#at the last one sobs in robe posing

[akirakirxaa]

Ooh, I have a few!

First we have Akira x Haurchefant, which was a doomed ship that never set sail in canon due to The Vault happening so I made an AU for it.

Then we have the canon endgame ship, Akira x G'raha.

I have yet to make a romantic screenshot for Akira x Emet-Selch, which was a temporary ship during ShB, but is the focus of my bad ending AU fic Broken Pieces Shine. So uh, here's some angst instead?

Then we have my first empress of Garlemald, Valeria, who quite obviously has a romance with Solus/Emet. (In my headcanon she was a previous incarnation of the WoL and thus an Azem shard.)

And of course, the ancient OT3 with my Azem, Persephone.

you should reblog this with pics of your oc x canon ships, i wanna see em.

[machihunnicutt]

enthusiastic cuddles accompanied by squeaky noises

beejhawk because of course. but what if bj is being a mopey idiot and hawkeye at his best clown behavior gets bj to wrap his arms around him, and proceeds to squeak in various ways whenever bj shifts. all in an attempt to get him to laugh. tighter hug means loud and insane squeak. let’s up some and the squeak gets a bit more pathetic sounding. IDK IS THIS ANYTHING

HI SHAN YES IT'S EVERYTHING!! I think ur description is cuter than my final product 😭 but I had fun anyway:

3. enthusiastic cuddles accompanied by squeaky noises

BJ sighed, exaggeratedly, from the bedroom, just as Hawkeye was stepping out of the shower. 

“You’re back,” Hawkeye said, poking his head out. 

“I’m back,” BJ said.

He was pretzeled up in their easy chair: legs thrown over one of its arms, tie loose, face in his hands. 

“How was surgery?” Hawkeye said. He scrubbed his hair with a towel. 

“It went well. Perfect, really. Thank you for talking me through that last bit,” BJ said.

Hawkeye had been glad to help. It had been a stressful week for the both of them: complicated surgeries, long hours, hardly any time to themselves. They were coming out of it now, though. It was nearly the weekend. 

“Then what are you all doom and gloom for?” Hawkeye said. 

“Traffic, headache, haven’t seen you all day,” BJ said.

He looked up at him, then, head tilting to one side. His expression was weary. He looked like he was in need of some cheering. If Hawkeye was honest with himself, the sight of Beej in their room, in their chair, home, and safe after a long day was instantly cheering. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that this was his life. It was hard to believe that when BJ came home he was coming home to him. 

BJ groaned. 

“And I’ve got that dentist appointment in the morning,” he said. 

Hawkeye laughed. “It’s just a cleaning. You’ll be alright. Do you want me to tag along and hold your hand?” he said. 

“I don’t like that dentist,” BJ said. 

“What dentist? Our dentist? What’s wrong with our dentist?” 

“He’s always asking me questions when he’s got his hands in my mouth. I can’t talk with hands in my mouth,” BJ said. 

He tipped his head back and rubbed his eyes some more. Hawkeye watched him: the jutting of his chin, the gentle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, the hair on his arms, staticky, standing on end. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but he was still far too clothed for the evening, in Hawk’s opinion. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” Hawkeye said. He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder on the doorframe. 

“No,” BJ said, half a whine. “I just want to pause time for a little while.”

Paused time. Their world had been paused when they met. They’d been far away from their real lives and plans and responsibilities. Surgeries had been faster and time had been slower. They’d found each other in that pause. They’d found each other in the shaky inhalation that preceded a sob. They’d found each other in clasped hands and brushing dirt and blood off of olive green pants. They’d found each other in the moment before everything started up again, which was, of course, the wrong place to find someone you loved. There wasn’t supposed to be anything important in a pause.

And yet, here they were, still together in the moment after.

“I can help with that,” Hawkeye said. “Let me get dressed.”

“Do you have to?” 

“Help or get dressed?”

BJ’s chin tipped forward. He looked at Hawk with hungry eyes. 

“Get dressed,” he said. 

“So demanding,” Hawkeye said, teasing. 

He watched BJ watch him. He watched the way BJ’s gaze slid from Hawk’s face to the bare patch of chest that wasn’t covered by Hawk’s robe, and then lower. Hawkeye posed, grinning goofily, and perhaps ruining the effect.

BJ’s expression lifted, fractionally. He huffed out a laugh: amused, but still dedicated to his moping.

“C’mere,” BJ said. He slipped his legs off the chair’s arm, spread his knees wide, and opened his arms.

They’d tried several times to fit in this chair together, comfortably. Each time they’d failed. BJ’s legs fell asleep or Hawk managed to elbow him in the nose or they misjudged the chair’s stability and tipped it over. 

“I don’t know why you insist on making this work,” Hawkeye said, gesturing to the chair. “You’re a man of science. You know that physics isn't on our side here.”

“I want to kiss you on all the furniture we own. You can’t blame me for that,” BJ said.

Hawkeye tucked himself into Beej’s lap. He leaned back against him and kissed the side of his face. BJ wrapped his arms around Hawkeye’s middle, burying his palms in the fabric of his robe and pressing his face into Hawk’s wet hair.

BJ exhaled, deeply. Hawkeye could feel the expansion and contraction of his lungs. He could feel Beej’s collar bones pressed against his shoulder blades. He squeezed him and Hawkeye squeaked. 

BJ laughed. It was a low sound that buzzed through his chest. Hawkeye shivered. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure who was doing the cheering.

“What was that?” BJ said, curling in closer, against him. 

“Waggle never had any squeaky toys?” Hawkeye said. 

BJ squeezed him again and Hawk made a slightly different squeak (higher pitched, with character, evocative of a dog toy, he hoped).

BJ laughed again. Hawkeye turned to look at him, to confirm the bit was working. He was always doing that, during the war. He was always meeting Beej’s eyes and raising his eyebrows and coaxing him forward. There was something thrilling in their joking, back then. They were always straddling the line between innocent ribbing and outright flirtation. 

BJ leaned in and kissed him.

Hawkeye thought he’d had enough pauses. There were new things to look forward to, like Beej’s fingers against his jaw and tongue in his mouth. There were pieces of furniture they hadn’t yet kissed on. And Hawk could always buy more furniture (a new loveseat, a chaise lounge, folding chairs for the porch, when it got sunny, a particularly long and sturdy shoe rack or coffee table, though that might be pushing it).

BJ pulled away. 

“Are you ready for bed?” he said. 

“Are you?” Hawkeye said.

BJ sighed again, smiling this time, and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He wrapped his arms tighter around Hawk and squeezed once more. He muffled Hawk’s squeak with another kiss.

“I’ll set an alarm. We can have breakfast together, before the dentist,” Hawkeye said. 

They could brush their teeth side by side, like the old days, elbow to elbow in the bathroom, looking at each other’s reflections in the narrow mirror. Sometimes Beej got toothpaste in his mustache. He’d pretend not to notice until Hawk pointed it out. It was another game they played: after coffee and toast, before pulling on shoes and buttoning coats. 

Mornings were full of pauses.

BJ smiled. “Alright,” he said. “Lead the way.”

[animanganerd]

Everything Annoys Me And I’m (Too) Hot - Chapter 18

The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi Fanfic

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47881336/chapters/129142678

All chapters: here x

Chapter 18 ❖ Memories

The two men were his soon-to-be dads.

The taller one was clad in robes and a forehead ribbon that were as immaculate and white as snow, while the other was dressed entirely in black, save for a crimson band that ran through his dark hair like a streak of blood.

When A-Li reached them, the man in white got down on one knee and asked, “What happened?”

The tone of the man was sober and his face expressionless and stern. He gazed at A-Li with clear, cold eyes, which sent chills down A-Li’s spine. Not sure if he was safe yet, A-Li continued to sob, rubbing the tears from his burning eyes.

The stranger kept asking, “Are you related to the fire?”

“He most definitely is,” interrupted the other man. “His back’s still burning!” 

With a swift movement, he extinguished the small flames on A-Li’s back and carefully lifted him into his arms.

The man carried a warm smile on his lips and, for some reason, his beaming face put A-Li at ease. A-Li scrutinised the man’s face and didn’t recognise him from the village. Once he realised these two were outsiders and posed no threat, his racing heart began to calm.

“What’s your name?” the man in black asked.

A-Li’s voice was still strangled by sobs, but he managed to press out his name.

“A…A-Li.”

“Nice to meet you A-Li. My name is Wei Wuxian and this is Lan Wangji,” the man said, pointing at the man in white. Lan Wangji was already standing again and nodded in return. Wei Wuxian continued, “Do you remember your family name?”

A-Li shook his head.

“It’s fine. Do you know where you live? Were your parents with you?”

A-Li could only answer each question with a shake of his head. A sense of embarrassment surged inside him and fresh tears welled up in his eyes. At the same time, a searing pain on his back set in. The last thing he remembered were the anguished cries that escaped his throat before his vision went black.

With a jolt, Lan Xiaoli abruptly woke from his memories.

His vision was blurry from the tears that immediately rolled down his face once he opened his eyes, along with beads of sweat that had formed on his brow.

A thousand emotions flooded his mind, but his thoughts were dominated by hatred, anguish and resentment. He felt sick to his stomach, yet he instantly shot up, his heart filled with rage and a burning desire for revenge.

When he sprang to his feet, the seat pillow slipped out from underneath him, causing him to stagger. He stumbled to the ground, but immediately caught himself with one hand and pushed himself off the ground. He swiftly regained his footing and charged forward.

Wen Kexing, who’d been keeping a close eye on Lan Xiaoli, was startled by the teen’s sudden awakening. Lan Xiaoli had shown no signs of distress; he’d appeared to be in a deep slumber until his eyes snapped open.

A dark haze suddenly enveloped Lan Xiaoli, and Wen Kexing was instantly filled with worry. Guilt gnawed at his conscience as he couldn’t help but wonder, did I miss something?

Wen Kexing was quick to chase after the teen, but once Lan Xiaoli reached the draped exit, he came to an abrupt halt, clutching onto the stony edge of the entrance.

After a few strides, the physical discomfort had caught up with Lan Xiaoli. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him, and the world began to spin before his eyes. The cramps in his stomach, which he’d tried to ignore, forced him to double over. He seized his stomach in an attempt to ease the pain while his vision gradually dimmed. Soon, his legs gave out beneath him, unable to carry his weight any longer.

Just as Wen Kexing was about to offer help, Lan Xiaoli coughed out a mouthful of blood and crumpled to the ground. Wen Kexing barely managed to catch Lan Xiaoli, but was relieved to see that with Lan Xiaoli fainting, the eerie haze had dissipated as well.

Outside, the others saw Lan Xiaoli collapse. Alarmed, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji immediately rushed to his side, their hearts seized by the invisible hand of concern. Half-kneeling beside Lan Xiaoli, Lan Wangji took his pulse to assess his condition. After a short moment, he assured Wei Wuxian with a firm nod that Lan Xiaoli was stable.

Wei Wuxian yanked open the curtains nonetheless. “What happened?!” he demanded.

Wen Kexing opened his mouth, feeling as if he’d been asked specifically, yet he found himself at a loss for words. But before he had a chance to speak, Liu Fenghua had already stepped forward. Distracted by Lan Xiaoli’s strange behaviour, Wen Kexing hadn’t noticed that Liu Fenghua had awoken as well.

“He will be fine, but you need to take intense care of him now,” Liu Fenghua said. He had a serious look on his face; not even the slightest trace of carefreeness was left in his expression. “There is a reason why our brain prevents us from remembering certain memories, so I fear they might not have been pleasant.”

Wei Wuxian bit down on his lip. Liu Fenghua had warned them. There was no one to blame but themselves.

Lan Wangji picked up Lan Xiaoli, and they all gathered around the stone table, where Wen Kexing gave a brief summary of what had happened. Which, apart from the last few minutes, wasn’t much. At the mention of the haze, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged a concerned look. Could it be related to the curse?

“You guys can stay here until he regains his consciousness,” Liu Fenghua offered.

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “I am grateful for your offer, and I mean no offence, but I’d feel better if we took care of him some place else.”

“None taken, none at all,” Liu Fenghua quickly replied, politely waving him off. There was no real place to rest in his cave anyway, so he felt a twinge of regret for suggesting it in the first place. This was the first time someone had reacted this gravely to their memory retrieval. 

Liu Fenghua made a mental note to set up a corner where people could recover in the future.

“I agree with you Wei-xiong, but considering the path that lies ahead of us, I don’t think it’s wise to leave while he’s unconscious,” Zhou Zishu objected in a gentle tone.

“Don’t worry,” Liu Fenghua interjected. “It’s true that I force people to climb up the hard way, but there’s a much safer, secret passage.”

He sauntered over to an unassuming grey stone wall and gave it a light tap. At his touch, the wall slowly opened like a sliding door, revealing a long, winding staircase behind it that had been carved into the heart of the mountain. As soon as the door was fully open, the torches hanging at even intervals on the wall flickered to life one after another, casting a warm glow upon the stony descent.

“You think I want to walk this dreadful path every time I go into town?” Liu Fenghua said with a dry chuckle and shook his head, as if the mere thought was abhorrent.

The others internally breathed a sigh of relief, then cupped their hands and bowed down in gratitude.

“Take care,” Liu Fenghua said, his eyes filled with warmth and sincerity. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

With that, the group departed.

Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, they were greeted by a vast expanse of white. During their time inside the cave, a pristine blanket of snow had fallen over the entire landscape, lying now serene in the soft glow of the moon. It was a pleasant sight, but the group was in desperate need to get out of the biting cold – and to find a warm place to stay, they had to walk through the snow, inadvertently marring its untouched beauty with their footprints.

⬩ ❖ ⬩ ❖ ⬩ ❖ ⬩

The first thought that clouded Lan Xiaoli’s mind when he woke up was that of revenge.

He hadn’t restored the filial bond with his birth parents in the short time he’d relived his memories, but Murong Qiang and Murong Xinghua had been genuinely good people, and their unwarranted deaths was enough reason to get them the justice they deserved.

Lan Xiaoli wanted to avenge not only his parents, but also the damage that had been done to his own life. The relentless greed of just one person had ruined his chance to become a full-fledged cultivator – and this person happened to be his uncle.

Lan Xiaoli found himself in an unfamiliar bed. He didn’t know how he ended up here, nor did he care. As soon as he’d regained his senses, he jumped out of the bed and stormed out of the room, driven by unwavering determination.

It seemed that, while Lan Xiaoli was unconscious, the others had found some kind of cottage. They were gathered downstairs around a small, square fireplace embedded in the middle of the room. Lively conversation filled the air as they enjoyed the food they had roasted over the fire.

Lan Xiaoli had no eyes for the cosy scene that was unfolding before him and strode past them with brisk steps. As soon as they caught sight of him, they interrupted their chatter to bombard him with questions.

“Where are you going?”

“What’s wrong?”

“How are you feeling?”

“A-Li! Wait!”

Lan Xiaoli couldn’t make out who was asking what, their voices merging into one chaotic jumble. He was so consumed by his determination to get on a horse and track down his uncle that he turned a deaf ear to them, their presence and questions reduced to mere background noise.

Zhang Chengling, who was standing closest to him, quickly followed him. With a firm grip on Lan Xiaoli’s shoulder, Zhang Chengling stopped him before he could leave the house.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face written with pure and genuine concern. But when Lan Xiaoli’s rage-filled gaze locked onto him, a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Lan Xiaoli freed his shoulder from Zhang Chengling’s grasp with a violent shove and, without giving an answer or an explanation, he walked out. All he wanted to do was go, and go now!

Outside, most of the snow had been washed away by rain, leaving behind a wet and muddy ground. Only patches of persistent snow had remained, frozen into a slippery hazard. However, with his brisk steps, Lan Xiaoli didn’t slip once. Once he reached one of the carriages, he began to untie one of the horses.

The others had gathered at the door to see what he was up to. Lan Wangji was the first to approach him. He seized one of Lan Xiaoli’s wrists to stop him from releasing the horse.

“What are you doing?”

Lan Xiaoli’s eyes darted to the hand that had captured his arm, preventing him from moving it. “Let go.”

“Tell us what you saw,” Lan Wangji said. His voice was calm, but his composed demeanour was betrayed by the strength of his firm grip.

“It is a long story,” Lan Xiaoli replied, growing more and more agitated. In this very moment, everyone who tried to stop him was nothing more than an obstacle he had to overcome. “I need to go.”

“Where to?”

Lan Xiaoli puffed a frustrated sigh. Every word felt like a waste of breath, every second not spent on getting revenge on his uncle like a waste of time. “There is no time to explain! Stop holding me back.”

But Lan Wangji refused to loosen his grip. “We want to help you.”

Help him? As he had with his spiritual powers? Would his solution be the same as before? Taking it slow? Being patient? It might be too late by then!

Had these words been spoken by someone else, they might have had a different effect, but looking back on it, Lan Xiaoli found that Lan Wangji had always been the opposite of help. Lan Xiaoli’s gaze finally wandered up, and he looked Lan Wangji dead in the eyes. The inexplicable fury that had been bubbling in his chest erupted in a sudden spate of malice.

“I do not need you,” he declared through gritted teeth, spitting out each word with such resentment it could make one’s blood freeze.

Caught off guard, Lan Wangji momentarily faltered, giving Lan Xiaoli the opportunity to free his arm with a forceful yank. Since his father wouldn’t let him untie this horse in peace, Lan Xiaoli wanted to walk over to the other carriage and take one of those horses instead. Turning to stomp away, as he liked to do, he ran straight into Wei Wuxian’s bitchslap.

Wei Wuxian had smacked Lan Xiaoli without restraint. It was forceful and hard, its sound crisp and resounding. For a moment, only the echo of the slap could be heard in the otherwise silent wooded hillside.

Lan Xiaoli had been so consumed by his emotions, lost in the depths of his frustration and impatience, that he hadn’t noticed Wei Wuxian approaching from behind. The slap had come out of nowhere, leaving Lan Xiaoli in a momentary state of shock. He couldn’t believe that Wei Wuxian had actually hit him.

Glaring at Lan Xiaoli with a stern and furious face, Wei Wuxian pointed at Lan Wangji. “Apologise!” he demanded in a firm voice.

Lan Xiaoli covered his cheek, hot and red from the slap, with one of his hands, scowling at the evildoer. Tears stung in his eyes and his jaw clenched in anger, yet he did as requested. Swallowing down his bitterness, he obediently turned to Lan Wangji and bowed in apology.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian fished out a rope talisman to restrain the crazed teenager. He methodically wrapped the rope around Lan Xiaoli’s upper body, securing his arms behind his back. Lan Wangji observed Wei Wuxian in concern. This couldn’t be the best way to handle Lan Xiaoli.

“Wei Ying…”

“I know, it’s not the most graceful solution,” Wei Wuxian replied, his tone less harsh now that the slap had served its purpose. “But he’s outta control. Unless you have a better idea, we have no other choice.”

He proceeded to tie Lan Xiaoli’s hands together, leaving no room for movement, then continued, “I first thought it might be related to the curse, but now I’m certain it’s just his attitude. And instead of cooperating, all he likes to do is run away. Not this time.”

‘He’ is present, Lan Xiaoli thought, but afraid of collecting another slap, he didn’t dare say the snarky comment out loud.

As he said the last part, Wei Wuxian made sure to tightly fasten the ropes. Feeling the air being practically squeezed out of his lungs, a small grunt escaped Lan Xiaoli’s lips.

Back inside, Lan Wangji knelt by the crackling fire opposite Lan Xiaoli, who was bound to the wooden bannister of the stairs. His unyielding gaze bore into Lan Xiaoli, who adamantly refused to meet his eyes. Zhang Chengling hadn’t given up yet either and tried to casually strike up a conversation.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked in his most sympathetic voice, but Lan Xiaoli ignored him as well.

The flames of fury in Lan Xiaoli’s eyes almost burnt as bright as the fire that was warming them, so Zhang Chengling thought it best to leave him be for now. Instead, he simply settled down beside him to provide some silent companionship.

Not only did Lan Xiaoli refuse to speak, he also wouldn’t eat or sleep.

Now that things had turned out like this, Lan Wangji regretted bringing Lan Xiaoli to Liu Fenghua in the first place. They should’ve known better.

Seeing Lan Wangji all gloomy like this, Wei Wuxian wanted to comfort him. He squatted down next to him and let out a heavy sigh. “Why is it always trouble with this boy?”

“It is our fault,” Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian nodded his head in silent acknowledgement. The boy had always been impulsive, and it was no secret that he didn’t have a great past. All things considered, their current predicament was truly a predictable outcome.

Yet, when Lan Xiaoli had uttered his wish, it wasn’t Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s place to deny him his past. He would’ve found out sooner or later, with or without them, and they preferred to be a part of his journey to discover the truth.

Of course, if it’d been up to them, they would’ve opted for a more cautious approach. But even if they wanted to tell him the truth, they couldn’t as they simply didn’t know what had happened to Lan Xiaoli’s parents. It was remarkable enough that Lan Xiaoli had figured out a way to retrieve his memories at all.

Wei Wuxian gently draped an arm around Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “We can’t change it now. All we can do is try and help him,” he said with an encouraging smile.

While he wasn’t free from regret either, Wei Wuxian found solace in the fact that, despite the circumstances, their boy was unharmed. After thoroughly examining Lan Xiaoli to confirm his actions were entirely unrelated to the lingering curse, he considered everything to be back under control. All they could do now was wait for the brat to cool down and talk.

After a moment of contemplation, Lan Wangji removed his gaze from Lan Xiaoli. His eyes met with Wei Wuxian’s, which radiated a reassuring warmth. Lan Wangji’s expression softened, and he gave a sober nod in agreement.

As the tension on Lan Wangji’s face faded, Wei Wuxian felt relieved as well and gave him a soft peck on the jaw.

The two of them were still sitting in their embrace, when Zhou Zishu approached them, interrupting their moment of intimacy. Wei Wuxian rose to his feet.

Now that the six of them had reached their common destination – Liu Fenghua – it was time for them to go their separate ways.

However, since Lan Xiaoli placed great trust in his new uncles, Wen Kexing was reluctant to part. Uncertain if he had missed something during the memory session, he was racked with guilt and felt responsible for Lan Xiaoli’s situation. He still wanted to help, yet he didn’t dare to face Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Hence, Zhou Zishu had walked over in his stead.

Lan Wangji shot him a frosty look from his kneeling position. The only result of Wen Kexing’s involvement he could see was a trussed up Lan Xiaoli, so he politely refused.

Lan Xiaoli had overheard their conversation, and even though he knew deep down that his dads only meant well, their actions so far had only interfered with his objective. As a result, he could only view them as a major impediment to his revenge.

“I would rather take their help than yours!” he said from where he was bound, glowering at Lan Wangji with bloodshot eyes. Afraid his dads would come up with a more severe punishment, he quickly added, “They would not have tied me up.”

This remark felt like a stab in Lan Wangji’s heart. In response, he stood up, flicked his sleeve and wordlessly walked away, which was his way of saying, “The three of them can stay, but I will not leave you in their care.”

Wei Wuxian had been seething with anger earlier, but all of it had been drained with the slap. His focus was now on consoling Lan Wangji. He hurried after him, trying to placate him. “At least having someone his age around has a good impact on him! Don’t you think he seemed much more well-behaved and good-tempered? ...well, until he regained his memories…”

At night, they took turns to watch over Lan Xiaoli.

It was impossible for Lan Xiaoli to escape from Wei Wuxian’s bindings, but in case he got hungry or finally felt like talking, it was better to have someone around.

When it was Wen Kexing’s turn, he sat across from Lan Xiaoli, who was still bound to the banister. Since Lan Xiaoli had declared he’d be willing to accept his help, Wen Kexing thought he might have a chance to get him to talk.

“So… what did you see?” he asked as he poked at the fire with a twig, trying his best to appear casual.

Yet, the teen still refused to cooperate. He continued to stare at the ground before him with a perpetual sour expression on his face. He didn’t even try to free himself of the ropes; he knew any attempt was futile. Instead, he just rigidly knelt on the floor, his lips sealed shut.

After a few more failed attempts, Wen Kexing realised it was no use and concluded that there was only one viable solution to fix this mess.

He stood up and walked closer to Lan Xiaoli, continuously throwing cautious glances at the upper level of the cottage. Once he was standing right next to him, he checked one last time to make sure no one else was around, before he did something unexpected.

In a surprising twist, Lan Xiaoli felt the constraints around his body slacken. Wen Kexing had cut the ropes with his fan! Lan Xiaoli’s eyes widened as he stared at the ropes that now dangled loosely from his arms. A mix of astonishment and disbelief coursed through him, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

“Go!” Wen Kexing commanded under his breath.

Lan Xiaoli finally lifted his eyes to gawk at him, dumbfounded. Was this really happening or had he accidentally fallen asleep and this was just a dream?

“What are you waiting for?!” Wen Kexing hissed, shooing him away with his hands.

Lan Xiaoli snapped back to his senses and nodded, still a little dazed, before he finally moved to run away.

But fortune was not on their side. Zhou Zishu had emerged from his room at this very moment. Being used to the warmth of someone else’s body, the bed was simply too cold for him alone. And instead of just lying awake until that certain someone returned, he decided to join the night watch, and happened to witness the entire scene.

“Wen Kexing!” he called out in a low voice.

Lan Xiaoli and Wen Kexing had failed to notice his presence, both jumping in surprise. They both looked up to see Zhou Zishu standing at the top of the stairs. Wen Kexing was amazed at how furious a whisper could be.

However, before Zhou Zishu could intervene, Lan Xiaoli had already stormed off. Zhou Zishu noiselessly hurried down the stairs and confronted Wen Kexing, his tone filled with condemnation. “What are you doing?!”

Wen Kexing met Zhou Zishu’s accusatory eyes head-on, returning the glare with steadfast conviction. “That boy has been under the wing of his parents all his life, it’s time for him to gain some real-life experience on his own – even if that means making mistakes,” he deepened his gaze, “Everyone needs to make mistakes.”

The two were only inches apart, the tension between them palpable. “That doesn’t give you the right to allow someone else’s child to make those mistakes!” Zhou Zishu snapped back. “I thought you wanted to help, this is not helping!”

They continued their heated argument in hushed voices for a while, until Zhou Zishu decided it was best to come clean.

Wen Kexing hadn’t foreseen this scenario and was absolutely not ready to face the others yet. “Wait!”

Desperate to stop Zhou Zishu, Wen Kexing reached for him, but after months of experience in dodging those grabby hands, Zhou Zishu deftly evaded his grasp.

“A-Xu! Wait! Listen!” Wen Kexing called after him, rushing to catch up, but it was too late. Once Zhou Zishu had reached Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s room, he immediately knocked on their door, leaving no room for hesitation.

“A-Xu, you’re making a mistake,” Wen Kexing continued in an insistent whisper, but Zhou Zishu didn’t want to hear any of it.

A couple of minutes later, the door creaked open, revealing Wei Wuxian standing there with Lan Wangji right behind him. Wei Wuxian, still groggy from sleep, let out a loud yawn and muttered, “Is it our turn already?”

When Wen Kexing’s eyes landed on the other couple, his body stiffened at once. A thin layer of cold sweat formed on his back and his breath was stuck in his chest.

Zhou Zishu came straight to the point. “I’m sorry to disturb your rest, but Xiaoli has escaped.”

This was it. Just like that, the truth was revealed. Wen Kexing gaped at Zhou Zishu in disbelief. He didn’t know whether to feel respect or betrayal towards his partner who’d just turn him in like that.

Zhou Zishu’s statement felt like someone had poured cold water over Wei Wuxian. Wide awake now, he yanked the door further open. “What? How?!”

Under different circumstances, Wei Wuxian would’ve chased after Lan Xiaoli right away, but the shock ran too deep, rooting him to the spot. He knew it should’ve been impossible for Lan Xiaoli to escape. Unless… Whatever the reason, he was very interested to hear their excuse – no, answer.

Zhou Zishu lowered his gaze, his silence stretching for a moment as he contemplated the best way to disclose the truth. Selling out one’s partner wasn’t that easy after all. Just when Zhou Zishu opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by wet footsteps.

The four men collectively turned their heads towards the source of the sound, and there stood the fugitive himself, covered in mud from head to toe. They squinted at him, their expressions a blend of concern and confusion.

Wen Kexing was the only one who let out a barely audible sigh of relief. His heart, which had come up to his throat, plunged back into his chest.

Lan Xiaoli’s head drooped low, his countenance revealing a mix of irritation, frustration and disappointment.

After a long while of silence, Lan Xiaoli shattered the strained atmosphere by finally answering the question that hung so heavily in the air. He heaved a sigh and explained, “...While I was running I realised I did not know where to go… And… it was so dark, I could not see a thing… I tripped and fell into this mud puddle…” His voice caught in his throat for a moment before it abruptly burst out in sobs. “I am sorry, you were right, I cannot do this on my own.”

It was the moment he fell into the puddle that he realised what a spoiled life he’d lived and that he was lost on his own.

His entire body was covered in mud, except for two streaks on his face that revealed he’d been crying the whole way back. The sight tugged at Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s hearts, and their gazes softened. They rushed over to embrace him in a comforting hug, the circumstances of his escape completely forgotten.

“Would you like to stay with us tonight? Just like when you were little?” Wei Wuxian asked in a soft voice. “You can tell us what you saw tomorrow, after a good night’s rest.”

Defeated, Lan Xiaoli rubbed away the tears from his eyes and nodded vigorously. The three of them went into their room and closed the door behind them. The last thing Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing heard was Wei Wuxian saying, “Let’s get you cleaned up first…”

Back in their own room, Wen Kexing said with a self-satisfied sigh, “Isn’t it nice that he’s talking again?”

Zhou Zishu shoved a blanket into Wen Kexing’s arms. “You’re sleeping outside tonight.”

“Huh?!” Caught off guard, Wen Kexing was too slow to react, and the blanket dropped to the ground. “But we only have one blanket!”

“I don’t need one,” Zhou Zishu said. He stood with his back to Wen Kexing, getting ready for bed.

“A-Xu, you’re overreacting!” Wen Kexing said, dumping the blanket back onto their bed.

“Overreacting?” Zhou Zishu echoed sharply, then whirled around to face Wen Kexing again. “Imagine if it was Chengling! Imagine if someone else would help him run away! Would you like that?!”

Wen Kexing was stunned by this reasoning, but then a warm smile spread across his face. Zhou Zishu had walked closer during his reproach, so Wen Kexing wrapped his arms around his waist and closed the distance between their bodies. “A-Xu… it helped, didn’t it? He’s reconciled with his dads and will share his past with us tomorrow. He just needed to feel like he had a choice,” he explained in his sweetest voice.

Zhou Zishu wasn’t buying his crap but also didn’t resist the embrace. Averting his gaze, his voice carried a tinge of softness, no longer as sharp as before. “Don’t pretend like it was calculated.” 

“Believe what you want. I know what’s true.”

Though Zhou Zishu would never admit defeat, he’d always had a weak spot in his heart for Wen Kexing.

He relented, allowing Wen Kexing to sleep in their room after all. Overjoyed, Wen Kexing leaned in for a kiss, but Zhou Zishu skillfully dodged his advance.

“Don’t push it.”

“Fine, fine.” Wen Kexing chuckled lightly, releasing his hold on Zhou Zishu.

At the same time, a fast asleep Zhang Chengling turned over in his bed, oblivious to the commotion that had occurred at night.

As promised, Lan Xiaoli shared what he had discovered in his memories the next morning. While Wei Wuxian felt deeply sorry when he heard of the Murongs’ demise, he was also relieved to know that he and Lan Wangji had, in fact, not kidnapped Lan Xiaoli.

After a moment of sombre silence, they all agreed to help him settle this matter. There was just one condition Lan Wangji insisted on.

“No killing.”

“But–” Lan Xiaoli started, but was interrupted by Lan Wangji.

“No. No killing or no revenge.”

Although everyone agreed it was a good enough reason – they would all, without exception, have killed for their parents – Lan Wangji didn’t want to taint Lan Xiaoli’s moral compass with the burden of murder. Lan Xiaoli had never killed a person and shouldn’t develop a taste for it now. It was time to break this cycle of violence.

“...Fine.”

All things considered, Lan Xiaoli had no choice but to comply. At least he was in charge of the plan as long as he observed Lan Wangji’s restriction. And as long as Murong Zheng got the punishment he deserved, Lan Xiaoli had no reason to object.

The two families wasted no time and embarked on their journey to Linguang, Lan Xiaoli’s original hometown, on the very same day.

[emmyhem]

everything you’re missing (c.t.h)

a/n: hi everybody, i’m back with another post. this is my first calum piece and i’m so excited to finally get it up. this is once again unedited, i’m way too tired rn. it’s also the second smut i’ve posted so that’s pretty exciting as well. yeah i don’t really have much to say right now because i’m literally exhausted, my classes are really kicking my ass. anyway i hope you all enjoy this bff!calum piece. feedback and comments are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well and are being safe. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: bff!calum hood x fem!reader

summary: a drunken text meant for your ex shows up on calum’s phone and leaves him questioning everything he’s missing out on with his best friend.

warning(s): talk of a previous bad relationship, y/n’s ex body shamed her, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, smut, cursing

word count: 4.7k

You’ve decided that 3 glasses of wine is your happy medium, but even a sip into the 4th and there’s no telling what you’ll do. 

So, naturally you were finishing up your 5th glass on Friday night while angrily scrolling through your exes instagram when you got what seemed to be an incredible idea. It was simply too tempting not to, your mind was feeling hazy which made your confidence skyrocket, and you truly did just look good. 

A day of pampering had left you in a black floor length silk robe with nothing but your favorite deep cherry red lingerie set underneath. Your face was bare and glowing after a refreshing and illuminating face mask, and your lips were left glossy and plump from a new scrub. 

You had posed in front of the floor length mirror in your living room, giggling between snaps until you had taken the perfect shot. It was classy but provocative, the dressing gown slipping from your shoulders exposing the lace of your bra and a tasteful amount of cleavage. You had also left the bottom open, allowing a clear shot of your thighs and the curve of your ass from where you sat on your knees. 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you selected the picture into a message, typing a cheeky, “take a good look at everything you’re missing”  and sending it off to your ex (or so you thought). 

But you really couldn’t be blamed for your mistake, Cam and Cal were far too similar for your drunk brain to decipher the difference. You also couldn’t be blamed for the fact that you dozed off on the couch immediately after sending it, before you even had a chance to recognize your humiliating mistake. 

You were awoken by the ringing of your phone at around 9:00 am, way too early for your liking. Before even registering who it was, you brought the phone to your ear and groaned a sleepy, “hello,” 

“At your door.” a voice you recognized as your best friend responded. 

“M’coming” you said, scooting off the couch. On your way to the door you registered that you were still scantily covered, the robe falling off of you as you walked. You clutched it around you as you swung the door open to a wide eyed, Calum Hood. 

“G’morning.” he smirked, looking you up and down. 

“Shh” you hushed, pulling him in by the arm. “Why in the world are you here so early?”

He lightly laughed while taking a seat at the kitchen table, eyes following you while you moped over to the fridge and pulled out two water bottles. 

“Well,” he sighed as you handed him one. “I got a very interesting text last night and I figured I just had to come over and see, y’know everything I was missing.” he spoke in a teasing tone as he gestured a hand down your body.

You tugged your eyebrows together in confusion. There was something familiar about what he was saying, but not familiar enough for you to put the pieces together. 

“What are you talking about?” you questioned bringing the water bottle to your lips. 

Calum shrugged his shoulders, a smirk still glued to his face as he took out his phone and began looking for something. After a few seconds he extended his arm to hand you his phone. You accepted it and glanced down absentmindedly as your body slumped against the counter.  

The second your eyes hit the screen it all came back to you, your mouth fell open and you straightened out, suddenly very awake, not to mention very mortified. 

Calum on the other hand was buzzing. Actually, he had been ever since his phone dinged last night awakening him from his sleep. Well, buzzing and extremely, extremely sexually frustrated. 

When he first opened your message and saw the picture that would now be making a regular appearance in his wet dreams, he had nearly choked on his own breath. He knew that it was most likely a drunken mistake, and while that slightly saddened him it didn’t stop his dick from plumping up at the sight, straining uncomfortably against his boxers. He seriously debated wanking to the tempting image but decided against it, thinking it would be a gross violation of your privacy since it wasn’t even meant for him. Oh how he wished it was. Unfortunately that meant he had been sporting an exceptionally sensitive halfie since then. 

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting the phone down on the counter and covering your eyes in humiliation. “Cal I’m soooo sorry, I was drunk, and overly confident, and I meant to send this to Cam and now I’m just, I’m sorry.” you reiterated. 

‘Hey, don’t apologize on my account.” he countered. “Plus, you should be thrilled you sent it to me and not that asshole, doesn’t deserve ya.” 

“I know, you’re right. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m mortified though. S’bit ridiculous, get a little alcohol in my system and I have a god complex all of a sudden” you rambled, running your hands through your hair nervously. 

Calum stood and pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“You think too much, y’know that?” he quipped. 

You turned your head, pressing a cheek against his sweater clad chest and mumbled, “Yea I’ve been known for that.” 

Calum softly chuckled at your words before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and pulling apart. 

“S’really no big deal, y/n.” a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Besides I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Calum!” you scolded, swatting a hand at his arm. 

He dodged your hit just in time and held his hands up in surrender before taking his seat again. 

“Why'd you let that dick bother you anyway? Y’know you’re way out of his league.” 

Your jaw clenched at the question, your mind wandering to every time you had come to Calum crying after your ex had done something to hurt you. Everytime he commented on your “stomach pudge” as he liked to call it, when you wore a tight dress to go out. Or when he would ask if you were really “that” hungry, even if you hadn’t eaten much at all. And each time you would feel absolutely wretched and end up sobbing in Calum’s arms, but refusing to tell him why you were so, so sad. 

“He texted me the other day y’know?” you muttered under your breath, while fiddling with the coffee machine. 

“Really? What’d he say?” Calum responded, watching your back with narrowed eyes. 

“Uh, he saw me the other night, when we were at that bar with the guys.” you said, shaky fingers pulling out a mug. 

“And?” he spoke flatly. 

“It’s stupid really,” you sniffled, willing your voice not to break. “He said I put on a few pounds, that he was glad he got out when he did.” your bottom lip traitorously jutted out as you turned to face him. 

“Fucking dick.” he hissed. 

Calum wasn’t necessarily proud of the violent images that flashed through his mind at the thought of that asshole finding yet another way to hurt you but, the sad little quiver of your lip allowed him to reason without a doubt that they were fair. 

Before you could even blink he was holding you again, arms impossibly tight around you. . 

“He’s wrong, y/n. Fuck, I don’t know how to even...he’s just so wrong.” he said softly, his hand rubbing your back reassuringly. 

“I know.” you whimpered, holding tears back. 

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, arms still firm around your waist. 

“No you don’t. It’s...It really fucking pisses me off that he makes you feel like this. It’s like-fuck you’re just like-” he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. “You really are gorgeous.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and your whole body felt warm as you stared at his big brown eyes. His words felt sincere, everything about him felt so sincere. 

“Thank you, Cal.” 

He pulled you back into his chest, “Really wish I could just, like hug away all his bullshit.” 

“M’used to it.” you mumbled. 

“You don’t deserve any of it.” 

“Yea, well what can you do.” you sighed, moving out of his embrace. 

Calum’s eyes were still glued to you as you stirred a spoonful of sugar in your coffee. 

“I hope you don’t let anything he says get to you.” 

You let out a breath of exhaustion. 

Confidence wasn’t something that you used to struggle with. I mean sure, there were spouts of insecurity here and there but you knew your worth, and you considered yourself pretty, hot even. That had all changed a few months into your latest relationship. First it was the backhanded compliments which quickly turned into passive comments, and then outright cruel insults. People really underestimate the toll their words take on others, especially when the person that’s making you feel so ugly and worthless, is one that you adore and who’s supposed to adore you right back, no matter what. 

“I try but, he can’t just be making it all up.” you were ashamed. When did you become the girl that lets a guy affect how she sees herself? That just wasn’t you. 

“He is. He’s insecure and a douche. He was probably trying to destroy your confidence to the point that you felt like you couldn’t leave him.” Calum assured. “But you’re way too strong for him, dumped his sorry ass anyway.” 

You smiled gratefully at his words, taking a seat next to him. 

“Yea, so strong I tried to send him half naked pictures for reassurance.” 

Calum shook his head, “I wish you could see how hot you are.” 

Your eyes widened at the compliment, your head dropping to avoid his stare as blood rushed to your cheeks. 

“I’d be happy to reassure you whenever you want.” he continued, bumping his knee against yours under the table. 

“Doesn’t count.” you dismissed, before sipping your coffee. “You're my best friend, you’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” he muttered back quietly, his expression dropping slightly. He hated when you deflected his compliments. All he ever wanted to do was make you feel good, and you made it very difficult for him when you blocked every swing he took at the wall of insecurity that Cam had built around you. He would kill Cam if he could. 

You let out an apologetic sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. 

“M’sorry, you’re right. I love you for that, the only thing keeping me sane.” 

Your heart squeezed as he hugged you back. 

Calum was perfect, he was sweet, and funny, and quite literally your favorite person on earth. Not to mention you had been hopelessly in love with him since practically the beginning of your friendship. But as his best friend you had heard over and over just how uninterested he was in a relationship. Everytime you would ask about his love life he would just respond, 

“I’m just not the boyfriend type, m’not cut out for it.” shrugging nonchalantly. 

Which you thought was laughable because anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, in fact sometimes you would let yourself pretend he was yours. 

Like,in a busy club with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the crowds. So close behind, you could feel each exhale on the back of your neck, as his eyes darted around the room to ensure there weren’t any potential threats to your safety, in the form of drunk overzealous flirts. Or after a night out when he got cuddly and clingy, and would find his way from the couch into your bed. You’d wake up with his cheek pressed against your chest and his arms snaked around your torso as he released soft breaths that caused goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. You’d let yourself imagine that you had this every morning and that he would wake up any minute to smother your face in kisses and tell you he loved you. And of course, here he was again this morning being so thoughtful and kind and everything you wanted in a boyfriend. And here you were again swimming in his praises and physically having to restrain yourself from kissing him. 

Begrudgingly, you pulled away and stood up. 

“Gonna get changed.” you spoke. 

“I’m making us breakfast.” Calum called as you walked away. You hummed in response and slipped into your room. 

Once in the privacy of your own room you quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie before scurrying to the bathroom sink and splashing cold water on your face in hopes of ridding yourself of any romantic thoughts towards your best friend.

Although you weren’t aware, Calum was doing the very same thing just a few feet away. Internally reminding himself repeatedly that it was never gonna happen with you. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone yours. You didn’t want him that way and he could almost trick himself into believing that he was okay with that.

You hastily finished brushing your teeth before returning to the kitchen. You were greeted with the sight of Calum’s back, he stood over the toaster cutting an avocado and humming a song you didn’t recognize quietly to himself.  He looked over his shoulder as your footsteps approached. 

“Hungry?” he questioned. 

“You have no idea.” you affirmed, as he fixed a plate for you both. 

“Good. I was thinking we could watch something while we eat,” 

“Fine with me.” you responded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the distraction laced in your voice. Your focus had easily been stolen from the conversation to how easy it was to see his back muscles flex through the thin material of his jumper. 

But of course he did, it was Calum after all. 

“Y’alright?” he said, handing you a plate. 

“Uh, yep.” you rushed out. 

“Not still thinking about Cam, are you?” 

“No, not at all.” you answered honestly, walking to the couch, Calum trailing closely behind you. 

“Then what’s got you all flustered?” 

“You” you thought, taking a seat in the furthest corner. 

“I’m not flustered.” 

“Bullshit” he countered, sitting practically on top of you. 

You let out a huff, and motioned to the other  completely empty side of the couch. 

“Is there a reason we aren’t practicing personal space right now?” 

He laughed softly at your question and nuzzled closer into your side. 

“Yea, you’re all pouty, looks like you need a cuddle.” 

 “I’m really fine Cal.” you shoved him lightly but saw no results, he just scooched in even closer and bit into his toast. 

The two of you sat in silence while some newly released action movie played on your TV. Calum’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders keeping you tight to his side, and although you could’ve sworn that you had been in this exact same position hundreds of times, you felt as if this were the very first time. Every single one of your nerves were on fire and the warmth that had flooded your body was making you antsy. 

Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, you allowed your eyes to flutter close with a deep inhale. 

“You okay?” Calum whispered, dipping his head down slightly to reach your ear.

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t trust your voice to protrude through your shaky exhales, settling for a subdued nod instead. 

“You sure?” his words were long and drawled out, despite your eyes being closed you knew his proximity from the feeling of his breath just behind your ear. 

Before you could speak up his hand secured itself just above your knee, and your muscles flexed involuntarily at the contact. 

“Relax, y/n” he continued, his thumb beginning to run repeatedly over a spot on your inner knee. 

Everything in your brain was screaming at you to excuse yourself, maybe even kick him out, anything to gain some space and hopefully some clarity from the cloud of sexual tension that was looming over the two of you and blurring boundaries at lightning speed. But you were essentially frozen in place, petrified that any movement would alert Calum to the way he was affecting you. 

Your head lolled back to rest on his forearm which was lying behind you on the couch and finally peeled your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. 

He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking note of every rise and fall of your chest, every thick swallow of your throat. 

If there was one thing Calum was well versed in, it was his ability to read you, he liked to think he knew you better than anyone else in the world. He could tell exactly how you were feeling just by watching you, your face, your breathing and he was more than shocked when he started getting the feeling you were no longer upset but something far more appealing. 

Were you turned on? Right here in his presence? The thought made blood rush to his dick, which twitched in his pants when another breathy sigh passed your lips. 

“What’re you thinking about, love?” 

Everything in you urged you to answer honestly, just tell him the truth. “You, I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” But you couldn’t do that, so instead you deflected. 

“What’re you thinking about?” you countered, meeting his eyes. 

Calum questioned his next words very carefully, debating whether or not he could recover if he was wrong about what you were feeling and you shut him down. It was pointless though, he knew he would never recover from your rejection. He also knew that spontaneous combustion wouldn’t look very good on his tombstone and that’s exactly what would happen if he spent one more minute not kissing you. 

Fuck it. 

“That pretty little set you had on last night.” he confessed. 

That you weren’t expecting. 

A quiet whine rang from your throat and you were far too affected to feel embarrassed. 

And that did it, Calum was now impossibly hard in his pants, no doubt leaking precum onto his boxer briefs. He needed to get his hands on you, now. 

His hand started to slowly travel up your thigh, goosebumps rising on every centimeter they passed. 

“So gorgeous in red, aren’t ya y/n?”

“Cal,” you hissed when his thumb brushed the sensitivity of your inner thigh. 

“Mm.” he hummed. “It’d be pretty hard fo’me to stop right now, but I will if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, love?” 

He was sure he’d cry if he had to let go of you now, but he needed to hear you say it. 

“No, don’t wanna stop.” you whined, turning your body flush to his.

“Whaddya want then, baby? Hm?” You could feel his every word on the flushed skin of your neck as he leaned into the crook.

“Want you.” 

He could’ve came then and there. 

“Then I’m all yours.” he admitted before crashing his lips on yours. 

Your heart was in your stomach as his tongue entered your mouth, explorative and eager. He was too busy memorizing your taste to notice your fingers tugging at his sweater. You attempted to push it up desperate to feel his skin under your hands. You were able to pull the fabric up about halfway before they were blocked by his arms that were holding you close against him.

Calum laughed when you pulled apart from the kiss, giving him a disappointed look. 

“Want it off?” he teased. 

You couldn’t bother to be embarrassed when you nodded eagerly in response. He didn’t waste any time peeling the fabric off of his skin, and you were quick to lightly run a finger across the ink feather just below his collarbone. 

Now it was his turn to tug on your clothes, “Level the playing field?” 

You nodded, lifting your arms and allowing him to lift the sweatshirt over your head leaving your chest completely bare. Calum groaned at the sight of your tits, his hands quickly finding your waist and tugging you down to lay on your back in one swift motion. 

Once you were laid out in front of him he took the opportunity to explore the new skin. His hands left a lingering warmth as they dragged across your stomach and despite the kind words and endearing demeanor that he always upheld with you, you found yourself shying under his gaze, wanting to curl away from him. As your hands began to wrap around your stomach in an attempt to cover yourself up he quickly pushed them away, locking them in place on either side of you. 

“Wanna see everything baby, all of you.” he cooed in your ear before nipping at the lobe. 

His kisses began to travel down your neck, sucking a few marks to your collar bones and the surrounding areas. When his fingers grazed over a fresh bruise in the dip just between your neck and shoulders you hissed lightly. 

“You look so pretty marked up for me. All mine, aren’t you baby? Not Cam’s, mine. Say it.” 

“Yours, Cal.” you admitted, feeling your body sink further into the couch. You had never felt drunk off of someone’s words before and the experience was leaving you sputtering, completely compliant to your best friend. 

He hummed contently at your confession, his large hands gripping at your hips, before slowly peeling your leggings off.

“Y’feel so good in my hands, like you were made for me.” his thumbs poking at the soft skin, just beneath your panties. 

The feeling of his hands so close to where you needed them, but not quite there was driving you crazy. 

“Cal, please.” you begged. 

He groaned before tugging at the cotton covering you. “Cam’s a fucking idiot, y’know that? He had the prettiest girl in the world and treated her like shit. I’d never do that, wanna worship you baby.” 

It was ridiculous how overwhelmed his words were leaving you, all desperate and squirming. As his fingers met the soaked expanse of your cunt you couldn’t hold back the throaty moan it elicited. 

A pornographic sigh followed close behind, one that made Calum want to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t in the midst of a haunting dream. 

“Soaked f’me darling.” he mused, running his fingers up and down your folds to completely coat you in your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking your hips up desperate for friction. 

Tutting while shaking his head, he used one hand on your lower stomach to press you back down to the couch. 

“Stay still for me won’t you, love?” he cooed, continuing to run his fingers over your core lightly. 

When you bobbed your head up and down in agreement he lifted your leg to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your calf. 

“Hm, good girl.” he praised, softly laying your leg back down. 

Calum hovered above you, dipping his head down every so often to peck at your chest, his fingers still unrelenting. The knot in your lower stomach tightened every second that passed and you felt like you could scream at any second, yearning to be full. 

Calum felt like he could burst any minute himself but was determined to make this experience the best of your life. He wanted to give you something to remember, a reason to want more. 

Your soft moans and frustrated grunts alerted him to your neediness and he was just about ready to give in for the both of you. 

“What do you need from me, baby?” he said against your shoulder before peppering kisses across your collar bones. 

You could only respond with an airy moan when his fingers found your clit. 

“Hm? My fingers?” You shook your head aggressively. He knew exactly what you wanted, the tease. 

“No? Want my mouth?” he teased further, leaving an opened mouth kiss in between your tits. 

“Cal,” you sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

He groaned at your words, nipping lightly at the skin before ridding himself of his pants. 

“You’re a fucking dream, y’know that?” he praised, desperately searching for a condom in his pants. When he finally located one he held it up to you as if it were a prized possession, smiling proudly at his own preparedness. 

He hastily freed himself from the constraints of his boxers and rolled the condom on, never once taking his eyes off of the blissful expression on your face. 

“Ready?” he questioned, his tip lightly pressing at your entrance. You nodded and sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the stretch, your eyes falling closed in the process. 

When a few seconds went by and nothing happened you opened your eyes to find Calum staring down at you in awe. 

“Cal,” you whined. “what’re you doing?” 

Your words seemed to break him from his trance, he shook his head and muttered an apology to you. 

“Sorry, fuck you’re pretty. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” 

“Then stop waiti-” your words were cut off by a sharp hiss that couldn’t have been prevented as his length finally pressed into you. 

“Fuck.” Calum groaned his head falling back. You felt too good around him, seriously he was fucked, completely ruined for you. 

You felt the exact same as your silky moans filled the room. You had never been filled this good and you questioned how you had gone so long without this. 

“M-move” you sighed, clenching around him. 

You could hear his breath catch at the feeling and he grunted out a strained, “Need a minute.” 

He held himself in place for a few more seconds until his breaths began to even out once again before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in. 

You yelped, pulling your lip between your teeth in hopes to drown the sound. 

He continued slamming into you at an unrelenting pace, taking notice of each time your eyes would roll back when he brushed against your g-spot. He could write a book about how good you looked all fucked for him. 

As his thrusts grew closer together you could feel your release creeping up on you.  

“Cal, need’ta cum.” you stuttered out. 

His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his head poked at that spot again. 

“Go on baby, let go.” he encouraged, willing himself to hold out a little longer as your walls fluttered around him. 

Once you had came it only took him about three more thrusts before he was painting the condom with his release, groaning your name as his hand searched for yours to intertwine them as he came down from his own high. 

  His body flopped next to yours on the couch, both of you struggling to fit next to each other in such a small space, not that either of you minded the close quarters. 

Your fingers remained laced together as you caught your breath, Calum peppering kisses to your shoulder and mumbling praises into your skin. 

“You’re an angel. God, I just- I love you.” he said, causing your head to snap in his direction. 

He looked like a deer in headlights when you asked for him to repeat himself. 

“I love you?” he obliged.

“Is it a question?” 

“No, I’m just not used to saying it.” he admitted, vulnerability clear in his eyes. 

You wanted to kiss away the worried crease in his forehead but instead pressed your lips to his, pulling apart a fraction of an inch to speak after a few seconds.

“I love you too.” you ensured. 

Calum eyes widened, not expecting you to say it back, at least not so soon. He had so much he wanted to say to you but figured all of it could be summed up by another kiss to your soft lips. So he closed the distance once again, using a bit more force this time in hopes it would convey the strength of his feelings for you.

[mypoisonedvine]

Spoiled | Bruce Banner x reader

(semi-sequel to my fic sugar, but you don’t need to read that to understand this!)

summary: it’s the first time you’ve had your boyfriend all to yourself for Christmas, and he makes sure it’s a holiday you’ll never forget.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut!!, infidelity (bruce is married, guys), wedding ring kink, damage to a very expensive dress (lol), daddy kink, sugar daddy relationship

Normally, Christmas is reserved for the wife, as it ought to be.  But this year, Bruce had surprised you with a promise: you could finally spend Christmas day with your boyfriend.  You weren’t sure exactly how he got out of spending the holiday with his wife, but he’d picked you up a few days before and driven you to a gorgeous secluded cabin somewhere upstate.  Obviously you assumed it was a rental, so the fact that he’d bought it along with the four acres it laid on was a bit of a shock.  Still, you were beyond giddy to have a few days alone with him, cuddling up in the big warm bed and admiring the snow-laden forest just outside the windows.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured against your skin as you just started to wake up— and yes, you remembered that it was Christmas day.  Any day spent waking up in his arms was a good one, Christmas or not.

“Merry Christmas,” you greeted in return as you spun around to kiss him, wrapping your legs around his waist.  

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty girl,” he chuckled as he slid your legs off of him, “don’t you wanna get up and open your presents?”

You rolled your eyes because of course he had to get you something, even when you told him not to.  "I don't need any presents, Bruce, just having you here today is enough."

"Couldn't help myself.  You're so easy to shop for, you look good in everything.  Besides, I like dressing you up almost as much as I like undressing you."

“So it’s something to wear?” you deduced.  

“Just get up and get ready, okay?”

You nodded and slipped out from under the quilt, dashing to the bathroom to splash your face, brush your teeth, and maybe throw on a little makeup so you wouldn’t look like you’d just woken up when you had, in fact, just woken up.

Slipping on a red plaid robe, you returned to the living room and found Bruce lounging beside the tree in his fuzzy house pants, distractingly shirtless.  As much as you were compelled to kneel down and bury your fingers in that black curly hair that deliciously blanketed his chest, your attention was redirected to the long, flat box in his hands.

“Open it,” he encouraged as he handed it to you, circling around to stand behind you and stroke your arms as you gently tore the paper open.  It was just a white cardboard box underneath, lacking in any labels so you had to pop the top off to see the garment inside.  "You like Balmain, right?" he asked softly with a smile.

It was gorgeous; silk, it felt like, in a deep forest green that was almost festive in a way.  "Bruce this is…" you trailed off, dropping the box and holding the dress at the shoulders, letting the fabric unfurl and spill down until you could see the whole dress.  "This is too nice.  I can't let you spend this much on me."

"Oh, it wasn't that expensive," he lied, "now go try it on."

You started to protest, but he cut you off with a kiss, resting his hand on the back of your neck and pulling you closer.  You melted into his arms instantly, completely forgetting where you were and what you’d been talking about as your eyes fluttered shut and your lips slotted against his.  When he pulled back, you were barely aware of what he was talking about when he whispered: “go try it on.”

“The dress!” you remembered.  “I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t really need to leave the room to get dressed, he’d seen you naked plenty of times, but you figured it would make the grand reveal that much more exciting.  Just putting it on made your skin all tingly, the soft fabric making you shiver as it brushed against you so delicately.  The mirror wasn’t super helpful, too small to see how you looked past your shoulders, so you decided that you’d have to trust that you looked as good as you felt.

Seeing your heels just a few feet away, you dashed to grab them; they would perfectly complete the look, because it would be kind of odd to wear Balmain while barefoot.  Sure, they were a bit uncomfortable, but it was worth it to see him turn around to the sound of your clicking heels, his jaw nearly hitting the floor as he watched you step closer.  “What do you think?” you asked shyly.

He got up and approached you, his expression heavy with desire and making you shiver.  He knelt down before you, looking up at you with dark eyes as he slowly— excruciatingly slowly— pushed up the skirt of your dress, his thick, rough fingers tickling your thighs.

You just had a thong underneath, lacy and delicate, meaning you felt it all too well when he licked you through the fabric.

"Ffffuck," you sighed, "Bruce, baby…"

"Y'like that, pretty girl?"

You nodded breathlessly, trying not to let your knees buckle when he did it again, reaching down to dig your fingers into his hair.  "Don't stop, daddy, please."

He did stop, but only for a moment so he could gently hook a finger under the fabric and pull your panties aside, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of your mound.  Finally, his lips latched onto your swollen clit, and you moaned lowly.

You were normally pretty good at standing in heels, but this posed a new challenge.

When he found a pattern of sucking your clit, fucking you with his tongue, and doing this positively obscene thing with his teeth that you couldn't describe but made your knees weak, you were soon barreling towards the point of no return.  "Bruce, fuck, I'm close— gonna come, please let me come…"

He only nodded, not stopping his work for even a moment, and you clutched his curls tightly as your hips rocked against his face.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy," you chanted breathlessly as the coil finally snapped, a new gush of warmth spreading between your legs as you quivered above him.  Your vision went black for just a second, head thrown back into a silent moan as you held your breath until all your noises broke forth all at once, somewhere between a scream and a sob and a sigh. 

"Fuck, such a good girl for me," he purred, giving your sore clit one last luck before he instructed: "get on the bed," encouraging you with a little shove back towards it.

You spun to face away from him and get on your hands and knees atop the plushy mattress.  Your face heated up as you heard him laugh.  "I meant on your back, princess.  God, you're a slut."

Embarrassed but aware that his words were more a compliment than anything else, you rolled onto your back and spread your legs as he climbed on top of you and slotted his body between them, shedding himself of his pajama pants until his thick cock bounced back up to slap against his stomach.  You bit down on your lip, wishing he'd given you a chance to put that cock in your mouth (because it looked fucking delicious) but losing that train of thought as he ran his hands all over your body through the silky fabric of his gift to you.

Suddenly, with a deep growl, he grabbed the dress at the neckline and ripped it open right down the front.  "Bruce!" you yelped in protest; your heart broke for the expensive dress destroyed, but your thighs clenched together at the sight of him tearing through it like paper.

"I'll buy you a new one," he sighed flippantly before diving in to roughly grope your breasts, littering your chest with kisses and stopping to teasingly suck your nipples along the way.

"Daddy," you whimpered, "please fuck me."

"Not gonna make you wait much longer, babygirl," he promised, "just tell me you love me."

It made your chest tighten and your cheeks warm, but you were happy to oblige.  "I love you," you whispered.

"Once more, with feeling," he requested.

"I love you," you said again, a little louder.

He grinned, hovering over you as he pushed his cock down to slip inside you.  You gasped and clutched the sheets beneath you as he moved deeper, his lips catching yours in a slow kiss.  "I love you too," he replied gently before he began to fuck you in a way that was… anything but gentle.

"Fuck," you sobbed, wanting more than anything to arch your back and throw your head into the pillow, but you couldn't with your lip caught between his teeth.

You'd adjusted to his cock quite a bit since the first time you hooked up with him nearly two years ago, and yet it still felt like he was stretching you impossibly wide as he fucked you hard and deep.  You figured at this point that you would never become fully accustomed to his size; you sort of hoped you wouldn't, because you liked the edge of pain that danced up your spine each time he entered you.  When he hooked your leg in his arms, lifting it to rest his shoulder, he pushed even deeper and you whined beneath his heavy weight.

"So deep," you whispered.

"I know, baby," he whispered back.  "You feel so fucking good, princess…"

It was impossible to keep track of the flow of time at that point, so it couldn’t been minutes or hours that he spent inside you, taking you apart perfectly piece-by-piece.  You couldn’t keep track of how many times you came, either, aware only of an overload of sensations coming at your body from every angle.

He kissed you as he reached his own peak, mumbling your name somewhere between the movements of his lips against yours until you felt like you were floating just from the way he said it.  You stayed that way for longer than you expected while he caught his breath, before he rolled off of you and you both sighed as you stared up at the ceiling.

"Fuck," he groaned, "that was… intense."

"That's rich coming from you, considering I'm the one that just got my cervix pummeled."

"I wasn't too hard on you, was I?"

"God no, it was amazing," you laughed, "but still… damn."

"I don't know about you but I worked up quite an appetite," he grinned.  "I'm gonna get up and make blueberry pancakes, you want some?"

"Do you even need to ask?" you smirked, and he leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips before he slipped on his pants again and dashed off to the kitchen.

As far as Christmas mornings go, you weren't sure it could get much better than an expensive gift, getting dicked down like it was the end of the world, and blueberry pancakes.  

[cryptids-and-muses]

Blood and Bonds: Chapter 1

Ao3

The field was lit by the last rays of daylight. Just enough so Sypha could see the warlocks doing this perfectly. There were 10 or them, all in matching cloaks. Most of them gathered around the stone altar in the center of the field. The altar sypha was tied to.

“Oh Valefor! Duke of Hell! Come forth with your many heads and many limbs….” the warlock chanted as sypha struggled against the bonds tying her to the rock. They limited her magic but she struggled anyway, refusing to just give up.

“You’ll regret this.” She spat, but the cultists paid her no mind.

Trevor thrashed, restrained by two of the cultists, “If you so much as touch her I’ll rip your arms off and shove them up down your throat!” He shouted.

The head warlock didn’t listen, instead rising an ornate dagger to the sky, “Oh lord of thieves! I Beseech thee, accept this offering! Fill our bodies with her strength! Fill our veins with her blood! Fill our minds with her knowledge!”

A hiss escaped Adrian as he tried to stand. Struggling against the invisible weight pressing down on him. The mage in front of him smirked, and Adrian felt the weight increase. His vision blurred as he tried to breath under it. Tried to do anything.

Sypha tried to call her magic. Tried to slip her hands out of the chains. Hell, she even tried to kick the man leading the ritual. But nothing worked. The head warlock’s chanting reached a climax, “Valefor! Steal this offering’s power and make it our own!”

He brought the knife down.

Sypha screamed.

Something in Adrian snapped.

Trevor heard a snarl and the room exploded into chaos. A flurry of movement Trevor’s mind couldn’t keep up with. Just a red blur and the sounds of an animal attack. Claws tearing through flesh. Screams. The wet sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, everything went still, and Trevor could see the aftermath of whatever just happened. Blood drenched every corner of the field. Limbs and other bits of gore were scattered around in some grotesque display. The two men who had restrained Trevor were heaps on the floor. One had been torn open from collar to stomach. His intestines hanging limply outside of his body. The other’s heart had been ripped out, along with several bits of rib that had gotten in the way. But Trevor barely noticed. All his attention was on Adrian.

If he could even call the thing in front of him by the same name.

He stood by the altar, at the center of the carnage. His white shirt had been stained dark red, and was speckled with chunks of gore. Some of it even hung in his hair. Bits of flesh hung from his claws, still posed to strike at a moments notice. And his face…..Trevor felt nauseous looking at it. There was no humanity there. No concern or recognition. No trace of the man he loved at all. His lips were curled into a snarl, exposing bloodied fangs. His lips and chin were smeared with the stuff. Solid red eyes stared at the corpse at his feet. The man who’d stabbed Sypha. His throat was torn out, and around the wound were the tell-tale impression of vampire teeth.

Trevor’s hand fell to the morningstar, “......Adrian?”

There was no response.

Trevor's grip on his weapon tightened.

But then Adrian blinked, and the red cleared from his vision. What happened? He’d been pinned and then he heard sypha scream and then....

Rage.

He remembered rage. Like nothing he’d never felt before.

But everything else was blank. A sea of red and adrenaline.

He shook his head, trying to clear the remaining fog. That’s when the smell hit him. The smell of blood hung thick and choking in the air. Adrian looked up in panic, and finally got a good look at his surroundings. His eyes widened at the carnage laid before him. The butchery.

He staggered back.

What. Had. He. Done.

Adrian covered his mouth. His hand came away wet. He realized there was blood on his lips, on his fangs, that he could feel it sliding down his throat-

He fell to his knees and vomited. Bile and freshly swallowed blood splattering the grass below him.

Sypha knew something was wrong, but the world swam around her. The only thing she could make out clearly was the searing pain in her stomach. Her boys, she needed to get to them. Something was wrong and she needed to find them. She tried moving, but heat shot through her body, making her cry out.

“Sypha!” Trevor ran to her. He could see the blood soaking into her robes. She whimpered as he tried putting pressure on the wound. “Shit,” they needed to do something, fast. He looked over at their third, who was still staring in horror at the destruction around him.

“Adrian!” Trevor snapped, this time more forceful. They didn’t have time for this.

Trevor’s voice broke Adrian out of his spiralling. He looked over at the altar and it hit him. Sypha . He scrambled to her side. Those horrible chains were still around her wrists and ankles. He snapped them, and tried to not think about how much easier it was than usual.

Trevor looked around the field, “We need to leave.” There was a brief hesitation as he glanced at Adrian, “Can you carry her?”

Adrian was shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, god it was in his hair, but nodded. Focus on now, on what he needed to do. He could worry about what he’d done later. He scooped sypha into his arms and began to walk back to the town they were staying at. Pointedly not looking anywhere but ahead.

Trevor didn’t let go of sypha’s hand. He was silent as they walked, unable to get the image of Adrian with blood red eyes out of his mind.

------

It was silent as Adrian tended to Sypha in the cramped inn room. She fell asleep part way through, Adrian continued to clean her wounds. Trevor watched him from across the table while holding sypha’s hand. Neither met each other’s eyes. The tension in the room was palpable.

Eventually Adrian puts the cloth down, and lets out a shaky breath, “She’s going to be fine.”

Trevor nods, finally letting go of her hand. The silence stretched on.

“Are you going to tell me what that was?”

Adrian looked at the floor, “I don’t know.”

Trevor’s jaw tightened, “You killed ten people in the blink of an eye. You bit a man’s throat out.”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back, he hugged himself, “I’ve….I’ve never lost control like that before. I didn’t even know I was capable of that.”

Trevor sighed, “Do you remember what was going through your head?”

“Barely. I just remember sypha screaming. Then everything went red.” Adrian didn’t meet his gaze.

That oppressive silence fell again. This horrible distance between them. It took a while for Trevor to build up the courage to speak again, “I still love you, and I swear to god I always will. But.....”

Adrian gave him a sad smile, “But you can’t trust me.”

Trevor opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could still see specks of gore tangled in Adrian’s hair.

“It’s okay,” Adrian looked at the floor, “I can’t trust myself either.”

It was painful to see him like this. So distraught and scared, but Trevor forced himself to keep talking, “We can’t just ignore this. Pretend like it can’t happen again.”

A sob tore out of Adrian,”I can still fucking taste him. Can feel his blood giving me strength. I feel like a monster . If this happens again….” He was shaking, “I-I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Trevor took Adrian’s hand, “Don’t worry. I won’t let you.” He gulped, “If this happens again-“

Adrian’s eyes snapped to Trevor, “No.”

“But-”

“ No.” Adrian squeezed Trevor’s hand, his still teary eyes full of determination, “I know what it's like to have to kill someone you love. And I refuse to put you or Sypha through that. I would take myself out before I made either of you do it.”

Trevor’s throat was dry.

But what if, he wanted to say. What if you’re so far gone I don’t have a choice.

But he didn’t, he just stared at Adrian with sad eyes, “Okay,” he pulled the dhampir into his arms, hugging him tightly, “Okay.”

He wanted to say something reassuring. To tell Adrian it would be alright. But He couldn’t. So he stood there, holding Adrian as his love cried into his shoulder.

[organic-guacamole]

episode 209 spoilers below

I'm so late today but here it is

I love EJ, he's finally learning to be happy. I'm so proud.

Ms Jenn = every boomer during zoom calls, like jeez yes we can hear you stop shouting at me.

LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKE ABOUT QUARANTINE "these dark times" "you mean spring break?"

ah yes, remember when we thought covid was just gonna give us a longer spring break? good times

SEBLOS

damn the passive aggressiveness from Carlos and the absolutely over it tone from seb✋

CASWELL COUSINS!!!!! THEY'RE THE BEST!!!!

we needed more if this kind of goofiness for the first part of season 2 that only such an iconic duo can provide.

old old movies-

is it even that old, or is Nini being a gen alpha rn-

i choose to imagine EJ being scared of the movie and hiding in Ashlyn's shoulder while she keeps a straight face and then EJ pretending to be tough afterwards

aww redlyn are soulmates.... yknow, if gingers had souls

(please ignore me)

y'all saw how EJ's face *lit up* when Gina logged on? how dare you tell me he doesn't like her

ofc she's no damsel in distress, she's Gina porter, she's amazing.

so do we think she'd be the type to just glare at suspicious people? or bark at them

do they not know that Rini broke up? or is Ms Jenn just wanting Nini to suffer through her heartbreak to make her a better actress....

speaking of, why is Nini in the call? she's not in the show anymore. Unless she is, even after the rose and the song got cut, which would be so unfair to all those that auditioned properly before she even came back but whatever, she's the main character I get it 🙄

big red is a hero honestly, Nini better thank him for changing the subject like that

I can't-

i won't work you over the break-

this woman would 100% work her kids 24/7 if it was legal and idk how to feel about it.

YES GINA USE THAT CHARM

QUEEN

FRENCH QUEEN

SHE LEARNT FROM THE BEST (antoine obvi)

smh the airport lady, eavesdropping on Gina's call.

The way she was so happy to answer EJ's call, "eej"

I love them your honour.

EJ WITH PAINTED NAILS YES PLEASE

great now we need to see Gina, Ashlyn and EJ having a complete spa day and EJ getting really into it and Gina and Ashlyn take pictures of him when he's laying down in a robe with a mask and cucumbers on his eyes.

finally we get to see Gina's side of portwell

the way she considered it as flirting, this is the sign she asked for in episode 6 come onnnnn

no is Asher/jack really doing tiktok dances in an airport-

Ricky is me. I am burrito.

oh Lynne, sweetie, I'm sorry but the blonde hair is not it

is that even the same lady or-

THE BEAN

THE CHICAGO BEAN

THE BIG OLD METAL BEAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY 😭

jetlag is my go to excuse for anything... I haven't travelled in 2 years.

"welcome to the Lynne and Mike gossip show. where we talk about our depressed son that we both neglect in certain ways! And now a word from our sponsor, Nord VPN..."

SO MANY CANDLES

WHAT DEMON IS LYNNE TRYING TO SUMMON IN HIS ROOM-

is Nina becoming social media obsessed EJ from season 1? AND SHE LIED ABOUT HAVING SONGS TOO PLEASE WHY ARW THEY RECYCLING THE SAME PLOT-

Gina smiling at the picture of her family on Instagram makes me so happy, idek why.

EJ's nails are so pretty, we needed to see it more (unless he had it on for the rest of the episode and I just.... didn't notice🧍🏽‍♀️)

oh not the tiktok kid✋

yes ma'am end this strange mans whole tiktok career

sir take a hint and leave

GINA NO DONT SAY YOUR LAST NAME HE COULD BE A HUMAN TRAFFICKER

Ricky, walking in style✨

weird kid, ok then Lynne, can't you see he's this close to the edge?

not all your fault baby Ricky, Nini sucks a bit more

RICKY YOU DIDN'T COME DOWN HARD ON THE SONG-

YOU ASKED WHAT IT WAS ABOUT AND SHE SHUT YOU DOWN-

PLEASE DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

ok but the deleting comment thing was very bad

still don't know if I like Jack honestly

hmmm so Nini's calling herself Nini instead of Nina in her little egg seat, while trying to write a song without inspiration.... Nini, honey, Ricky was your muse, he inspired you to write all those songs, even if it wasn't good for the relationship.

that doesn't mean you gotta get back with him, or that you can't write a song that not about him butttt it'll take some time

the rainbow sticker in her box and her rainbow shirt-

anyways wbk she's not totally straight

Jack are you a criminal?

quick, Gina, check his ankle for a tracker

THE YES AND PRACTICE STRIKES AGAIN

the way Gina wasn't into it in episode 6 but she's used the technique twice now

stole her grandma's Pomeranian-

Jack where the hell did you pull that out from-

the fake crying killed me, that looks like so much fun though

anyone wanna raid a first class lounge with me?

wait so is jack not gonna go in with her?

wouldn't he go in too? help look for the credit card? SO CONFUSED

the first class lounge guy was so into the drama though, watch his face when they start arguing 😭

sorry to break this to you Kourtney, but you haven't even blocked the second act yet soooo...

take that as you will

I love how all of them are totally dissing the dance off

that's the most realistic part of this show tbh

shouldn't Nini have asked how she knew....since the start? why is the fact that her best friend has knowledge of a North high secret now dawning on her...

Howie is sweet honestly, at least he's trying to help. but I stand with Kourtney, don't take him back just because he sang an amazing song, and is giving you a heads up on what's gonna happen...

KOURTNEY IS ME TRYING TO LEAVE AN ONLINE CLASS

I hate school

ooo Nini's writing a song about bad internet connection 🤩🤩🤩

I never lie, except when I do-

son that is the creepiest thing you could say to a stranger that you've been "helping"

2 truths and a lie👀

he's an Ariana fan 100%

called it.

OLDER BROTHER-

WHAT-

free spirit? damn so brother porter was in that horse movie

so has she been kissed or not?????????

I feel like she's moved more than 15 times though so possibly

but then if she's moved so much, and before east high she never opened up to anyone, she's never been kissed then?? damn

same though Gina so let's be besties please

heartbreak president is a great song title idea, give Nini a call rn

but wait

is the no strings attached feeling thing about her telling Ricky she liked him? she thought she was moving away so she thought it'd be no strings attached???

guys I think I figured it out insert the "I've connected two dots" meme

THE DUKE SWEATSHIRT

IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S

OMG I LOVE I LOVE

NOT THAT I KNOW OF???

ma'am did you just kill me

yes you did

Lynne and Ricky have such a weird relationship

YES IT DID SUCK

TODD SUCKS

LYNNE SUCKS

yeah I get that you wanted Ricky to like Todd BUT THAT WASN'T THE TIME

right so we already know that Ricky was so desperate to keep Nini cuz he didn't want to be like his parents, and now Lynne's talking about this-

Richard needs a long hug

yes Lynne, it is your fault. thank you for finally admitting it.

YES DYE YOUR HAIR

BLOND HIGHLIGHTS RICKY WILL RISE AGAIN

"sometimes the best, last thing you can do for someone you love, is let them go."

gotta admit I teared up at that point

not me thinking big red was calling ms Jenn cupcake for a hot second-

Carlos please omg, you're at the "beach" and they're leaving for the pool?

also, why not just do the call from the hotel room please omg

"don't ask me"

"Carlos"

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

big red wants the tea

O M G

SEB IS JEALOUS

JEALOUS SEBBY IS MY FAVOURITE THING IDC

I'm surprised ms Jenn knew how to give Nini permission to screenshare tbh

So lily's been stalking the East high kids and spending time editing this video while she's supposedly in an immersion trip.... right

EJ and Ashlyn's picture is so chaotic, what even is happening there

"slacking off" bestie its spring break, obviously they're confident enough that they'll get it done in time so why not focus on your own musical.

jealous seb = sassy seb

please what if those guys Carlos is posing with are his cousins or something and that's why he's so confused about Seb

6 YEAR OLD EJ I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Nini saying she's obsessed with her ex, that's not weird at all 👍

I can just tell Matt had a blast harassing Julia with those puppets.

Jack please dont be like that, "yet"

chances are you'll never see eachother again 🥰

(honestly sometimes I really miss those friends I made on trips and stuff when we'd spend the day or week together, only to never see them again....those were the good days though)

Ashlyn and Nini should write more songs..... something better than this one at least

Nini: "im good"

cue the Tia Mowry (please I can't spell) crying gif

oh I forgot Ricky was in the show for a hot second

1. where did Gina get to film this without people being around

2. did she just... randomly change her clothes???

ok but the transition between Carlos and EJ

*chefs kiss*

now everyone shut up, EJ's singing

oh i think I'm pregnant

HIS MUSCLES

YES KOURTNEY

I love how big red and Kourtney went from being "the best friends™" to the couple in season 1, to kinda close themselves and having their own plots

sebby makes me so happy

props to biggies editing skills honestly

PORTWELL BEING SIDE TO SIDE I CANT

AND SEBLOS OMG

big red lives for the drama

"wow" so true Ricky

no he is not cute, stop it

"holding" ok that's kinda cute

yeah EJ's a lucky guy😌

jokes aside, it's not that hard to exchange numbers-

keep in touch if you want

ok I really like Jack now

if he comes back in season 3, maybe have him be LGBTQ+ ?

like the only out characters they have rn are Seb and Carlos and they're like the sterotypes, yk?

I'd love to see jack kinda break the mold

Ricky's breaking my heart

that song just hurts

the only thing

now I don't hate Lynne????????

HOW DARE THEY WRITE IN A PROPER REDEMPTION ARC FOR HER

UGH IM SUPPOSED TO HATE HER FOREVER

I mean I don't live her now but she's good

but honestly

"mom can I show you something"

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

THE PICTURE AND EVERYTHING OMG

I'm sobbing please help

Gina saying she's just waiting for the right guy and then EJ coming to the airport to pick her up late at night without her asking, offering to bring her back in the morning so she won't have to Uber, bringing her a granola bar (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE FORGOT TO PACK) and without expecting anything in return???

ms ma'am you've got a keeper right there

her smile at the end was so heartwarming I really can't.

this episode was great.

it felt really short but I liked it, great character development for Ricky, Lynne and Gina.

Cant wait for next episode to see more of EJ being the ideal boyfriend /hj

[miscellaneous-obsession]

Story of any kind of Lady Dimitrescu x Reader but have Miranda in it?

Back to our usual schedule of fics, here is one that took a bit to write! I went with full on angst and fluff so you have been warned... and will be again like twice :)

Unending Nightmare

Warnings: Graphic violence, details of injury, blood and gore, general feeling of anxiety, panic, despair, Miranda being horrible as hell and not suitable for minors.

It seemed almost surreal to regain consciousness in the main hall, her body lounging on one of two settees that sat perfectly aligned to the table in between. Alcina's spine cried in anguish with an unnatural contortion, prompting amber eyes to flutter open, blinking comically in rapid succession to disperse the remnants of sleep that clouded her vision. Rising to a sitting position relieved the strain she experienced, with subsequent stretching of limbs resulting in audible pops.

As her gaze panned briefly across the room, everything appeared untouched, even lipstick-stained cups that sat atop of matching saucers, evidence of her impromptu afternoon tea shared with her wife. A smile saw her slackened jaw tighten with the memory, her mind reliving the moment vividly as she gracefully angled her legs as to touch the ground. However, the sole of one heel didn't make it, landing upon the novel still open to the bookmarked page in which it was discarded as she succumbed to sleep.

However, as the matriarch moved to collect the piece of literature, a piercing scream laced with agony carried through the endless corridors, starling Alcina from her reverie. A sound from such a distance shouldn't have been able to travel, nor should the crying wails and sobs that followed. A note of familiarity within the voice struck a chord in the countess as her mind sought an answer. All the while, fear began to steadily crawl along her spine, wrapping tight like a snake, slithering into her heart in an attempt of manifestation. Shakily she brought her hand to her lips, eyes widening as she recognised the perpetual weeping.

The safety the castle once afforded her dematerialised before her very eyes as fragments of reality appeared to settle into place. The pleading whimpers almost quietened into non-existence, much like the fire that began to dim. In what light remained, Alcina took note of the disorganised chaos that made itself known, how furniture had been shoved aside, vases broken in the wake of a predator, even the blood that marred the marble floor.

Instinctively her claws unsheathed, sensing the danger that posed as a threat to her family. However, as the matriarch took a step closer, intent on examining the trail of crimson destruction, she staggered backwards. The scent of iron in the air was unmistakable; a smell she was well acquainted with and often so enticed by became reclusive as it hit her olfactory receptors. Someone dared to touch... harm what was hers, somewhere in the place they called home, her wife lay injured.

Grappling with the panic and horror that strove to run rampant in her mind, Alcina frantically called aloud for her daughters. But even when beckoned, her solitude persisted; never once upon summoning had her girls elected to disobey or ignore. At last, the illusion of elegance and composure shattered, leaving the countess in what she deemed an unsavoury, feral state, desperate to find and protect what she claimed to be her own.

Alcina all but marched to the cellar growing increasingly fretful with every step she took as she was forced to strain her ears to catch sound of the almost silent, pained murmurs. Ignorant of her own wellbeing, she pursued her wife in heels with an unnaturally fast pace across the uneven, damp terrain, paid by a loss of stance on more than one occasion. Upon rounding the corner in what could be deemed a dishevelled appearance, the matriarch's heart stuttered, skipping a beat involuntarily at the lurid sight before her.

Laid on a mortuary table, gasping for breath, was her beloved, blood pooling beneath her quivering frame from a freshly inflicted incision site as her body seemingly rejected what was both forced and foreign. Once vivid blue irises were almost consumed by blacked pupils, a natural response to the accumulation of adrenaline created as unwavering pain gripped her body. Teeth had long pierced both tongue and lips, allowing more blood to bead in droplets to go unused and wasted, following gravity to the drain so conveniently in place on the stainless steel table.

The growl unleashed from Alcina's throat was unrivalled; her desire to cry out extinguished as she pried her gaze upward. Standing mere inches from her wife's side was Miranda, in a laboratory coat almost befitting of her former self. In hand was an empty jar, fluid swishing with the gentle jostles of the deities movements. A worn label, lacking adhesive, clung to the glass, almost faded to the human eye, but two letters confirmed the unthinkable.

"You've arrived in time, my dear; your pet's future is dependent on this very moment."

Unable to refute the truth in Miranda's words nor bring solace to her wife, she attempted the latter as it appeared the more achievable of the two. With claws retracted, unwilling to cause more harm, Alcina cradled her wilting wife's face as delicately she could muster. She blinked several times over the next minute, refusing to let the tears she felt building fall as she honed in on the ever slowing heartbeat. Hushed apologies and whispered declarations of love were shared, albeit one-sided, in some hope that her beloved heard.

Desperate for her wife to avoid an inevitable future as a mindless moroaicǎ, she continued to track her declining health, choosing to strike as the paled woman took her final breath as a human. Before the transformation could ensue, Alcina made the decision to end what would begin within the coming minutes. Her choice is emboldened upon catching Miranda's dismissive and callous opinion, "Another failure, unsurprising."

Just as her claws were sat poised to cut and render the moroaicǎ useless, her body jolted awake, sweat beading along her brow from the horrifyingly realistic dream her mind had conjured. Swiping a hand to remove what clung to her skin, her eyes blindly searched the room devoid of light. A shaky but relieved sigh slipped past her lips as her hand came to land on and subsequently caress the top of her wife's head.

As calming as one's breathing regulations could be, it didn't replace nor best physical contact with the woman she loved. With arms outstretched, she enveloped her wife, drawing her atop her chest, listening and attempting to match the rhythmic beat of her heart. During such extrication from her place under the covers, bleary eyes opened a fraction in confusion, head tilting to mirror jumbled thoughts.

"Alci?"

"Forgive me, dragă mea, go back to sleep."

Feeling the minute shake of a head, the countess peered down, acknowledging the look of concern that replaced serenity. A hand of supple skin rose to gently gloss over her cheeks, gathering what tears had fallen with the pull of gravity.

"What is troubling you so, beloved?"

Unable to recount most of the tale, Alcina spared her wife from gruesome details, summarising the dream to one line, "It appears my mind attempted to convince me I had lost you."

A contemplative hum resonated directly below her ear, the vibration of which tickled the countess' neck as her wife nestled comfortably in her hold. "Nothing in this world could part me from you; I love you too much to bear separation in this lifetime."

"And if we had no other choice?"

A tutting sound emerged in the dark, an almost dismissal of such a notion. "Then I'd have lived a life knowing I had a woman who loved me and three beautiful daughters to succeed me."

"Poetic... only divulging such a divine talent and way with words now. But I fear you forget that you were the one, with an open heart and mind, who reintroduced my capability to love another outside my darling girls, a trait I thought had been long lost to my mutation."

A keening whine of appreciation caught her ears, further emphasised as featherlight kisses were pressed along the expanse of exposed skin, her wife opting to include areas of her jaw within reach.

"It appears we were both lucky with the hand fate dealt us." After a beat of silence, a tired voice reiterated what had been murmured in the last moments before their slumber, "Te iubesc Cina... te iubesc."

Those wise words and impromptu reaffirmation soothed the ache left by the dream, eradicating the pain like a salve. With practised ease, the matriarch responded in kind, "Și eu te iubesc," before succumbing to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

-----------------------------------------

Both were jolted from sleep only hours later when the covers were unceremoniously pulled back and bodies pressed against them in urgency. Muffled giggles and quiet hushes saw eyes open, only to narrow imperceptibly in faux annoyance, prompting sheepish grins to spread across their daughter's lips. Half-hearted glares quickly faltered, softening into smiles, giving all three the go-ahead to bury their chilled frames in between and around the couple.

Following their lead, Bela too extricated her body, albeit with an audible whine, from beneath the covers. Soon the countess grew amused at the trio's antics as they pleaded with an array of tactics for her wife to join them for their morning routine. Reluctantly Alcina released her wife from her grasp, seeing her subsequently tugged out of bed by the girls. The four ran from the room as a game of tag began, allowing the matriarch to muse as she mapped the softened footfalls of her family throughout the wing in which they resided.

Without warning, her peace was disturbed by the shrill ring of the ornate rotary phone that sat in the adjoining room to her chambers. Donning a robe to retain some modicum of decency, Alcina took her place at her vanity, a tremor running through her hand as she picked up the receiver.

"Mother Miranda."

"Ah Alcina dear, I trust you aren't busy."

Before the matriarch had a chance to respond, Miranda continued on a tangent of her own, "Now, I called to discuss business regarding your wife; her repeated test results have revealed something rather... interesting."

From the moment that phrase was uttered with such an insinuating tone, Alcina could no longer focus. The countess' heart dropped and found herself wishing that the echoing laughter of her girls and beloved could remain forever constant in the castle walls.

[reinersbb]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔] Chapter Two- Coffee Girl

Chapter Two of ‘Forget’

You could still recall the ringing sensation you felt vibrate through your ears when those words left Floch's mouth. Those horrid series of words tormented you for the rest of the evening, and through the morning of the next day.

You had spent the rest of your Friday night in bed, alone, in your dark dorm room by yourself.

A Friday night that'd gone to waste.

You were slightly thankful that your dorm mate never came back last night. Not that you didn't like your roommate, because you did, it's just you knew how awkward it would be to sob your heart out in front of someone. Your roommate was a good person, but when it came to emotions and people-stuff, she was very blunt and confrontational.

At this point during the day, you had no more tears left to give. You've run dry. The mid-morning sun that broke through the window to your immediate right caused a stream of light to cascade across you and your bed and into the rest of the blackened room.

Your fingertips curled over the edge of the comforter, pulling the blanket up against your neck as you rolled over onto your left side, facing away from the window and to the openness of the room. Your eyes were locked on the floor, or specifically, the light that snuck in from underneath the door. You held your gaze at that particular spot until the sounds of familiar voices approached the door, along with shadows that rippled in the light from under the door that peered in.

The door handle jiggled until eventually you were exposed to the people behind it in all of your post-breakup glory.

"Shit, (Y/N), you're still in bed? Are you hungover or something?" Your roommate asked, standing in the middle of the doorway with her girlfriend, "it's almost noon."

Almost noon?

By this point, you've already accepted the fact that you were going to have to face the music and spill what happened between you and Floch. Because she was going to get it out of you anyway.

Ymir was very perceptive like that.

"No, I'm awake," you admitted.

As soon as the reply left your lips, she went for the light switch and turned the light on. At the initial contact, the light burned your eyes and you tightly clamped your eyelids shut. You battled with yourself with a series of blinks until you were able to keep your eyes open completely.

"Hey guys," you finally greeted.

"Hi, (Y/N)," the small blonde greeted with a bright smile on her face, but once she got a good look at you, the smile faded away, "are you alright?"

"I'm not okay, actually," you knew for a fact that it wasn't best for you to lie.

Ymir got a better look at you, "what the hell happened to you then? You look like you've been crying," her intimidating eyes stared you down like she was doing a full-blown analysis.

"Floch broke up with me," you said, finally sitting up straight in your bed, the comforter rippling down from your chest.

Historia looked at you, eyes wide, "I don't understand, you guys seemed so perfect together, why would he do that?"

You sighed, "I don't know."

In all honesty, you asked yourself that question over too many times last night.

'Why would he do this? Why would he break up with me? Just because he wanted to go separate ways? What kind of excuse is that? I thought we were on the same page.'

"He must be out of his mind to break up with you," Historia approached your bedside, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress with you.

Historia was basically your third roommate even though she didn't live in the same dorm with you and Ymir. You thought it a little odd the few times Ymir would show up without Historia by her side. That just goes to show how often the two were with one another.

You and Floch weren't like that though. There were days you'd go without seeing each other but would make up on missed time on the days the two of you would hang out. Which was supposed to be last night.

"Men, such assholes," Ymir scoffed, the weight shifting in the bed when Ymir sat near the foot of the bed to the right of Historia, "I can't stand them," she wrapped an arm around the petite blonde's shoulders.

"Floch didn't even deserve you anyways," Historia spoke with a comforting smile, you could tell that she was trying her best to make you feel better.

You were thankful for both Historia and Ymir, especially in times like this. The two of them made up the majority of the small handful of friends you had.

"Thanks," your eyes fell, staring at the comforter as your fingernails fiddled with the material. "Looks like I'm going to be third-wheeling a lot more now," you chuckled dryly.

Occasionally, you, Floch, Ymir, and Historia would go on double dates together. You guessed that was an end to that tradition.

"Doesn't sound like a problem to me," Ymir said. "Speaking of being a third-wheel, you should come out with us tonight, (y/n), it'll be fun."

"Wha-"

"This frat party, we were invited last night," Historia said, her big blue eyes staring at you sympathetically.

A party? While the thought of going out did tempt you, you still weren't sure if getting shit-faced and having to deal with a hangover the next day would be worth it if you still had to study for a test you had on Monday.

"I don't know you guys, I have this test on Monday and..."

But at the same time, how could you even focus on studying when Floch was constantly stuck on your mind? Sitting in your room pining over a guy who probably wasn't even thinking about you for the second day in a row would be worthless.

"Come on, (Y/N), please come out with us tonight so you can get your mind off of everything," Historia pleaded with a cheerful tone, "there's no use sitting inside crying over some jerk."

Ymir pinched Historia's right cheek, "how could you possibly say no to this cute face?"

They were right. You knew they were right. You were just broken up with, you needed to go out and have a good time tonight.

Historia placed a gentle, comforting hand on top of your knee, "look, we can't force you to go with us, but just know you deserve to have fun and happiness."

At this point, you'd practically made up your decision in your mind.

"Fine, I'll go with you guys," your chest dropped with a light sigh and Historia gathered you into her arms with a small hug.

"Great!" Historia exclaimed before letting go of you to hop off of the bed.

Ymir followed Historia off of the bed, only stopping to turn and look at you, "be ready by ten, okay? Or sometime around then, it doesn't really matter."

After the conversation you had with both of them, you were invited to go out with them for lunch, which you accepted because you had skipped out on dinner yesterday. After lunch, you genuinely needed some time to yourself to get a short study session in, along with a post-breakup social media cleanse, erasing every single trace you had connected with Floch.

*****************

Your freshly shaved legs were crossed as you were sitting on the floor, your posture was anything less than angelic as you leaned hunched forward staring at yourself in your body mirror. You were wrapped in a damp cotton towel, getting ready for the awaited party. Music from your favorite playlist steadily playing in the background from your laptop that was positioned on top of your bed as you applied your makeup.

Historia sat down on the ground next to you, her petite frame wrapped in one of Ymir's robes as she applied makeup onto her face. While Ymir sat on top of her bed, one arm propped behind her head as she was absorbed into her phone absentmindedly, just waiting for both you and Historia to finish getting ready for the party.

When you finished applying your makeup, you packed up all of your items you had strewn about on the floor before zipping your makeup bag shut. You negligently tossed the bag of cosmetics onto your unmade bed before closing your laptop, cutting off the music with it.

Effortlessly scooping up the black satin spaghetti-strapped dress you had laid flat out onto your bed. Your fingertips needing over the cool satin material as you examined the dress in its entirety. While neither Ymir nor Historia was paying attention, you threw on matching black laced underwear before putting the dress, making sure to be careful not to mess up your hair and makeup.

"Ooh, you're wearing that number?" The sound of a sing-song expression from Historia made you forward your attention to her.

Historia ran a hand along with the material of her dress, adjusting the light pink halter dress she wore. A smile appeared on your face as you playfully stuck a pose.

"What do you think, Historia," you said, breaking from your pose, "am I doing too much?"

"I think you look like someone who is going to have lots of fun tonight," she winked at you knowingly.

After throwing on some black heels to match with the outfit, you examined yourself in the mirror. Turning around to stare at yourself from behind, examining the exposed portion of your back.

Just as all three of you were about to leave for the party, you spritzed yourself with a vanilla-scented perfume before grabbing your phone and handbag. After the three of you left the dorm room, you checked to see the time on your phone. The clock read half-past ten.

Only then did you notice the red battery icon in the upper right-hand corner on your screen. Somehow, you forgot to charge your phone this whole time.

"Dammit," you hissed under your breath, slapping yourself mentally.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Ymir turned to look at you.

"I forgot to charge my phone," you groaned inwardly before locking the device and shoving it into your handbag, wanting to persevere any battery life you had left.

"It'll be alright, you shouldn't be needing your phone much tonight anyways," Historia shrugged, wrapping her arm around Ymir's.

**********

"Do I know anyone here?" You asked, following up the tall set of steps behind Ymir and Historia.

"You might, I know some of mine and Historia's friends will be here tonight," Ymir turned to look over her shoulder back at you momentarily.

Some of our friends. Though Ymir and Historia were your friends, you never brought it upon yourself to get to know anyone inside of their inner friend circle. It's not that you didn't want or care to, but most of the time when you went out it would've been with Floch or all four of you.

Most of the other times, Floch never seemed to be too much into parties, so you never indulged in those events either. Limiting your friend-making experiences.

Pushing through the already opened front door of the large frat house, the three of you entered into the overly-packed foyer. There were people already drunk out of their minds, even though it was hardly eleven.

The smell of different mixtures of smoke clouded your senses, and the volume of music thumped through your ears and all of your senses combined.

Historia held a grip onto your hand, along with Ymir's as the three of you formed a chain, pushing through the overly-dense crowd. The three of you stayed attached as a human chain until all of you made it across the scene where the majority of people were dancing.

Ymir informed both of you that she was going to run off and find some drinks for all of you before disappearing into the sea of people. Historia urged you to dance with her, complying with her demand, the both of you began dancing together along with the music that was bumping heavily in the background.

During mid-dance, you felt a hand firmly cup your ass, causing you to jump and lose your rhythm with the beat of the music. Immediately, you turned around to see who it was, only to realize it was just some drunk douchebag wearing sunglasses that was leaning in too close for your liking.

"Dude, fuck off," you snatched his hand away from your rear.

Historia bitched at the guy over the music as you regained your composure. Eventually, he retreated to somewhere else in the crowd.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry that jerk did that to you," Historia held onto your shoulders.

"I'll be okay, let's not worry about it," you tried reassuring Historia that you'd be fine.

"Okay, well we should probably go find Ymir," Historia called out, nodding her head into the direction Ymir left in.

Following along in agreement, you were only mildly upset that a drunk idiot had to ruin your mood this early on in the night. Almost making you wish that you stayed back home in the dorm.

"Ymir!" Historia called out, searching for her girlfriend as both of you pushed into the kitchen.

Skimming through all the random faces floating about in the kitchen, both of you realized that Ymir was nowhere in the vicinity.

Historia let out a sigh and turned to face you, "I'm going to go find Ymir, you can stay right here if you want to."

"I'll just stay around here and keep an eye out for Ymir, probably search for some snacks to eat on or something," you shrugged.

Historia smiled and made her departure from the kitchen. After the blonde-haired girl was out of sight, you forwarded your attention to the array of snacks and other food items laying across the large kitchen island.

Popping a few grapes into your mouth from the platter of different fruits and cheeses, you glanced around at the coolers placed against the base of the island. Flicking the top to one of the coolers open, you dove your hand into the ice and retrieved a wine cooler. You examined the flavor, mixed berry, and decided that would be good enough.

Pushing the lid on the cooler shut, you stood up straight and took a step back, twisting the cap off of the bottle. You lifted the bottle to your mouth, tasking a swig of the alcoholic beverage as you turned around.

The alcoholic liquid almost sloshed out of your mouth as you partially came into contact with someone. Large hands delicately caught along your waist to stabilize you, along with distancing yourself from said person.

'Seriously? Not this shit again.' You couldn't help but mentally scold yourself from the re-enactments of yesterday's events.

Your eyes flicked upwards, staring intently through your false lashes at the man who was currently holding onto you.

Familiar intense light brown eyes bored into you, taking in your appearance, "we seriously need to stop running into each other like this, coffee girl."

[hiscyarika]

The Kings Who Are Gone

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Summary: Reader visits the ruins of Sunspear after Dorne is conquered. Based on the song “Jenny of Oldstones” from Game of Thrones.

Warning(s): Heavy Angst, Hopelessness, Death

A/N: So this idea hit me at like one this morning and now it’s almost six. I can see the sun coming up but it’s worth it because I haven't been able to get my brain to write anything for at least two weeks, probably closer to three. Hopefully this is a worthwhile read while you guys wait for Landslide. There are a few different versions of this song. I listened to the score version and the episode version (Podrick singing it in 8x02) while I wrote. I definitely recommend the score version to play while you read, but I’d also listen to Pod singing it just so you have the lyrics. They’re pretty important to the plot.

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Gif by @bestintheparsec​ 

The sun has gone from Sunspear.

The crystal blue waters of the Summer Sea have turned black. Raging waves crash against the shore. There’s a violent wind whipping through the air, no longer the gentle, salty breeze that you had once known. Dark, ominous clouds swirl above you, split only by the lightning that threatens to tear apart the very sky. Thunder follows soon after, a deep cacophony that forms a wrathful symphony with the ocean.

The stories will tell of a light that was destroyed with Dorne, but you haven’t seen the sun since the day he died.

A shiver runs up your spine as your bare feet hit the cobblestone of the walkway up to the palace. What once stood as your home, full of love and warmth, now lies in ruins–devoid of all life. The only warmth you feel is from the tears that fall silently from your eyes, a stark contrast to the cold rain against your skin.

As you step inside, a deep ache swells within your chest. It’s an agony that has refused to leave you since the moment you watched the Mountain slaughter the man you loved. Though you suppose, in some sick, twisted way, you’re grateful for this anguish that has taken up permanent residence in your soul. It reminds you that he was real, that he lived a life just as vibrant as the sun and loved you with the same heated passion. And now, in the wake of his death, it serves as the only indication that you still live, that you still have the capacity to feel something.

You roam the halls with no particular destination, taking in the destruction that has befallen your home. Columns have been knocked down, allowing the rain to reach inside where the roof has caved in. Bodies of both Dornishmen and enemies alike lie on the floor, the stone painted red with blood. And banners, which once flew proudly with the sigil of House Martell, have been ripped apart and burned, the only relic that remains of a fallen bloodline.

You bring your hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. You’d never been given a chance to further the Martell line. After your marriage, he’d often told you about his wish to have a son. He assured you that he loved his daughters, and that they would be loved no less than any child you might bear, but you understood the significance of having a legitimate heir just as well as he did. You’d wanted so badly to give him a son, but he’d been taken from you before the gods could bless you with a child.

You continue on, finding yourself standing on a balcony overlooking the Water Gardens. The lush greenery has withered and died, losing all of its vibrant color. Your fingers wrap tightly around the railing, so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You close your eyes as memories of afternoon walks come flooding back to you: your arm linked with his as you moved amongst the fountains and the tall flowering plants. The sounds of children’s laughter floating in the background as you listened to his rich baritone, words of passion and poetry seeping from his lips like the sweetest honey.

You collapse to your knees as your desiderium reaches its peak. An ardent longing for that which you’ve lost. Your form shakes with violent sobs that tear from your very soul. As the storm continues to rage, you wish that it would split the palace in two, swallowing you into an abyss you could never escape. At least then you would be free of such profound torment.

But something breaks you from your cathartic release. A soft call so foreign to the tempest. A gentle whisper of your name carried in the screaming wind.

You pull yourself to your feet, turning back to the desecrated halls. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you search the darkness for whoever had dared to disturb you. And in the shadows you find your answer, the dark silhouette of a man looming in the doorway like some omen of death.

“Who are you? Why have you come here?,” you call to him, somehow finding a tone firm and strong enough to carry over the storm. It occurs to you that he could very well pose a threat, but somehow you find peace in knowing that your life will end here if that is what he’s come to ensure.

He gives no answer and instead steps forward, though not close enough for you to truly see him. Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the room for just a fraction of a second. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you catch a glimpse of him in the momentary light.

“Oberyn?,” you call, tears forming in your eyes again as he comes closer. He steps out of the shadows, revealing himself fully to you. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth again and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Come to me, my love,” he beckons, opening his arms. The sound of his voice nearly has you falling to your knees once more.

You step tentatively towards him, reaching out hesitantly to touch him. Once you’re close enough, he takes your hand in both of his, pressing his warm, soft lips to your knuckles.

You collapse into his embrace, your fists locking around the fabric of the golden robe he wears. His arms wrap around you, securing you to his chest. And you bury your face in his shoulder, crying with the same force of the storm.

But you don’t allow yourself to remain hidden from him for long. You lift your head after a few moments, cradling his face in your hands. Your thumbs rub gently over the stubble there, and through the blur of your tears you try to commit every detail of him to memory. His soft, dark eyes. The curve of his nose. The dimple in his right cheek. The bow of his lips. Everything you thought that you would never see again.

You take in a sharp breath, still trying to make sense of it all in your head. He’s gone. You watched him die. It was a sight that you’ll never forget, one that still haunts you every time you close your eyes to sleep. “Either I am dreaming or I am dead. No matter which, I wish to never wake again,” you murmur.

“I have missed you, my love,” Oberyn replies softly. He leans down closer to you, pressing his forehead lightly to yours. You inhale deeply, breathing in his scent and letting it fill you with a sense of peace that you have not felt since the last time you held him this close.

He inches closer, his lips finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The salt of your longing tears mixes with saccharine berry wine, the taste of him that had become such a distant memory, you had almost forgotten. His kiss brings back the warmth that you have lived so long without, and by the beating of your heart and the renewed vitality of your soul, you know that you are alive. You can feel the sun again.

Though you wish to never part from him again, Oberyn pulls away after a few long moments, gazing softly down into your eyes again. He brushes a few damp strands of hair from your face, then presses a softer kiss to your forehead. “What magic has brought you back to me?,” you ask him, but his brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“Shhh, little dove. You mustn’t worry about such things. Just allow me to keep you this close for as long as I am able,” he asks of you. Fear strikes your heart at his words, quick and sharp and painful.

“Please don’t leave me again, Oberyn. I couldn’t bear it. Living without you has been a fate worse than death,” you tell him, your words rushed and panicked. Your hands fall to his chest as you plead with him.

He shifts, moving to cup your cheek and wipe away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “I will not leave you any sooner than I must, but the time will come eventually, my love,” he laments.

You release a shaking sigh, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for just a few moments. Oberyn slowly wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He begins to sway then, a soothing, rhythmic movement, and leans down to let his temple rest against the crown of your head.

As you stand there with Oberyn, dancing with the thunder and waves as your only music, you find your sorrows melting away until they feel like nothing but a distant memory. You can breathe easier. There’s no deep ache settled in your chest. You feel whole and alive in the arms of your prince, and you try your hardest not to dwell on how long this feeling will last. All you know is that if you could, you would never leave this place. You would stay here with Oberyn forever even if it meant your death.

“I love you, Oberyn,” you whisper, unable to keep the words to yourself after so many years. You wrap your arms tightly around him then. Somehow, you know that your time is running out. It’s slipping away from you like sand in an hourglass. But this one cannot be turned on its head to start over.

Oberyn lifts his head, and you do the same, meeting his soft gaze once more. “As I love you. Always,” he tells you.

Something in the wind changes. It’s tangible, and Oberyn looks up, studying the air around the two of you. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you realize what it means. “Stay with me, Oberyn,” you beg, your voice quivering in panic.

“I cannot, my love. I’m so sorry,” he says, hanging his head in defeat.

“Then take me with you!,” you cry, though you know what that would mean for you.

He shakes his head, looking back up at you with a hardened expression. “I will not take you before it is your time,” he states firmly, “You have a life to live, little dove.”

“There is no life left for me, Oberyn. You’re gone. Dorne is in ruins. Our people are dead. What life do I have to live in this place?,” you plead with him. Your words are punctuated by a sharp gasp, and tears stain your cheeks once more.

He slowly begins to release you, and despite your efforts to hold onto him, he removes himself from your grasp. “I’m sorry, my love,” he murmurs, a deep sadness in his eyes as he takes your hand, pressing a final kiss to the underside of your wrist.

“Oberyn, please,” you beg, but you can feel the warmth of his lips leaving you. You close your eyes for just a moment, and when you open them again, you’re forced to watch as he fades from your sight. You step forward, trying to hold onto him, but your hands never find purchase. Like a mirage in the heat of the desert, everything your survival depends on disappears like it was never there in the first place.

Just like that, your sun is gone again.

You crumble to the floor, sobs wracking your body. You don’t try to silence them. You cry. You scream. You curse the gods for taunting you this way. To see your love again, only to have him taken from you once more is the worst torment you’ve ever had to endure, even worse than his death at the hands of the Lannisters. You imagine that this is what hell is like, and you wonder if maybe that’s where you’ve ended up.

You lie there on the floor, too weak to force yourself to move. There’s nothing in the world worth the effort. Instead, you watch as the storm continues to rage, tearing at the weakened structure of the palace. You close your eyes as the roof above you begins to give away, making peace with the fact that you will never leave these ruins. You hope that this will bring you home to Oberyn.

And soon enough, those ruins become your tomb.

-

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[kkeidawrites]

Her.

Part 3! Sorry for the long wait! I had to write out a couple more things for different stories and I never sat down to finish this one. So enjoy!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A whole day passed and night once again arrived. Alucard still sat in his chair in his room, earlier his mother knocked on his door asking if he was alright but, Alucard didn’t respond to her which was very uncharacteristic of her son.

All night, he spent that time remembering how he had played with himself in front of the mirror. How did one woman make him feel like this?

Looking at the ripped out piece of paper that had the drawing of Alia, he neatly folded it and slid it in his back pocket.

Alucard then put on his long black and gold coat, along with his sword and walked out of his room. Looking down both ends of the hallway, Alucard used his speed and walked his way down the right stairwell of the lobby.

“Adrian.” He winced as he heard his father’s booming voice.

Turning to look at his father who stood at the top of the stairwell and had a questioning glare. His long robe parted as he held his hand out then flicked his wrist.

The sound of paper was heard and Alucard looked to his side to see his drawing of Alia still lodged in his back pocket.

Trying to grab the paper before it reached his father, it was already in Dracula’s awaiting hand. Unfolding the paper, his eyes landed on the drawing once more.

“Father!” Alucard yelped, embarrassed. He mentally cursed for foolishly putting the drawing in his pants.

“I am to assume that you are going to see this woman.” Dracula muses as he watches his son put a hand over his face and sigh.

“And sneaking out, none the less. Very unlike of you, son.”

“I...I was just taking you and mother’s advice. Maybe, I will see her again tonight and I will finally...no I couldn’t.” He said and put a hand on the railing, still unsure if he should be doing this anymore.

Dracula made his way down the stairs so that he would be standing next to his son. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Alucard looked up at his father with a solemn look.

Dracula cracked a smile to his son, understanding where he was coming from.

“Not everyone is so close minded. And who knows? You may become surprised by how she reacts. Just tell her straight out.” Dracula says.

Alucard sighs again. His father was lucky. It still was a mystery that his mother was able to take in that he was a vampire and still fell in love with him.

Alucard wasn’t so sure it will happen like that for him. Sure, he looked like a human and he could play the part but, once his significant other found out about his vampire half will they still feel the same way?

“What if she doesn’t like what I have to say?” He asked his father.

“Well you won’t know unless you tell her first, right? Now, go on.” His father jutted his chin towards the large doors and Alucard looked at him shock.

“I’ll let your mother know that you went out for a bit.” He promised his son and Alucard nodded and descended the rest of the stairs to leave the castle.

Dracula watched on, a bit worried for his son. He prayed that the woman he was interested in was just as interested as he was of her.

With Alucard

The blonde haired man, walked to the last place he had officially met Alia and pulled out the collar of his coat a bit nervous about meeting her again.

Once he arrived, he waited a bit behind the brush of the tall bushes and exercised his eyes to keep a look out for the brown skinned woman.

An hour passed as he continued to wait and he found himself leaning against a tree. His arms were crossed as he waited and sighed sadly.

Maybe she only went this way just because she was attacked by a night creature. Turning to leave and return home, he suddenly stopped when the sound of fluttering floated in the air above him.

Looking up, he saw the most ethereal view in all of his life. The woman of the hour had wings. Large pixie wings. He did not remember her ever having wings when they first met or when he saw her walking on the beach.

As she landed, she was holding something and let it down on the grass below. Her right wing was concealing whatever was in front of her and Alucard moved away from the tree to crane his neck to see what she was hiding.

“Sissy, we were up so high!” The small voice almost made the dhampir reveal his location as his eyes travelled to the little girl who stood in front of Alia.

She too had brown skin but, her hair was the color of starlight and eyes a gold color. Alia’s wings laid limp on her sides was she bent down to be eye level with the young girl.

“Now, make sure you don’t tell your mom okay? She’d kill me. Now let’s get going, I have to make dinner for you and your brother.” She told her and gently grabbed her little hand.

Her wings slowly curled back into her back and disappeared leaving a spark of light behind and her back returned to being wingless.

As they began to walk away, Alucard noticed that he was going to lose his chance to talk with her again.

He took one step and the sound of a stick breaking caused both the girls to turn around to the source of the noise. Alia pulled the girl behind her, to protect her and held her hand out to use her magic.

“Whose there?! If you don’t come out by the time I count to three, I’m burning the brush! 1-”

“Wait!” Alucard spoke stepping out of the bushes with his hands raised in surrender.

“It’s just me.” He tells her and Alia frowns putting her hand down but keeping the girl behind her.

“You?! What are you doing here?” Her teeth grit at him for scaring her so bad. And with her niece beside her.

“I just came to-” Alucard was cut off when a scream pierced the air and Alia’s hand that was holding her niece was empty. Turning quickly, she watched in horror as her niece was suddenly in the air, in the claws of a flying night creature.

“Desiana!” Alia cries out.

Alucard was quick to unsheath his sword and jumped in the air to cut off a wing on the night creature. It screeched in pain and it’s claw that held Desiana released the girl.

She fell and Alia was quick to catch her, noticing that her right arm was scratched from the claws of the monster.

Desiana sobs in her aunt’s arms as Alia put a hand over her wound to stop the bleeding.

“Just hang on, Desi. I’ll heal you up.” She shushes her niece. She knelt on the ground and hugged her crying niece.

Alucard dodged a swipe of claws from the demon and swung his sword to slice its neck open. The demon fell with a final roar of pain and landed on the grass below. Alucard floated back to the ground and sheathed his sword as he looked over at Alia and the little girl.

He approached them and knelt by the older woman. Alia moved a bit so she wouldn’t be so close to him. Alucard raised one hand to show he meant no harm. Sticking a hand in his coat, Alucard pulled out a small vial filled with a red liquid and held it up so Alia could see.

“This will help her wound.” He says taking the cork off the vial and raised a hand out to take the child’s arm. He looked up at Alia for her permission but, she was hesitant to allow him to help her still.

“You sure it will help her wound?” She asked. Alucard nodded, and Alia sighed and gave her consent to the man.

Alucard smiled at the crying little girl and Desiana stared up at him, unsure of what he was doing.

“Don’t worry, this will help your wound go away.” He tells her softly.

“Like magic?” She asked in a small voice. Alucard nodded a smile still on his lips.

“Just like magic.” He confirms and he is rewarded with a smile from the girl.

Alucard dropped three drops on the little girl’s arm and all three watched as the scratch marks sealed up and disappeared from her skin, leaving nothing behind.

Desiana gasped and looked up at Alucard who put the cork back on the vial and stood up.

“Look, Sissy!” She cried to her aunt showing her healed arm. Alia nodded and stood as well, looking at Alucard.

“Thank you, for saving her and treating her wound. If I had a bit of my strength back I could have done it but, my flying has made me very tired.” She told him grateful for his help.

“This is my niece, Desiana.” Alia introduces the young girl to the man and Desiana suddenly became shy, hiding behind her leg.

“Come now, Desiana. There’s no need to be shy.” Alia coaxes her niece.

Alucard bent at the waist to bow at the little girl in greeting and Desiana watched him closely. To her, he looked like the princes in her storybooks that Alia reads to her every night and peaked her head up to look in his golden eyes.

“Hello, Desiana. My name is Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș, but you may call me Alucard.” He tells her and the little girl puts a finger on her chin in curiosity.

“Are you a prince?” She asks quietly and Alucard returned to his original pose with a small smile.

“In a way, I suppose I am a prince.” He tells her and Desiana gasps.

“Do you live in a castle? Eat fancy food and have servants?” Questions just kept coming and Alucard was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Alright, Desiana that’s enough with the questions. Now, we best get home before your brother tears up my house again.” Alia tells her niece who pouts cutely at her aunt.

“Okay...” she turns to Alucard once more.

“Thank you for healing me, sir.” She tells him.

Alucard nodded and smiled at her. Desiana returns one of her own and gently grabbed her aunt’s hand.

“Well, we must be on our way now. Thank you again, Alucard.” She tells him and began to walk away, Alucard held a hand out to try and stop her and he pulled it back thinking that maybe he had done enough for the night.

“Wait!” He called out to them and Alia stopped and turned to him again. Alucard didn’t know what to say and awkwardly coughed in his right fist.

“Perhaps...I could...walk you both home? If it’s not too much trouble.” He asked. Alia tilted her head at his request and then she gave him a smile nodding at him.

“I suppose that’s alright.” She said and Alucard’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Really? I-I mean...Great!” He said as he caught up with the two girls.

“I hope you are up for walking a long distance, because it’s going to be a little while till we reach my house.” Alia warned him and Alucard nodded.

“I don’t mind a little trip.” He tells her and Alia grinned.

Two hours pass, and the three finally made it Alia’s small house. It really was secluded in the forest and this worried Alucard a bit. Anyone can find this place and could try and hurt her or whoever else is in the house.

They stood in front of the door of the house and Alia turned to Alucard to thank him for walking them home.

“Thank you for walking us home, Alucard. I really appreciate it.” She tells him and Alucard bows to her.

“I am happy to do so again, my lady.” He reached out to grab her hand and kissed the back of it. Alia felt her cheeks burn and slowly pulled her hand away.

“Well, I have to head in now. Have to make dinner for her and her brother. Goodnight, Alucard.” She says and Alucard rose from his bow.

“Adrian.” He says. Alia frowns in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“My name. It’s Adrian, I rather you call me that, instead.”

“Very well. Good night, Adrian.” She says with a shy smile. She opens her front door and a little boy came to the door asking her a thousand questions at once.

“God, Sam, can I get in the house first before you start with the questions?” She asked the younger boy whose looks almost mirrored Alia’s.

Giving Alucard one last smile she went into the house, leaving the dhampir out front.

He felt his heart soar and he sighed in happiness. Maybe telling her who he really was, was meant for another day.

“Excuse me, sir?” He heard a little voice and looked down to see Desiana still outside next to him. He could of sworn he saw her follow Alia in the house.

“You like my sissy right?” She asked placing her arms behind her back as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

Alucard knelt in front of her and nodded with a smile.

“I like her very much.”

“Then you should marry her!” Desiana says with a wide grin and Alucard almost fell on his face in shock.

“Is there a reason you are offering her hand in marriage so freely?” He asked and Desiana rolls her eyes.

“Sissy, is lonely. She doesn’t like any of the suitors my daddy brings whenever he comes home and he says that she needs to hurry and settle down quickly before her eggs turn hard.” She put a little finger on her chin in wonderment.

“I don’t know what that means but, it sounded very rude.” She says and Alucard shakes his head at the girl.

“Well, I’ll tell you a secret. But,” he put a finger up to her as the little girl’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“You cannot tell a single soul. Deal?” He asks and Desiana nods quickly.

“I swear I won’t tell!” She swears to him.

“Well, I really like your Sissy. And I think that with a little time she will like me too.” Alucard tells her and Desiana gasps.

“And then you’ll marry her, right?!” She asks and Alucard rubbed his head. He really could not believe that he was having a whole conversation about Alia’s future with a little girl who looked no older than five years old.

“If she will have me, then yes maybe one day we will wed.” Desiana squeals in delight and Alucard chuckles at her.

“Remember you can’t tell not a single soul.” He says.

Desiana made a motion over her lips to show that her lips were sealed.

“Desiana! Come on in the house!” Alia calls from the house and Desiana waves to Alucard and runs into the house.

As she runs through the door, Alia steps back out again and closed it behind her. The two were left in front of the house and Alia rubbed her arm nervously.

“So, um, I wanted to thank you again for saving my niece and walking us home.” Alia tells him.

“It was no problem.” He says and the two return to silence.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight then.”

“Yes.” Alucard gulped as he racked his brain to try and figure out what to say to keep her talking to him longer.

“Would you mind if...if I came and see you again tomorrow?” He asked.

“We could go for a walk and sit near the bank of the river.” He suggested and Alia thought it over.

She didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow and her brother and sister-in-law were returning tomorrow to pick up her niece and nephew but other than that she was free.

Alucard waited anxiously for her answer hoping, PRAYING, she would agree.

“I think I can fit you in my schedule, Mr. Tepes.” She teases and Alucard smirks.

“Is noontime best for you?” He asks and Alia nods with a smile.

“Very well, Miss. Just Alia. I bid thee goodnight.” He bows to her and turned to leave the area.

“Goodnight Adrian.” She says and turns back to go into the house.

On his way home, Alucard had never felt more elated than he did and he could not wait until tomorrow to spend more time with Alia.

“Goodnight, indeed.” He mutters.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// Bonus!!

Also this is my muse for Alia and how her wings look! I do not own the gif nor the picture of the woman! Thank you!⤵️⤵️⤵️

[thespiralgrimoire]

Writing prompt: Elf Fana breaks into House Vermillion to challenge Fuegoleon for the rights to Salamander but comes in at dinner. Fuegoleon insists she eat a proper meal before any dueling can happen.

WHAT A VERY NICE PROMPT

This ended up a little longer than I wanted, but I liked how it came out!

--

The Vermillions heard the commotion long before they knew its source, but since no one was calling for help, and they had just sat down for dinner, they decided to let the trouble-- if that was what it was --come to them.

They did not expect a young woman, clad in dirty elf robes and broken sandals, to come barging into their dining room, wrapped in fierce fire magic. Winded from her battle into the castle, she held up a shaking hand and pointed directly at Fuegoleon. “You! Fire spirit user! I challenge you to a battle!”

Mereoleona, Fuegoleon, and Leopold stared at the girl in blatant confusion. It wasn’t lost on anyone that she had to have tremendous strength to get this far. It also wasn’t lost on them that she was exhausted, frazzled, dirty, and, as an elf, a very long way from home.

Jaw setting, Fuegoleon pushed out of his chair and stood. The girl bristled as he took a step toward her and planted his hand on the empty dining chair beside him. Eyes burning intensely into hers, he declared, “I accept your challenge. But first…” He pulled out the chair and turned it toward her. “Join us for dinner.”

The girl, poised in every way to leap into action at that very moment, froze. “W… What?”

“You have interrupted our dinner. It is the last day that our dear sister Mereoleona is home.” He nodded to the eldest Vermillion, who was watching all this with sparkling eyes. “I will not allow your arrival to interrupt our last dinner with her.”

The girl stared, the fire dancing around her quieting to a crackle. “You… want me to have dinner with you?”

Fuegoleon nodded seriously. “You look like you could use a decent meal. Come. Have some dinner, and then we will duel.”

Slowly, the girl lowered her fists. Her mana quieted, and finally receded. “O-Okay.”

Fuegoleon saw to it personally that the young woman received a plate piled high with everything that the kitchen staff had to offer. Once her plate was set before her, the Vermillions continued to eat, and the dining room reclaimed its casual tone, despite its unexpected guess.

“So, what’s your name?” Leopold flashed her a curious smile. “You’re an elf, right? You must have come from a long way! I thought that the elves left the Clover Kingdom after…”

“My name is Fana.” Her quick answer staved off an awkward silence. “And yes, I left the Heart Kingdom to come here.”

“That’s quite a journey,” Fuegoleon mused. “Did you come all this way just to challenge me?”

Eyes on her plate, she nodded.

“Why?” Mereoleona pressed.

For a moment she did not answer, pushing her food around her plate. “I was Salamander’s previous partner.”

A surprised murmur rippled through the Vermillions. As it fizzled out, it gave way to excitement.

Leopold slammed his hands on the table and leaned toward, eyes wide. “Really? That’s amazing! You must be an incredible fire mage!”

“That is very impressive.” Fuegoleon smiled. “It’s no wonder you could break into our castle. This will be quite a duel then.”

Mereoleona chuckled. “So, you want it back?”

Fana lifted her head and met the woman’s gaze confidently. “Yes, I do!” Turning to Fuegoleon, she added, “If I defeat you in battle, then Salamander will surely take me back! Don’t you think?”

Fuegoleon pondered that a moment, rubbing his chin. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, I think it would. And I would not question it. If that is your intention, then I will not use Salamandar in our dual. But I should warn you: I don’t intend to lose.”

Fana flashed him a determined smile. “Neither do I!”

…

From the balcony, Mereoleona and Leopold squinted at the ash-laden training field, searching for signs of the battlers through the thick smoke of the fight. Eventually they caught the bright red glow of Fuegoleon’s restraining magic. Fana, wrapped in lion’s paws, struggled, staggered, and with a final cry, slumped in their hold.

Mereoleona and Leopold went wild. Their cheers echoed through the battlefield as Fuegoleon stepped through the ash to stand before his defeated opponent. He waited in silence for her to admit defeat of her own volition. Eager for the same thing, Mereoleona and Leopold grew quiet and leaned over the railing, hands clutching the hot metal and grinning wildly.

Fana shook her head back. “No… No! I can’t lose!” Like she’d gotten a second wind, her mana burst from her, fighting against her restraints. Fuegoleon put his hand up, shielding his eyes from the bright light as she struggled feebly against his restraining spell. But though her magic power pressed against his spell, she couldn’t break it, and she slumped back to the ground.

A sob cracked the air, breaking the Vermillions’ good mood like a dropped glass. Mereoleona and Leopold drew upright, exchanged a nervous look, and made their way down to the battlefield while Fuegoleon frowned down at his weeping opponent. As his siblings reached the field, he stepped closer and knelt. “Miss Fana, there is no shame in losing. You fought valiantly. You were more than a worthy opponent.”

“It’s not about the fight!” She lifted her head, fixing him with tear-soaked eyes. “I need Salamander! The others are counting on me!”

“The others?” Mereoleona repeated. “You mean the other elves?”

“Yes.” She dropped her head again, letting her tears run down her face and evaporate along her cheeks. “I am the only elf healer left. And with the Spade Kingdom threatening our home, I have to be ready to support my people! But without Salamander…”

The Vermillions’ faces fell. Their competitive natures could not outdo their sympathy. This was a motivation they could understand, even when-- especially when --they stood in opposition to it. A powerful healer could turn the tide of battle.

Fuegoleon dispelled his restraints, and when Fana slumped forward, he caught her and set her on her feet. “Miss Fana, you are selling yourself short,” he told her. “Your abilities far surpass what you seem to believe you are capable of. To be a healing mage with offensive power that can withstand a Clover Kingdom royal… Spade may pose an intimidating challenge, but you cannot resolve yourself to defeat due to the fire spirit’s whims. That is wishing for failure.”

Fana tilted her head back to meet Fuegoleon’s eyes. “But you have to understand. You know what it’s like to host Salamander. All that power… that endless well… I know what I’m missing!”

“And you know how to carry yourself without it,” he persisted. “The spirit chose you because of your power. Not in spite of it. Do not disappoint it in its absence!”

That’s it. I’ve heard enough.

The four startled at the intangible, booming voice. Fuegoleon lifted his flame arm, and from the fire emerged Salamander. Perched on the magic limb, it stared down Fana.

Fana, daughter of fire. It was not due to your inability that I left you; nor is it the reason that I will not accompany you now. Your powers in your cursed state needed taming, lest they threaten what we all hold dear.

Fana’s entire form shrank under the weight of her humiliation.

But that is not the case now. My abilities do not suit you in your natural state. You are not a fighter.

Tears caught in the corners of Fana’s eyes, thick and heavy before they rolled down her cheeks and sizzled into steam. “But I need your power. There are so few of us elves left. We can’t lose!”

You will not make good use of me in your natural, gentle state, the spirit declared. ...But I believe that you will make good use of my power. Therefore, I will help you. Just this once.

The spirit walked to the end of Fuegoleon’s arm, and perched on his hand, extended his head to meet Fana’s. Its nose pressed against her forehead.

The battlefield went up in flames. A column of fire erupted at Fana’s feet, enveloping her in white-hot magic power. Mereoleona ground her heels into the dirt and hid her face behind her arms. Leopold staggered, struggling to stay standing. Fuegoleon turned away, but his arm stayed stiff, anchoring him to the spot under Salamander’s control. The light gave way to a battlefield charred black. The brick of the courtyard walls burned. The ground was reduced to cinders. The air burned in their lungs.

Before them, Fana stood, aglow in spirit magic. Her skin was a radiant white and her teal eyes had turned orange, backlit by the spirit’s flames. She looked down at herself, mouth agape.

I have gifted you a small reserve of my power, the spirit intoned. What you have is yours to keep; but it will not last. Use it wisely to protect those dear to you.

Fana’s fiery orange eyes widened. She let out a laugh, dancing in the ash around her. “Thank you, Salamander! I will!”

The spirit straightened, and in a burst of flames, receded into Fuegoleon’s arm. The Vermillions smiled, and Fuegoleon held out his hand. “It was an honor fighting you, Fana.”

The elf caught his hand in both of hers and shook it energetically. “It was a lot of fun! Thank you for this, Fuegoleon! I really appreciate it!”

“Man, that was so cool!” Leopold crowed, hopping up to Fuegoleon’s side. “You’re amazing, Fana! Do you think you could show me some of those spells you used?”

“Idiot!” Mereoleona slammed her fist into her youngest brother’s head. “She’s got to go home!”

“I do,” Fana giggled, flashing him an apologetic smile. “But maybe I could come back some time…?”

Fuegoleon smiled and nodded. “We would all be honored to have you.”

--

Me? Inventing Fana and Salamander lore? It's more likely than you think

[mxmorganmorph]

Things Change

“You are her sole survivor, Matthew.”

“I don’t know, a heart attack or something. It’s not like we could pay for an autopsy.”

“It’s okay, you’re going to have a great time! I’ll be right at home waiting for you, alright?”

“You want us to help pay for MORE schooling after you wasted your degree on fag studies?”

“I do this because of you. You did this to me.”

“Leave the pup alone. Because I says so, tha’s why!”

“Alright, we’ll help you. But there’s something you have to do for us in the meantime.“

“Don’t come home.”

“Matti, look at me. I know this is scary. But your Mother, she’s going to be alright. She’ll pull through. And even if she-- you will ALWAYS have me, do you understand, Matti? I will never, ever leave you. I promise.”

“Matthew Morgan, you are found guilty on all charges.”

Returning home had left Morgan in a fugue state, reliving memories that they had long since tried to bury. They came disjointed, out of order, and seemingly at random, with no particular trigger. Some moments they’d be cooking in the kitchen they grew up in, completely fine--while others they would just be getting the mail and a wave of grief would hit so hard, it would send them into hours long sobbing fits. They didn’t reach out to anyone--the only person they stayed in contact with was their real estate agent as they trudged through the process of selling their childhood home. As soon as an offer was made, they accepted it, wanting it out of their life as soon as possible.

Once there was nothing left for them, they returned to the only place they’d called home--Redwood Hollow. They stepped out of the Uber that had transported them back to the small town from the airport, lugging a pink suitcase behind them with one hand while the other hugged a manila folder tightly against their chest. They squinted and blinked at the rising sun, wishing they’d worn one of their hats with a brim, rather than their typical black beanie.

The cool morning breeze told them that the first hints of fall were beginning to descend upon the town, a stark reminder of just how long they’d really been gone. Selling a house turned out to be much more of a process than they’d originally intended, especially with the deteriorating state it had been left in. Especially with the deteriorating state they had been left in.

With a heavy sigh, they began forward in the direction of their apartment. The wheel on their luggage caught on an uneven crack in the sidewalk, causing them to lurch forward and drop the envelope they were holding. It tumbled to the ground, with several photos splaying out of the folder and onto the pavement. A small gasp passed their lips as they fell to their knees, starting to gather everything up.

The first picture they retrieved was of three people in front of an artificial, blue background. First was a woman in a white turtleneck and a deep navy dress layered on top. These colors were starkly contrasted by her long, vibrant, red hair that curtained down over her shoulders, framing her wrinkled but neatly made up face. The smile she wore was wide, crinkling the sides of her eyes that were also alit with joy. She had a hand on the shoulder of each of the people surrounding her. On her left was another woman, about the same height but with shorter, choppier, red hair and a much more plain style of clothing--a simple cardigan atop a blouse. Despite being clearly younger, she seemed just as aged as the first woman, with dark bags under her eyes and skin pulled taut across her face. The smile she wore was small and strained. Between both the women was a young child in a pale blue dress shirt and black pants, signatured by a bright blue bow tie and wild red hair that stuck out in every direction. The smile they wore was the only one that showed teeth, a bright and shining grin.

*CHK!*

As the camera clicked and flashed, the three individuals let their expressions drop, looking away from the photographer and stretching their stiff limbs.

“Are we almost done?” The short haired woman complained.

“Just a few more, Mia, this is important! This is the picture we’re going to use for the family holiday card!” The older woman responded, sounding and looking a lot more energetic than her counterparts.

“Jews don’t send holiday cards, Mom.”

“Well this one does. I think it’s a wonderful tradition and it gives us the chance to show all of our friends back home how we’re doing.”

“Yeah, and you ever notice how none of them ever send cards back? Your friends all think you’re crazy.”

“Oh, hush. Now get ready, just a few more.”

“A few more?! Fuck that, I’m taking a smoke break first,” she grumbled, giving a half-hearted wave as she pivoted and walked out the door. The older woman sighed before turning her attention to the young child, who was fussing with their bow tie.

“Matti, stop that!” She scolded.

“But Bubbe, it itchessss!” They whined back, lips puckering in a pout.

“Here, let me loosen it for you,” she replied, taking the bow in both of her hands and gently pushing it looser, all while rearranging it so that it still looked prim and proper. She then took the opportunity to begin running her hands through the child’s hair, smoothing it out and styling it.

“Bubbeeeeee!” The child whined again, though knew better than to try and wriggle from her grip.

“Hush. Don’t you want our friends to see what a handsome young man you’ve grown up to be?” She pulled her hands away and within seconds, their stringy hair popped back up to its original, wild state. She sighed again, but gave a weary smile. “Well, it’ll have to do. It’s important Matti, that we all look our very best. No matter what happens, you always have to smile.”

Despite everything they’d gone through, Morgan had made an effort to dress up coming back to Redwood Hollow. “Dress up” was probably a strong term for it, as they were in the usual, dark casual wear they were best known for out of their drag. They were no longer in the tank top and sweats they’d worn almost every day while at home, nor was their hair the unkempt mess that they’d let it grow to over the months. At the very least, it now stuck out in a styled fashion from beneath their beanie. In all regards, they looked exactly the same as the day they had left, as if nothing had happened at all. They hardly believed themselves to be a well-beloved figure in town that everyone missed, but they did know that at least a few people were going to ask where they’ve been and how they’ve been doing. Morgan had spent the entire trip home preparing and practicing these answers, putting on their best face and their most winning smile.

The next picture they retrieved was outdoors. The edges were lined with beautiful greenery and distinguished looking white marble buildings, which people in the background were walking through from every direction. In the center of the picture was a large and imposing fountain with lavish design, with water cascading from ivory statues. Standing in front of that fountain was a young individual with wild but much longer red hair pulled back behind their shoulders. Holding it all down was a wide brimmed square black cap with a golden tassle hanging from it, which matched the flowing black robes they were wearing and the golden cord that hung around their neck. They held their hands up in a dramatic and flourishing pose, teeth shining in a bright grin.

“Ooooh! This is all so exciting!” A much older woman called as she lowered the camera, motioning the other to approach her.

The young person lowered their arms with a sigh, their grin dropping into a much smaller, much more exhausted smile as they walked across the plaza, where many other gowned individuals were also getting their picture taken in front of the ostentatious landmark. Once together, the woman threw her arms around them, squeezing them tight.

“To think, my little Matti graduating college! And me, getting to witness it!” She chirped, squeezing them once more before finally letting go. “Now come on, show me the rest of your campus! It’s not every day I get to visit a prestigious university, you know.”

Responding only with a nod, they started leading her down the path towards one of the many buildings that surrounded the quad. As the two walked together, the woman glanced over at the other, who at this point had grown taller than her. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’re being awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing, Bubbe, I’m fine,” they replied, once again putting on that winning smile.

“Matti...” She warned. They shifted uncomfortably before finally sighing.

“Could Mom really not come?”

The woman looked surprised for a moment before her expression and gaze fell to the pavement. “Your Mother...she’s in one of her states right now,” she explained carefully, though they both knew what that really meant. Still, putting on her own smile, she looked back up at the other. “But she wanted me to let you know how very proud she is of you. And how much she wished she could’ve been here.”

“Right,” they replied, seemingly not convinced. They kept their gaze forward until they felt a hand on their shoulder, causing them to glance over.

“Regardless, I’M proud of you, Matti. What you’ve accomplished over these last few years is incredible and I need you to know that I recognize everything you’ve done to get here. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I know.”

“...That’s not the only thing, is it?”

A heavy silence hung between them before they admitted, “I don’t want to go back home.”

The woman looked like she had just been struck, eyes wide in shock. As the confession sunk in, she swallowed hard and looked away. “...I see.”

“Bubbe, it’s not because of YOU,” they backpedaled, stumbling over their words. “It’s just-- It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was supposed to graduate, get a job, get my own place, start my own life. I was going to rent myself a nice apartment that I could dress up in whatever way I liked and have you come visit and see how much progress I’ve made. I’m not supposed to just-- move back home. If I was going to end up back where I started, why did I even bother getting a degree?”

“Matti...those things will still happen. You’ll find work, eventually.”

“Yeah, with a Queer Studies degree? If I can’t find work in my field in a liberal city like this, how the hell am I supposed to find anything back in West Virginia?” The woman’s mouth opened before closing again, not having an answer.

“...I wasted everyone’s time and money. I should’ve studied something useful,” they said when she didn’t respond. They felt a bony hand squeeze their shoulder.

“You studied something that you were passionate about and makes you happy. You learned so much more than me or your Mother ever could and regardless of what anyone thinks--you got an education. That counts for something.” This time, it was their turn not to respond, staring ahead.

“...And hey, if all else fails, you can always become a beautician just like your old Bubbe, eh?” She said, voice lilting upwards to try and lift the mood.

“Yeah,” they snorted, “I’m sure Mom will be thrilled at the idea of paying for even MORE schooling.”

“We can work something out. Whatever it is you want to do with your life, Matti, I’m positive you can make it happen.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want to do.”

Morgan was now in possession of more money than they ever thought they’d see in their life. However, once it became clear to Redwood College that they wouldn’t be returning in time for the fall semester, the school eliminated their contract. They supposed it couldn’t be helped. They were just an adjunct after all, so it’s not like there was any reason to actually keep them around. Regardless, it was probably their time to go anyway. Sure, it was the first ever job they’d had in the field they actually studied, but they did NOT know how to be an educator. The fact that the college had even hired them at all with no educational background was a miracle in and of itself. In between the terrible essays, the lectures that only half the class listened to, and having to pull teeth to facilitate class discussion--them being a professor had not been working out. But now, with earning money to survive no longer being a concern, what were they supposed to do with themselves?

The last spilled picture that they gathered was much older than the previous two, worn and crinkled slightly from age. The faded photo was of a couple standing in the middle of a town square, their arms wrapped around each other. One was a woman with long, wavy red hair, an orange sundress, and a beaming grin. The man was much shorter and rounder, with wild, stringy brown hair that went in every direction and spectacles adorning his face. Beneath the photo in the white margins, written in pen, was “Matias and Miriam Morgan -- Sunset Plaza, 1969″

“Do you know why I called you in here, Matti?”

The young child stood in the middle of the room, trying to make themselves as small as possible, their head bent forward and their hands balled at their sides. They didn’t respond. The woman, sitting across from them at the end of her bed, sighed before reaching behind her and pulling out a photo frame. The green frame was cracked, split at the side and sticking out at an odd angle. Whatever broken glass there had been was cleared out and thrown away, leaving only a faded photo underneath. She held it up to show them.

“I found this stuffed beneath the couch, instead of on the mantle where it belongs. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The child once again did not respond. She waited a terse few moments.

“Matti, you can’t keep secrets from me. Come on, out with it.”

“...I was just playing,” they finally muttered, scuffing their shoe against the carpet.

“I see. And you thought if no one found out what you did, you wouldn’t get in trouble?”

No response. Finally, the woman’s stern demeanor softened as she shook her head and sighed. “You can’t just hide your problems and expect them to go away. When these things happen, you have to come to me, okay? I promise, you won’t get in trouble, as long as you’re open and honest with me. No matter how much you try to hide it, you’ll always get caught. Do you understand?”

They nodded. “I’m sorry, Bubbe.”

The woman smiled, her eyes crinkling as she did so. “I know, dear. It’s alright.” With that, she looked down, pulling the broken frame into her lap. Carefully unlatching the back, she let the photo slide out while putting the frame to the side. Next to her, the child climbed up on the bed, going to sit on the other side of her.

“Can I fix it?” They asked

She chuckled and shook her head. “Oh no, but that’s okay. I’ll just buy a new frame.”

“Whose that?” They asked, pointing to the couple standing in the foreground of the photo.

“Why, that’s me and your Zaide.”

“That’s YOU?”

“What, you don’t recognize me?” She laughed. “I suppose I was a lot younger back then. Yep, that’s me alright, before your Mother was born. We lived in California, all the way on the other side of the country. Your Zaide was working in his office and I was working at a hair salon outside of town. Oh, but I wanted to open up my own salon in town so badly...this is where I planned on opening it,” she said, pointing to one of the buildings in the background. “The boutique that used to be there closed and they’d just put up the “For Rent” sign, when, well-- we had to move, and then Mia was born...” Her voice trailed off, fingers gingerly brushing over the photo. As the silence drew on, the child reached out and placed their tiny hand over hers, pulling her out of her trance. She looked down at them and smiled.

“But it’s all alright, because now I can be a beautician for my wonderful family. Speaking of, you could use a trim,” she said, bouncing some of their curls off her fingers. “I swear, you inherited your Zaide’s hair. Honestly, you’d just be better off wearing wigs. But come on, let’s see what we can do.“

Scooping them up in one arm and propping them against her hip, she brought them over to her vanity and placed them down before sliding the picture in the space where the mirror met the frame. As she started to gather her materials and tools, the child kicked their feet, staring at the photo with interest. The woman followed their gaze to the photo and her expression softened again, though this time there was a forlornness to it.

“You know, I really thought we were going to live there forever...” Her wistful voice trailed off as she reached out to grab the scissors. The child looked up at her in the mirror, tilting their head questioningly.

“What happened, Bubbe?”

The woman put one hand on the side of their head, tilting it back into place. “The same thing that always happens, Matti,” she said, taking the scissors to their fiery red hair and beginning to cut. “Things change.”

Morgan slid the gathered photos in with the rest in the manila folder, which they lowered to their lap. When they looked up, they realized they were facing Main Street, the end of which led to Town Hall and the main plaza. Lining the streets were countless businesses, many of which Morgan had frequented in the years they’d become acquainted with this small town. There was one though, that caught their eye.

It was an old, brick building with a large, dark window. The venue itself seemed to be completely empty, with a padlock on the door. Plastered on the glass was a large “For Rent” sign.

Morgan stared. They couldn’t...could they? They’d never finished beauty school, let alone knew the first thing about how to run a small business. Then again, they hadn’t known the first thing about being a professor either. They hadn’t known the first thing about being a drag queen, once upon a time.

They reached into their pocket and took out their phone, saving the number that was listed on the sign. Beauty school could be finished. Business management could be researched. Just like they’d learned to apply eyeliner and style wigs, they could learn the things they needed in order to fulfill their Bubbe’s dream. The dream she had abandoned in order to take care of her family. The family who one by one--including themselves--had let her down.

It was a direction in their life that they never could have predicted. Then again, their life’s journey had taken a lot of sharp turns that they didn’t expect. Every time, however, they adapted. They survived.

Things change. But this time, Morgan was ready for it.

[sczrhead]

Feel the Weight

The sound of the wedding march rings through Draco’s ears. He breathes in deep and squeezes Pansy's hand. 

“You okay?” she whispered and squeezed his hand back.

Draco nods and takes one more deep breath. He closes his eyes and focuses on grounding himself. The sound of the doors opening and the guests gasps fill his ears and it seems hearing is the only sense that works anymore. Slowly, still tightly holding Pansy’s hand, Draco opened his eyes and looked at Harry. 

It looked like he put effort into making his curls presentable but they were still a little messy. He looked so cleaned up and he could steal hearts with just one glance. Draco searched his memory trying to think of a time when Harry looked as dashing as he did tonight, on his wedding night. Draco has seen him in dress robes before of course, the Yule Ball, the funerals, oh god all the funerals. 

It’s how the two of them fell into sync with one another. The two men both crushed, unfeeling, needing something to fill the gaping wounds in their chests that the war had left. And so they did. They filled the holes in the other’s chest while curling around each other. Soft kisses on naked bodies. Pale skin sticking to tan. Always in the dark, in a muggle hotel room, in the back of a muggle bar, where no one would recognize either of them. The Savior of the Wizarding World and the Death Eater that lost it all, both finding a way to heal within each other. 

One night, Draco couldn’t remember just how long he had been seeing Harry in secret, they had just finished another magical night and now they were holding each other, cradling their lover as if they could protect each other from the outside world. As if, if they could pull each other as close as possible all that would matter would become that night, and the world would just stop existing. It would stop asking and taking so so much from the two of them. 

Draco leaned down and gave Harry a soft kiss on his forehead. Harry, his green eyes boring into Draco’s, full of love, and adventure, and curiosity. 

“What is it?” Draco whispered. He could read Harry like a book and he stared when he was trying to figure out how to say something. 

“Do you love me?”

Draco stopped breathing. He was so unsure of how to answer that. He knew what the answer was, but is it fair for him to say it?

“Draco,” Harry started, sitting up, and pulling Draco up with him, “Draco, if you tell me you love me right now. If you, if you tell me that I am what you want I’ll leave her. I’ll leave Ginny. The only reason I haven’t is because I don’t know what you want. Do you want to be with me? Or am I just someone to fuck on the side?” Harry stared at Draco. 

A car drove by, headlights shining through the hotel window, lighting up Harry’s wet face, and then Draco’s. Draco kept every thought and feeling off of his own face, he couldn’t give himself away. 

Draco did love Harry. He loved him more than anyone he has ever loved before, and he knew Harry loved him. One of the first few nights they spent together Harry said it. Draco could never say it back. He still couldn’t. Draco knew that he wasn’t what Harry deserved. He deserved someone that he could love openly, in the light. He deserved someone that didn’t need to be hid away. Harry Potter did not deserve to fall in love with Draco Malfoy, and Draco would not let him. 

“No, I don’t love you,” Draco stated, all emotion drained from his voice. He got up from the bed and started pulling on his clothes. “Harry, we shouldn’t do this anymore. It’s not fair to you or Ginny. I have to go.”

Once he finished putting on his clothes Draco crossed the room they rented out. The soft sob coming from his ex lover’s lips almost made him turn around, but he didn't, he didn't even give Harry another glance

That night Draco left Harry’s life as a lover but remained as a distant friend. And that is why he was here today. At the wedding for the man he loved and the woman he deserved. 

Draco turned to look at Ginny, who was coming through the doors in her lovely white gown. It was exactly what you would expect from her. Nothing frilly or too dazzling, but in spite of that it was stunning, and it turned heads. The silhouette fit her body like a glove, the dress fanning out just at her hips. Ginny looked radiant. And Draco, clutching Pansy’s hand tighter and tighter, couldn’t breathe. 

Throughout the whole ceremony Draco stared at Harry. God how he wished he was standing where Ginny was standing, receiving vows that Harry wrote just for him. Draco could almost laugh thinking of how their wedding could have been. Harry would look as charming as he did today, and Draco, well he wouldn't have started the day off on the floor.

Trying to distance himself from the ceremony so he wouldn't break, Draco began to think of the morning’s events.

“Draco?” Pansy called softly, accompanied with a couple knocks on his hotel door.

He couldn't get up from the floor. The night before he drank, and drank, and drank. It wasn't too much more than what he had been drinking lately, but it was enough where he couldn't find the strength to push himself up off the floor.

He heard the door open and he remembered he gave Pansy his spare key in case he didn't get up in time and needed a wake up call. Draco knew he needed one desperately, but not exactly the one he requested from her last night. 

“Oh my god, Draco!” yelled Pansy, and she rushed quickly to his side, “Draco! Are you okay?” She brushed his hair out of his face and attempted to sit him up.

“Yeah, will you help me cut my hair?” Draco mumbled, trying to pull himself together but also starting to fall back down.

“Draco, what? Why do you want to cut your hair? That's the least of your worries right now.”

“Pans, I look like him. I look too much like him and I can't show up to Harry’s wedding looking like Lucius. I want to be me. For him.” Draco said firmly, tears building in his eyes. If he broke down now, he knew Pansy would help him, but that didn't stop him from holding back.

She sighed and brushed a couple strands of Draco’s hair that fell back into his face away, “Okay hun, but first we gotta get you looking better. I think I packed a little bit of Pepper-Up in case I got a little too crazy tonight,” she smiled slightly at Draco, “I think you need it a bit more. Stay here I'll be back.” 

Draco nodded and leaned up against the foot of the bed, he let his head hang between his knees, wishing that he didn't push Harry away. He felt like the weight of all of his decisions were crushing him, and today was going to prove how permanent some decisions can be. Draco was a broken man, and right when healing was in his grasp, he threw it all away.

The sounds of applause and yelling tore Draco from his memories. He looked up and saw Harry and Ginny kissing, sealing the marriage that Draco pushed for. After the applause died down and the last shout of congratulations was heard, some official for their wedding began ushering the guests out to line up and throw the flower seeds on the ground when the bride and groom came out. 

On the way out, Draco risked a look behind his shoulder to see the bridal party beginning to line up in poses for the ceremony pictures and Harry. It took Draco a moment to bring his eyes to him but when he did he was met with green eyes staring just as intently back at him. Draco gave Harry a small smile and a thumbs up as an offering of congratulations. As far as he knew, Draco was completely happy with the choices he made. 

When everyone was outside of the building they were all lined up from the door to the car that the couple was going to take to the reception. Pansy pulled Draco to her side and kept a firm grip on his hand. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and squeezed her hand once more. Draco had no idea how he would've gotten through the ceremony or the rest of the night without Pansy by his side. 

Before they knew it Ginny and Harry we're rushing out the doors, grinning as wide as possible. They looked so happy. For a moment, just a moment, Draco considered telling her and ruining this day for her. He wanted to tell her of all the nights he held Harry when he was supposed to be working late, but he knew that wouldn’t end well for any of the parties involved. So instead he clapped, smiled, and threw the seeds when they ran in front of him, and then watched as they got into their car. The guests then started to leave and head to their cars so they could find their way to the reception. 

When everyone had thinned out and he felt no one would notice Draco turned to Pansy, “I feel sick, Pans,” he said, fighting hard to hold back a mixture of nausea and sadness. 

“I know,” she began nodding, “Come on, we don’t have to stay long. We can just show up for an hour or two and then we can leave. Just, keep your composure Draco. Please don’t go straight for the drinks.” He nodded and Pansy smiled, “I love you, let’s go”

Draco heaved a sigh and followed behind her into her car. 

***

They had already been there for an hour and a half and Draco was getting more and more exhausted from watching Harry dance around with his new bride and his friends, but he would look over at Pansy, laughing and spinning with anyone and everyone and he decided that they won’t leave until she is ready. Smiling a bit at watching his friend so happy, he turned his gaze back to where he last saw Harry while taking a sip of his drink. When he saw that Harry wasn’t there he looked all over the dance floor for curls bouncing to the beat of the too loud music, but he couldn’t find them anywhere. Draco decided to shrug it off and thought Harry was in the bathroom until he sat down right in front of him. 

One look at his flushed face Draco knew he overdid it a little too much with the alcohol. He chuckled a bit thinking back to Pansy being worried about him getting a little lost in the drinks. 

“Hello Harry, congratulations on your marriage,” Draco said, a little louder than he would have usually due to the noise making it impossible to even have a conversation. 

Harry smiled and reached his hand across the table to grasp Draco’s. Draco took a deep breath in and quickly looked up at Harry. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want this, all Draco wanted was to hold and be held by Harry, but even right now, it feels wrong. He feels like this should be hidden somewhere, not so open where people could see. 

“Harry-”

“Draco,” Harry quickly cut him off, “I know, that this seems like something that is unchanging and permanent, but if you tell me now, or ten, or fifty years in the future that you love me,” he paused and stared into Draco’s eyes, “I will be yours.”

Draco nodded solemnly, “I know Harry, but I can't love you. If you were to be seen with me your reputation would be ruined. I can see the headlines now, and especially if you were to leave Ginny. Harry, I'm sorry, it's just not in the cards for us.”

Harry looked down at their hands and gave Draco’s one more squeeze, “Nice haircut by the way, I've always liked your hair short,” he stood and walked away, back to the dance floor.

Draco put one hand up to his hair and brushed his fingers through it, he decided he was never going to let it get long again. 

[tessadoesstuff]

Sunset Queens - Chapter 5

This is for (a day late) the Naboo Review Day 5 - Duty

content warnings: Palpatine's everything includes: some non-sexual touching that makes Padme uncomfortable and a wee bit of gaslighting.

Chapter 1, Chapter 4

Ao3

The senate hospital is colder than the ones back on Naboo. The though flits through Padmé’s mind as she catches herself shivering. She’s cold. Normally when she’s this cold, Padmé would send one of her handmaidens to her room to get a coat, or perhaps she would go back herself, posing as one of the handmaidens. Right now, doing either of those options feels disrespectful right now.

Padmé checks the clock on the wall again. It has been less than five minutes since she checked last, although it feels like it has been far longer than that. She wonders absently if perhaps the clock is slow. It isn’t. Sabe had muttered something along those lines and checked, back when they first arrived after the accident. The accident. That’s what the Senate Guard is calling it. Like it was just a mistake. Like someone hadn’t planted a bomb to kill Padmé. Like someone hadn’t planeted a bomb that may or may not kill Cordé.

Cordé. Sweet, kind, determined Cordé. Even after Captain Panaka told her she’s wasn’t good enough to be a royal handmaiden, she didn’t let rejection stop her and stayed kind and stayed in politics and came around all the time to see Rabé, and bring her friend news from home. When it came time to assemble her team of senatorial aids, Cordé had been an obvious choice, and had even become Padmé’s primary body double.

That might be the reason why she dies.

She wonders if Cordé blames her. If Cordé would blame her. Padmé likes to think the woman who became one of her closest friends wouldn’t blame her, but were they ever really friends? If they were really friends, would Padmé have sent her to die in Padmé’s place? What kind of friend was Padmé, if she hadn’t given it a second thought when they boarded the ships this morning.

Suddenly, Padmé’s glad most of her other handmaidens have gone for something to eat, and that Rabé had fallen asleep on the bench across from Padmé. Padmé doesn’t think she could stand to have their eyes on her right now, not after what she’s done.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll speak to her.” A familiar voice drifts down the hallway, and Padmé jerks a little at the sound. The hospital isn’t quiet in any sense, but up until now it’s all been background noises Padmé could tune out easily. This, she can’t

“Chancellor Palpatine?” She asks hesitantly as the older man approaches. He’s wearing a formal navy blue robe, and suddenly Padmé feels very under-dressed in the pilot’s disguise she has been wearing since this morning. Palpatine sits down on the bench next to Padmé.

“Padmé, my dear.” He says after a moment that feels weirdly uncomfortable. “I’ve just spoken to the doctor who was in with your handmaiden.” Padmé’s head whips around to look at the older man.

“What did he say? I haven’t heard anything yet!” She practically cries.

“I asked him to speak to me first.” Padmé opens her mouth to protest, but he continues. “I did it for your own good, my dear. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle bad news from someone who didn’t know how to help you through it.”

Padmé feels the bottom of her stomach drop, and she feels herself sob.

“No. No. Cordé’s alive. I- she can’t be dead.” Padmé insists, even though she knows that when the surgeons had taken her in, they had warned Padmé that there was a chance the operation wouldn’t save her.

“Your handmaiden will pull through.” Chancellor Palpatine says, and puts his hand on Padmé’s shoulder. He’s trying to be comforting, Padmé thinks, even if it falls a little flat. But- Cordé’s alive. Padmé grins like a maniac.

“Oh, thank the force.” Padmé breathes out, a huge grin spreading across her face. “This is good news, then. I’m sorry you came all the way down here unessesarily.” Palpatine’s face is fixed in an expression of pity, and Padmé feels it sap away at her enthusiasm.

“Oh child. I’m afraid the rest of the news is bad.” Palpatine says to her. That’s why she likes him, she reminds herself. He doesn’t sugarcoat things. He never has, even when Padmé was younger. “The accident has left her with significant scaring, and she may still loose an arm. She’ll never be able to serve as your body double again.”

Padmé knows that after Palpatine mentioned the danger to Cordé’s arm he kept talking, but Padmé can’t hear him over the ringing in her ears. It feels as though all her blood is rushing to her head.

“This is all my fault.” Padmé interrupts the chancellor. On any other day she’d feel bad, but Padmé just drops her head into her hands. “I put Cordé up to this. This happened because of me.”

“Oh, my dear, no. Your handmaiden was only doing her duty to you.” Padmé’s crying, she notes absently. It’s the first time she’s cried over this. “She knew what being your handmaiden would involve when she agreed to become one.” Palpatine rubs Padmé’s shoulder in what she’s sure he thinks is a comforting gesture.

“She was involved in an explosion because of what I said.” Padmé sobs.

“It was her duty to do so in your place, to protect you from that.” Palpatine repeats his earlier sentiment.

“And I have a duty to protect her as well!” Padmé retorts, feeling an irrational anger bubble inside, drying her tears.

“Her duty was to serve her senator.” Palpatine insists. Padmé feels anger rising in her chest, and almost wants to hit him.

“And as her Senator, I have a duty to her as well!” Padmé shrieks and pulls away from him. She’s definitely not crying anymore. “And what do you mean, was? Cordé is still my handmaiden!”

“My dear, she can hardly preform her duty as your body double as she is. The kindest thing to do would be to remove her from your service.”

“Her name is Cordé, and she is so much more than just my body double!” Padmé slaps his hand away as he reaches for her.

“With tensions rising as they are, you can hardly keep a member of your help who cannot function as a full member of her team.” The Chancellor speaks, and there’s a hardness to his voice. “You should send for another handmaid from Naboo when you send her back.”

Padmé sees red.

“Leave, Chancellor.”

“My dear-”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me, Chancellor. If you cannot respect the members of my team as my equals, you are no member of it. I want you to leave.”

“Senator Amidala!” There is anger rising in the Chancellor’s voice. Padmé simply hardens hers.

“You are no longer welcome by my side, Chancellor. Leave. Before my handmaidens return and make you.”

---

this chapter is late because I needed extra time to fix the level of Sheevy-ness

[tireddal]

Douma x Ice Pillar!Reader {one-shot}

*uhmm yeah fucking depression is still with me...

Biwa's sounds is filling the room. You are sitting on big soft cushion, looking at the bright silver moon through window. There are a lot of expensive furniture and decorations, you wear silk kimono and fancy gold sash around your waist. However, nothing of these matter. Beautiful fabric couldn't hide your long blue claws, and two f/l horns still are on your head.

How you have finished like this?

***

"Bang." Demon's head fell on the ground with loud knocking. Monster has said some insulting words about your wonderful personality and skills before vanished finally.

You sighed in relief, putting your nichirin blade into a sheath and fixing your haori. Cold air helped you to regain breathing. Wounds from fight were deep and hurtful, but not fatal, so you collected yourself and walked further, looking for your colleague-Flower Pillar Kocho Kanae. You two have chosen up and had single fights with demons because of sudden invasion. You had chosen salyer's main target-Upper Moon Six, while Kanae wanted to take on herself unknown demon.

"Kocho-san, Upper Moon Six is destroyed!" You shouted loudly using all your lungs power, walking through house's ruins. Pain in the throat has forced you to stop, coughing all out to breathe. Hell...You wouldn't be able to help Kanae if you were in such weak state. With deep inhale you continued walking through ruined town, keeping a tight grip on your katana's haft.

"Kanae!" You called her louder, feeling disgusting metal taste of blood on tongue. Is was strange, so your mind started pondering over previous fight. Fear filled your veins, making hot blood, that has been boiling few seconds ago from adrenaline and keenness, frozen. Upper Moon Six could be only bait to divert you, while stronger demon was fighting with Kanae... You groaned in anger and frustration, running in attempt to find Flower Pillar alive.

You has run pass narrow alley when saw your colleague laying on the cold paving stones. From her mouth's cover was dripping string of blood, eyes still opened, but filled with tears. Her thin hands were shaking, only strong will gave her chance to keep grip on blade. You quickly observed her body, approaching Kanae. Thank God, she hadn't lost any of her limbs, but had a lot of deep cuts. Something wrong was with her breathing, that has made you concerned.

You forced yourself to breathe steady with difficulty. Stupid Kocho! You were stronger then she, but let her fight with anonymous demon while you have been fighting with good known Upper Moon Six.

It was a trap. Silly trap, in which you got caught.

Kanae's eyes looked on you, lips curved in gentle smile when you crouched over her trembling body.

"L/n...L/n-san, please, take care..." Her lips were moving hard, you could understand her speaking only because of very good hearing.

"Kanae!" You growled, haven't been able to hide your emotions more. "What are you talking about?!" While speaking, you have moved her body in more comfortable place. "They are waiting you..."

"They?~" Said sonorous voice, when you have heard footsteps behind yourself. You could smell strong demon's scent, which was similar with scent on Flower Pillar's clothes.

"Kanae," you whispered to her, pulling blade in one fast motion and hiding it under your long azure haori. "When this demon will caught me, collect all remains of power and run."

Kocho's eyes have filled with fear. Her grip on blade disappeared, she slowly tried to stretch out for your hand, but you gently reject her gesture, giving her a weak smile. Unlucky, you suddenly felt suffocation. Dammit...Was it Six's poison or this new demon's? Or was it from your fatigue? You didn't have enough time to thinking, but if it's from new demon than Kanae should close her mouth with some fabric. At least, she was leaning lower then poison was acting with all force, so you had time for fighting before toxin would damage her.

Sharply turned around, you made lunge and jumped closer to new enemy, who was tall blonde man in strange robe and headwear. His face hasn't expressed any emotions, only wide smile and outstretched to you hands.

"So, are you that famous Ice Pillar?" He evaded from you attack, with interest looking at your neck. You have noticed it and stood in protective pose, pointing your katana's edge on him. Man just shrugged, still smiling.

"I'm glad, rumors don't lie." His eyes were blinking with strange enjoyment. You swallowed, breathing heavier than few minutes ago. Quickly glanced behind, you have heard hard Kocho's breathing. Kami, if only she would stay alive.

Something spew out from your mouth, you eagerly tried to catch some oxygen in your lungs. You wiped off unknown liquid from your lips, looking at it. Oh, blood. Too out of season.

"Ara-ara~" Demon has called to you, abruptly interrupted in your thoughts. "Y/n-chan, is something wrong with your breathing?" He chirped and approached you in one second, his face in few inches near yours. "I can help you." Blonde was smiling, slowly reaching to your blade while you were inhaling deeply from lack of air. You clenched your teeth when have noticed his attempt to get your katana and tried to slice him. Man only giggled, saw your tensed features.

"Oh...You're too cute, don't force me to use..." He choked when has felt something make a deep cut across his chest.

"Breath of Ice, Forth form: Deadly blizzard!" Words blurred out from you with huge difficulties. Your hands were shaking, head dizzy and lungs were burning inside.

Man exhaled. His wound had healed in few seconds, while you were in worse state with each minute. You thought about plan, but your mind hasn't given you anything like this. This demon knew you very well, you guessed. Maybe you should divert him before other demon slayers will come? Escape immediately?

"I like ice too." You flinched from soft voice that was cooing into your right ear.

"S-sev..." Cough forced you to writhe in pain and exhaustion, katana has fallen from your hands.

"Cold mind couldn't help sometimes, could it?~" Blonde sat near you, caressing your h/c hair.

So it was enemy's plan... You wanted to tell him a lot of nice things, but mouth which was filled with blood didn't let you. Sudden thought about Kanae helped you to try to reach the blade, but man took it away from you, smiling wide.

"Sh-h. It's okay," He calmed you down. "They come soon and we will go."

We? Will go? You choked, being shocked by his words. No, not Kocho!

You struggled, collecting yourself at last time. Kanae was your friend, one of the kindest slayers, and she had disciples...

"Kanae, run!" You have shouted using last powers. After this you let yourself lay down and continued choking with blood. Demon's eyes blinked on view of red liquid.

"Oh, I think I overdid...But you will survive, won't you?" He asked you, his cold breathing has touched your earlobe. You looked at him, clenching your fists in anger and desperation.

Blonde laughed from your angry expression.

"Hm, really stupid question. You will servive, I promise. I have been looking after you about half year, do you know?" You flinched with fear. Demon giggled and continued his speech. "It was really hard to create good trap for you. Y/n-chan, you have killed so many strong demons...I'm proud of you." His large hand gently touched your cheek, slowly caressing it. "And this azure fabric is really suits you! When we will come home, I request more beautiful clothes to you."

From the corner of your eye you have seen familiar haori. Your lips twitched, weak, but happy smile has approached your face.

Man noticed sudden change in your expression, humming with understanding. He stood up, fixing his strange robe and promptly started with a jerk. You sobbed because of desperation, feeling how your nails digged into harsh from fights skin. Your eyes closed for a moment.

It was your last mistake. You let Kanae had been damaged, let pride overtook you. Who was you? Tha smartest of Pillars, Ice Pillar. The only person who had as much respect as Kagaya Ubuyashiki, and now you were lying on the cold ground, crying because of yours weakness and foolishness. Courage has never been you specialty, but...

You have opened your eyes, slowly raising yourself up from paving stone.

Demon's gold fans were near Shinobu while she has been defending her sister, using all her body as a shield. Your trembling body was moving by itself, you haven't heard Shinobu's speech and demon's awful jokes when you had jumped in one fast and last motion just at the front of the blonde demon, taking all his attack on yourself.

Shinobu should cried out your name loudly, when you have choked by new portion of your own blood. Demon's iridescent eyes have looked at you with shock and enjoyment, in his orbs you saw your pinched body, all in scarlet spots from a lot of wounds. You smirked, have spat on the expensive demon's clothes. His smile hasn't vanished, opposite, his strong arms captured you when your weak body started to fall. You were mumbling words about running to Shinobu, and she must understand this right-girl quickly has taken sister's body and started to escape away. She looked at you with tears in corners of her beautiful eyes, liquid slowly dropped across her face. You wanted to join Shinobu, let her to heal your wounds, to talk again with this young insufferable Wind Pillar Shinazugawa, but demon's grip on your body was becoming stronger with each second. You sighed, giving weak and gentle smile to Shinobu Kocho.

For your relief, demon hasn't moved an inch, looking at running away Kocho with boredom. You only chucked, letting yourself to be absorbed by darkness, inch by inch.

"Douma. My name is Douma." It was all what you had heard before pain has vanished.

***

Attempts of suicide were first when you have opened your eyes.

Fights between you two. You lost, however. It was obviously stupid, mostly to you. How could new demon win in competition with Upper Moon Two?

Long dark nights, when you have been crying, with disgust and fear looking at your new body.

His cold hands that were shoving warm meat inside your throat and sweet cooing that you would like this lately.

"Y/n-chan!~" His strong arms is capturing your firm body in a hug. You aren't hesitate. Blonde is burying his cold nose in your cold (now too) neck.

"Douma." You mumble, don't flinch a bit of his touch.

"Rudely, as always..." Demon sighed, hugging you stronger. "However, Muzan-sama let you to become one of Upper Moons."

You smile. Maybe, loss of emotions was coincidence.