

As water started running in the bathroom, Austin considered his next move. The loyalty of his gang was fracturing, splintered by secrets and personal agendas. He needed to reinforce his position and remind them why he was their leader. The thought of confronting Jerry was particularly troubling. His old friend's trust had been a foundation stone in his leadership, but now it wavered under the weight of secrecy and doubt. If he found out about Victor’s death at the hands of Bonnie, he would never trust him again. He could easily turn the entire pack against him. They had rules, strict rules. And he had broken many of the ones he had had to upkeep.

He rose from the bed, muscles stretching taut as he moved. The scent of Bonnie lingered in the air, a constant reminder of what he was fighting for. He knew he couldn't keep her hidden forever; the truth would eventually spill, and chaos would ensue. But he was prepared to face whatever came his way, for her.

Austin paused at the threshold, his presence merely a silent shadow amidst the billowing steam. He watched her for a moment, witnessing the serene grace that always seemed to surround her despite the chaos of their lives. It struck him then, how deeply intertwined his life had become with hers, how every decision he now made was weighed not just for its impact on the pack but on Bonnie as well.

With a resolve solidifying in his chest, he stepped into the shower. He moved quietly into the stream of warmth, closing off the rest of the world. Bonnie’s eyes fluttered open at his touch. The water between them mingled like their lives—turbulent yet full of an inexplicable purity.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started to say, his voice low and husky with unspoken emotion.

Bonnie looked at him in the shower, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him soaking wet and handsome. His muscles rippled as he moved, water cascading down his strong body like a synchronized dance. She stepped closer to him, her skin prickling with goosebumps as the warmth embraced her. Taking his hand, she carefully wrapped her fingers around his, feeling the roughness of his skin against hers. The shampoo suds mixed with their sweat, making bubbles that smelled of their intimacy. Austin leaned in to kiss her forehead, his lips leaving a warm trail along her damp hairline. Their eyes met in the mirror, their reflection distorted by the steamy surface.

"We'll find a way," she whispered back, "We always do."

Austin's expression softened at her words, and he brought her close to his chest, their hearts beating in sync once more. "We'll find a way," he repeated into her ear, as if willing it to be true.

Stay tuned for part 11!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @droopycoquette @buckysteveloki-me

[haz311bl0gs]

Kitt | High Half-Elf | Dagger Wielding Sorcerer | Immortal (200+ years old) | Agent of Raphael | Neutral Evil |

Backstory under the cut (He's not a Tav, he's just a BG3 OC).

Kitt (real name unknown) is a selfish and narcissistic man but extremely powerful. Kitt comes from a noble family that had vast amounts of arcane knowledge and priceless arcane artifacts. Bored and in love with himself he feared aging, death and missing out on the carnal pleasures youth could provide. He struck a deal with Raphael to become his immortal agent and live a life full of pleasure, Kitt would want for nothing. For this Kitt gave up the souls of his family (5 souls total) along with all the arcane knowledge and artifacts that the house possessed. His family was forgotten and vanished like they never existed. 

Kitt's memory was mostly wiped clean, he remembers what he sacrificed but he doesn't remember what the importance of the items and knowledge he gave up were. His ability to wield magic like a master and fight with his dagger also remains intact. Kitt basically remembers everything in order to be Raphael's perfect guard dog and messenger boy. 

Kitt idolizes and loves Raphael to a fault. He takes great pride in being the property of the man that gave him eternal life and pleasure. His admiration for Raphael set in slowly but when it set in, it hooked into him, and that hook has no plans of letting go. He would lick Raphael's boots clean if he was told to. 

Some points about Kitt: 

Kitt is immortal but not unkillable and there are two ways to take him down. He must be stabbed in the heart by Raphael with a special dagger named "Warm Embrace" that Raphael gave to him as a gift. The other condition is that Kitt perishes should Raphael meet his demise. 

The dagger is magically bound to him and will return to him if out of a certain radius. It’s pretty much his leash.

Kitt met Raphael in his 30s which means Kitt has been in Raphael's service for almost 2 centuries. 

Although Kitt is very sure his Master cannot be slain, he will often be found at Raphael's side in moments of danger. Kitt is selfish at the end of the day, and he will do whatever it takes to make sure Raphael does not come to harm. 

Raphael chooses Kitt's clothing.

Kitt's good looks were another driving force behind Raphael making a deal with him. He finds Kitt very attractive, but Kitt wishes for more attention than his Master can provide. 

Kitt is a play on the word Kitten. Only Raphael can call him this, anyone else with this knowledge will not be able to utter the word towards him but only in the House of Hope the rest of the world it is free reign but not everyone knows this little fact. 

He detests being asked his age. He loathes the concept of aging and even though he doesn't show it physically he is over 200 years old. He also can't really recall as he stopped counting 100 years in. 

His fighting style is quick and sporadic. He moves in flashes with teleportation and creates illusions. Fighting him can be very disorientating. 

He's all about pleasures of the flesh, he loves sex. 

His favourite fruit is pomegranates, he likes things messy.  

He's never been with Haarlep, he hates them, and he won’t without Raphael’s say so (and that’s never happened). Raphael knows how weak Kitt is for carnal pleasures and fears Kitt may do something stupid if left unattended with Haarlep. 

He doesn't get to lay with Raphael as much as he would lead you to believe, and he hates it. 

He is so jealous of Tav/The MC it makes him sick to his stomach but he’s very good at hiding it. 

Fun or not so fun fact, if you slay Raphael, you can find Kitt's dagger and bones in the teleportation room in the House of Hope. (I'm still fleshing this and his ways of tying into the game out). But because I can be mean to my OCs I like to think he sensed something was wrong a bit too late and was trying to get back, but his attempts were in vain. 

You can find out that his name is short for Kitten and use it as a fun little dialogue option to piss him off. He will call Tav/MC a "little rat" in response.

I’m still figuring out romance with him, but it would be a one-night stand if anything. If you ask him about Raphael post sex he will be amazed that you even needed to ask and he will tell you how he sleeps with him every other night (a lie) and how wonderful it is (the truth to him at least).

Anyway, that's all I have on him for now. I know it's a bit wild just inserting him into the game like that but hopefully he's believable and stuff.

[gothbass]

(Images mostly from Pinterest)

One Of Us (Pt. 8)

★ Rhea Ripley x [afab] Reader

Warnings: blood, blood, and more blood.

Word count: 367.

“So. We meet again, huh, punk?” Rhea sizes up her opponent, raring to just go at her.

“Seems so, runt,” Verena (the voice from prior, who finally has a name to go by) growls, too confident for her own good that she'll win with ease.

“Runt? Oh, you're goin’ down, bitch.”

As the two fight with bloodlust pent up within themselves, you watch from outside of the ring. Rhea grabs a hold of Verena and Riptides her, but Verena seduces her way out of it. The two fight until Rhea has collapsed onto the ring mat, staring breathlessly at the ceiling.

You take an initiative and slide into the ring to stand guard of Rhea.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Verena asks you, finding your actions curious. On the inside, you know you're doing this because you're terrified to lose Rhea, not to mention that she's your maker. While you're both practically immortal, you're still susceptible to pain and death—even if you're technically undead.

Verena lets out a chuckle and steps a heel to you, but your quick reflexes grab ahold of it before you get squished like a little beetle. You take a few seconds to breathe and shove Verena down onto the ring mat, eventually sliding her off and out of the ring completely. Like Rhea once did for you, you bite into your wrist (Bill Compton move, as per usual) to revive Rhea and help her regenerate.

After the match has resumed and ended, Rhea reigns victorious as the entire ring—as well as herself, you, and Verena—are completely soaked in blood…which won't be an easy cleanup (we'll leave that to the janitors, they won't have a clue).

Rhea charges after Verena, who dissolves into ashes just before she can be hit, leaving Rhea to somersault along the ring mat. You collect the ashes and put them in a baggy in your pocket to keep a hold of them (just incase). Seeing you gather the ashes, Rhea approaches you and gives you a thankful kiss on the cheek.

“Good work today,” she flashes you a smile before patting your shoulder and heading to the locker room to clean the blood off of her.

[Series Masterlist]

[hhoneyglasss]

kill bill

notes: i think our favorite vampiric princess is in order for valentine’s season. hope u enjoy.

pov: alexis solaire — first person limited

pairings: past relationship(?) with alexis/sam, present relationship with darlin’/sam

word count: 2.2k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46534081

!! TWs {these begin under the cut} !! unhealthy obsession, physical threats, aggressive language, and graphic imagery. please proceed with caution or do not interact with this work if these topics r triggering for u.

reblogs r v much appreciated!

Time is cruel to those who go against its laws, but it's even crueler to those who follow them.

Time has always been something to rival against—a force that dares test the permanency of the Solaire name. Like all things who attempt the same feat, it is crushed into dust, and Solaire blood reigns victorious once again.

It’s a vicious cycle, but it’s one that’s kept us at the top—crimson crowns spilling red onto those beneath it. It can be ugly, even tragic, but it’s worth it. It’s power—indescribable power.

But it’s a lonely game between us, immortality and I. Eternity is kind to no man, to no creature of the night, and I, a Solaire, am no exception. A night of forever endlessly stretches out in front of me, a path I must travel alone.

Or so I thought.

Sam Collins was something more than the immortal night I was damned to. He was the moon, the stars, that lit up the dark blanket of sky who smothered me in its hold. He was always more than immortality or power—he was alive.

Maybe it was the drumming of his heartbeat in his chest or the way his cheeks flushed rose in the summer sun, but Sam Collins exuded life. He was vitality itself, a man who radiated it whenever he walked into a room. He was the true definition of human.

That’s what drew me to him. His humanity reminded me of the life I had lived so many years ago, those memories now forever captured in this perfect man. A gentleman with a heart of gold, but one who let close to none see it.

I was one of the lucky few.

I was falling—drowning in the river that was him. From his warmth to his touch, he invaded every aspect of my being, and I found myself hooked. Suddenly I saw a brighter future ahead, a future where someone would lead me through the night. I found my own northern star—he was Polaris, and I was the once-lost traveler.

But then his light started to dim. Precession began and suddenly the earth wobbled beneath my feet and Polaris was no more. He laid limp in my arms, fallen from the sky into my lap with a car door lodged in his abdomen. My vision stained red, the moon now blurry, and the future I saw now nothing but a faded fantasy.

I thought of the solution—I found a way to restore the life that had once pulsed through his veins. It’d be different, he’d be different, but he’d still be the same Sam. He’d still be my Sam.

My nails in his skin, his eyes locked on mine, and then my teeth in his throat. I hadn’t ever bitten him before—he said he hadn’t wanted that, so I listened. It was different now, though. He needed this, even when he pushed my hands away and begged me to stop.

My blood then dripped into his mouth, and it was complete. The golden glow of Polaris now shone silver, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. Sam Collins was alive, even if his heartbeat had slowed to an eternal flatline.

He didn’t understand.

One who had once fallen asleep in my arms now refused to even be in the same room. One who used to kiss me good night and walk me home now couldn’t bear to look at me. One whose heart I thought was mine now claimed I was dead to him.

I thought it was a phase. Bloodlust’s bitterness, or whatever you’d wish to call it. I pictured him coming back to me when it was over—that same crooked smile looking down at me, just with canines a little pointier.

But then the days stretched into weeks, then months, and then sooner than I realized, his bloodlust was over and the silent treatment showed no sign of stopping. He continued to avoid me like some foreign plague, but I still watched him, still thinking about the day he’d come running back to me.

The day hasn’t come.

Not yet, anyway.

That first year turned into two, then five, and ten and then fifteen years had gone by without a single look in my direction. Even if our progeny-maker thread had been cut, I could feel his change in breathing whenever I entered the room. The nervousness in it, the tension.

The pure, unbridled fear.

I was now the creature lurking in the shadows, the monster hiding underneath his childhood bed. The leviathan with fangs dripping crimson.

All hope was not lost, though. The moonlight still shone through the end of the tunnel, and I was patient. He would find his forgiveness eventually—Sam Collins is a good man, and good men know how to forgive.

That hope stood strong until I started to see the beginnings of the oncoming dawn.

This dawn made their grand debut at a monthly clan meeting in the shape of a wolf. A damned creation with scars slashed across their skin, beginning right underneath their jaw and wrapping around their arms, torso, and legs.

One of Sam’s flannels wrapped snug around their frame.

I watched them, my knees pressed to my chest as I sat on the stairs. I watched Sam’s hand rest on the small of their back, and I watched the way they leaned into him. I watched the kiss they placed on his cheek in greeting, and I watched the tilted shy smile he gave in return.

I watched all of it. I saw everything.

Ten minutes after my vigil began, Sam left them with a kiss on their forehead to speak with Vincent and William. They now stood alone on the right side of the room, their hands fiddling with the cuff of Sam’s shirt.

They must’ve detected me watching them when their gaze quickly shifted in my direction. I didn’t stop watching—I simply stared back. Their eyes were wide and curious before they crinkled into a small smile.

They waved.

They had no idea who I was.

All they knew was that someone in this wide room of vampires had done something ‘dreadful’ to their mate, something ‘unforgivable’. As far as they knew right now, everyone was innocent—everyone was a smiling face welcoming them into this clan with open arms.

How wrong they were.

I didn’t smile, nor did I wave back. Their smile faded slowly, and they dropped their arm and turned away.

Good. Pathetic chew toys are to be crushed ‘neath a Solaire’s marble heel, not given allowance to make eye contact, let alone smile.

I stood up from my perch on the stairs and walked away. I went past where Vincent, William, and Sam were speaking to one another, and like the past fifteen wretched years, I noticed the muscles in Sam’s arms tense and I saw his fists clench. His back straightened, and he became terrifically still when I walked by.

I paused, then turned to the mutt. Did they notice how Sam had reacted to my presence? Did they see how his posture changed? Did they notice the half-inch that his brows furrowed inward? Did they see it? Did they see him?

When I examined the expression on their face, I knew that they did.

The small smile that had tugged at their soft features had now completely dissipated—their mouth was pressed into a hard, straight line. Their eyes, once liquid sun in the light of the full moon, had frozen solid.

Resentment was in their eyes.

And protectiveness. As expected from a dog.

All wolves are the same—they bark, they bite, and then they die. One by one, they shrivel up and fall. It’s just nature.

I used to feel a sort of sympathy for them, us both being moonbound. I felt a kindred spirit in a way.

Not anymore.

The thing with the mutt was that they would not last. They had a few measly, troubled decades in this world while I had until the end of time.

I had eternity—they had a ticking clock.

There is no room in this world for immature vagabonds with a pension for death. There is no room for wolves who are fatally tied to their own mortality.

They will die eventually, and the Solaire blood will reign victorious. I will wear my crown again.

I went to stand beside the wall, watching once again when Sam made their way back to them. They jumped up to kiss his cheek again. I gagged.

Over the course of the night, I watched them. I saw when they both sat down for the clan meeting to begin. They never stopped touching for the entire night.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

If his hand wasn’t against their thigh, then his arm wrapped around their shoulder. If they weren’t leaning against him, then their hand closed over his.

Nauseating, disgusting, vile, obscene—there were a million words in the world to describe the scene playing out before me, but none of them quite held the venom I wanted.

The hour-long meeting seemed to drag on into oblivion until William finally dismissed the clan, a good natured smile warming his eyes as he bid us good night. I got up from my seat and began to stalk towards the door, my coat tucked under my arm.

I didn’t get very far when I heard a voice behind me. “Something tells me that staring at Sam’s partner like a tiger about to pounce isn’t gonna make him hate you less.”

Vincent. I stopped and turned around, but I stayed silent. His arms were crossed over his chest, his glare disapproving as it bore into me.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vincent.”

“Tch,” he huffed, “I’m not stupid. Do you think I am?”

I didn’t answer that.

Vincent continued, “It wasn’t just me who noticed, Alexis. I heard them whispering to Sam about it during the meeting. You’re making them uncomfortable.”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fine, then. It’s making Sam uncomfortable.”

“You’re saying that to get me to care about their feelings.”

“And what if I am?” He asked, “He’s the only thing that gets through to you anymore.”

I paused. “…Does it really make him uncomfortable?”

He nodded. Silence fell over us.

He broke it. “So you’ll stop?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll try.”

Silence again.

Vincent leaned on the railing of the stairs. “You need to get over him.”

“I don’t need anything,” I growled.

“Yes, you do,” he countered, “It was different when he was single. You could chase after him all you want—he could handle the staring when it was only directed at him—but it’s not like that anymore.”

I braced myself. I knew what was coming.

“He’s with someone now,” he continued, “They’re mates, Alexis, and you know what?”

“What?” I whispered.

“He’s happy,” he said, “He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Maybe you would’ve noticed the change in him if you weren’t so stuck in your own head all of the time, but he’s content now. He smiles. A lot. And he laughs. A lot. He didn’t do that much before.”

Another pause. I started to curl into myself.

“He loves them, Alexis.”

There it was.

The arrow through the Achilles’ heel, a wooden stake piercing my stone heart. Sunlight burned through my flesh until nothing was left but a pile of unlovable ash, blown away in the winter wind.

I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping my coat until my fingers stabbed through the fabric.

I looked up at Vincent. “Say that again, and your tongue will be shoved so far down your throat you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”

I didn’t wait for his reaction. I turned on my heel and swept through the meeting room’s double doors, ignoring his angry shouts. They were static now.

I made my way around the building, hoping to find my car before I shattered my keys when I saw the two of them in the parking lot.

The mutt had a bundle of flowers in their arms, the bouquet tied together neatly with a red ribbon. They held a card decorated with hearts in their left hand.

Valentine’s Day. How could I forget?

They gazed with awe at the card and flowers, and the brightest smile lit their adoring features.

I could almost see the stupid fucking halo.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, a gesture he always did when he was bashful.

It was sickening.

I stared at the bouquet.

There were roses in it.

I looked back up at Sam.

I wondered what I could do with those thorns.

My imagination began to run wild. I imagined snatching the roses from their bouquet and sinking the sharp thorns into Sam’s throat, dragging them through his skin while they tore him open. He’d fall to the ground, his hands around his neck, and his wide, too human-like eyes would beg for help. The dog would scream and scream and scream and I’d scream too, relishing in the noise, and my vision would bleed red just like it did fifteen years ago.

They’d call for help, but no one would come. The hours would tick by and the sun would soon rise. I’d watch from the shadows as Sam’s corpse burned to ash instead. He was the forgotten one now.

The asphalt would bleed red too.

Happy Valentine’s Day.