#when he cups her face and sees the darkened veins on his wrists and all he can think of is how they can't have this for much longer

[pinkfey]

wip wednesday :D

tagged by @mrs-theirin; tysm quill!! tagging @arklay @steelport @aartyom @malefiicarum @rosebarsoap @kirnet @shadowglens @narshadda @lavinet @druidgroves @swordcoasts @calenhads @brujah @nuclearstorms @florbelles @shepardgf @devilbrakers @jillvalcntines @morvaris @kymal @risingsh0t @solasan @lvllns @rosykims @aelyosos and you!!!!

have a depressing oddly interpreted take on the taint affecting alistair and rowena 😘

The taint came for his hands first.

A side effect of days spent clutching a sword and shield no doubt. His veins went fast, running black and blue overnight. He didn't like looking at them, but Rowena traced them over every night. Hardened bones were next. Protruding metacarpals and thinned knuckles and a noticeable creak in the mornings. Then the pain began. The ache. Days where his joints stiffened to stone, where a grasp clenched too tight refused to come undone, where splaying fingers to their fullest extent proved too much.

Rowena often caught him staring at his hands in the corner of her eye. Busy hands, curious hands, hands made to fidget and gesture and move above all else, now immobile. His worry token went untouched for months, as did many of the things he loved to hold. Flowers in the garden. The mabari's paws. Rowena.

There was a time when Alistair couldn't keep his hands off of her. Affection of the physical kind was a bright and shiny concept and it took time for him to adjust. Rowena could touch him anywhere, after all. It came easy to her, the affection, the initiation. His cheek, his chin, his collarbone--anywhere would do. Eventually, he came to reciprocate. Tentatively at first, as if asking for permission, but confidence came with the security of her affection. Touch became a comfort. A hand around her waist, on her jaw, in her hair. Anywhere would do.

It couldn't have been more different now. He shied away when she reached for his arm to hold, twitched when she kissed his neck in the mornings. Evening baths became sparser until they no longer existed at all, and this Rowena could hardly bear--facing this truth that the old rituals had died, so she clung to the last of them.

No amount of massage relieved the pain, but Rowena would be damned if she didn't try. Nightly, he let her take his hands in her own.

It was a relief each time to see that despite the Taint, Alistair's hands were still his own, broad and square-fingered and devastatingly gentle. Calloused on the underside and scarred by his earliest days with a blade, too young and eager to know any better. And those nights by the firelight, nights where she took his palm in her hands and massaged the ache away, she could see that Alistair's hands were still freckled, just barely. The sun could still shine on him and leave honeyed kisses against his skin and this was one thing the taint could never take. No darkspawn could take the sun.

The night she realized this, she wept silently. She'd stopped him before he could speak, pressed his freckled hand to her cheek before he could pull away, and whispered, "Bathe with me."

Months later, the taint came for her.

For Rowena, it was her vision and it was swift. [reduntant fix this queen lol]

[milliedazzledust]

In Loving Memory (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request: @missroro the reader is steve twin and she married to bucky after the blip, she had enough of the 'new captain america' thing shes really mad, so when walker and his friend start talking about joining forces she snap like she pull out a gun and pointing right at them, also sam ofc dont forget about sam. Sam trying to stop her while bucky "nah let her do her fun"

Words: 2021

Warning: !!TFATWS SPOILER!! without context - violence

A/N: wrote this today, it basically follows the events of ep3 of fatws but without context. I have a couple of exams this week so I won't be able to post until next saturday. Until then, enjoy

"You shouldn’t have gave him the shield"

Sam frowned, turning back to look at Bucky.

"I didn’t gave him the shield" He defended himself, making a point.

"Well, Steve definitely didn’t" Y/N ironically answered back.

He gave her a pointed stare. They had had this conversation countless times and Y/N never missed a chance to remind him of what she thought was a huge mistake.

"You are the reason this is happening, Sam. You chose to take on my brother’s legacy and threw it out the window"

The man didn’t reply and pursed his lips. He knew she didn’t mean any of her harsh words, she was angry and still mourning. If taking it out on him could make her feel better, he would let her.

"Y/N, stop" Bucky took a step toward his wife, clasping her hand in his metal one. He had hoped the physical contact would be enough to calm her down.

"He abandoned me, Sam" She continued, her voice filled with emotions. "He was gone and all I had left was memories. I chose this life for him, I fought with him, I believed in everything he represented. I looked up to him, to Captain America. And today, even those memories are gone, taken by the same government you and I were up against, mocked by clowns pretending to be heroes, all because you gave up"

The Falcon closed his eyes and dropped his head. She couldn’t see his point of view, or share his opinions when her judgment was clouded by so much pain. He wished she could understand the dilemma, the duality that represented the shield for him.

"Y/N, please, that’s enough" Bucky whispered next to her ear.

She turned her head toward him and as usual, his heart broke when he saw the torment in her eyes. She didn’t need to speak, she was an open book to him. They both had lost so much and yet were all each other had left. They were collateral damage, their own team against a world that wasn’t theirs anymore. She silently nodded, assuring him she was fine. Sam watched Bucky kissing her forehead and he furrowed his brow. He would never admit it but he was glad they had each other, because no one could carry that much pain alone without crumbling apart.

Before any of them could add anything, soldiers in blue and red erupted in the room, bursting through the door of the apartment where they were hiding in Latvia. Bucky instinctively grabbed Y/N and forced her body to move behind his. The two man stood in front of them, tall and proud, a smug smile on their lips.

"Alright, that’s it, your time is up" The man calling himself Captain America announced, the shield in one hand, the other pointing at the three avengers. "Tell me where Zemo is"

"We know you’re hiding him" His sidekick added.

"I’m ordering you to turn him over"

Sam eyed them up and down.

"Let’s be clear, the only thing you’re running here is your mouth" The Falcon firmly replied, crossing his arms.

"I gave you a chance to work with us" He mentioned.

" ‘For us’ is the correct way to put it, tough guy. And we said no." Y/N reminded him, her face showing how much she was annoyed.

"You’re obviously in over your head so I suggest you turn back and go" Sam argued.

"You really want this conversation to go there ?" The hero threatened.

Bucky straightened up when he felt Y/N tensing. He knew she was already on the verge of snapping. One wrong word from the man she hated and this could go down to hell.

"Should I put down the shield ?" He continued to challenge Sam. "Make it fair?"

The woman groaned and when John Walker dropped his weapon, without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest knife and threw it right at his face. The man had barely enough time to move back and his eyes rose in surprise when the blade stuck itself into the wall with force.

"Sorry, it slipped" She ironically explained, shrugging.

"You don’t want to play this game with me" He tried to intimidate her, tilting his head to the side.

She smiled, pleased he was giving her the opportunity to smack his face. Bucky clenched his fists when he saw her walking in front of Walker. Without tearing her eyes away from his, she seized her knife and pulled it out of the wall with a sharp movement.

"I think someone should teach you a lesson, Walker" She told him in a low tone.

"Are you offering ?" He challenged her.

"Don’t tempt me"

"You’re lucky you’re his sister" He grinned. "But don’t push it. This Captain America is not as lenient as the previous was"

Bucky swore under his breath. It was too late now. And just as Sam looked at him with concern, Y/N threw her fist in a curved punch at the soldier. He used his forearm to counter the blow, but she was faster and had far more experience. Using the momentum, her foot rose up and kicked him in the face. The man was thrown back, shaking his head in confusion.

"We should do something" Sam advised the former assassin.

"No. Let her have her fun" He crossed his arms, harboring a small smirk.

The soldier tried to hit her back, but even when he took the shield she blocked his attack. His sidekick soon joined the fight and distracted her for a second, just enough time for Walker to punch her. Immediately, she felt the taste of blood in her mouth, but no pain. She was passed that, far too pissed to feel anything.

Another blow on her chest send her to the ground and Hoskins hold her down while his friend was about to hit her with her brother’s shield. He raised it in the air, with every intention of beating her, but a strong metal hand stopped him in his movement. A very infuriated Bucky stood before him, his blue eyes darkening with anger. He firmly took the weapon, knocked Hoskins out with it and threw it across the room.

"If you wanted to make it fair, you shouldn’t have chosen to hit my wife" His tone was terrifying.

Walker didn’t seem as confident anymore. Bucky looked imposing, brute force ready to strike. His metal arm clenched in a fist and, without warning, it collided with the soldier’s jaw, sending him a few feet away. He strode to the man on the ground and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform

"This is all easy for you, isn’t it ?" Walker spoke with venom, staring at Bucky. "All that serum running through your veins"

With a swift movement, Y/N took the shield and launched it with power right on the soldier’s chest. The blow was so violent his body crashed into a door before landing on the floor. She was furious by his statement and he could see it with every step she made toward him. She grabbed the gun attached to her thigh and pointed it at his face.

"Lesson number one: learn when to shut up. Especially when you don't know what you're talking about" She was fuming but had not intention on killing the man, despite the sheer desire to do so.

She didn’t realize Sam was next to her until she saw his hand lowering her gun.

"This isn’t what Steve would want." He calmly expressed. "Remember, there’s always another way"

Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, remembering how many times her brother had told her that. She let him take the weapon and looked up at him. The conviction and kindness in his stare were enough. He didn’t have to say anything. Every words she needed to hear, he spoke them in silence.

She turned back to Bucky and he cupped her face, inspecting the bruise on her skin. He seemed ready to go back and beat the man down. Y/N softly smiled and clasped her hands around his wrists. He stroke her cheek and pulled her toward him before carefully kissing her lips.

"Good ?" He asked in a soft voice he only used with her.

"Good"

It was something between them, a single word they spoke every time they fought. Wherever they were, whomever they were up against, if one of them asked, the other had to answer. It was their intimate way to always know they were alright.

Later that day, Sam and Bucky had decided to go talk to the leader of the Flag Smasher, Karli Morgenthau, while Y/N had been charged to follow Walker and Hoskins. As soon as she had seen they were going after the young super soldier, she had warned her friends about the danger. She knew enough about the new Captain to guess he had no intention on arresting Karli. He wanted to make justice himself. She pitied his sidekick. He seemed like a decent man with good ideas struggling to find virtue on the wrong side of the battle. He was Walker’s collateral damage.

She wondered what Steve would think of all that if he could see them fighting both super soldiers and Captain America. He never cared for the star and stripes, never used his shield to harm. His heart was with the people he defended. Even when it had been against Tony, he pursued what he believed was best. Was that what Walker was trying to do ? She couldn’t know. But she was sure of one thing, the man had nothing in common with Steve. Pride, ego and selfishness were never traits anyone would have used to describe her brother. She couldn’t bear for him to be replaced, especially to a man that didn’t share his morals or any of his opinions. The shield he was carrying wasn’t just a weapon, it was her brother’s symbol of hope, a symbol he had fought so hard to forge. The man made the uniform, not the other way around. That’s what Walker didn’t get. Up until that point, people had not been following Captain America, they had been following Steve Rogers.

Standing in that public square, she didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Bucky entwined his fingers with hers. She couldn’t avert her eyes from the horrific scenery. Powerlessly, she watched a man she didn’t know being executed. His opponent was merciless, striking with determination and rage, using the only piece of memory she had left of her brother to bring terror and death. Frozen on the spot in the middle of the crowd, she could see the fear in all those strangers eyes and it felt like grief coming in waves, a shard in her guts that would never leave. It felt like this particular moment was choking the breath out of her body, short circuiting her mind. What was whole once completely shattered and she couldn’t find the strength to be angry anymore. All her brother had built had fallen apart in the split of a second and all the world had left was a bloodied image of his symbol of hope. A symbol that was no more.

“Sam...” She called him, almost like a scared child.

“I know...”

Both men looked worried. Y/N felt Bucky’s hand trembling and she squeezed him harder. She could easily guess how he felt. Steve had saved both of them, he had gave them a purpose, had allowed the former assassin to be more than the weapon Hydra had made of him. Pieces by pieces, he had brought their family back together. And as they both stood there, witnessing the horrifying end of his legacy, Bucky realized everything his bestfriend had fought for was turning into dust.

"I’m sorry" Y/N whispered to Sam. "But there’s no other way now"

Her husband dropped his head, trying to regain a sense of control over his emotions. Wordlessly agreeing with her, he turned to their friend.

“He has to be stopped”

Tags: @taina-eny

[l-r-christian]

Title: Fake it till you love me part

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x F!Human!Reader

Warnings: Angst, terrible older sister, smut, Soft!Dom!Elijah

Summary: Y/N is returning home for her little sister's wedding and asked Elijah to pretend to be her fake boyfriend. Y/N began to avoid Elijah making him wonder why as Amelia seemed a little too proud of her self.

Part three -- Epilogue

A/N: If want to be tagged for future fics please let me know ☺

Tag list: @wanniiieeee

Y/N had returned to the party but was avoiding Elijah which made the Original worry that he may have pushed her too much. Elijah thought Y/N liked him back as over the last few days they were getting closer. The vampire looked seeing Amelia smirking making her way to Elijah as he realized Y/N saw them together and misunderstood.

"Can we talk?" Elijah asked placing a hand on Y/N's back after avoiding Amelia in the crowd as Y/N bit the inside of her cheek nodding. Y/N took Elijah out to a quiet patio where no one could see them or hear them unless someone was looking for them.

"It's okay Elijah....you don't have to explain yourself." Y/N said looking at the man she loved while it hurt to let Elijah go, she was used to Amelia taking her boyfriends. Elijah frowned stepping forward reaching cupping her cheek his heart hurting when she pulled away from him.

"I think I do, darling."

"No....no you don't. I get it, Amelia is gorgeous and it was only a matter of time for you to run to my sister." Y/N tells Elijah tears filling her eyes as old wound from her past open as rain began to fall.

"But I want you."

"Elijah....you don't have to do this. I really do get it Amelia is everything I'm not she is more your sp...." Elijah cut Y/N off with a kiss as rain fell harder soaking then both.

"You are gorgeous, I much rather have you than Amelia." Elijah tells Y/N as tears fell from her eyes while Elijah took a deep breath and pushed his self to confess to Y/N.

"Because I love you...I've loved you since the first day I saw you, I knew when I first saw you that you were the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life." Elijah tells Y/N as she stared seeing no lies and Elijah caught her when she threw herself into his arms kissing him.

"I love you too, Elijah." Y/N said softly cupping Elijah's face as he smiled at her kissing her again as they were getting soaked by the rain not caring. Y/N pulled away wanting more as Elijah picked her up whisking her away up to the bedroom.

"Help me unzip this?" Y/N asked Elijah after he sat her down and closed the door. Elijah was already held undressed having removed his suit jacket, tie and shoes. Y/N shivered feeling Elijah's fingers brushing along her back as he unzipped her dress and pressed kisses on the side of her neck while pushing her dress down.

"White lace baby? Cute." Elijah whispered as she trembled feeling his hot breath on her skin while his fingers trailed along the lace of her strapless bra listening to Y/N's breathing hitch. Y/N let her dress fall at her feet pooling there as she kicked off her heels the turned to face Elijah reaching up cupping his face as Elijah's fingers trailed down her back. The room felt humid as Elijah leaned in closer kissing her while Y/N blushed as she unbuttoned his shirt and he cupped her breast making her moan against his mouth as his thumb brushed against her nipple though the lace.

"Elijah." Y/N breathed as Elijah hovered over her after moving them to the bed. A soft whimper slipped from her lips as Elijah placed gentl kisses on her neck as his hands moved up her smooth legs. Y/N mewled as Elijah kissed along her breast and arch a bit so Elijah could unclip her bra and threw it somewhere in the bedroom. As Elijah place kisses between her breast as she shy away getting Elijah's attention and he gently grabbed her hands pulling them away from her face.

"Don't hide away pretty girl." Elijah said softly peppering her neck and face with kisses as she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her deeply. Elijah pulled away getting undressed and Y/N flushed feeling Elijah's heated skin against hers with only a thin barrier between them.

"Just so you know I'm new to this." Y/N tells Elijah making him pause and down at her on his forearms she blushed hard noticing the predatory glit in his eyes.

"Virgin?"

"No....not really. I mean James and I done things..... I just never really felt this." Y/N said as Elijah smirked leaning down to her ear while his hand moved along her breast making her gasp.

"Then allow me to give you pleasure the right way then." Elijah said lowly his tone husky as Y/N shivered moving to touch him but Elijah gently took her wrist away. He moved them above her head as he kissed her deeply grinding against her pulling a moan from her.

"Leave your arms above your head, baby." Elijah tells her seeing her cheeks flush with blush while his tone was soft there was a commanding under tone making a heat of arousal flood Y/N's veins. Elijah kissed along her neck as his hands moved along her body while his mouth followed pulling soft whimpers from Y/N. She squeaked almost moving her arms when Elijah nipped at her hip and moved his mouth to her thigh leaving marks on them.

"Elijah!" Y/N squealed when without warning Elijah tore off her panties and buried his face between her thighs as he placed her legs over his shoulders. Y/N bit her bottom lip from moaning too loud as Elijah held her thighs open not giving her any chance to squirm free. Y/N choked out a low moan gripping the sheets as Elijah worshipped her with his tongue.

"F....f...fuck!" Y/N choked out arching as Elijah worked her with his mouth alone until she came with a moan. Elijah hummed against her slipping two fingers into her soaked core getting her to pull at the sheets groaning. Elijah moved his mouth to her thigh biting it as he curled his fingers in her pulling a raspy moan from her lips.

"Can you take another finger?" Elijah asked against her skin as she rolled her hips against his fingers nodding. Y/N sucked in breath as Elijah slipped a third finger in her core encouraging her to ride his fingers as his thumb came on to her clit.

"You are doing so well baby." Elijah muttered softly kissing her abdomen feeling her walls flutter around his fingers. Y/N gasped as Elijah moved his mouth back on her clit as he moved his fingers deeper enjoying the sounds he was pulling from Y/N. She was shaking as she felt Elijah's fingers curled in her as it seemed to her Elijah clearly knew how to please a woman.

"Elijah." Y/N moaned cumming and panted as Elijah pulled away. She watched the vampire lick his fingers clean making her blush hard as Elijah moved caging her under him.

"Such a good girl." Elijah praise when she spead her legs more so he'll fit better making her body sing in delight. Elijah undressed all the way and hiked her legs around his waist as Y/N trembled feeling his cock brush against her wet center.

"We can stop at anytime, baby. Now do you want this?" Elijah asked kissing her neck as Y/N's heart fluttered as James never took the time to ask as all the man wanted was to fuck her. And as Y/N thought about it she didn't think not once did James make her cum. Elijah allowed her to move her arms over his shoulders as she was ready and wanted to feel Elijah in her.

"Yes....please Elijah.....I need you." Y/N said softly kissing Elijah as he eased into her slowly. Y/N let out a breathy moan as Elijah groaned burying his face in her hair neck pausing letting her adjust to him before continuing to enter her. Y/N couldn't help but notice that how much bigger Elijah was than James as the Original had filled her deliciously. Elijah bottomed out and paused groaning against her skin at out tight she felt.

"So prefect baby. May I move?"

"Yes, move Elijah." Y/N whined rolling her hips making him growl gripping her hips setting a slow, deep pace making Y/N moan. Normally Elijah would have fucked her into the bed as her held her down but Elijah didn't want to overwhelm her. Y/N gasp rolling her hips to meet his thrusts as she laced her fingers with Elijah's feeling his lips brush against her skin.

".....Elijah..." the vampire pulled his face away her neck having heard Y/N's voice crack. Y/N was suddenly overwhelmed with feels for Elijah.

"Baby?"

"I.....really....do love you, Elijah." Y/N tells him cupping his face pulling down kissing him softly pulling a soft moan from Elijah kissing back moving a bit faster.

"And I love you more, my love." Elijah whispered against her skin as he placed kisses on whatever he could as soft moan and whimpers slipped from her lips. Y/N suddenly squealed pulling Elijah's hair when he gave an sharp thrust as he nipped at her thoat growling feeling her walls squeezed him.

"Pl....pl....please....do that again." Y/N whimpered as Elijah's eyes darken doing as she asked pulling cries of his name from her lips. Elijah moved her leg higher allowing him to go deeper and reach between them rubbing her clit as she buried her face in his neck. Y/N bit Elijah's neck to muffle her screams when he moved harder as she unable to hold on any longer she cummed hard taking Elijah with her over the edge.

"Baby, you alright?" Elijah asked softly as Y/N fell back against the bed panting nodding as her limbs felt like jelly. Elijah smiled gently pulling out slowly getting her to whimper.

"Eli..." Y/N panting as Elijah leaned down kissing her as he gently helped her put her arms around his neck carrying her to the bathroom to clean them both up. Y/N stole Elijah's pajama shirt while he wore the pants and smiled as Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. Elijah sighed happily placing his forehead on hers smiling as she pecked his lips with kisses squeaking when Elijah picked her up suddenly to take her to bed.

"Hmm, Eli....I'm too tired to return to the party." Y/N muttered sleepily burying her face in his neck as Elijah placed he phone down then kissed her head.

"Don't worry baby, I took care of it."

"Hmmm....this...is.....why....I...love ya...." Y/N muttering falling asleep as Elijah chuckled running his fingers though her hair. Y/N couldn't help but fall asleep against Elijah while the Original was happy to finally have the woman in his arms as he relaxed knowing this was the first night in forever.

[zinzinina]

Strokes

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x GN!Reader Length: 1k words Rating: Teen Warnings: Non-explicit sexual inferences

Happy Birthday, my beautiful @clanoffetts! Thank you for being you. Your friendship and talent are incredible gifts, so I hope this little drabble offers something in the way of reciprocation. I hope your day is filled with all the things that bring you joy! x

You run the tips of your fingers lightly over the edge of the painting. “This isn’t your usual style, Grand Admiral.”

And it isn’t. Shades of rose bruising into plum, darkening to grey at the edges. The vaguest outline of a woman’s nude figure, leaning against a balcony as she gazes outward into dawn, or dusk. It’s stormy, dreamlike and… entirely too romantic for his collection.

“No. But I would like to hear your impression all the same.” He stands beside you, one graceful hand resting lightly on your waist as you examine the piece.

You shiver at the closeness of his smooth voice and try to gather your thoughts. “Alright. My best guess is… Behpour, or nearby. Naboo maybe. Definitely the Chommell sector.” You glance sideways and his slight nod encourages you to continue. “It’s relatively modern. I’ll say… five hundred years? Or even less. The artist had some technical skill but the brushstrokes make me think they weren’t exactly a master. Classically-taught, probably, but out of practise.”

His lips are curving gently upward, deep crimson appraising your face with something like affection. “As usual, ch’eo visahot, you are correct. This piece is of some significance to the people of Naboo. It was created during the reign of Queen Immilla, shortly before the Great Time of Peace. Are you familiar with her story?”

You frown, shaking your head. You don’t like not knowing an answer to one of his questions. You want him to keep praising you; for him to recognise the thoroughness of your studies. As though he can sense your disappointment, his tone softens. “I would not expect you to know this. It is not common knowledge, even for those as studious as yourself.” His eyes glint warmly at you as he continues. “But I believe the story is one that will interest you.”

He gently lowers his fingers along the length of your arm until he cups your hand in his own, turning you to face the painting once more.

“Immilla was adored by her subjects, to which the songs and stories can attest. However, there was a scandal shortly into her second year of service and she simply… disappeared. Some accounts say she was assassinated by a political rival, others that she fell ill with a mysterious virus and the palace attempted to conceal the truth lest panic erupt among the general populace.” He sounds calm, as always, but for reasons you don’t understand, your heart has begun to race.

“What really happened?” you ask. His fingers are wrapped lightly around your wrist. He doesn’t need to feel the thrum of your pulse to know how his closeness affects you; you’re sure the heat radiating from your skin is visible even to human eyes.

“The truth is not known. Most of the accepted explanations are no more than mere speculation. But there is a crucial detail commonly omitted from record: one of the Queen’s handmaidens also disappeared.”

Your gaze returns to the curves in the painting, the outline of a rounded thigh, up to the gentle bunching of soft skin at the waist. You only know a little about the traditions and protocols of the royal house of Naboo. You’ve heard of the Royal Academy of Theed, where young people from respected houses are educated in everything from galactic legislation to traditional music in the hope they may earn a coveted position at the palace. 

He continues. “The handmaiden did not leave much behind. Some personal effects; a comb, a sleeping robe. Several pots of sketching pigments, brushes… and, it was rumoured, a painting; long thought to have been lost.”

You notice for the first time how elaborate the detail on the balcony’s railing is. It is not the focus of the painting; the eye is naturally drawn to the woman’s figure. But there is enough in the surroundings to suggest opulence. Tiny starflowers climbing one of the columns supporting the edges of the balcony. Polished, veined stones underfoot.

“They ran away together,” you murmur to yourself.

His hand leaves your own to carefully press a strand of hair from beside your face, arranging it behind your ear. His fingers linger on the edge of your jaw, and you shiver again.

“How did you get this? What are you going to do with it?” They’re stupid questions, and you don’t really expect him to answer. He has his own ways of producing the impossible, and most of the time his complex plans are invisible to you. But he answers anyway.

“It is a gift. It would have been the anniversary of your birth, if we were to account for equivalent planetary time. Or so I understand.” You blink. Of course he’d know this. It’s easily available in your enlistment file; the information isn’t even classified. You’re just surprised that he cared enough to check.

It’s extravagant, and impractical, and at first you think it’s a joke. “Thra- uh, sir. It’s… incredibly generous, but I don’t exactly have the space for art in my cabin. And I don’t know how I would explain its appearance to anybody who might ask.” And something this rare and precious would be wasted, probably damaged, shoved in the back of my storage locker, you silently add.

He nods once, his response coming as easily as though he hadn’t even needed to think about it. “Which is why I have already made the necessary arrangements to have the piece installed here, where it will be adequately preserved. You may visit whenever you wish, with or without me present.”

You look up sharply. He means you can visit to see the painting, whenever you want. But it sounds like the invitation is a little more open-ended than that. He’s giving you free access to his private stateroom… at any time. You no longer need to await his summons to see him, unsure anew every time he’d sent you a request whether it had been because he wanted your company or simply your body.

Unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you fight to keep your voice even. “Why did you choose this for me?”

He tilts his head curiously, red eyes on yours. When he speaks, his mild tone sounds as though he expected that you already knew this answer. “Because, vutucni. It is...” he pauses, searching for the correct words. “A love story.”

[edie-baby]

Baby Boy Chapter 7 | Lando Norris

Summary: Milana Navratilova is the best friend of Victoria Verstappen, and is for lack of a better word, a minx. She can pull anyone into bed with her at any time. So when she attends the Austrian Grand Prix with Victoria, the drivers make for good bedfellows. Until she finds a man who makes her finally feel like herself. Her baby boy.

Warnings: smut, swearing, non-con kiss (will be a chapter warning for that one), OC is a w h o r e and i love her.

It was becoming almost ritual for Milana and Victoria to run into the Twitch Quartet at brunch, the two groups combining yet again. This time however, Milana was across from Lando, and sandwiched in between Charles and Alex.

The Ferrari driver sent her a few side looks, his eyes trailing her legs as she walked in with her friend. The memories of the night they shared were merely a few hours old, and yet Milana walked as though he hadn’t done a good enough job.

Lando had noticed the intense looks Charles was sending to Milana, and he had also noticed how low on the woman’s back his hand was when they greeted each other. Lando stayed in his seat, offering a knowing look to Milana after she had sat down. Milana smirked, a cocky look on her face. The others at the table watched their interaction, knowing the pair were a ticking bomb of sexual tension.

“So, what are you girls up to today?” Alex began, as he could see Milana and Lando were still too caught up in their silent conversation to contribute anything. Victoria giggled a little, the Dutch’s surefire way to let the entire group know that she knew something.

“Well, Victoria wants to go shopping, apparently there’s a designer mall not too far from here. And I need to hunt for some silk rope since apparently, belts aren’t made as strong as they used to be.” Milana explained, staring at the side of Charles’ head as he began blushing and his body seemed to shrink in size.

“Charles, did you break your belt?” George was flabbergasted, never could he have imagined that Charles was one to be dominated as well. Charles only buried his head in his arms which were resting on the table. The other five could see the red of his ears, and it was almost the same colour as his car, something Alex was quick to tell him.

“Wouldn’t a belt be harder to break than silk rope?” Alex brought up later on. The six friends were enjoying their food, Lando briefly coughing when his food caught in his throat in surprise at Alex’s irrelevant question.

“Silk rope can be doubled up and looped around a lot more than a belt can. There’s this gorgeous thing called Shibari, you might have seen it. It’s a balance between decorative and practical restraint using silk rope. It’s literally an art form in Japan. And baby boy, you would look so good all tied up in rope on my bed.” Milana explained, seeing Alex nod his head from the corner of her eye. She directed her last statement to Lando, her dark eyes had captured his light ones in a trance. He couldn’t look away, even though he felt like his face was going to melt off. The boys around him caused a ruckus, pushing Lando’s shoulders and yelling while he was still solely focused on the darkening eyes of the woman barely a metre away.

Milana’s hand reached for Lando’s, her acrylic nails brushing against his skin. Her fingers enclosed around his wrist, gripping his warm skin with her cool hands.

“Some pristine white rope, all tangled up around your tanned skin. Have you all laid out ready for me on the bed.” Milana mumbled. Alex and Lando were the only ones who heard her, the Thai’s eyes widened and he covered his ears with both hands. Milana was too distracted to notice, one hand holding Lando’s wrist while her other hand traced the veins in his forearm. Her teeth held her bottom lip tightly, mind adrift with the images of Lando naked on her bed and covered in perfectly tied white silk. His thoughts were a stark contrast, focusing on the tender touch of a gorgeous woman, he couldn’t help but imagine the two of them curled up on his couch back home in his flat, covered in blankets with a hot cup of tea as they talked for hours upon hours, about everything and nothing at all.

[hangovercurse]

Why Are You Here?

What happens when Y/N and Colson catch each other in a lie? And what could possibly happen on the bathroom counter at 12:05 am?

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected sex, cursing, probably some more idek.

A/N: I know people have done this before, but I fuckin love this song and this plotline

Word Count:  3444

The harsh light coming through the blinds woke you up, your eyes instinctively closing. You groaned as you came to realize where you were, the arm laying on your hips your first clue. You threw the tattooed arm off of you, sitting up and dangling your feet over the edge of the bed.

The man in your bed groaned, reaching out for you. You chuckled, finding the shirt you wore last night on the floor and throwing it on, pulling your panties up your legs. “C’mon Colson, it’s 10:45, you know the rule.”

He grumbled again, rolling onto his back. “The rule says I still have 15 minutes.” His arm reached up to cover his eyes from the light as you chucked his shirt at him.

“If you want to walk out of my house naked, be my guest. But if you’re still in here after 11 the deal’s off.” You walk into the bathroom, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. You hear the blond man follow behind you, seeing him in the reflection. He had his boxers on, which was a start at least.

He came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping his head to connect his lips to your neck. “So,” he started, pressing a kiss to the skin, “I’m not gonna-“ another kiss, your eyes closed, “be in town-“ you let a small moan fall from your lips, “tonight.” His lips paused at your ear, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin. “So, I guess you’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself.” He smirked, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

You smiled, your eyes darting to the watch on his wrist. “7 minutes.” You whispered, walking out of his arms and back towards your bedroom. “I’ll probably just stay in again tonight, without you this time.”

You sat on your bed, watching him struggle to pull his jeans up. You giggled as he searched for the shirt he wore the night before, finding it hanging from your lamp. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then?” He asked, walking over to you.

“If you’re lucky.” You grinned. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, and letting you go with a smirk. “2 minutes.” You whispered. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing up.

He let go, biting his lip and walking backwards towards your door. “Tomorrow night. My place.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as he turned, his shirt still in his hand. You watched the way his back moved as he strutted out of your room, the toned muscles accentuated at every step.

 Hours later, you got a text from Matt, better known as blackbear.

Friend of mine is throwing a party tonight. Come with?

You and bear had been friends for a couple months now, meeting, surprisingly, through Colson. You were just friends, but you loved partying with him. He was fun. And if Colson couldn’t be with you tonight, maybe he could be.

Yeah! When and where?

He answered quickly.

Pick you up at 10

It was 8:30, so you decided you could start getting ready. You went to your closet, looking at the pieces in there. The first thing your eyes landed on was an elegant white 3-piece lingerie set. It had lace designs all over it and straps for days. It was your favorite piece of lingerie you owned, and Colson’s favorite too.

Your finger ran along it, your head tilting. What would be the harm in wearing it? You’d feel sexy as hell.

So, you did. You hid it underneath an oversized T-shirt and baggy jeans, high heeled combat boots and a chain belt to match.  You knew bear’s friends weren’t the fancy party types.

 You walked into the house, the smell of weed and alcohol hitting you immediately. You intertwined your fingers with bear’s, his eyes glancing up at you, questioning you. You ignored it, dragging him through the crowd to the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen.

You downed two shots before grabbing a vodka sprite cocktail. Bear followed suit, dragging you to the middle of the crowd to dance. His hands grabbed your waist, you both swaying to the music and laughing at nothing.

 Unbeknownst to you, Colson had walked in a few minutes later, hand in hand with a girl who looked a lot like you. He spotted you almost immediately, and then he saw the hands around your waist and the drunken smile on your face. He was so busted if you saw him.

“Want a drink?” He half-yelled over the music to the girl next to him.

She shrugged, “I don’t really drink.” Colson tried to keep his shoulders from visibly slumping. He nodded, grabbing the girl’s hand, and leading her to the opposite side of the dance floor as you.

He was hoping that going out with someone that wasn’t you would help him let go of you, but this girl was not gonna be the one to do that. Luckily, he ran into Rook and Dub, both raising their eyebrows at the girl on his side.

Rook and Dub introduced themselves to the girl, who looked like she would rather be anywhere but here.

 You and bear decided to take a break from dancing and headed to the wall, wanting to just talk. As you leaned against the concrete, your eyes caught a familiar face. You tilted your head, taking in the blond man that had woken up in your bed this morning. You chuckled, shaking your head before you saw the girl on his arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“What’s up?” bear asked, leaning over you with his hand supporting his weight.

“Nothing, just saw someone I wasn’t expecting.”

Bear nodded, turning his head to follow your gaze, still stuck on Colson. “You and Colson?”

You laughed, trying to hide the jealousy running through your veins. “Hell no.” You stood up straight, your faces very close to each other. “I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

Your noses were almost touching, which seemed to stun bear, as he was holding his breath. You stepped back, waiting for his answer. “Uh- no. I’m good.”

You bit your lip, heading towards the bar and closer to Colson and his arm candy. If he wants to bring other people around, then why not have a little fun.

 Colson watched your interaction with bear, saw how close you got to him, how the man instinctively leaned in closer to you. His jaw clenched at the sight, eyes darkening.

“Dude, you good?” Dub asked, bringing his attention back to the conversation in front of him.

Colson nodded, trying to get the picture of you and bear out of his head. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The girl on his arm rolled her eyes and sighed. “This party is fucking stupid, let’s leave and go do something fun.” She whispered the last part in his ear, trying to turn him on. Colson was too distracted by you at the bar, chatting up the bartender, knowing he was watching.

“You can leave.” He mumbled to the girl; his gaze held on you. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, walking away from him. As she left, you turned to catch his eye, a smirk on your face. You were definitely doing this on purpose, the way you placed your tits to lay on top of the bar, a smirk on your face as you spoke to the bartender.

Rook laughed as the girl left, “Colson, are you sure you’re good, man.”

Colson brushed his concern off, “Yeah, I’m gonna go take a smoke.” He headed off towards the back door, pulling a joint and lighter from his pocket.

 You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see Colson still staring at you, only to find him and his girl gone. You sighed, picking up your drink and heading back over to bear, who was waiting on the wall for you.

“Sorry, the bartender’s an idiot. He screwed up my drink twice.” You lied through your teeth, your free hand reaching up and resting lazily on bear’s neck. You were definitely a little drunk, but only enough to make everything around you a little euphoric.

“It’s all good.” The man leaned down, face very close to yours. He was definitely trying to kiss you. And honestly if Colson hadn’t been there you would’ve let him. But you had another target for the night.

You smirked, “let’s dance.” You grabbed his arm, pulling away from him and leading to the dance floor. You glanced at the clock, reading the numbers 11:35.

 Colson came back 20 minutes later in a much better state of mind. If you were trying to make him jealous, it meant you wanted him to take you home, not the other guys you were with. But boy oh boy was it working.

He leaned against the counter, getting a cup of straight rum. You had strategically placed yourself on the outer edge of the crowd closest to the bar. He could see you swaying your hips to the music, bear’s hands dangerously close to your ass.

You looked up, catching his eye and smirking. You glanced up at the clock on the wall. 12 am. Midnight.

Finding his eyes again, you mouthed “Five minutes. Bathroom.”

Colson smirked, knowing he was right.

 A few minutes later you told bear, “I gotta pee, be right back,” before heading towards the hallway, passing Colson. His eyes watched you, feeling like he was watching you in slow motion. He stood up straight and followed you to the hallway.

You had disappeared into the bathroom by the time he rounded the corner, so he had to try every door to find the bathroom.

When he found you, your clothes were off, leaving you in just your white lingerie. He bit his lip, eyes raking your body up and down. You were leaning against the wall opposite of the door, watching him through your eyelashes.

Colson locked the door, taking slow, calculated steps towards you. His left arm landed on the wall above you, his face leaning into yours. The pointer finger on his right hand traced the lace that covered your upper body, landing on the garter that wrapped around your thigh. He smirked, pulling the fabric away from your body and releasing it, the material meeting your skin with a pop.

“You didn’t know I was coming tonight.” His voice was low, his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel his breath hitting your lips and you wanted to swallow his words.

You shook your head as the hand near your thigh moved up to your hip, gripping the skin tightly and pulling your body into his. “Then why,” he breathed, his head dipping down to run his nose up and down your neck, stopping at your ear, “are you wearing that?”

You breathed in through your nose as you felt his dick through his tight pants, spreading a warmth through your body. You could already tell you were soaking. “Maybe I was hoping to find someone who could fuck me as good as you do.” You whispered into his ear as his lips made contact with your neck, biting the supple skin.

He pushed his hips up into you, his hard on pressing even harder against you. “You know you won’t ever find anyone else as good as me.” He growled, pushing away from you, and throwing his shirt off, his jeans coming off shortly after.

His hand came back to your skin, this time grabbing your breasts and massaging through the thin material. His other hand dragged its way down to your clothed pussy, massaging circles against your clit. You bucked your hips into his hand, moaning a quiet “I know.”

He chuckled, his face moving in front of yours as you bit your lips, trying to keep your moans of pleasure quiet. “Don’t be quiet baby, I want everyone to know how good you feel.” His lips met yours in a rough kiss. You brought your arms around his waist, nails dragging lightly across the skin. He smirked into the kiss as his hands moved to unclasp the top two pieces of your lingerie.

Your breasts fell out, and Colson wasted no time in grabbing them in his hands, taking the small buds in between his fingers and squeezing. His lips left yours and attached to your nipples, biting and sucking, leaving an array of hickeys across the skin. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue circling your nipple. “Always love sucking your tits.” He moaned, sending vibrations through your body.

He moved further down, reaching the top of your white panties. He bit his lip as he unclasped the material separating the panties from the garter. He pulled the former down, leaving your pussy exposed. His face was inches from your heat, and you fought the temptation to buck your hips into him. Colson’s eyes were trained on yours as he blew a stream of cold air at your clit. You rolled your head back, resting against the wall as you sighed in pleasure.

His lips connected to your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, sending flashes of pleasure through your body. Your hands tangled in his hair, pushing him further into you. You could feel him smile against your cunt, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders one at a time.

With the easier access to your heat, Colson licked up your slit with a moan. “Fuck you taste so good.” He muttered, before darting his tongue into your pussy. He curled his tongue inside you, your body reacting to the feeling.

His hands moved up to your ass, squeezing and massaging your cheeks as he continued his attack on your cunt. You moaned, you hips rocking against his face as he ate you out. Your hands tightened in his hair, “Colson, I’m so fucking close.”

The man smirked against you, his tongue in your hole and his nose pressing against your clit. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, your hips bucking into his face as his pace sped up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You were so close.

“Want you to come on my face baby.” His voice sent you over the edge and you obeyed, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Your juices ran down Colson’s chin as he licked you up, a smirk playing on his lips. You moved your thighs off his shoulders, letting him stand up. Your hand reached up, wiping the cum off his chin with your thumb and then sucking it off, staring straight into his eyes as you did.

“Think you can take another one, angel?” His voice was soft but you could see the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. You nodded, biting your lip cheekily. Colson lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter then pulled the last bit of clothing off himself.

You took his length in your hands, pumping a few times. His head rolled back in pleasure at your movements as you relished the feeling of having him in the palm of your hand, figuratively and literally. His head came back up, connecting your lips as you continued to pump him.

He brought your lip in between his teeth as you lined his cock up to your entrance, teasing him with your slit. He smirked, knowing you thought you were in control, a thought that disappeared when he thrust into you, his length filling you up.

You both let out a string of moans, your legs wrapping around his waist. He pulled out of you almost completely before slamming back into you, causing another moan to fall from your mouth. Colson continued to slowly thrust into you, until you muttered, “Just fuck me already, Colson.”

His lips were at your neck again, leaving marks anywhere he could find room. He obeyed your command, picking up his pace but still slamming into you forcefully. His hand reached to your tit, grabbing the skin, and massaging it.

“Harder.” You whined and he smirked.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, baby.” He growled against your skin. “You know how to beg.”

“Oh fuck, Colson, please. Fuck me harder.” You whined, his pace not changing.

“Even better.” He was gonna make you work for this.

“Please, sir, fuck me hard like the slut I am.” You begged, your eyes closing in pleasure as his pace sped up, his cock hitting the spot that had your toes curling.

He could feel you clench around him, “You like that, you fucking whore?” He kept thrusting into you, hitting that same spot. “You like it when I fill you up with my fat cock”

His hand came up to wrap around your throat, pressing just lightly enough to stimulate you further. You nodded, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you felt yourself getting closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“I can feel you getting closer, you want to cum around my cock?” You hummed out, nodding your head. He removed his hand from your neck. “Use your words.”

His thrusts were getting faster and sloppier, and you knew he was close. “Yes sir, wanna come around your big, fat cock.” You whined as his dick twitched inside you. His hand moved to massage circles into your clit, driving you right to the edge.

“Then cum, slut.” His thrusts sent you into bliss, warmth spreading through your entire body as your pussy clenched around him, his hot seed spilling into you. He dragged your orgasms out as long as he could, thrusting sloppily into you.

When he stopped, you were both breathing heavily, your head resting against the mirror behind you and his on your bare chest. When he finally got his bearings, he reached for the box of tissues on the counter, cleaning up himself and then you.

As you hopped off the counter, pulling your top back on, you looked at him, head tilted. “So, what happened to your plans out of town?”

The man in front of you paused as he pulled his pants up. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was going on a date.” He answered truthfully.

You looked down, his answer disappointing you. “Oh. How did it go?”

He chuckled, giving you an “are you serious?” look. “She left and I ended up fucking you in the bathroom of some dude’s house.”

You nodded your head. “I thought you were gonna stay home tonight?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“I was.” You paused, pulling your shirt over you. “bear invited me out after you left so, here I am.” You shrugged.

He struggled with his pants, “Was it a date?”

You shook your head, pulling your own jeans up your legs. “Maybe he thought it was, I dunno. Just wanted to have some fun.”

“And you wore that because…” Colson trailed off, expecting an answer.

“In case I had fun.” You bit you lip, a smug look on your face. “You’re not mad that I went out tonight, are you?” You secretly hoped he would say yes.

“No, you can do whatever you want. You don’t need my permission to fuck other people.” Colson’s shirt covered his tattoos as he shrugged it on. “You don’t care that I went on a date tonight, do you?”

Yeah, I really do. “No, I don’t care.” You shrugged, moving to the mirror to fix your hair and makeup. “Just tell me when it gets serious so I can find someone else…” You trailed off, knowing that sentence wouldn’t end the way you wanted to say it.

Colson nodded, making eye contact with you in the mirror. You giggled, grabbing a tissue, and facing him. “You have lipstick on your nose.” You wiped it off as well as the smudges near his lips. Your hand stayed close to his lips, holding his face. Every bone in your body told you to kiss him for real, but you knew he wouldn’t kiss you back.

But he was thinking the same thing. He tried to laugh it off before he actually did kiss you and mess up what you had going on.

“So, we’re all good then, still just friends with benefits?” He asked as he turned back towards the mirror, fixing his hair.

You smirked at him, “Oh, Colson, we’ll never be friends.” You grinned as you walked out of the room, leaving the door to close behind you.

[bipercabeth]

I CANT DECIDE BETWEEN "I didn’t mean to get blood on your shirt." OR "Please, just let me carry you." FOR THE PROMPTS YOU PICK :D

(tw injury, blood, and near-death)

One of the first things Camp Half-Blood tried and failed to teach Percy was how to stay calm in a crisis. You are worth nothing to the people you love if you lose your mind trying to save them. 

On one hand, he does succeed. More people will die if Percy leaves the manticore unchallenged at the base of Half-Blood Hill, so he stays. For the kids racing to Thalia’s pine. Nothing else. His heart sits in the grass where Annabeth crumpled after the manticore’s spikes drove up her flesh in a line. Percy is just a body—a machine on autopilot. His humanity has fallen.

Killing the monster is easy after that. Percy thinks of the last time a manticore took Annabeth away, and the anger starts a forest fire inside him, one that could level the Long Island forest. Riptide slices through the manticore’s chest like he’s nothing, which is what he becomes. Dust. Ash. Utterly insignificant. 

The sword falls as Percy rushes to Annabeth’s side. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the soft earth, just a thump in the grass. It should be ugly, loud, cacophonous. It should echo up the hillside in a metallic cry for help. 

Instead it’s quiet. 

Annabeth’s breathing is low, laborious. The manticore’s poison shouldn’t be enough to kill, but she took multiple hits. Spikes peek out of her left side, poison seeping into her shoulder, side, hip, and calf. It darkens her veins in an eerie spiderweb pattern she would hate. 

All at once, Percy is back on the Williamsburg bridge. There she is at his feet, looking up at him through cloudy eyes and dying. Percy made a promise then: no one touches her. Another bullet point on the long list of promises he couldn’t keep. 

Annabeth’s chest shudders with a raggedy gasp. “Perce?” She asks it like she isn’t sure it’s him. Percy wonders how much pain it takes to plant the seed of doubt that he would be anywhere but at her side right now.

Smoke billows from his lungs instead of a response, thick and choking in the wake of extinguished anger. There is only fear now, and after fear, there is nothing. 

This is the bit Percy can never stomach or sit through no matter how many times Chiron tries to drill it into his head. He sees Annabeth struggling for breath and wonders each time if this is the cruel trick the Fates planned for him all along. Percy never expected to live long, but he always expected Annabeth to live longer. From the moment he learned of the Prophecy, not having to live without her was the one certainty he held close to his chest. 

He fumbles for the emergency ambrosia in his pocket and cups Annabeth’s face, telling her he’s here. They don’t need words for this. She turns into the soft embrace of his palm and sighs, her lungs steady for that single exhale. He slips the ambrosia into her mouth and watches her chew carefully. 

“Tastes like you,” she croaks, gripping his wrist. “Your smile at Montauk.” 

That rallies Percy. Annabeth has kissed enough of his sea-born smiles to recognize the taste. He owes her a lifetime of them. 

“Annabeth. Baby, I’m here. I’m gonna get you safe, alright?” 

Her grip tightens on his wrist. “I love you.” 

Percy has to look away from her then. He can’t watch her say those words like they’re going to be her last. Like she wants them to be her last. 

“I love you too. But tell me that later, yeah? When you’re patched up. Please just let me carry you.” 

One of the newer campers runs over the hill, a son of Apollo who stays year-round. His eyes widen at the scene before him, and Percy wonders if this is going to be his first taste of real grief. 

“Will isn’t here,” the kid squeaks. “He’s gone for the weekend. Our next best healer is...” 

Percy is tired, but not unkind. “Spit it out, kid.” 

“Me.” 

A bit of Percy withers, both for Annabeth and the child shouldering an impossible burden. Percy has no choice but to carry them both. 

Determination solidifies in his bones, fortifying him in the wake of an unbearable weight. He gathers Annabeth in his arms and stands, feeling the burn of loss in his muscles. He is weak in the wake of a life without her. 

His feet carry him, perhaps on autopilot, to the creek running through camp. The son of Apollo senses his urgency and runs to iris message a more capable healer they don’t have time to reach. Annabeth is dying, and the poison waits for no one. Percy can feel her life force drifting away like a tug at the base of his spine. If he loses her, he will spend the rest of his life adrift. 

The cool creek water soaks Percy’s shoes, and he folds. By some miracle, he is steady as he lowers their bodies into the stream, thankful to the shallowness for not allowing him to sink. He holds Annabeth in his lap, lets her head tip back just enough for the stream to color her hair darker. It tugs at her curls like a loving hand. 

This is all Percy has left: a prayer that the water will recognize Annabeth as part of him. She is his life. If the water wants to save him, it will start with her. 

He makes the tough choice and pulls the spikes from her body. She is already dying from the poison. The risk of bleeding out is outweighed by the hope that the water will leech the death from her blood. Hope is all Percy has left. No smoke, no ash. The fire is gone. He is nothing but a body holding his bleeding heart in his hands. 

“I love you,” he chokes out, holding her limp neck in his palm. “I’m here. I’m right here. Stay with me.” 

Percy thinks of his dad watching from above, doomed to outlive everyone he has ever loved. The point of refusing immortality was a life full of love at the cost of length. He thinks of every Montauk kiss, how healing has always tasted like home, and how that somehow because synonymous with Annabeth. If she dies here, healing will taste bitter. He will never be able to eat ambrosia again. He will never want to. 

“You promised.” The current of the creek quickens, painting their clothes a darker color. Annabeth’s blood swirls in the water before disappearing downstream. The ground beneath them begins to shake. “I fought, I burned, and I yielded. For this. For her. Heal her.” 

Poseidon answers. The current reverses, washing over their bodies like a baptism, a rebirth. Annabeth’s veins fade back into her skin and the wounds knit shut. With each passing second, a bit of Percy’s heart returns to his chest. He can feel his fingers again. He can feel. Love and light have not died. 

Annabeth’s chest steadies and she gasps, the life returning to her in one fell swoop. She gasps I love you into Percy’s chest like those are the only words she knows, the only ones she’ll have him hear. He crushes her to him, their shirts sticking from the water, and whispers the same into her shoulder. I love you I love you I love you. 

Their grips don’t loosen. They don’t relax. They just cling to each other, fearful of letting go in the face of another brush with death. This is their life; this is why they hold each other so tightly, even in times of peace. 

“I’m sorry.” Annabeth’s voice is too small, detached. Percy pulls back to look at her and finds her staring at his chest. 

“I didn’t mean to get blood on your shirt.” She frowns. “This is one of my favorite shirts.” 

Percy sees the faraway look in her eyes and puts a finger under her chin, ducking until she locks on him. “Hey, easy. It’ll wash out.” He swallows thickly. “I love you.” It sounds like it’s okay. I love you, and you are still here, so it’s okay. 

Annabeth kisses him, ambrosia still on her lips, and it just tastes like her. 

[fndmxreader]

fandom: harry potter. pairing:  remus lupin x reader | the reader simps for lupin because isn’t that all what we do daily ?  summary:   connected to the self indulgent series where the reader is a slytherin muggle born witch working alongside the teachers at hogwarts.   note: this series will bounce around a lot involving timelines, but a lot of them don’t really have a coherent story line anyway.  movie setting:  prisoner of askaban.  pov:   she/her pronouns.

you were looking off into the distance in a daze, end of pen in mouth as your writings came to a halt and instead getting caught up in thoughts.  your summer hadn’t been great,  if you were being completely honest :  your muggle friends were getting on your case regarding being missing for a year,  you knew at some point you had to pick : the wizarding world or the muggle one,   living two lives was absolutely exhausting,  living them meant being two types of people - like one example,  you had accidentally used a levitating spell to put a cup back and last minute your friend walked in, smashing on the floor as your hand flinched down to your side.

“ what was that crash ? “  “ i put the mug too close to the counter, “ you had laughed nervously, quickly walking towards the glass to pick it up “ it fell off as a result ”  “you’re clumsiness is going to be the death of you “    

that was only one of the close calls,  there were far too many to keep track of,  including dropping hints to the wizarding world in conversation, only to stutter and try and say you were referencing a bizarre indie movie from overseas. at this point you were trying to pick would it be even possible to choose a side ?  it seemed impossible just to pick one over the other,  especially knowing that no matter what route you take it would result in an empty, hollow feeling left inside of chest.    you’re not sure who you could go to for guidance,  you weren’t familiar with any muggle borns your own age,  and talking to a pureblood or half blood would go in vein,  the latter would understand to some degree,  but ultimately it’s not the same and with it being so complicated,  listening to people who barely got it would be a waste of time and only twist the knife in gut. 

 “ everyone,  i would like to introduce you to remus jo - “     that was all you really heard dumbledore say before ears blocked out the world like static,  everything beyond the screaming in your head made everything else seem like a distant hum with no tune,  a crackle of a tv that can’t quite catch signal.  your pen tapped against your bottom lip,  perching against it as you eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.   

maybe professor dumbledore could help,  he wouldn’t get it but maybe he could shred some light on the situation ? he was always good at that. 

“ miss l/n - “

perhaps it’s all just being blown out of proportion,  work leave would surely be something the muggles would understand that.  even if they are after photos, work gossip and other details - 

“ y/n “  between the firmness and the sudden block of your view as the men stepped into eyesight causes you to flinch,  reeling away from nothing in panic as you try and grasped your surroundings once more,   blinking up in a rapid succession that causes concern to flash on the two men’s faces.  it takes a moment to register where you were,  the surroundings,  what the hell was going on in general... 

“ huh ? “  your tongue pokes out to roll against your bottom lip,  eyes wide as you stared up at dumbledore,  only for sight to break away from the one your most familiar with to the new guy...    you won’t lie to yourself,  you weren’t ready for seeing someone like him,  especially in your state.  his eyes were beaming with life,  amusement dancing behind dark hues as a faint smile tugged at lips,  hands pushed far into pockets as eye contact seemed to lock,  your lips part to say something,  anything but much like before your brain seemed to short circuit,  this time for an entirely and much more embarrassing reason,  “ huh ? “ you repeated again,  cheeks coming to life with colour as you kept looking at the new guy.

“ this is professor lupin, y/n.   the new defence against the dark arts teacher - “  speaking slower now,  and you’re rather grateful for the approach because you really needed things to stop going by so quickly,  the whole world seemed to flash in front of you at lightening speed.

“ oh “ a pause,  then it really began to register “ OH ! “  it was the most beautiful example of a pin drop ever to grace hogwarts’ walls  (  yes,  dumbledore will be thinking about it years to come  )   -  you jump up rather clumsily and hold your hand out to the man  “ hi,  sorry  -  i was just ... never mind,  hi  ! “ you repeated again,  the embarrassment settling deep within bones,  making itself at home in the creases of mind that would take weeks to weave out.  but regardless of the mocking in head, you do your best to not feed it and give it anymore attention... at least for the time being.   lupins much bigger hand wraps around yours,  a firm but gentle grasp as he finally takes the moment to speak himself. 

“ that’s quite alright,  i can tell that we disturbed you.  in fact i believe we should be the ones apologising, however professor dumbledore here insisted on the introduction - “ it came easily,  between tone of his voice and the warmth of his hand, you’ve never felt safer, it was like being in a warm hug beside the fire on the night of winter;   you mentally slap yourself for acting like a teenager towards a complete stranger.   your eyes however, narrow towards dumbledore,  in a way blaming you own pathetic display on him.  a faint smile on his lips as he made up some excuse to leave the pair of you alone,  not at all hiding the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at the scene that played out. 

your hand flexed around remus’,  far too busy sending daggers at dumbledore walking away than the fact you were still holding the older man hostage,  not helping the murmured   “ ugh,  he can be such an arse sometimes - “ 

“ i believe that’s apart of the charm “ remus chimed,  your eyes moving back to his as you smiled up at him once more,  less tense than what your face was previously  “ um,   miss l/n ?  your hand - “ 

“ oh, fuck, sorry - “   instantly your arms folded across your chest,  the blush only darkening your cheeks “ i promise i’m not this socially inept,  well,  at least to this extent - “ 

“ oh,  don’t fret.  i’ve met much worse people,  i myself tend to panic in social situations.  they’re not my forte “   you shoulders relax,  though you can’t help but note that he seemed surprisingly at ease even with the confession. your eyes dance around the staff room,  much to your own relief they seemed to be back to focusing on their own work. 

“ well,  you’re doing much better than me if that’s any help.  so,  you’re teaching dark arts -  ? “ then the conversation seemed to spark to life without much spluttering after that,  eventually both sitting on the couch and bonding over lessons;  including how you got your position in the first place,   your arm rested on the back of the furniture as your body turned fully to him,  the longer the pair of you were sat there,  the more they progressed beyond work and more into personal ones, about experiences outside of hogwarts and within the walls, not helping the fits of giggles that bubbled in your chest. 

“ being a slytherin comes with the natural title of ‘dark pranks,’  most of us tend to live up to the name.  people demonise us,  so we give them a reason to continue it.  that certainly doesn’t end at our humour, i think it shows more than ever in that aspect - “ you giggled again, head shaking  “ i remember my friends putting a real snake in one of the gryffindors bed covered in animals blood, the girl panicked for weeks  -  but they started it  ! “   

“ i must say being a gryffindor myself,  i feel like i should be offended on behalf of them.  then again,  my friends here were trouble makers as well.  their pranks could... “  wrist rolled in the air,  and while there’s a hint of pain twisting in features and a haunted look that seemed to cover bright eyes,  there was still a fondness in how he spoke  “ extremely, well and truly out of hand ? “

“ ahah  ! “  it’s like a triumph,  finger pointing at the others face   “ you can hide behind the fancy wording all you want, professor.  but you gryffindors can be just as over the top as the rest of us,  if not more so ! “  he knocks your hand away from his face playfully,  grin widening as mock offence does its best to take over features.

“ firstly,  you may call me remus,  second of all,  i will agree with nothing you say,  i would never stoop so low. “ 

your heart skipped a beat at the notion. 

“ you may call me y/n, only when you admit i’m right - “ 

a nice joke to push down the giddiness of calling him by his first name the short hours of knowing him. 

“ how very slytherin of you - “ 

“ how very gryffindor of you to point that out, remus “ 

the back and forth banter eventually came to a halt, as minutes ticked by it was time to go to the great hall for food and to sort out the new years. you and remus walked in a comfortable silence,  a lightness surrounding you both as it showed in your steps, and showed in the way his lips remained locked in a subtle smile.  you were left with one feeling...  finally, dumbledore hired someone worthwhile. you would also give him a hard time for that awkward bow that he did at dinner. 

[thrillridesz]

i don’t belong in this club ▫ sunwoo

➳ pairing: best friend!sunwoo x fem reader ➳ genre: angst, fluff (?) ➳ word count: 1.5k ➳ warnings: mentions of alcohol, language ( PG 15 ) ➳ requested? : yes

a/n: unedited!

“Don’t drive if you don’t know how to!”

The driver in the opposite lane screamed, his face almost purple with rage as Sunwoo sped past steadily.

The slew of vulgarities was difficult and nauseating to hear but even if he did find them so, he didn’t show it. His eyes were trained on the road ahead of him, his fingers gripping tightly on the leather steering wheel as he stepped on the pedal. The needle on the speed indicator at the dashboard of the car was increasing tilting towards maximum speed and although Sunwoo knew the consequences of going past the speed limit, he couldn’t care less.

The phone chimed merrily next to him and without wasting a single second, Sunwoo answered the call.

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

“Suuuun... Woo! *hic* You called?”

The last word came out as a slur and anyone from a mile away could have heard how drunk you were even with the bass pounding in the background.

“You said you were at the Reveal club right?” He asked, the worry etched on his face as he failed to hide the anxiety in his voice.

“Deeed I?” You asked, sounding like you were barely even conscious.

“Hey, beautiful! Let’s take another shot!”

Sunwoo’s face darkened significantly as his grip tightened on the steering wheel, his heart pounding heavily. His fingernails were starting to make indentation on the leather sleeve of the wheel and he could feel himself start to shake as he said in a steady voice, “Stay there. I’ll be there soon.”

As he drove along the highway, the only thing that was on his mind was you. The mere thought of you getting dead drunk and vulnerable was enough to make him go crazy with worry and even the idea of you potentially running into trouble drained the blood from his face. It felt like forever before Sunwoo finally managed to pull up hastily at the road outside the club, albeit carelessly. Ignoring the dirty look cast in his directions at his absurd parking, he made a beeline for the entrance of the club.

Before he could even rest his foot on the first step, a burly bouncer stepped in front of him, his muscular frame almost enveloping the boy.

“Hey, kid. Queue up.” The bouncer quirked an eyebrow, gesturing towards the snaking line of eager club patrons. The group of teenagers at the front of the line were giving him annoyed looks and were beginning to whisper among themselves as the patrons at the back leaned to the side to catch what was happening.

“Queue up! Don’t be a dick!” A man at the back hollered and the others murmured their agreement while some laughed out loud at the snide remark. Sunwoo regarded them quietly and without missing a beat, he turned back to the bouncer.

“I just need to get in there to get my friend. She’s stupid drunk and I’m afraid something might happen to her.”

The bouncer scoffed, folding his massive arms across his chest.

“That is not my problem or anyone else’s problem.” Cocking his head, the look in his eyes hardened as he replied, “Queue up to get in or don't get in at all.”

Sunwoo could feel his heart sinking as he surveyed the line and turned back to look at the towering bouncer who glowered down at him. Remembering the intermingle of voices in the background when you had called him earlier, he felt an inherent fear seep in, a fear greater than that of the one he now had for the bouncer who looked just about three times his size. Before he could hold himself back, Sunwoo made a mad dash past the bouncer, much to the latter’s surprise and subsequent anger.

“Stop that punk!”

As he stepped into the club, the dim purple light and flashing beams of multicoloured lights assaulted his sights as he tried to navigate through gyrating to a pop tune blasting from gigantic speakers that were situated on either sides of the DJ’s booth. The smell of alcohol and perfume threatened to gag him as Sunwoo searched frantically around the club, turning behind him to look out for bouncers. His blood ran cold with fright but he forced himself to push through. Your safety was more important and he would try anything to get you out of here.

It was almost as if the heavens had heard his silent prayers when he spotted you lounging around the drink bar but his face quickly darkened when he noticed the two other guys hanging by your side who seemed to be providing you with more shots.

“Why don't you come back to my apartment? We can take care of you.” One of them quipped, exchanging a leery, knowing look with his friend.

“Yeah, here. Have another shot, they serve really good drinks here.” The other added, placing a hand on your shoulder, a greasy smile on his face.

“Ouh... Kay~” You slurred, a silly grin tugging on your lips, reaching out to grab the drink from his hands. Before you could bring it to your lips, a hand reached out and slammed the glass onto the table.

“Hey!”

In your drunken daze, you could barely walk on your own two feet without swaying back and forth. Tottering recklessly and tripping over your feet, you felt a hand wrap tightly around your wrist, pulling you away from the chair as the two friendly strangers you were hanging with cried out in protest. The music was pounding in your ear and the blur of lights and moving figures were proving a little too much and you fell on the floor, causing the figure to pause. A split second later, a familiar face hovered into sight.

Whoever this was, he looked really... Handsome. Attractive. The shadow on his face highlighted the sharpness of his features and his plump lips looked absolutely luscious. The neon lights fell against his face, bringing out the darkness and deepness of those dark brown orbs. Was that worry you detected in those eyes?

Concerned, you reached out to cup his face.

“Whai are ooh worried...?” You said drunkenly, pouting.

“We have to go, y/n!”

“Hmmm I don’t wanna...” Lying on the ground, you could faintly hear a desperate grunt and before you knew it, you were lifted off the ground and tucked comfortably in somebody’s arms. The feeling was exhilarating, the wind blowing against your face as he pushed past dancing club patrons and out of the club and into the chilly night.

“Weeeeee!” You cried out joyously, throwing your hands up in the air.

Thank god the two of you managed to leave before the bouncers caught up.

Looking behind his shoulder, Sunwoo felt cold sweat run down his back and a zing of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he watched the bouncers burst out of the entrance, looking around for him.

Quickly dodging into an alleyway, he spun so fast that you screamed out.

“Roller.... coastar!”

Eyes widening, he sat you down and clamped his palm over your mouth. Sunwoo held his breath as he braced himself for the worst. You stared up at him blearily through half lidded eyes.

Giggling behind his hand, Sunwoo felt a jolt of electricity run when your lips brushed lightly again the palm of his hand. Despite his nerves, he could feel the heat rush up to his cheeks and if he had a mirror with him, he was sure that he’d be as red as a tomato by now.

“Are you... kidnapping me?” You chuckled softly and he felt his heart clench.

“Just how did you manage to get this drunk?”

You didn’t answer as you leaned your head against the brick wall behind you, your hair falling away from your face and under the moonlight, you looked more pretty than he had thought you were with your rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. Your eyes were closed as you whisper innocently.

“I don’t know.”

He watched as you tilted your head cutely to the side, already starting to drift off to sleep.

“Wait, here?!” Before he could even stop you, you were sleeping like a log.

“Aish! This girl,” Sunwoo exclaimed out loud with a sigh. Sometimes he wondered why he ever bothered about you but at the same time, he knew that he would never have allowed himself to leave you alone as well. The two of you had been friends since middle school and who would he be to leave a friend alone when she was in need? Except...

Sunwoo shook his head to clear his thoughts.

No. No, he couldn’t. He can’t think of you that way. Not when you already had a... a boyfriend.

He closed his eyes and tried to push the agonising memories of you and your boyfriend, Juyeon to the back of his mind. You would never have known just how painful it was for him to see you acting all chummy with someone else. All those moments were torturous for him to watch but all he could do was smile and pretend he was happy for you.

He looked at your sleeping form and an inexplicable sadness overwhelmed him. He lifted his hand to brush your hair out of your way, his worries about the bouncer far from his mind by now. You looked so beautiful, he could’ve sworn you were an angel. Perhaps even better.

“When?” He whispered.

“When will you realise how stupidly in love I am with you?”

[melancholia-cressa]

Unwanted

This is the sequel to Weakness, the first Dio oneshot I posted here. Lord knows how long I had this thing in my files. I think it was 9 or 10 days? I had writer’s block and college had me in a chokehold, so I lost track of time. I was actually thinking about how I should end this for days now, and here we are. I rushed the ending, to be honest, so I still hope you guys enjoy it somehow.

warning: mentions of blood, minor swearing, huge spoilers for Part 3, another very long oneshot, and a lot of references to the oneshot preceding this

Note: I deliberately used Dio as his human side and DIO as the current one with the insane god complex.

                                            ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Dio Brando—no, DIO stood at the peak of humanity; transcending its mortal existence entirely. The moment he received his Stand from an old crone, the idea of anyone opposing the charismatic and powerful vampire was inconceivable. Foolish, even, in the eyes of his most loyal followers. The man couldn't care less for the corpses and blood that trailed after his every step nor for those who swore undying fealty with lips pressed to his shoes in a kiss of fear and reverence. Every word that rolled off his tongue is law and grace combined, akin to religious faith with its own avid believers and devotees. A mere touch is denied and unattainable, something that no one could even work hard for, unless it was to satiate his more carnal desires. If anything, men and women either feared or admired him. On more than one occasion, it was both. A god among men, they say.

So, why is one measly photograph enough to chill the blood in his veins and falter the confidence in his stride?

Enya watched her master with obvious curiosity. Her fingers gripped her cane tighter the longer DIO stared at the developed image. The old woman assumed that her lord, almighty and fearsome, stewed in cold rage. Never had she seen him cower from terror nor lose his composure. It was unimaginable. Enya discarded the notion and did not bother to ask questions. No one dares question him, after all.

His fingers curled, knuckles discreetly trembling from the force, and nearly crumpled the poor thing in his hand. To the untrained eye, his focus remained on the two prominent figures of Jotaro Kujo, a teenager donning a high school uniform with the addition of his unusual cap and a large chain hanging on the collar, and the latter's grandfather Joseph Joestar whose clothes resembled that of some human adventurer—Indiana Jones, was it? DIO didn't care to know and never will. He gave little thought to those men. Not even the two Stand users that left his ranks and became traitors once the Joestars took the implanted fleshbuds off their foreheads.

What caught his attention was the face of a woman who seemed to be in her early twenties. She stood next to Jotaro with her arms crossed and her gaze focused on the horizon. The grim smile and the hardened resolve in her eyes made her look more alive in the photo than what DIO wanted. The tension in her expression contradicted the ease in her posture, marked by her lax shoulders and dainty fingers paused midway from drumming against her arm. She brought unwanted memories of blood and weakness, ones he thought he buried long ago after a century of isolation.

It was you. The same eyes, nose, lips, skin, hair—even the damn way you held yourself. The glaring similarities between the woman in his memories and the woman engraved in the film rattled him to the core. DIO never believed in the supernatural before he became one himself. Although, he thought that reincarnation was an idiotic concept born from those who cannot accept that death and the afterlife were the end of all things. Yet, there you are; a painful reminder of his former humanity. The turmoil that wrapped itself around his mind added to the phantom throb of his heart from when he was still human.

His glare intensified, easing his grip on the spirit photograph. DIO doesn't want to alarm Enya nor any of his underlings. He loathed appearing weak and undignified; giving them an opportunity to ambush him should he let his guard down.

The photo fluttered next to a broken camera, smashed to pieces with a chop of his hand, on the table with a huff from the imposing man. Moonlight spilled through the windows and bathed him in its luminescence; his shadow swallowed by the darkened areas of the room where the light would never reach. The fury burned bright in his eyes, yet Enya noticed something else—an emotion indecipherable and foreign. She never had the chance to mull about it, because DIO turned on his heel and walked towards the stairs with an unnatural grace and elegance in his gait.

“It seems that fate is upon us,” he told no one in particular; his smooth, honeyed voice carried across the expanse of the lobby. "I shall retire to my room for the night. Do not disturb me."

DIO didn't need to say any more. The underlying threat in his words told Enya everything. If anything, this decision served to confuse the witch doctor more. Her master always ridiculed the Joestars, either with a scoff or a mocking laugh, in their quest every time he checked their progress to send in the next Stand user. Tonight, he barely uttered an insult nor a snide comment. She wordlessly watched him disappear around the bend, then sighed.

"Oh, Lord Dio… What troubles you so?"

The heavy thud of a closed door echoed in DIO's ears; magnified by the lifeless expanse of his room. His feet absent-mindedly led himself to sit on one of the armchairs across a small table where a golden goblet accompanied a bottle of wine. With a practiced motion, his fingers curled around the stem of the goblet as he poured himself a drink with his other hand. His vacant gaze remained on the red liquor flowing into his cup; lost in memories and possibilities that tortured him for a century.

DIO never did forgive himself for allowing you to die.

He had his chance. He could have turned you into a vampire like himself when he held you in that castle. He could have given you an opportunity to live life with him; his abiding presence a gift to compensate for the time he left you after he gained immortality. He could have given you unimaginable freedom—to see civilization evolve and change before your eyes, to live in a time where you two would be the only constants in the world. DIO could have taken you with him during that lonesome century to be beside him when the coffin was opened. He could see the silent admiration in your gaze if you were to travel the world with him as he searched for a way to attain Heaven. Knowing that you had never traveled outside of London, DIO would have gladly taken you to anywhere you wanted and wished. You could have been the one sitting across from him at this very moment. He could imagine a thick tome in your hands and the curious gleam in your eyes as you carefully flipped pages, as if they would break under the slightest pressure of your touch. You had never held a book before since girls were rarely educated then, and DIO was certain you would have loved to read.

If it wasn't for the fact that he respected your dying wish, DIO could have lived the rest of his life with you.

The bottom of the bottle harshly slammed against the wooden surface. Hairline cracks crept across the glass bottle due to his vice grip, knuckles turning pale from the force. His jaw clenched, teeth gnashed and bared, as he brought the rim of the goblet to his lips. Your disappointed frown flashed across his mind; the faint memory of your hands gently taking away the bottle from his grasp consumed his senses. DIO could feel your fingers brush against his wrist as you pulled him to the spare room in your house; the one which once belonged to your parents. The slur in his voice was painfully obvious, yet you never pried for the reasons that caused him to drink so much. That soft smile still graced your features, even when you faced his alcohol-induced outbursts of rage and annoyance. It burned itself into his mind even after all these years. DIO brought the untouched wine back to the table as fingers buried themselves in his hair.

He couldn't even bring himself to drink away his thoughts of you.

"Useless," he muttered, tipping his head back against the cushion. He closed his eyes with a grunt. A thunderous roar shook the floors of the castle as he slaughtered zombies who dared laid their greedy hands on your corpse. Blood—your blood—smeared his skin, stains that still haunted him for eternity, and it was everywhere. His hands desperately reached for you, your dead body clutched by that damnable blond who accompanied Jonathan, as he fell from the balcony—

"I, DIO, being pathetic and weak?" He spat, feeling pinpricks of pain blossoming in his clenched fists. "Forget your humanity. Forget Dio Brando. Forget her."

DIO found himself spending the remnants of the night wallowing in memories of you, until the light of dawn peeked through his curtains.

                                           ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your smile greeted him the following night.

In the solace of his room, DIO traced a sharp nail against the photo that held your beaming expression: eyes alight with laughter and lips pulled into that godforsaken smile. Your fingers brushed your mouth, paused in the middle of hiding the aforementioned smile behind your hand. You shared the same name as her. Two cameras lie broken on the table along with a photo—disregarded and forgotten—of the Joestar group riding camels through the Saudi Arabian desert. He didn’t care for the others laughing beside you.

What mattered was the bitter throb of his heart that shouldn’t even be possible for someone who claimed to have triumphed over his humanity.

"Dio!" He could hear your scandalized gasp ring clear in the country air. A hand covered the smile on your lips as you laughed out loud, brushing off the strands of hair that stuck to your face. Water soaked the cuffs of your sleeves and your collar, but you didn’t mind. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Neither did Dio, but there he was: water from the nearby stream trickling down his fingers and a smug smirk stretching from one ear to another. He huffed, shaking the water off his hands, “You forget that I’m not some stuck-up aristocrat who can’t have fun.”

“True,” you hummed, wiping your hands on your skirt. “Then again, it has been a while since we spent time together like this.”

You lifted your apron to wipe off the water on your face when a handkerchief softly rubbed against your cheek. Dio, who was surprised at his own gentle ministrations, continued to dab the water off as if it was routine; his thumb ghosting your heated skin through the thin cloth. The scarlet flush blooming across your cheeks and tinting your ears made his smirk widen, if that was possible. You sputtered your gratitude, yet adamantly tried to evade the touch of his handkerchief as you held your apron in an iron grip. Dio could only laugh at your expense, his heart thundering and his own cheeks the slightest bit warm.

A resounding crash stole him away from the memory. The bright, blue sky and its cotton-wisp clouds faded from view; the bleak, ornate walls of his room in their place. The light of the sun was replaced with streaks of moonlight slipping through the cracks of his curtains and cascading down the floor. It was only then did DIO realize the crinkled edge of the photograph in his hand, the glittering shards scattered on the ground, and the wine that dripped from the wall to pool around the fragments of what once was a glass bottle. The quiet of the room was broken by three, quick knocks and a voice asking the man of his condition with an unmistakable, underlying tone of concern. DIO recognized the voice to be one of his most loyal subordinates, Vanilla Ice.

“What happened? Is something the matter, Lord Dio?”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. DIO closed his eyes, stopping time and pocketing your photo in one fluid motion. The World picked up one of the broken cameras and threw it out the window while the vampire stood over the Joestar photograph as if nothing happened. Images of you from his memories and your reincarnation occupied his thoughts; your photo burning a hole in his pant pocket. When time resumed, DIO swiped the photo off the table and thrusted the memories of his past to the darkest recesses of his mind.

DIO would leave you be for now if it meant he could take you back by his side in the end.

“Nothing that concerns you, Vanilla Ice. Come in, I have new orders for Enya.”

                                           ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

She’s not you. She will never be you.

But you want her to be, DIO’s traitorous subconscious whispered. This is ridiculous. The man has never even met your reincarnation. He never spent time with you in this life, barely even a ghost of a conversation between you two, yet he longs for your company more than anything. His rational thoughts and sentiments warred against each other, vying for his final decision on what to do with you. The moment DIO saw you, bleeding and bruised on the stairs below, his heart bled and his shoulders nearly hunched from the pain. His rational side of the argument was silenced and shackled by the chains of past memories that bound him to you. He ached to take you into his arms and whisper reassurances in your ears, that he will give you all the comfort and security he could never give you before.

He couldn’t. Not with Polnareff leaning into your touch; his arm slung over your shoulders and head dangerously close to yours. Not with his blood simmering under his skin and his nails piercing through his palm, blood slowly seeping through the fingers of his clenched fist. The fight in your eyes hid the intense worry for your wounded comrade—maybe even lover, DIO bitterly mused—as you pressed your side flush against the silver-haired man’s battered, stumbling body. You looked at DIO as if he was the gum stuck on the sole of your shoe; as if he was the vilest, most putrid thing that ever graced the Earth. The tension and anger twisted your expression into a scowl, brows furrowed and lips dipped into that all-too familiar frown.

DIO had so many questions to ask you; so many memories to share in the vain hope that you would sympathize with him and join him. One look in your eyes, the same indiscernible emotion flickering to life when you tended to his bruises before he was adopted by George Joestar, and DIO knew he would lose this battle with you just like all those years ago. He could feel your fingers wrapped around his arm again; the cold cloth pressed to his bruised cheek; the soft smile he hated and adored at the same time. White hot rage bubbled and coursed through his veins. His jaw clenched and his nails dug deeper into the scarred flesh of his palms, drops of blood dripping towards the floor. His heart pounded against his chest as if desperate to flee into your embrace.

“In your fucking dreams,” you spat, scowl deepening and shifting your hold on Polnareff. “I’d sooner die than join you.”

Phantom daggers planted themselves into DIO’s heart, violently thrashing in its cage, as the image of you in his memories clashed against your battle-worn figure. Remnants of your smile adorned your lips followed by the laughter that echoed in his ears; the teasing lilt reserved solely for Dio. Your eyes glowed with life, brimming with joy and love that he realized too late. Your outstretched hand implored him to take it; to cool the swell of his bruises and wipe the blood off his wounds; to run across the fields once more before he had to return to his studies; to spend another day with you in Victorian London before he found that stone mask. Then there was you of the present, breathing ragged and gaze lit with spite and abhorrence for everything DIO is. You struggled to carry Polnareff’s weight from how much you leaned on him. Blood matted your hair and a long scratch marred your cheek. He noticed your leg wobble, threatening to let you and the other man pathetically fall to the floor. Your hands gripped Polnareff closer to you, whether this was an intended or subconscious action was beyond DIO.

He still yearned for you, despite all of this.

                                           ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

His pained screams disrupted the once peaceful night of Cairo, Egypt.

“What?!” DIO felt the cracks viciously trail from his leg to his head, split in half similar to how Jonathan caught him off-guard on that fateful day. Humiliation, shame, disbelief, and a storm of emotions raged in his heart; eyes wide and lips parted from the turbulence wracking his body. Jotaro watched, heated glare shadowed under the brim of his hat, as DIO’s screams reached the heavens. The stars joined in the spectacle, mockingly bright under the torturous pain and suffering of the once invincible vampire.

“I-Impossible!” DIO warbled, choking and gurgling from the blood pooling in his mouth. “I… am DIO! I… am...”

Something in his gut coiled; whispers of his mind urged him to look in the direction of the harbinger of his demise. His gape drifted from the stars to Jotaro, but his attention was not on the high school delinquent. At least ten feet away from the two, you leaned on the railing of the bridge with trembling legs. One of your hands clutched the wound on your left side; a wound DIO inflicted himself. He clearly remembered the triumph and glee that dulled his senses; the swing of the stop sign that would bring the Joestar bloodline to an end; the surprise shifting into panic when you jumped in front of Jotaro with the intent to protect him. In his haste, DIO flicked his wrist and grazed your side with the edge of the stop sign.

He once thought fate favored him. That the decision to cut off his head and to take Jonathan’s body was fate allowing him to live another century. That your absence was a weakness that fate had nipped in the bud for him; that your reborn soul was another chance fate had given him to atone for his mistakes. So, why? Why would fate pit you against him, to relive that cursed night when Dio had taken your life in front of his very eyes? Were you fated to ally with the Joestars and die for them? Another corpse among the others that followed the wake of the Joestar lineage, all just to defeat him?

DIO couldn’t kill you, as much as he despised the sentiment.

A fool. He is and always will be a fool when it comes to you. Dio will always want you in each lifetime, and it pained DIO to admit it in his final moments. His heart lurched and lodged itself in his throat; the fire in his blood scorching his skin and insides. His hand reached out to you, just like before, but you’re not dying this time. He knew that, if the afterlife actually existed, he will never be able to join you. DIO saw your eyes widen as you took a step back, farther from his grasp. Another bloodcurdling scream rang in the night; dying gurgles heard only by the two people who brought him to his death.

Even in this life, Dio could never have you.

[citrus-himmel]

                Breakfast Endeavors ;;;

Nami finds the perfect opportunity to get Law back for something he'd done in the past and she enjoys every second of it...

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,162

Nami entered into the galley with a yawn, arms stretching high above her head. It was still fairly early, but the entire crew was up by this point, causing their typical ruckus. She normally liked sleeping in, but even with the women's sleeping quarters on the opposite side of the lawn deck, the noise her crew made had woke her up, much to her displeasure.

With a sigh and some strategic manoeuvring so she didn't get hit with food flung around by her Captain, she plopped down into her designated seat. Law was in his usual seat to her right, picking at his plate of breakfast. She gave him a small smile while she reached for the pitcher of orange juice and poured herself a glass. He returned it with a grunt, mouth currently full of food and eyes wandering around to make sure his breakfast was still safe from thieving, rubbery hands.

Chopper, Bepo and Robin were the only three not currently cramped within the galley, Nami noted. She'd seen Bepo on the lawn deck with Robin when she made her way over, enjoying her morning cup of tea. It was a smart place to be, much more peaceful than the chaos unfolding in front of her. Chopper was more than likely in the infirmary, one of the only other spots Sanji would allow him to eat, and he wouldn't let the little reindeer go hungry, no matter what.

Honestly, it was the perfect scenario for the plan she had cooked up while laying in bed the night before. With both residents who had an enhanced sense of smell out of the equation, Nami knew she had a higher chance of succeeding in her little revenge plot. A mischievous smirk unknowingly spread across her lips as she continued to pile her plate with food, excitement sparking at the prospect of what she was about to do.

It had been about a week since the shopping trip Nami had gone on where Law unexpectedly fucked her in the changing room and then left her to carry on like nothing happened. She could vividly remember the strange look she got from the shopkeeper when she emerged from behind the curtain—no doubt looking disheveled and flushed—and that was when she vowed she'd get revenge on the bastard. That revenge was just about to come to fruition, too.

Stabbing her fork into the pile of scrambled eggs on her plate, Nami tilted her head enough to watch Law's face, and when she caught his attention she quickly schooled her features into an expression of utter innocence. It instantly had Law on edge, she could see, golden eyes narrowing a fraction in suspicion.

❝ Yes, Nami-ya? ❞ he tightly asked after swallowing down the mouthful of rice he'd been chewing, one hand reaching forward for his mug of coffee.

Nami hummed at his question, focusing on meticulously chewing her eggs as she twirled her fork around in the air.

❝ Oh, nothing. ❞

Law's brow furrowed, but instead of questioning her further he simply shrugged and went about taking a drink of coffee, completely unaware of Nami's hand that had snuck under the table. He jerked when it landed on his thigh and she gave it a gentle, falsely reassuring squeeze. The gesture almost had him spilling his drink, only just managing to catch himself at the last second before the scalding liquid could slosh over the mug's rim. Wide eyes turned back in her direction, which she simply gave him her best shit eating grin, eyes glittering with mischief.

Serves you right, asshole.

Fingers gently traced along the muscles Nami could feel tensing up under the thick denim of Law's jeans, stopping at his knee before she curled her nails in and dragged. Even from where she was sitting she could hear the hitch in his throat. Good, maybe this was going to be a little easier than she'd first thought. Nami did a quick sweep of the table to make sure no one had caught on to what was going on between them. Of course not, Luffy currently the center of attention and hopefully he would be continue to keep that attention on him until she was done.

Focus back on her meal, Nami made sure to look as nonchalant as possible despite how she was now massaging the inside of Law's thigh, the underside of her wrist brushing up against his crotch every now and then from the angle. Maybe she was being a little meaner than necessary with the way she wrapped her lips around her fork, eyes darting over to watch Law's reactions every once in a while. She could feel how tense he was under her hand. Despite that, he was doing just as good of a job keeping a straight face, even if there was a slight twitch to his eyebrow, jaw a little too tight to be conveyed as a completely neutral expression.

If one looked close enough, or knew Law’s tells as well as she did, you could see the smoldering in those golden irises, promising punishment when this was all over. It had a thrill shooting up Nami's spine. Sure, this was payback for what he'd done to her, but this was their back and forth; always seeking to one-up the other whenever possible. Nami always looked forward to seeing exactly what Law would come up with next, even if at the time she would be annoyed with him, and she was sure he did the same.

Finally, Nami took a little pity on her lover—was it pity, really?—and firmly ground the heel of her palm against his slowly hardening cock, knowing the harsh line of his zipper would probably hurt a little bit, but she also knew that he liked the slight bite of pain. She watched in silence out of the corner of her eye as Law bit into his lip, muffling the barely there groan. His hips lifted from the chair to try and get more friction from her grinding, but she removed her hand quickly, tutting softly under her breath.

On the guise that she was just leaning in to say something to Law over the din of breakfast, Nami allowed her fork to drop to her plate. She pressed a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin just below the lobe of his ear, hair shielding the action from prying eyes. The temptation to take those gleaming gold hoops into her mouth was strong, but she managed to fight it off.

❝ Better be quiet, Torao. Don't want to catch the attention of my Captain, hm? ❞ Nami murmured against his skin, punctuating her statement with a firm squeeze of his cock through his jeans, relishing in the way he bucked forward with a growl.

The strain she was putting on him was clear on his face when she leaned away to sit back in her chair. He was openly glaring at her now, golden hues darkened with lust. Lips were pressed into a firm line and the tendons in his neck were a little more prominent than usual. It had pride swelling in her chest to be able to bring the Surgeon of Death to this state with just a few touches. Hopefully no one else noticed his struggle.

With a soft hum, Nami brought her hand up a little further to give a firm tug on his belt, making quick work of unbuckling and pulling the leather open, which was a feat in and of itself with only using one hand. The other had returned to grabbing her fork and shovelling more food into her mouth to keep their current activity as inconspicuous as possible.

As discreetly as she could manage, she continued undoing his pants, a grin coming to her lips at the sigh of relief that Law let out, his body visibly relaxing for a few seconds. It tensed right back up once she slipped her hand into his briefs and curled delicate fingers around his now fully hard erection, pulling it free from its confines. Lips parted on a wordless retort at being exposed to the cooler air of the galley, and before he could say anything that would reveal what was happening beneath the table, he quickly shoved another mouthful of onigiri in his mouth.

Giving his entire length a few experimental strokes, Nami soon got a decent rhythm going, wrist flicking just right when she got to the head of his cock, thumb swirling in the beads of precum that were already welling up from the slit. He was really enjoying this, wasn't he? Was the thought of being caught turning him on as much as it was her? If his bodily reactions were anything to go by, she could only assume so.

With every upstroke, she could feel his hips lifting from the chair to try and follow her hand, which he would quickly retreat back when she gave a threatening squeeze. She could just barely hear the strained noises emitting from his throat every time she rubbed at a particularly sensitive spot on his cock with her thumb, taking her time with tracing the prominent vein along the underside.

At one point he dropped one of his own hands under the table to encircle her's to try and speed things up, closing her fist more around his length to add more pressure. Nami complied for the most part, increasing her speed, and gripping his cock a little tighter when she passed over the base. She really wished she could use both hands, or her mouth to get him off. It would only add to his torture and that was exactly what she was going for. But if she was missing from the table at breakfast, suspicions would instantly arise. So this was going to have to do.

A rather audible groan had her tilting her head enough to really take Law in. He was clearly struggling with keeping himself under control now. Teeth were sunk deeply into his bottom lip, food completely forgotten on the plate in front of him, and his free hand was balled into a tight fist beside his coffee mug. He even had his eyes closed at this point, head tilted forward just enough to hide the upper portion of his face with his unruly hair. Must be close, then.

Checking to make sure they still hadn't drawn anyone's attention, Nami continued jerking him off, making it a point to squeeze where she knew he liked, and once again leaned forward to whisper in his ear. This time she indulged herself a little bit and nibbled on his earlobe just above where his earrings sat.

❝ Come on, Law. Let go for me, ❞ Nami whispered, following it up with a quiet, breathy groan of her own.

That was all it took. In the next moment Law's thighs tensed up, body visibly shuddering as his hips jerked wildly from his release. Feeling him come undone under her ministrations was exhilarating. His thick cum coating her fingers and dripping down onto his pants almost threw her over the edge as well and Nami hadn't even touched herself through this entire thing beyond clenching her thighs together. That was the type of hold he had on her and her body.

She sighed softly against the side of his neck before she leaned back, eyes fixating on the way his chest was heaving with his labored breaths. If anyone was paying attention now, they would no doubt have an idea of what just happened.

Law's face was flushed, sweat beading up along his forehead and sticking some strands of dark hair to his skin. He honestly looked fucked out, satisfied, and Nami loved it.

When he finally seemed to calm down, he opened his eyes and sent a dirty look in her direction, which she simply stuck her tongue out at him. Releasing his softening cock from her grip, she let him set himself straight as she wiped her hand off along the thigh of his jeans, much to Law's disgust. To really bring it home, Nami made sure to keep eye contact as she brought her hand up to lick off the remnants of his release from her index finger with a hum of approval, delighted to see that despite being spent, his pupils still dilated a fraction. She knew he had quite a bit of stamina, needed to with his Devil Fruit, so she could imagine he was already thinking of ways to get her back for this.

Quite satisfied with herself, Nami deliberately took her time with finishing up her meal. She washed it all down with a few long drinks of her juice before she finally stood up and walked away without another word, a smug expression crossing her features.

Little did they know, someone had caught on to what they'd just done, they just couldn't make an expression to show they had.

[willowbird]

If you're still doing these, could you please do 34 and 22 for pynch? Because you know, hand kink is canon XD

*big ole’ heart eyes* 

Kisses that start on the fingertips and travel to the lips, leading to more -- but then they’re DUH DUH DUH interrupted! Featuring Pynch <3

------

Warmth had a weight. There was a physicality to the pressure of a heat that wasn’t hot, a touch that was a hold but wasn’t a grip. Not stifling, not restricting -- but secure and comforting. It was the difference between a blanket and a thick coat: both will keep out the chill, sure, but no one wants to snuggle up and sleep in a coat. 

Ronan wanted to snuggle up and sleep in Adam, though. When Adam touched him, when he sat beside him with no real space between them, pressing ever so slightly against his arm. When he took his hand and just... held it in his, just because he could, just because he wanted to. There was fire in his blood when he touched Adam, of course; when he looked at him, when he kissed him and tasted the sharpness of his tongue -- but there was also this... warmth that never went away and that Ronan never failed to notice. 

Then again, the day that Ronan Lynch failed to notice Adam Parrish was the day even his ghost had been expunged from this world and the next.

Even now, lounging on the couch at Monmouth Manufacturing as they each did their separate things, Ronan was viscerally aware of all things Adam Parrish. He had his head pillowed on Adam’s thigh as he watched drunk history videos on the laptop while Adam worked on whatever reading assignment for their shared English class that Ronan sure as fuck wasn’t going to bother doing. He was genuinely engrossed in the video he was watching (learning plus booze, it was a win/win), and yet his hand lifted automatically to catch Adam’s hand the second his Parrish Senses subconsciously registered the other boy chewing on his poor damaged nailbeds. Without ever looking away from the screen, he just reached up, captured Adam’s wrist, then gently tugged it down to cradle against his chest.

He felt Adam pause, then the satisfying weight of his attention. Ronan continued to watch his video as he said, "Leave your hands alone. What did they ever do to you?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Adam grumbled. Adam grumbled a lot around Ronan. He always had and he probably always would. When they had first met, Ronan had found this amusing and annoyingly attractive. Now that they were (finally) together, Ronan could forgive how attractive it was but that was really all that had changed. He had noticed a slight shift in the tone of Adam's grumblings, though. What used to be just annoyed was now affectionately annoyed and Ronan had to admit he appreciated the upgrade. Even though he couldn't see it, he could hear the slight pull of a smile at the corner of Adam's mouth reflected in his affectionate grumbling.

"Mhm," Ronan agreed, so much skepticism in those two hummed syllables that Adam scoffed as he went back to his reading.

But he didn't pull his hand away.

Ronan smirked, because that was basically a win, and clicked on the next video. As it started up, he allowed his fingers to loosen on Adam's wrist without fully letting him go. When Adam turned his hand slightly, Ronan adjusted his grip to be able to tangle their fingers instead. He allowed his thumb to brush against Adam's palm, then down over the rough heel of his hand, calloused from work and dry with the season, to his wrist. He traced the soft protrusions of his veins, soft and pronounced against the pad of his thumb, then around to that pronounced bump right on his wrist. It was one of Ronan's favorite spots to kiss, that bump, and so that's what he did.

He'd stopped paying attention to the video at this point anyway, so he closed his eyes and sighed softly against Adam's wrist as he rubbed his nose over those soft veins and kissed a path from that artistic bump across and up to his palm. From there, he kissed his way to each finger, starting with the abused thumb, like he could soothe away the distress etched into the skin there.

Above him, Adam said, "Ronan."

Whenever Adam said his name it held a weight and a meaning to it that was like but not like the way his father used to say his name. When Ronan's father had said his name he'd made it sound like something sharp and powerful, like maybe he'd meant to say knife instead. When Adam said his name it didn't sound like he wanted to say another word -- it only sounded like Ronan, but with this physical, aching, perfect warmth to it that made Ronan want to wrap the both of them up in the sound and shut out the rest of the world.

Ronan opened his eyes and looked up without pulling his mouth away from Adam's hand. He held the other boy's stare as he kissed his way back to his wrist, taking his time with slower, open-mouthed kisses so he could taste the shiver on his skin and, when he got there, was able to feel the rushing of Adam's pulse against his lips. That was incredibly satisfying, and Ronan wanted more of it, so he grazed his teeth lightly and pressed his tongue to the thrum of Adam's heartbeat, unable to stop the pleased sound that escaped him when it jumped again. Since he was watching Adam, he got to see the way his breath caught, and how his eyes darkened.

Ronan pressed another nipping kiss there, then another a little higher on his wrist, follow e by another, steadily working his way up. It didn't take long before Adam grew impatient and Ronan loved it when Adam was impatient. Long, artistic fingers curled along his jaw and slid up the side of his cheek, and Ronan couldn't help but turn into the touch, pressing another kiss to his palm. Adam's hand cradled his face, then guided him up -- and Ronan went willingly, following that ascent to find Adam's mouth.

If kisses with Adam Parrish could be bottled up and sold they'd easily destroy the caffeine industry -- fucking overnight. Citrus lightning, a mouth full of summer that left firework imprints on the roof of his mouth and stole his breath in a galestorm. Kisses with Adam Parrish were lethal, and Ronan couldn't get enough of them.

He leaned up into that kiss, pushing up to his elbows. Adam helped him sit up fully without ever pulling their mouths apart - though whether that was because he just couldn't pull away or because Ronan kept following the path of his mouth was difficult to say. Adam's hands cupped Ronan's face and Ronan's hands clutched lightly at the other boy's bony wrists, and neither of them seemed likely to let go anytime soon which suited Ronan just fine. This broke only for an instant when Ronan dropped one hand to shove the laptop off his knees and onto the couch beside them. He didn't care if the thing crashed to the floor, didn't care of it broke -- he could always get a new one. What he did care about was that he had the space available.

Adam seemed to read his intentions because it only took a small tug and the other boy pivoted, moving to straddle his lap. Mouth on mouth, hands on hands, Ronan caught his breath and let it out in a quiet groan against Adam's lips. Fuck. Fuck, he would never get used to this. It was going to take him by surprise each and every fucking time Adam kissed him, every time he touched him.

"Adam," he heard himself gasp, his voice sounding rough and wrecked.

"Ronan," Adam sighed into his lips and fuck... Fuck.

Adam's mouth left his but didn't go far, his lips tracing a path down his jaw to his neck as Ronan's hands began their own exploration across Adam's broad, strong shoulders and down his arms. He palmed the heat of his back, down to his waist, and then, fucking gloriously, under his shirt to feel the smooth heat of his skin.

A sound lodged in Ronan's throat, but Adam dislodged it with the way his mouth was playing right at his pulse. Ronan tilted his head back and groaned and he felt Adam's pleased smile against his skin. Fucking brat. Bastard.

"You--" he started to say, only to get cut off as the door slammed open so loudly that they both jumped. Adam jerked back violently enough that he almost fell off Ronan's lap, saved only by the fact that Ronan was still gripping him about the waist under his shirt.

"Oh shiii-"

"Gansey, what?"

And there they fucking were. Gansey had frozen like a statue in the doorway and Blue was elbowing her way past him. Ronan glared viciously at the both of them as Adam hurriedly scrabbled off his lap.

"I fucking hate you. Both of you. You suck," he informed them with as dry an inflection as possible. "You are both dead to me."

Adam shoved his shoulder and rolled his eyes as he settled back in his previous spot on the couch, the effect ruined by how flushed he still was and the bruised look of his lips. "Don't be an asshole. Hi Gansey, hi Blue."

Blue narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously. "Were you two..?"

"Yes," Ronan accused.

At the same time, Adam and Gansey both said, "No!" in competitively unconvincing tones of alarm.

Blue looked from Gansey to Adam with a level of skepticism that almost made Ronan inclined to forgive her. Almost.

That's alright. Ronan would get his revenge.

[strawberri-blonde]

Good Boy - Fred Weasley

Summary: You ask Fred a huge favor, and he actually agrees to it.

Warnings: smut and a boy in a maid costume

Giggles escaped your mouth as Fred pressed a sloppy kiss against your cheek. You pushed the paper and quill on the ground making more room for the two of you. Seeing this caused Fred to let out an, ‘oohhh’. “Hush.” Laughter filled the room, then it was interrupted when Fred bit down on that one spot on your neck that drove you absolutely mad. “Fuck.” Heat pooled within and your hands flew towards his biceps, needing to hold onto something from the pleasure. Noticing this, the Weasley toyed with the bottom of your shirt. You not needing to be a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted; slid your hands down his arms reaching his hands then pressed a kiss onto his lips while he helped pulled off your shirt, that actually happened to be his. Feeling the cold air hit your chest, caused your nipples to harden even more than they already were. Still entangled with the kiss Fred’s hands flew to your chest not expecting it to be bare.

“Bloody hell.” Pulling away, you giggled when you saw his eyes widen at the sight.

“You’ve seen them before.” Kissing his jawline you ran your hands up his shirt to scratch down his chest, marking him.

“I know.” The boy leaned down taking one in his mouth while his hand kneaded the other. “But they always seem to amaze me.” Smiling to yourself you let out a moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your nub, sending vibrations straight down towards your mound. Pulling at his shirt, Fred pulled back a moment to toss his shirt off then headed straight back towards your chest. “Merlin, I truly believe you were sculpted by gods.” You fell onto your mattress with Fred following pursuit.

Your hands ran threw his hair letting out all kinds of moans. “I could say the same.” Looking over his shoulder, down his muscular back, you couldn’t help the words that escaped from your mouth. “Freddie.” Wrapping your legs around his waist, you maneuvered your body so he would be on the bottom. Both of you moaned out as your mounds grinder against one another. You especially, as the material of your underwear and his harden member caused the perfect amount of pressure. “My love can you do me a favor?” Grabbing his hands you pinned them above his head while moving your hips back and forward grinding down onto his hardened length. 

Fred nodded then let out a throaty groan. “Anything for you?” Smirking to yourself, you tightening your grip onto his wrist then press a kiss onto his waiting lips. Instantly his tongue slipped into your mouth fighting for dominants. You not wanting to lose, grounded a little harder and held onto his wrist with one hand as you put the other in between the you two. You lifted your body up, so your hand could reach over his bulge, palming him through his cotton boxers. Fred moaned into your mouth loving the feeling of your hand working his member.

“Fred, I need you to put something on for me.” He was too lost in the feeling of your hand reaching into his trousers to understand what you were saying.

“Anything, love.”

“Mmm.” You moaned wiping the precum off his tip while pressing a heated kiss onto his lips. You pulled away first making the boy whine from lost of contact. You jumped off your bed to grab your wand.

“Y/n?” His swollen lips and darken eyes almost had you run back into his arms, but you’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks now, too scared to play this fantasy out.

“So just to clarify,” slowly you slid your underwear down your legs, which had Fred palming himself in an attempt to relieve some of the tension. “I can do whatever I want with you?” Fred was intrigued with your devilish smile.

“As long as I can get bring you pleasure. I don’t care what you do to me love.” Hearing this caused a big grin to take over your face. Without second guessing you pointed your wand towards the red head and casted your wand; and what happened had your natural juices to start running down your thigh.

“Y/n?” Fred’s big hands caressed the black and white material in confusion and a little worry. The black corset tighten around his torso, sculpting his body with puffy straps wrapped around his biceps making them look enlarge. Then you looked down at the skirt and you could help but reach your hand down and start to rub figure eights onto your clit. It barely covered his area which wasn’t shielded by much as he was wearing lacy underwear, and his thick thighs looked heavenly. “Should I be concerned that I’m in a maid outfit?”

“I love a man who’s comfortable in his masculinity that they can wear something sooo...” letting out a moan as you slipped a finger in. “Feminine.” Seeing how wet you’ve gotten and how fast your fingers were working on you, Fred pushing aside the black lace and started to jerk himself. Removing your hands you walked over to him. “Stop. I’m the only one allowed to touch, okay?” Smiling up at you Fred nodded through the pain. Appreciating him letting you be in charge, you kissed his lips and pulled away before anything could distract you from doing what you’ve been dreaming about for weeks. “Since you’ve been such a good boy, and wearing this for me. I’m going to reward you.” Fred watched you carefully as you bent down in front of him. His thigh muscles tensed as you gripped onto his knees, spreading his legs apart.

You locked your eyes with his hazel ones as you kissed his inner thigh. “God.” He groaned clenching the sheets.

“Not excalty.” You smirked as you began to take your time running you nails up and down his legs kissing and sucking into his skin, getting closer to where he needed you the most.

“Can I touch you?” Looking down towards his bulge you noticed the vein that ran along side it, seemed to be throbbing from not getting any attention. So you leaned in not answering the Weasley, pressing a kiss against his pink shaft. Fred sucked in a breath and gripped his hair with his left hand while his right reminded on the sheets.

“If you want to love.” Without hesitation, Fred removed his hand from his red hair and grabbed the back of your head and tried to bring you closer but you sunk your nails deeper into his skin, as a warning. “You you want your reward you have to be a good boy.” Grasping his dick into your hand, tugging into it, Fred let out a groan in frustration. “Can you be a good boy, Freddie?”

Clenching his jaw, his eyes clouded over as he lossened his grip. “Yes, ma’am.” Who knew being in charge could be such a turn on?

“Good...” you dragged out tightening your grip onto the Weasley, making his thighs clench up. Feeling his grip in your hair, you smirked bringing yourself closer to his tip. Slowly you licked the tip welcoming his sweetness, because at the start of the relationship he didn’t taste like this. It was like sallowing battery acid. It took him to change his eating habits for you to take him in your mouth again and it really paid off. Not only did his physical health get better but he found out that you actually loved to give head, but only if your man had good hygiene.

Pulling away from the it you ran your thumb over the tip before fully taking him into your mouth. Fred gasped in pleasure accidentally thrusting up causing his tip to hit the back of your throat. You gagged in surprise but settled your breathing to take more of him. With the rest that couldn’t fit you tugged onto it while your other hand cupped his balls. “Fuck, Y/n.” His head leaned back but once you released him from your mouth his eyes locked back with yours. He watched as you spit onto his shaft to have more lubricant. You jerked him off then leaned down to suck and kiss his balls. Hearing his groans had your juice run down your thigh from being so wet. Pulling away from him, you brought him into your mouth again and swirled him in your mouth which had the man puddy in her hands. You swallowed around him them grabbed onto his thighs signaling for him that he could thrust up and boy did that have Freddie forgetting his name.

At this point both of his hands were in your hair and he kept thrusting into your mouth despite the tears running down you face, and the sounds of you gagging. When his rhythm started to be irregular you bunched up some of his skirt and pushed his hips down swallow as much as you could. “G-od, I’m-” the red head couldn’t even get out his words as he held onto the back of your hand and shot his load into your mouth. For a split second his eyesight went black and all of his muscle collapse, causing him to fall back onto the bed. You however didn’t stop until you had every last drop and even when that happened you didn’t stop. You jerked his cock until he got hard again. “Y/n I-I can’t.” His voice came out as a plea but you didn’t listen.

You sucked on the tip and jerked the bottom half while your other hand played his balls and since his cock was still sensitive from the last orgasm it didn’t take long for his second to come along and this time his mouth was wide open but it seemed that nothing could come out. Only a silent groan. Licking away his sweet goodness, the poor boy jumped away from how sensitive he was. “What a good boy.” Standing up you looked at the mess you made. You’ve never seen Fred’s legs shake before and his face was completely red and his hair was in all shorts of directions. Sparing a glance at your mirror you saw your mascara reach the bottom of your cheeks and they seemed to be flushed. Spit and tears drenched your chest, you both looked utterly fucked. You grasped your wand and spelled for a warm wet towel and watched as Fred jumped away from the touch. “I’m sorry babe.” Through the hase of it all, a dopey smile made its way towards the Weasley.

“I think you made me your bitch.” You let out a laugh and leaned up to kiss his lips. Once you were down cleaning him up you wiped your chest then you wiped off your makeup. Throwing the rag into your bed frame you carefully straddled his stomach where Fred rested his hands onto your naked legs. “Please don’t be mad but I need a few minutes.” You chuckled at his response and toyed with the maid costume that was still on his body. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a girl make my legs shake like this. I didn’t think that happened to guys.” You leaned down once more to capture his lips with yours. You bit his bottom lip pulling it with you when you leaned away. 

“Oh don’t worry babe,” you let that devilish smile take over your face. “We have all night.”

[dothwrites]

@sextualfantasy requested destiel with Jealous!Dean, and the MotW being wildly flirtatious with Cas. <3 

---

Dean grits his teeth as he stares down at the table, watching the couple--watching the two people across the table from him in the reflection of a spoon. He needs to relax. His jaw hurts from the force of his irritation, but every time he makes an effort to loosen his jaw, he hears the scraping, tinkling laugh of the kikimora. Worse yet are the cooed endearments, all dropped directly in Cas’ lap, for Cas to do whatever Cas does with compliments, but for Dean to obsess over, until he’s nothing more than a tightly wound ball of tension that’s three seconds away from exploding. 

Definitely wasn’t supposed to go down like this. 

It was supposed to be a fairly easy case--3 men, all in fairly good health, went to bed one night and never woke up the next morning. The perplexed medical examiner finally put the cause of death down to heart attack, in lieu of any other explanation. But the rictus expression of fear and the clawed hands, frozen in the act of clutching the blankets, had all spoken of something unnatural. 

It had taken them a few tries before they landed on kikimora. They’re not common. To Dean’s knowledge, Dad had come across the hint of one once, and Bobby had killed one, once, about twenty years ago. Silver and salt, was all Bobby’s journal said, and Dad’s journal didn’t even say that much. Don’t look her in the eyes, was Bobby’s other piece of advice, along with the warning that kikimora usually fixated on young men, to drive them wild with desires, and young women, to drive them mad with jealousy. This one has deviated somewhat off script in that she’s literally terrifying men to death, which means that she has to be put down. 

It had been a foolproof plan, or as close to foolproof as the Winchesters got. Find the kikimora--the instructions were a little vague there, since all the lore said was that she would be in the guise of a beautiful woman and possibly have chicken feet--but Dean had figured with Cas alongside them, there wasn’t much cause to worry. While his grace isn’t what it used to be, Cas can still venture into a bar or club and pick out any ten monsters, usually before both his feet are in the door. Plus, there was an added advantage to bringing him along.  

“After all,” Dean had said, tucking his silver knife into the inner pocket of his suit, “you’ll be able to look her in the eyes, no problem.”

Dean should really know by now not to say shit like that.

Cas clocked the kikimora from the second they walked into the bar. He’d pointed her out to Dean, a waitress with long black hair and pale, porcelain skin. They’d gone over together, Dean carefully looking into the middle distance as Cas introduced them as agents and could they just have a word--The kikimora had glanced up, taken in the whole breadth of Cas’ face--the persistent stubble clinging to his jaw, the thick dark hair curling over his ears, the piercing blue eyes--and her smile had spread, predatory and pleased, across her face. Have more than one word sweetheart, she’d said, lilting voice reaching out to Cas. You can have all the words you like. 

Cas had taken one look at her face and--

If Dean strains his ears, he can hear the low rumble and scrape of Cas’ voice. From the second that Cas looked into the kikimora’s eyes, he hasn’t looked away. And her...She must have her boss under some kind of spell; either that or she’s not a waitress at all, because this whole damn time, after the first Well hey there handsome, that she threw Cas’ way, she hasn’t shifted from Cas’ side. 

Dean tries not to think about how the lore says that kikimora fixate on attractive men. About how they’ll drive them mad with desire. 

He chances a look. 

Cas doesn’t look driven mad with desire, but he doesn’t...not look driven mad with desire. Mostly, he’s wearing that Cas look that he gets when he’s listening intently to someone--the small line that knits between his eyebrows, the determined little purse of his lips, the laser-like focus of his eyes on another person. Dean’s used to that person being him. 

An ugly emotion swirls in his gut and claws its way up his throat as he watches the kikimora laugh and reach out. Her hand rests on Cas’ wrist, fingertips daring to slip underneath the cuff of his shirt to flirt with the bare skin of his arm. Cas never shakes it off. No, Cas just leans in closer, tilting his head in the way that Dean had come to think possessively of as his. Dean watches him as he takes a sip of his drink. The beer leaves a remnant of foam shining on his upper lip. That’s when the kikimora reaches out and swipes her thumb over the curve of Cas’ upper lip, except it’s not a swipe, she’s just leaving her thumb there, resting on Cas’ lips like that’s her newfound property, and that--

Dean doesn’t register the low growl rumbling through his chest, or the fact that he’s already up on his feet, until he’s looming over the two of them.  

“Agent,” he says. He tries to repress all of the writhing emotions in his chest and it leaves his voice rough. He rifles through his brain for Cas’ alias and comes up empty. “Can I speak to you?” 

Finally, the kikimora’s thumb falls away from Cas’ lips as the angel turns to look at him. Dean keeps his eyes on Cas, ignoring the small huff of irritation from the kikimora. 

“We’re actually in the middle of something, if you don’t mind,” she says, when neither Dean nor Cas move. Her hand lands on Cas’ jaw, turning his face back towards her. “Hey sexy, I know your friend is cute and all, but he’s just going to have to wait his turn, all right?” 

For a moment, Dean forgets that they’re in a crowded bar. He forgets about all the bystanders and the need for subtlety. All he can see, through his red-tinted vision, is the kikimora, leaning in close to Cas, her hair cascading like a waterfall and hiding Cas’ face from view, as she calls him sexy. 

That’s his fucking angel, thank you very much. 

At the same time that Dean explodes out with Now look here skank, Cas leans in closer, tucks a bit of kikimora’s hair behind her ear and murmurs, “Come with me?” 

The kikimora flashes a triumphant smile at Dean as she runs her fingers through Cas’ hair, down to scrape across his jaw. “Of course,” she croons, stroking over his cheeks. “Let’s go.” 

Cas throws one impenetrable look over his shoulder towards Dean, before he’s up and walking away. Dean looks down to see that his fingers are laced with the kikimora’s. They disappear down the darkened hallway towards the bathrooms and, coincidentally enough, the back exit. The last thing Dean sees is the kikimora’s hand reaching up to twist a lock of Cas’ hair around her finger. 

Something hot and ugly curls in his stomach and Dean is out the door after them, pushing his way through various bodies as he makes his way past the bathrooms and into the alley behind the bar. It stinks back here, the dumpsters only feet away and the hood vents belching out grease, but it’s dark and private. 

His silver knife bumps against his hip and Dean draws it out, glad at least that bit of subterfuge is over with. Now there’s just the hunting things aspect of his job and he’s looking forward to that part more than usual. 

His ears pick up the unmistakable sound of a scuffle, followed by a sharp cry and an even sharper, “What the hell do you--” By now Dean’s running, the sounds of a fight sending adrenaline and anger and all those other twisted things that he likes to pretend don’t writhe around in him swimming to the surface. He rounds the corner of the dumpster to find--

Castiel, wiping blood off his angel blade, looking calm and collected as if he’s asking Dean’s opinion on which avocado is the right type of firm, I can’t quite tell the difference, and Dean has the sinking suspicion suddenly, as Castiel looks at him, that he’s never been as clueless as he’s let on. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas says, tossing the scrap of cloth onto the kikimora’s body with an almost imperceptible expression of distaste. His eyes flick to the blade in Dean’s hands. “I think you’ll find that unnecessary.” 

“Unnecessary.” Dean’s palm is sweaty around his knife; he doesn’t let it go. He stares at Cas, who looks at him as calmly as if they ran into each other in the library, but there’s something smoldering behind Cas’ eyes. Eleven years have given Dean a pretty good basis of knowledge for when Cas is fucking with him, and Cas...

Cas is fucking with him. 

“You let her put her hands on you,” Dean says. He can’t help how his walk changes--no longer the frantic, rush of worry and jealousy (all right, he can admit it, it was definitely jealousy twisting up his insides). Instead, now it’s the tight, coiled grace of a hunter. 

From the barely-there smile that ghosts across Cas’ face, he notices the difference as well. 

“She called you sexy and handsome, and she put her hands all over you.” 

“She did,” Cas agrees, smooth and easy and too fucking smug for his own good. 

Dean’s walking towards the edge of a precipice. He’s been crawling towards it for several years, but, it appears anyway, that Cas has gotten tired of waiting for him to get there on his own and has now taken the drastic step of simply drop-kicking him off the edge. 

And Dean should probably be more irritated that he was fucking played like a two dollar harmonica this whole night, but Cas is in front of him, smug and celestial, and everything that Dean ever wanted, and his, his his--

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Dean crowds against Cas, pushes him back against the wall. Hips, legs, shoulders, his hands cupping Cas’ face and tilting it up so that Cas’ eyes catch the sickly yellow gleam of the streetlight. Cas huffs out in silent laughter and the sound scours away any of the bitter jealousy clogging Dean’s veins until he’s just overwhelmed with Cas. “Fucking flirting right in front of me, what the hell?” 

“It seemed the best way to get your attention,” Cas murmurs, which is all Dean allows him to say before he’s closed the scant inch of space between them, his mouth landing messily over Cas’. 

The taste of Cas on his lips purges everything else from Dean’s memory and replaces it all with the exact sensation of how it feels to have Cas’ hands slipping underneath his suit jacket to land, scalding hot, on his waist. The kiss starts brutal but it softens after a second, Dean nipping at the swell of Cas’ lower lip, Cas tracing the seam of Dean’s lips until Dean opens to him. 

Dean doesn’t know how they kiss, there in the alley behind a dive bar. It could be minutes, it could be years. All he knows, is that when he finally pulls away from Cas, just to catch his breath, Cas tries to follow, lips finally separating from Dean’s with a soft, wet smack. Dean keeps his hands cupped around Cas’ cheeks and presses his forehead to Cas’, unwilling to pull too far away. Their breath mingles together, close and humid, in the few inches separating them. 

“We still have to take care of the body,” Cas finally says, ever the realist. Dean muffles his groan by pressing his mouth to the side of Cas’ jaw. He likes the rough scape of stubble against the tender flesh of his lips, does it again, just because. “And while I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to doing anything more, I’m quite opposed to continuing in our present location.” 

His libido kicked into high gear, Dean pulls far enough away to get a glimpse of the wicked twinkle in Cas’ eyes. “You...” he says, overwhelmed by the sheer evil genius of Cas. 

“Take care of the body Dean,” Cas tells him, with a gleam in his eye that Dean suspects has always been there. “And then we’ll...talk.”

Played like a two dollar banjo and all Dean can do is grin as he grabs the kikimora’s body and tries to figure out how he and Cas are going to handle this. 

Damn angel. 

[capri-ramblings]

Hey,hey,hey. *Drops this post from my pocket and stumbles down stairs*

[ R a p t u r e d ]

A Twisted Wonderland Yandere Short Fic.

Summary: Your brother, obsessed with making a name for himself as a huntsman slaughters the beast in the Nostorne Forest, an olden land rumoured to be where the Faefolk reside with their Mother Goddess Gaia and her seven sons. But the rumours are true, and the price for having a fool brother is a heavy one.

Chapter One: Rage

"When was the last time you had the sun on you?" Idia asked this with a gentle smile curling on his lips. His blue flamed eyes glistening with a fondness too endearing to be let off as friendly.

The cuffs on your hand bit into your skin. Bruised and calloused, you balled your hands into fists yet your lips didn't part open for any of your anger to manifest into words.

Idia frowned. Guilt lingering on his features. The tower you were in was dark with nothing but a single window and a door only magic could make visible. In Idia's mind your refusal to speak to him was from a lack of comfort. Of course,anyone would be as frustrated as you were.

Perhaps,he could help with that.

His hand went up to unlatch the lock on the window and as he pushed the wooden frames back, a simmering sunlight entered the room through streaks of warmness you haven't felt in months. In your dreary state, you almost wanted to swoon from it, but then you caught the smile in Idia's eyes and your anger flared once more. You clenched your jaw and turn away from the window.

Idia's frown returned and this time with a painful jab to his heart.

"What are you doing?" Came another familiar voice you dreaded to hear, and it was from Riddle who had just materialised in front of you, his usual condescending gaze glowering at your cuffed form.

Idia furrowed his brows.

"The sun was out, I thought it'll be good for them."

Riddle scoffed,his high and mighty stance crushing your pride as he strode pass you and towards the window, where he glanced out briefly before slamming it shut. The moment darkness engulfed you once more, the regret of not facing the heat of the morning came to slap you in the face, and your shoulders slumped.

Idia looked to Riddle disapprovingly, but said nothing. Though he did glanced at you with pity. He knew you liked the sun even when you acted like you didn't, and being one of your captors, you weren't sure whether to be disgusted or grateful for his efforts to understand you.

"They're not a plant" Riddle drawled, "And with that scornful look in their eyes, you shouldn't be treating them to something so pleasant,brother."

"Humans need their sun" Idia argued "They'll get sick if you keep them locked up like this"

Riddle cocked one brow, his glowering glare seeping into your very bones when he stared down at you. When he began taking strides towards you,the sound of his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards made you flinch. For such a petite looking male, he walked with a confidence of a king marching with his army.

"Look at them,Idia" He said, softly, as if attempting to coerce his brother onto his side. "Just us standing nearby makes them sick."

When Riddle turned to face him,Idia wore a painful look on his face as if he was pleading for the words to not escape Riddle.

The red haired turned back to you, leaning down to push back the bangs obscuring your eyes from meeting his. The gentle scent of floral emitting from him matched well with the softness of his delicate fingers running through your hair, and yet both greatly contrasted the bitter grey in his gaze.

"You're fortunate I dislike seeing my brother displeased,human." He cooed, mockingly. "I'd have you collared and hung otherwise."

Riddle pulled away swiftly when the flames on Idia's hair flickered lightly, a sign of annoyance.

Mean while, you tried swallowing the immense fear in your throat to make way for the words you've wanted to pour out ever since you were captured. Alas, it seemed as if someone had sewn your own will too tightly.

"You're going too soft on it" Riddle said after going to Idia's side,the slight aggression in his voice earning a scowl from blue haired male.

"Them. Not it. And if you keep treating them like that they'll refuse to eat"

"If it's not eating, it's barely my fault."

"They'll die,Riddle. And I thought we were supposed to keep them well and alive until their brother gets back with his homage."

"Alive." Riddle said firmly, "The well part is only because you like them."

The accusation brought colour to his cheeks and Idia found his tongue betraying him when it refused to utter proper words. Riddle looked to the hunched over form of the unfortunate human they were responsible for looking after and sighed. Bringing up his index finger to rub the side of his temple.

"It's decaying. How could you even stand near it? Let alone find it pleasing to watch over?"

"You don't know." Idia said simply, and though he was frowning, Riddle caught the nostalgic look in his eyes.

Years together, and Riddle still couldn't really figure his brother out. He was closer to Idia than he was with the rest of his brothers,but the way Idia held certain things with such sentiment gave Riddle a headache. To think someone of nobility like his brother would go soft for something as meager as a human...He was going to have tea after this, that would clear his head.

But that was later. Now, he needed to make sure, as Idia had stated multiple times, that their human wouldn't die.

***

The cold water that splashed ontop of your head and trailed down the rest of your body made you shiver and flinch as the wounds on your wrist hissed at the sudden exposure.

The small, encircling, faeries dusted in the pale colour of blue giggled at your reaction, never once stopping to ask you if the water bothered you. Water Fairies... You've only ever heard of them in stories your mother told you before you slept, but now for the past two months, they were the ones keeping your body clean.

Your gaze dropped to your bare feet soaked in the wooden basin you bathed in, and the memories of when you were free brought tears to your eyes. Before you actually realized it, you were crying. Tears uncontrollably slipping through your eyes like rain dripping in-between the creaks of a broken roof. Your body trembled and despite the soreness of your limbs, you hunched over to hug your knees. The water Fairies, continued their job, carelessly oblivious to your sorrows.

You didn't even noticed Idia entering the room until his panicked voice broke through the silence and a pair of his hands gripped your shoulders.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" He sounded worried, hasty even. The water Fairies giggled, splashing the water from your bath playfully as if to greet the young male but when he lifted his gaze towards them, the gold in his eyes flared like fire and within seconds you heard the small cries of pain elicited by the water Fairies before, one by one, Idia's fire engulfed them all.

"They're gone now" He said, cupping your tear stained face clumsily in his hands. "They won't hurt you again. I swear."

He wasn't expecting a 'Thank you' or a grateful smile or even your body welcoming him in an embrace, even if he did craved those things from you, but Idia also didn't expect for your hands to push him away so vigorously. As if by his touch alone he had made you feel disgusted.

His gaze was wide when it met yours,a tinge of hurt lingering in them but when Riddle entered the room then, it vanished and Idia looked away from you.

"What happened here? Why are you on the floor—" Riddle let common sense piece up the scenes together and when it did, the annoyance In his demeanor shifted to anger.

"Get up,Idia. You'll need a change of clothes,Azul is already downstairs,have him help you."

Idia got up without a word and when the door vanished the moment he went through it, dread settled into the room like a plague.

"I don't know how many times I've said it" Riddle started,looming over your bared body still sitting in the basin.

"But you should consider yourself lucky I'm neither Leona or Azul. They would've given you nothing to wear and tossed you out naked."

You didn't dare meet his gaze then but Riddle made you to by placing his thumb underneath your chin and slowly lifting it up.

"I wanted you dead,you know. After all, what your foolish brother did was unforgivable. Mindlessly slaughtering the creature our mother raised on her own as the family's protector..." He jerked your chin back with a flick, his every action a sting of aggression. "I've always felt my own brothers were a handful" Riddle looked you right in the eyes then before he laughed, "But now that I've seen yours,I'm grateful. Very unfortunate for you though"

"Why are keeping me like this?" The words came in a whisper but Riddle caught it and he arched both his brows as if he was impressed you could actually talk.

"You're not an idiot" He said "You heard me perfectly well."

"Yes,I heard you...but why? I don't understand." Slowly, your eyes began to burn with an ignition of life, and for once, Riddle did find it pleasing to look at you.

"What difference does it make if you did? The situation here is very clear. Your brother,an arrogant hunter, thought he'd be doing the world a favour by intruding into my family's ancient lands and arousing the beast that protects it,killing it in the end. I'll admit,it's no small feat, and he does have an ounce of talent in his veins but he's done wrong by us," Riddle's voice shifted into a drawl, gaze darkening, "And perhaps he should've think twice before angering us Faefolk."

"But why am I the captive?" You were almost screaming, your throat coarse and dry it hurt to even utter the words, but it was unfair. Why was it you had to pay for the fault of a man you weren't even related to by blood. With the little energy you had left, you stood on your trembling legs, not caring that your naked body was in full display to the red haired who all but stared at you in bewilderment.

"I'm not to blame. I take no responsibility for the death of your creature. If it's vengeance you want then maybe giving me a sword would suit better."

Riddle's rage glimmered in his eyes.

"You're challenging me?"

"No." You said. "I'm offering to give you the head of the man who dishonoured your family, Fae."

[cassether]

Casualties of War

Summary: Gaius uses Amy to turn the tide of war, knowing if he can break Adrian, the rest will all fall with him.

AN: I only started reading Bloodhound a few days ago and got completely addicted to the characters 😍 This is my first attempt at an Adrian/MC fic. It doesn't follow the plot of the game, but I've tried to keep the details as close as possible 🥰

...

Adrian kneels in front of Amy, his heart hammering like it may well beat out of his chest as he takes in her slumped and bruised features. She's been missing seventy-two hours, a taunt from Gaius, and he catches the regretful shake of Kamilah's head, pressing his hand gently against Amy's shoulder as he rises up, bearing the full weight of suffering the woman he loves has been forced to endure.

Her wrists are shackled tightly behind her back, clamped in some kind of torture device, metal spikes digging into her cracked and rotting skin. She's a vampire now, impervious to human pain, but whatever Gaius has imprisoned her with, it's poisoning her supernatural side, spreading black spider-web streaks outwards from the device's teeth and preventing her from healing.

His eyes boil red, his emotions overcome by a rage worse than ravenous hunger, and he can feel himself slipping, the monster inside threatening to break out in a fury, when her soft voice penetrates his anger, dusting it to ash.

"A… Adrian?"

His fangs retract as he falls back, the fire within him morphing in an echo of his hatred for Gaius. His former mentor spent eons trying to force the darkness out of him, but Amy draws out the light. Her voice, even strained with pain, is like a siren call, speaking to the depths of his heart, and he cups her cheek, his touch tender as he strokes her sweaty skin. "I'm here." Gaius will pay, but his foremost concern, the strongest of his desires, is comforting the woman who's been to hell and back since meeting him. Part of him wishes he'd had the strength to debrief her. If he had, she wouldn't have fallen victim to Gaius' hand, twice, but he's not going to lose her a second time.

Delirious, and not quite sure of herself, she tries to reach forward, biting back a cry as her wrists absorb the mistake.

He growls under his breath. Whatever the cuffs are tainted with, they're not just suppressing her physical powers, but her psychic abilities as well. Gaius' been keeping her mind trapped in a drug induced world of pain, and he snarls at Kamilah's hesitation. "Get them off her, now!"

She retaliates the demand with a frustrated and grim glare. She's witnessed Adrian kill for both reward and pleasure, watched as a flame of guilt sparked, turning into a wild-fire that was only tamed by his escaping and evolving compassion. But she's never seen the true scope of his emotions amplified by the power of love. Regret has changed him, age humbled him, but the Bloodkeeper has more influence over him than both. Amy has begun to heal his wounds, make him look to the future instead of always grappling with his past, and if he were to lose her now, she fears for his stability. Gaius obviously hopes the opposite—is delighting in Adrian’s torment—and this is either a warning of what's to come or they're already too late and this is the test; to have Amy die by either her or Adrian's hand, and she regards her brother with a forlorn frown. "We can't be sure of what will happen if I release her."

Adrian's lungs constrict, like they might snap under the weight of what to do. They breezed into the complex with little fight, and he knows Gaius wanted him to see Amy like this. The man is cruel and vindictive, but this is Rheya's war, and there's still a chance she would want to keep the Bloodkeeper's memories alive. He has to believe that, have faith in Amy's strength, because he can't leave her here suffering. He won't. "Amy." He strokes her soft skin beneath his thumb, selfishly looking to her for answers, for a sign he's making the right choice.

"It hurts… please."

She gasps, her voice filled with agony, and he's witnessed firsthand how much she can withstand. They're out of time, and he snaps his decision at Kamilah. "Do it."

She breathes out, clutching the metal, and with all her strength she pries the restraints open, its teeth dripping with black blood as it clatters to the floor.

Amy lets out a howl, her body collapsing and slumping forward into Adrian's arms, and Kamilah's expression stays grave when the spider-like tendrils wrapped around Amy's wrists don't retract. "She needs blood."

Adrian swings her limp body up into his firm hold, his face twisting with anger but his insides painfully hollow as he grips her tightly. "Lets go."

He stalks forward, and Kamilah can sense the desperation radiating off him, the same irrational carelessness that overcame him the night Gaius plunged a sword through Amy's chest. He wasn't thinking straight when he turned her, and he's not thinking any clearer now, her worry rising as she matches his speed, barreling her way out into the darkness.

Adrian feels the rush of life as they leave the complex behind, human blood pumping louder and fiercer than it ever has before in his ears. Blood that Amy needs. He doesn't know how much time she has, and his eyes lock with an elder gentleman, his feet stalling at the old man's hobble. He's killed for less. Torn out the throats of innocent people for sport, even fun, but Kamilah grabs his arm with a sharp hiss.

"No!"

He snarls back, barely able to hear Amy's weakened heartbeat over the cry of blood calling out to him. "She needs—"

"To live without the guilt of taking an innocent life." Kamilah digs her nails into his skin. "She isn't like us, Adrien."

She isn't tainted yet. That's what Kamilah means, and his fangs retract with a growl. She's right. He turned Amy, robbed her of freewill, and she forgave him, having spared her judgment over the mistakes of his past, but she wouldn't forgive him for this; forcing her to drink without consent. He swore to protect her, and he failed, but she's still bound to the choices he makes, and he moves fast into the shadows, leaving the old man behind.

…

The Shadow Den is where they planned to regroup, and he bursts through the doors of the compound, meeting Jax and Lily's fearful expressions, the air thick with silent tension as Jax leads him through to the feeding parlor. They all know the cost of losing Amy, have suffered through her death before—buried her in the ground along with their hope. They won't win the war against Rheya without her, and watching her suffer, clinging to life only to lose it for a second time will break them all. Gaius wanted this, but the man doesn't know Amy like does. If there's one thing left in this burning world he believes in, it's her, and he lays her down gently, kneeling before her and meeting the gaze of the young teenager giving his consent to help. He swallows thickly. She could turn ravenous or the poison could infect him too, and Adrian reluctantly speaks on her behalf, ignoring his instincts because it's what she would want. "I don't know what will happen."

The kid nods, accepting the risk, as he just his arm out, stirring only a faint murder from the woman he loves. He takes hold of the teenager's scrawny wrist, piercing the skin with his fangs, and placing the dripping blood close to her mouth. "Amy, you need to feed."

She groans, her eyes staying shut but screwing up tightly, and he swipes the crimson with his thumb, smearing it across her lips until she tentatively sucks, and the kid steps in, wincing as she weakly latches onto his vein instead.

"That's it." He smooths down her hair, moisture pricking his gaze as she whimpers, letting go. She didn't drink nearly enough to return her strength, and he knows they're in for a long night, his worried attention diverting to the others collected behind him. "She's going to need to feed every hour, real blood."

"I'm on it." Lily swipes her eyes, her usually resilient humor falling by the wayside.

After healing the kid, Jax steps forward, trying to brush off the fear that's been welled in his chest since they split up to find her. The past seventy-two hours have been grueling, but Adrian's wearing them the worst, and he places a firm but gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "I'll stay with her. You should—"

"I'm not leaving her."

Kamilah snorts at the surprise on the younger vampire's face. "Did you honestly think he would?"

Jax retracts his arm, heat flushing the back of his neck. There was time, when they all first met, he dared to read into Amy's kindness and comfort. He thought, maybe, she might return his affections, but harmless flirting aside, her heart has only ever belonged to Adrian, and from what he's witnessed, she put her faith in a good man. "I'll get some blood bags, then."

Kamilah waits for him to exit, folding her arms with a sigh. "I loathe to say it, but he is right, Adrian. You're no use to her in this weakening state."

He pushes up off his knees, feeling Kamilah's concealed concern bore into him as he slumps beside Amy on the couch, gently drawing her head into his lap. The bags will be enough to sustain him, and he'll sleep when Amy's awake again. "I'll rest when I know she's going to be okay."

"And if she doesn't recover?" Her expression darkens as her eyes fall over the black tendrils curling around Amy's arms. She doesn't want to be the bearer of bad fate, but they have to be realistic. Gaius went after Amy to weaken them all, but they still have a war to fight.

"She will." He grinds his jaw firmly, staring down at Amy's prone form. Even as a human, he never saw her as vulnerable or frail. She looked him right in the eyes the night she found out what he truly is and didn't run or back down. Her place has always been by his side, and his by hers. "She has to," he breathes, reaching for a blanket to cover her with.

She has to recover. 

Because he can't fight this war without her.

TBC...