#in a HEARTBEAT. like oh now he’s sopping wet and sobbing and he wants love but feels he can’t have it? she’s kissing him w tongue

[chryzure-archive]

i mean, really, at jacks’s core, he’s a character that wants so badly. he wants something and he’s almost frightened by it, to the point that he convinces himself that he wants something else, actually, because it’s better for him to succeed at getting what he doesn’t need than fail to get what he’s wanted from the start. he’ll put blinders up and spend his time chasing down pointless goals that he arbitrarily decides upon rather than face the fact that he wants love, and he wants it so desperately. he’s had it slip through his fingers so many times that he decides that he’s going to act like he’s above the concept of love—it’s stupid, ridiculous, pointless… and he still wants it so much. but he doesn’t want to see it. :( poor unique little blue-eyed white boy…

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Showers and Cuddles and Blood, Oh My! | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Coming at you with another Mikaelson boys sharing fic because the last one seemed to go over well! I'll probably continue on that route if the response stays the same. I mean, heck, if I can have all three I'll take all three so why not! Hope y'all enjoy! Stay tuned for more, I have some juicy stuff in the works ;) Much love <3

Description: Elijah and Klaus leave Y/n with Kol for the weekend while they're out hunting enemies, all is well until they return, scared and hurt. Y/n works her magic Y/n powers and makes it all better. Happy ending yay!

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, leaned in Klaus' favor

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! Angst-y, mentions of blood and battle, Smut (not full, just foreplay things)

Word count: 3909

Tags: FLUFF, angst-ish, smut

(Photos not mine but the mood board is :) )

“Kol, pass the popcorn,” you yell at him from across the living room without dragging your eyes from the television screen, not willing to miss a second of The Bachelor just because he’s hogging the snacks.

He’s had the bowl in his lap for the vast majority of the show, slowly munching away on the goodies you had made. If he was on the couch with you there wouldn't be a problem, you could just scoot over and you wouldn’t have to look away, but he’s on an armchair across the room. To be fair, you had made him sit there. You didn’t want him to distract you. Kol’s attention span is worse than a kindergarteners and when he gets bored he gets touchy. Literally. One caress from Kol would pull all your attention, a risk you were not willing to take.

You can feel his gaze on the side of your face but you remain strong, “why don’t you come get it, huh princess? Isn’t it lonely over there?”

He’s bored and trying to make you cave. His words hit hard in the pit of your stomach and your thighs clench. Your cheeks flame but you refuse to pull your eyes from the scuba date this bachelor has taken his date on. You can’t remember her name. She’s blonde and tall, but so are all the others girls on the show. You’re only a couple episodes in so you’re yet to really lock down the details. To be honest, you don’t ever really remember the names until the last couple episodes.

You can hear him start crunching again and you swear you see red for a second, “Kol, damnit, give me the popcorn. Now!”

All he does is laugh, pushing you over the edge. One second you're on the couch and the next you’re across the room, ripping the bowl from his loose grip. You don’t eat it, though, you just resist the urge to throw it across the room before setting it on the coffee table. His face is smug as you stand in front of him, simmering with something hot. It’s not rage though and that pisses you off. He won and he knows it.

He leans forward, pulling you by your hips towards him, a sultry smirk on his face, “come here.”

He scoops you onto his lap, pulling your mouth to his and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You sigh into his mouth, your legs dangling over the edge of the chair. Your hands find his hair and tug gently at the roots. You can feel him smile against your lips.

“It’s impossible to watch anything with you in the same room,” you mumble as his lips trace your neck, stifling a traitorous moan, “this is the third time I've attempted this episode.”

“I’m sorry,” no he’s not, “I just missed you.”

How he could miss you even slightly right now you have no idea. Elijah and Klaus have been gone for a few days, off hunting an enemy they refused to tell you about, leaving you to the youngest Miakelson’s wills for the entire weekend. To say you’ve left his sight for even a few minutes would be lying. Not that you didn’t soak up every second of time with him. It’s not everyday you get to be alone with one of them without feeling bad about ignoring the others. It’s a tricky situation.

His hands grip the edge of your tee, ready to pull it off, “you’ve had me to yourself for three days. An hour without touching me will not kill you, Kol.”

Even as you say it you cant help but attach you lips to his neck, leaving a few small kisses before sucking harshly at the base of his throat. His hand grips your hip and you know that if you were still a human it would have left bruises. The other wraps in your hair, pushing you against him a little bit harder.

“Ah, fuck, yes it will, princess.”

He starts lifting your shirt when the front door opens. Heavy footsteps land in the front hall and the smell of mud and something sharp hits your nose. You pull back from Kol slightly and he doesn’t protest, just as intent on listening.

“I, fuck,” you hear Klaus hiss from the near the door, causing your heartbeat to spike, “I’m not healing as fast as I should be.”

As fast as it had spiked, your heart stops, “it’s the wolfsbane, she knew it would slow the process.”

You look into Kol’s eyes, your blood running cold, a feeling you had forgotten existed. As soon as he nods you’re flying out of the den and into the front hall where you stop dead in your tracks. There you find Elijah. At least, you think it’s Elijah. It’s hard to tell who it is by the sheer amount of mud caked onto their body. Head to toe, mingled with something bright red. You already know what it is. Wherever there isn't mud on his body there’s blood, still wet in some places. You can smell the metallic tinge in the air and your heart breaks.

What’s worse is his face. His eyes look shattered. Like all the life has been drained from them. Your chest squeezes painfully at the sight. Your Elijah, your rock, ready to crumble. His hands shake at his sides. He just stands there, looking at you like you’re about to disappear. Klaus is no where to be seen.

“Y/n,” Elijah falls to his knees, the thud echoing through the silent house, “baby.”

His voice is small and, if it’s even possible, scared. In less than a second you’re in front of him, hugging him impossibly tight to your stomach. His arms wrap around your waist as he clings to you desperately. He’s trembling in your arms. You feel like someone’s hand is wrapped around your heart, crushing it. You move to sit down, pulling him against your chest.

“Eli, what happened honey?” Your hands bury themselves in his hair and you wish for his sake that it was under the same circumstances as it was with Kol.

“There were too many, Y/n, they must have had close to a hundred men,” he pulls you onto his knees, burying his face in your neck, “they weakened us before they attacked. I don’t know how. Magic, maybe. Sealed off the land so we couldn’t get out. They just kept coming, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even after their hearts were out they kept coming.”

For a man who has seen the very worst that war has had to offer, he speaks like he can’t comprehend the battle he was in. Like all the wars before this one, even combined, were nothing compared to what he just witnessed. His words make you cry for him. They make you angry like you’ve never been before. You clutch him tighter to you, placing a kiss to his matted hair. His relieved sigh brings some comfort but not enough to make this all better.

“I was so scared, baby,” he chokes on his words, his voice dripping with cold relief, “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

You sob at his words, burying your face against his head. Somehow, beneath all the mud and blood, there's still a hint of Elijah. This faint pine scent that makes you crumble against him and hold on for dear life.

“They did something to Klaus,” your heart drops further in your stomach, “they injected him with something. I think it was wolfsbane but I don’t think that’s all. He’s not healing as fast as he normally does.”

You gasp at his words, “Elijah?”

He shifts, pulling back slightly. There are tracks on his cheeks, glimpses of skin, where he had been crying. You reach to wipe some of the dirt from his face, letting your own tears flow freely. He turns his head into your hand, closing his eyes for a moment and kissing your palm. For the first time since he got home you see him smile slightly.

“He needs you, baby,” always the noble one, your Elijah.

You look at him, reluctant to leave him like this, “Elijah I-”

His warm lips cut you off. You revel in his taste. It hasn’t changed and for that you’re eternally grateful. He kisses you slowly, his hands cradling your face carefully. You savour every second his lips are on yours, memorizing every line and curve. You could stay in this moment for a life time.

But Klaus needs you, too.

“Go, I'll see you soon,” he places one last kiss to your lips, smirking slightly, “besides, I really need a shower.”

You run your hand over his hair one last time, pulling out of his hold and making your way up the stairs to Klaus’ room. Any of the relief you had felt from Elijah disappears as fast as it had come. There are muddy boot prints leading to his door, his jacket, sopping and caked in grime, dropped on the floor. His flannel, less caked in mud and more so in blood, piled a few feet away from the jacket. It brings tears to your eyes once more. The part that makes your heart stop, though, is the scent. You can smell the blood before you're even halfway down the hall, hot and tangy.

A sharp bang sounds from inside his room, followed by a pained groan. You knock lightly on the door, unsure of whether or not to just walk in.

“Go away, Elijah,” he sounds angry but his voice lacks it’s usual passion.

“It’s not Elijah. It’s me, Klaus, it’s Y/n,” your voice is quiet but you know he can hear you.

He pauses for a moment and your chest constricts, wanting nothing but to hold him and make it all better.

Then you hear it, he’s crying, “Y/n?”

As soon as he says your name, sobs your name, you’re through the door. At the sight of him, as it was with Elijah, the wind is knocked from your lungs. He’s on his knees, a ghostly parallel to his brother, but he’s bleeding. He is coated in blood from head to toe. His arms got the worst of it, soaked to his elbows like a pair of crimson gloves. There are slices all the way down his torso, deep ones. His head rests on his hands, his shoulders shaking furiously from the cries wracking his body. Klaus has never been small but right now, curled on his bedroom floor, he looks undeniably smaller.

“Oh, baby,” your voice is a hoarse whisper and he looks up at you with tortured eyes, his mouth falling open.

You run to him, falling to your knees before him, letting him pull you against his chest. His skin is hot, working in overdrive to heal the cuts. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly. Your arms wrap around his chest, trying to avoid his wounds but it’s impossible. They’re everywhere.

He clutches you tightly, his body shaking uncontrollably, “it was mother, she turned these hybrids into something else. Dark magic or something. They were dead but they kept coming.”

When he pulls away slightly to glimpse at your eyes, your breath catches in your throat. Up close you see them, bites. All over his arms and chest. Huge hunks of skin torn from parts of his body. Thankfully, they appear to be healing but not nearly fast enough for your liking. Your eyes well up again and you let the tears drop with his. He’s terrified. Your soldier is painfully afraid and it breaks your heart for the millionth time today.

“Klaus, what can I do, you need to tell me what to do sweetheart,” your hands cup his face, trying to wipe the droplets but they keep coming.

He sighs into your touch, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “just stay with me for a little while. Please, love? Don’t leave.”

Your heart aches for him thinking he even needs to ask, “of course I won’t. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just you and me, darling.”

He nods, standing on shakey legs. You follow suit, letting him pull you into a proper hug. Now that he’s on two legs, he towers over you, his face pushed into your hair, breathing deeply. After what feels like hours, he stops shaking. You just stand there, your arms tied around his waist, rubbing circles on his back. He still feels strong under your touch. He’s still your Klaus. Just a little bit worse from the wear.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You run your hand over his face before grabbing his hand and pulling him with you to his attached bathroom. He follows without protest, moving his hands to your hips as you lead him towards the glassed in shower. You let him go for just a second while you start the shower which elicits a groan of protest. You turn the dial to a gloriously warm stream before going back to the muddy blonde. Your muddy blonde.

You reach up, drawing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. He dips into your touch, pulling away to lean his head on your shoulder. You reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open with both hands. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder, just as you had earlier. You’re pushing him to keep touching you. It will ground him. You tug the zipper down before stepping away.

You give him a millimeter smile and revel in the way that, despite everything he’s been through, his eyes still dance over your figure when you pull the tee over your head. Your chest swells in pride that you can make him forget some of the pain and let it give way to love. You step out of your leggings next, letting them pool at your feet. His eyes roam every dip and curve of your body, igniting some of the fire that has been missing.

Standing in front of him, you’re left in nothing but your black bra and matching panties. He pushes his own jeans down his legs, leaving them as he walks back to you, twirling you so your back is to his chest. It’s working. His hands on your back make you shiver. His fingers trace your spine lightly, trailing up until they stop at your bra clasp. His lips land on the back of your neck, pushing your hair to the side as he nips lightly at the skin. His fingers skillfully undo your bra, pushing the straps down your arms until it falls, joining the growing pile of clothes at your feet.

His arms circle around you, pulling you flush against his hot chest, “so beautiful, love.”

You release the breath that you didn’t know you were holding at the sound of his voice. He sounds better, a little more Klaus like. A little more in control. His hands are flat on your stomach, dragging down you abdomen. His thumbs hook in your panties as he pulls them down your legs. They, too, join the pile at your feet. He grips your hips with strong hands, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, pulling your skin back into his mouth and biting down harder with blunt teeth.

You spin in his arms, drawing his face down to yours once more, “Come on, darling, water’s getting cold.

You press a quick kiss to his parted lips before scampering into the shower, a cheeky grin plastered on your face. He wastes no time in pushing the boxers down his legs and joining you under the warm water. He hisses quietly when the water hits the bites, closing his eyes. You pull him into your arms for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the pain. You can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.

When he opens his eyes again, you grab a washcloth that’s hanging idily to the side and a half empty bottle of soap. The label says ocean breeze and you can’t help but giggle. You lather the soap, which, for the record, actually smells pretty good, over the cloth before bringing one of his arms to your chest. That’s where you start, rubbing the material gently over his stained fingers, watching the stream of water pool deep red at your feet before swirling down the drain.

When you finish with his first arm, you move to the next. Over his bicep, down his forearm, caressing his wrist and palm like you had the other. He sighs when you place a kiss to his knuckles, gently putting his arm back by his side. Somewhere between his left arm and his right he had let his head fall back against the shower wall. Your heart soars to see him finally start to relax.

You move next to his chest, beginning at his collar bone. You run the cloth over the nastiest bite, one of the only ones still left healing. Klaus grips your waist when you do, clenching his jaw tightly.

“I know hun,” you coo to him, kissing his tensed face, “I need to do it, though. It’s almost over.”

He doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. He just wraps his arm around your shoulder, placing a kiss to the side of your head and letting you continue. You do your best to rub the dirt away quickly before leaving it be. You move down his chest, over his defined muscles, swirling the cloth over his skin lightly, drawing some quiet groans from his lips. They aren’t pained this time, however. They're something else. More familiar. Hotter.

You run the cloth down his toned stomach, savouring every crevice and dip, drowning in the praises that are flowing louder from his mouth. Heat grows rapidly in the pit of your stomach and before you know it you’re holding back your own sounds. Your head falls against his chest, his hand wrapped in your sopping hair, as you pass his belly button.

“Fuck,” he yanks your head up, crushing his mouth against yours deliciously.

The cloth falls from your hands, replaced with his shoulders which your grip furiously when he flips you around, pushing your back against the tiled wall. His mouth moves to your neck, sucking harshly and drawing the first moan from your lips. His fingers draw down your shoulders, tracing the curve of your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples, pulling a gasp from your mouth.

“Klaus,” you’re panting and he’s hardly touched you, “this is supposed to be about you.”

“Trust me, love, it is,” he says before placing his mouth over one of your breasts.

Your hand flies to hair, holding his head against you, the other clutching desperately at the shower wall behind you. His hands find your hips, holding you against the wall beautifully. He bites down lightly on your nipple before running his tongue over it soothingly. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, everywhere he touches you white hot. His blue eyes find yours through the water streaming around you, shining brilliantly for the first time since you found him.

His hand dips down, trailing fire down your stomach, until his fingers swipe over your clit once, then it’s lightening. His eyes are on you, watching every little movement you make. He does it again, drawing closer to your core, his thumb circling your most sensitive part. He stands up fully again, his lips finding your ear, tugging it between his teeth.

“God, Klaus,” you’re a mess at his touch, “please.”

He smirks at you, pausing his actions, his voice a husky whisper against your skin, “what should I do, love? Tell me. Shall I take my time or finish this now?”

He’s back. This is the Klaus that you’re used to. Fully self-aware and dominant. Strong. Above all though, he’s undeniably yours and yours alone.

“I- Klaus,” you tug his hair, pulling to try and regain a semblance of control, “I need you.”

He kisses your earlobe once more, his voice low and sultry, “as you wish, darling.”

* * * * *

What feels like hours later you emerge from the shower, dripping and sensitive but beyond happy, a pleased Klaus trailing close behind you. His hands refuse to leave your body as you lead him into his bedroom. There he opens his dresser, pulling out a black t-shirt that will most definitely swallow you and a pair of boxers and handing them to you before choosing a pair of grey sweatpants for himself. You pull his shirt over your still wet hair, revelling in his scent. You follow it with his boxers, fully embraced in all things Klaus.

“Now that is a sight that will never get old, love,” Klaus’ breath tickles the back of your neck as his arms wrap around you.

You lean into his touch, playing back the memories of his body tangled with yours under the shower once more.

“Back at you, Sweetheart,” and you mean it, he looks positively eddible in those sweatpants.

He growls lowly, sending another incessant wave of heat through your body, “love we need to leave this room before Elijah tears the door of it’s hinges. I’ve been listening to him and Kol pace for the better half of two hours.”

“Kol,” you say loud enough for him hear from anywhere in the house, which isn't very loud honestly, “can wait. He has had three days. He needs to learn to share.”

You swear you can hear him pouting from the kitchen as Klaus chuckles softly. Footsteps echo up the stairs, stopping right outside the door. You smile up at the blue-eyed blonde in your arms, knowing exactly who it is. He kisses your forehead, mouthing that he’ll meet you soon.

You open the door to face a tired but grinning Elijah, “Kol can wait but I'm just about done, baby.”

You can’t help but admire him, standing in the doorway in a simple hoodie and shorts. This is the side of him that only you get.

“Well, sir, how can I argue with that?”

“Uh huh,” he shakes his head at you, pulling you into his arms, making you erupt with giggles when he walks away, leading you back to the den where this all began.

You wave to Klaus, who winks back at you, mirth laced deep in his irises. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes, finally at peace.

The night ends with the four of you cuddled on the largest couch in the den. Your back is against Elijah’s chest, his arms circled tight around you, not letting you go for anything. Klaus’ head is in your lap, his legs sprawled behind him on the remaining length of the couch. One of your hands is laced through his hair. His are clutching your legs. He’s fast asleep. Kol sits on the floor, your other hand resting around his shoulder, pulling him to lean back against your side. There's a fresh bowl of popcorn on his lap. He still isn’t sharing any of it. The television screen shows the image of a man and a woman scuba diving together. You couldn’t be happier to finally relax with all three of your Mikaelson men.

[ly-canthropewrites]

Pairing: Ezekiel ‘Ez’ Reyes x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1421

A/N: This is a continuation on from this. Just to torture the likes of @blessedboo& @everyhowlmarksthedead 😏 @prdsdjarin I think you will appreciate the use of this gif 🥵

The public affair makes it painfully obvious, the loud jeering that bounces around the clubhouse a constant reminder that you could get caught.

Your actions have to be subtle. Biting at the fleshy palm of your hand or gnawing at your bottom lip is too indicative of your raunchy escapades, leaving nothing to act as a safety barrier for the pleasurable sounds that are threatening to escape except sheer willpower and fear.

Ez’s nails dig into your thighs, taut and harsh as he breathes deeply to control himself, face buried into the crook of your neck as your walls massage his cock, caught in his own struggle between savouring your warmth and fucking you senseless - regardless of the watchful eyes around you.

“Baby, lean back,” he groans, pressing a last kiss to your shoulder before he stands upright, watching you with greedy eyes as you lean back on your palms.

To the unknowing eye, it would look like you are simply chatting, soaking up a small moment where it is just the two of you and he isn’t running around fulfilling demands. However, they don’t know the extend of the moment - unaware how deeply Ez’s cock spears you open, throbbing flesh heating your blood and has you almost begging for a hard fuck.

“Is this what you wanted, baby girl?” Ezekiel murmurs lowly, smirking to himself when he spies your lips twitching, feebly controlling the cry that wants to escape.

He can’t push into you, opting to slowly rock his hips into yours, almost in time with the sensual Spanish music that echoes throughout the party.

“I can feel you clutching at me, preciosa, you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.”

Your eyes widen at the dirty words that spill from his mouth, cunt clenching achingly at his member, a traitorous action that reveals his profound effect.

“Ez...” you breathe out, barely a whisper that he almost misses the whine that is laced within the plead and instinctively, he pushes into you hard.

Hard enough to disturb the empty beer bottles that litter the bench top, a taunting clink audible as they bump against one another.

It is a miracle the incident doesn’t gain attention as a bottle falls and rolls along the wood, but nonetheless, you hold your breath and a hand shoots out to clutch at Ez’s forearm.

“They are drunk as fuck, mi amor, they won’t notice,” Ez reassures, battling his own fright internally and captures your attention again by firmly hooking his fingers beneath your chin, and guides your eyes back to his.

“Too fucking drunk to notice me fucking you slowly, mami,”

Each filthy sentence that flows from Ez’s poetic mouth intensifies your lust. He refuses to let your eyes wander from his, capturing you in a soul-chilling gaze and your breath hitches at the ravenous haze in his dark eyes. Ez’s hips subtly piston into yours, only ever rocking back millimetres before spearing deep into your cavern, grinding against your pelvis when he hits your limits. The rough denim of his jeans creates a delicious friction against your clit and you sob uncontrolled as it begins to get too much.

“You close, baby? Come on baby, you gonna cum for me, cum all over my cock in front of everyone. They don’t even know you are being fucked this good,” Ez groans, clenching his jaw when the music fades to a lull and for a few heartbeats, he can hear the sopping squelch of your pussy accepting his girthy meat.

Your wetness has saturated the front of his jeans, the wet denim would be uncomfortable in any other situation but to feel the evidence of your lust in each thrust has you dripping. Something about the absolute damnation of the fucking, so sinful and risky has you, oh so, hot and bothered.

A large palm runs up your side, sneakily running over your breast and squeezes the tender flesh, eliciting a softened moan from you. Ez only smirks, getting braver in his actions and his hand continues on its upwards journey; momentarily wrapping around your neck, thumb stroking delicately over your fluttering pulse before he moves up again, and contrastingly, cups your cheek in infatuation. 

You nuzzle into his palm, in comfort and as a guise, using the hardened skin to mask your whimpers and pants as Ez ruts sharply.

“Eyes on me baby, come on, let it go, I’ve got you,” He coos, a devilish gaze soaking up your wanton expression.

You are almost there, high from the lusty addiction of his manhood and his sin-enlaced words, pleasure indescribable burning through you, the coil in your loins pulling tighter and tighter, flames licking at exposed nerves, electricity snapping and crackling, Ez’s heavy gaze. And then, an explosion. Fiery-hot pleasure swirls and pulls you under, drowning you in white-blazed glory.

Ez is quick to capture your mouth with his, lapping up your wanton sounds, keeping them all to himself, for his ears only. You become lax in his arms, malleable beneath his selfish lips and Ez coaxes another delicious melody from you as he grinds against your trembling walls.

“Fuck, that’s it - that’s it mami, dios...” he swears and curses, desperation curling around the base of his spine as he seeks his own high. Rhythmically, your cunt milks him, hungry for its own rewards and it doesn’t take long for him to fall as well, your cries echoing in his ear pushes him over the edge.

A second wave of heat rushes through your veins as Ez gushes into your womb, white-sticky release painting your walls, a soothing sensation washing over you as you both lean against each other.

No-one can speak. Lethargy wraps a strong hand around you both. You are the first to speak, humming softly whilst you rest your cheek on Ez’s shoulder, running your tongue over your lips. Tiredness settles heavily into your bones and it’s a struggle to raise your hand high enough to cup Ez’s cheek, guiding the blissful man to face you. An almost dopey look sparkles in his eye and your lips curl upwards. The atmosphere relaxes from a frantic, lustful tone into something more gentle and loving, and you savour the fucked-out expression on your lovers face.

No words can be spoken and none are needed to share your thoughts. Ez pitches forward, anchoring his forehead against yours and nudges you with his nose. You giggle, a light, twinkling sound that makes him grin and as much as he loves to hear your happiness, right now, he silences it with a loving kiss.

“Yo, Boy Scout, stop makin’ out with your girl and ge— get me a beer!” Coco’s request is punctuated with an ungracious hiccup and you tip your head back in laughter.

“Back to your duties, prospect,” you tease, finally feeling sensation come back to your limbs and you run your hands up and down Ez’s arms; an adoring gesture.

“Looks like it,” He retorts, waggling his eyebrows before he pulls out of your sucking channel, and quickly manoeuvres to shove himself back within the confines of his jeans, leaving you lost and empty whilst he snags a couple of beers with his fingers.

You fix up your skirt, making sure nothing is left to be seen and your panties snap back into place, barely in time to barricade the slow drip of his cum as it seeps from your slit. The feeling makes you moan, a pout of your glossy lips at the erotic titillation and you rub your hands over your thighs, already feeling another gush of arousal spike. Ez notices your reaction and smirks, easily knowing what has you so whiny and he steps close to you, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth.

“You are gonna sit here for the rest of the night, feeling me leak out of you baby, until I can drag you home and stuff you full again,” He purrs, grinning at your gasp and he can’t help but layer you with another kiss, ignoring the annoyed protest from his biker brother.

“Have fun,” Ez bites, swaggering away and sends you a cheeky wink, acting as if he hadn’t fucked your pussy, and as if the evidence of your coupling isn’t staining the front of his jeans.

Ezekiel Reyes is many, many things - an incubus is only one of them.

Tagging people I interact with from my main blog; 

@brattyfics @mycupoffanfiction @prdsdjarin @spookys-girl @my-rosegold-soul @ifoundmyhappythought @awildcur @starrynite7114 @soaronmywings @chibsytelford @rebel-without-cause-x @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @everyhowlmarksthedead @strawberrywritings @crushed-pink-petals-writes @sadeyesgf @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @utterlyhopeful-fics @gemini0410 @scribbuluswrites @elcococruz @cocotheclown​ @blackmissfrizzle @woahitslucyylu @ixazalvoh @sheeshgivemeabreak​ @blacvenus​ @breanime

[sweettodo]

BOSS ⟿ BAKUGO X READER

trying this out so it might be a tad disorganized}

Warnings / plot : he teases, attitude, rough, finger-fucking.

•1,3k words :)

The smell of your hair, the way your hips swayed and your skirt slightly bounced drove him mad, he knew he had to have you. The pounding feeling of his heart in his throat whenever he got a smell of the aroma of your fruity scent.

You’re quite the independent woman, you knew all the tricks men attempted to reel you in. You would bitch-ily scoff in their faces; they tried. Being Mr. Bakugo’s assistant had its moments, both joyous and of course the inevitable anger. He never attempted things upon you, the occasional shared flirt. Out of all the assistants he had, you stuck with him longest.

“Katsuki, I fit in an important meeting you can. Not. Miss.” I growled, poking him in the shoulder, he sighed and spun around in his chair to face me.

“My- what would I do without my lovely assistant-” he stretches, muscles contracting and he continues to work on the nagging paperwork, ‘why couldn’t y/n do this’ he whines in the back of his head, scratching his hairline in annoyance.

Gingerly, you sit in the chair in front of him and place your folders on the edge of his desk along with your- constantly- buzzing phone.

“I’d rather not have my schedule packed- have you nothing better to do than make my life messy?”

“Dont whine, I’m doing anything and everything to make you the good boy- this wouldn’t happen if you behaved.” I snort, he knew I was right.

‘Did this bitch just say good boy?’

Bakugo had yet to realize this would be something he would be extremely into.

“Good boy? What the fuck do you think I am!” Katsuki shouts; nothing his assistant wasn’t used to.

“I would think you’d like a little praise, knowing your ego.” The evil smile grew while Katsuki’s deadpan remained constant.

No, I don’t like stupid praise like a bitch, I’m the one in charge, I’m her fucking boss. She has no right.

“You’re one to talk, don’t think I don’t see you squeeze your legs together when I compliment your work.” The eyes in my head bug out, my jaw jumps open. This is where the flirting usually stopped, it never crossed a certain line.

He sure was pushing it.

“Whatever you’re inferring; that’s disgusting,” I was caught, I couldn’t necessarily deny but it’s not like I could admit to it either.

“So am I really one who’s into praise? Or is it you?” He lets out a dry chuckle and swings his pen; flipping in between his big... long fingers.

No. Stop now.

“I’m gonna get going, you’re a big boy, do your own fucking work.” I shake my head, scoffing and standing on my feet. As I reach to grab my things, my wrist is grabbed and I jump out of my skin.

“Sit.”

“Excu-”

“I said. Sit down on your pretty little ass, I haven’t allowed you to leave.”

I had no other choice but to hastily sit back down in the same chair, I couldn’t make a break for it- he was my boss.

“You must know it’s quite obvious your job is tons easier when you listen to your boss, right y/n?” He leans over the cluttered glass desk, his minty breath hitting the side of my face, only sending chills up my spine. Katsuki was a weak link for me; out of all men. The most arrogant one of all.

My hands tremble, my anxiety was through the roof.

“Yes Baku-“

“Na ah- Sir.”

“You’re really pushing it right now.” I ridicule, stari right into his deep, spiraling red eyes.

As sudden as the blink of an eye, my jaw is grabbed, I gasp and with the incapability of screaming in his face, I’m restrained.

While still holding his grip on my face, he swings around his desk and towers over me, “that’s right- I love those fucking puppy eyes. I always have, the way you look up at me and beg. Fucking beg.”

The lump in my throat grows and so does the stewing hot feeling in my sex.

“I guarantee when you stand up, there’s gonna be a wet mark on that chair, you’re wet aren’t you? You like knowing I can tear you to fucking pieces.”

I whine quietly and he slowly releases my jaw, my hand flies to rub the sore area and I look down at my feet.

“Tell me you like me, I know you do. I fucking know it.” He sneers, my heart skips beats, I slowly look up at him, “say it or I’ll force it out of you.”

“I want-”

“What? You want me to touch you? Want me to fuck you?” This was the last straw, Bakugo had to rip you to shrewds, he needed to feel you, we wanted to taste you. He needed you wrapped around him, juicing.

“Let me pleasure you- let me show you who’s boss around here.”

I nod my head, that’s all he needed, he drops to his knees and I bite on my nails in anticipation. He grabs my ankles one by one and puts them on his desk, giving him the easiest of access to dive deep into me.

“So sexy,” he firmly rubs my thick thighs, pulling me towards the edge of the seat and I slouch further into the padded chair, “so fucking soaked, do you always leave work a sopped, dripping mess?”

“You could’ve told me, is his my fault? This pretty pussy leaking for me?” He growls, I bite down on my lip, I was gushing. He needed to touch me now. He needed to fuck me.

“Y-yes sir, this is your fault.” I falter, he rolls my thong off of me, tugging it to my ankles and I allow them to drop on the floor. I was throbbing, the chilly air plus his breath hitting my heat sent violent shutters throughout my body, he was such a fucking tease.

He gets closer to me, looking down, pushing up my skirt, and letting spit roll off his wet tongue and onto my clit, slowly, making its way to my heat, having a heartbeat of it’s own.

“Oh- my god Katsuki.” I whisper, he takes his middle and ring finger, running them up and down my cat, wetting them. He loved how hot and wet your pussy was for him, he didn’t even do close to anything and you were swollen and ready to fuck his assistant silly.

He plunges his fingers into my cunt, feeling around momentarily before thrusting his big fingers in and out of his assistants cunt sleekly, it felt like a fucking wonderland in there, you tightened around him, chest rising and falling.

I fall apart in front of him once his thumb hits my clit, he blasts me with his fingers. My body going absolutely mad, my body tingled, the spasms making my thighs twitch. I scream out to him for release.

“Katsuki- Sir! Please!” I beg.

“Tell me what you want you dirty slut, do you like me doing this to you? Having you unravel while our coworkers hear me make you cum all over my office.” Other degrading terms thrown out there while he continues to drill into me.

My body is sent over the edge, the jolting orgasm sent through my body like a wave, my back arching, my hands reaching to grasp anything. My eyes shutting and my body convulsing.

He pulls his drowned fingers out of you and licks them, leaning in to lick up the cum. He loved the way you tasted; knowing he made you convulse was enough to send him into an orbit- an orbit that would’ve made him bust right into his black jeans.

I sob out gasps and tears spill out of my eyes from the shaking orgasm he caused. He knew he was good at this, he knew he made you wet and ready to be ravaged. This only made him want you more. And you wanting him to fuck you, the images not leaving their minds or nasty, sweaty sex on the desk or bed, anywhere for that matter.

“Come home with me... please Sir.” I smirk, grabbing his hand and sticking his two fingers into my mouth, sucking.

“Mhmm.”

[lances-wormhole]

More Than Any Title, I Love You (Fraxus One-Shot)

Read on Ao3 here

Please leave a kudos on there if you have the time : ) But I’d also really appreciate a like and reblog on here!

(Not Beta-Read)

***

Freed ignored the mud that splattered against his boots as he paced back and forth in the heavy rain. He was alone. Or rather, he kept telling himself he was alone just so he could save his heart from the unpleasant feeling of someone else hiding and watching him when he wasn’t aware.

Now, everyone gets the gist. This job was “different from typical jobs”. Every member of the guild has probably heard those words a billion times before… so many times. But this time it is painfully true.

Laxus Dreyar asked Freed to go with him alone, so he went along with a severe lack of questioning… And now here he is, standing in the mud, soaking wet, with only one question now on his mind:

Where is Laxus?

Freed didn’t fear many things outside the typical “I hope my friends are alright” mentality that seemed to be strikingly popular amongst the wizards of Fairy Tail. And you could say that maybe, just maybe that sense of protectiveness peaked around the Raijinshu… and, according to Bickslow, it especially showed when Laxus was involved. Freed couldn’t quite help that. The large lighting mage had a knack for getting himself into tricky situations. He found that he had no choice but to always be by Laxus’s side to get him out of it… Not like he minded being near him anyway.

Grunting, Freed pushed his sopping wet bangs out of his face, squinting across the field in lookout for the missing wizard.

“Laxus!” He called uselessly, shivering slightly. “Laxus! You’re out there somewhere, I know it!”

No reply.

Freed frowned, rubbing his hands against his arms as he slowly spun in a circle. He could feel his heartbeat steadily picking up his pace because of all the what ifs floating around in his brain.

“The storm is picking up!” He continued, one hand drifting down toward his sword. “We should call it a day and head back towards the hotel! Laxus!”

Again, no reply.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Freed unsheathed his sword and pointed it down to the ground. Trying to think around his panic, he attempted to cast some sort of rune that might be able to help him get in contact with his team mate. But before he could complete it, a loud crack of lightning flashed off somewhere towards his right, into the woods.

“Laxus?” Freed gulped, pushing back his wet bangs again as his gaze darted around the area. Without a second thought, he found his feet already running off towards where the lightning had striked, ignoring the buzz of electricity and static in the air.

Breathing heavily, Freed could tell he was starting to lose any sense of composure he may have left. But the mere thought of just finding Laxus, not completing their job, and going back to their hotel rooms where it is safe was just oh so compelling… he couldn’t even think of anything else.

Coming to a stop where the lighting striked, Freed could feel the static in the air causing the loose strands of his hair to rise to the sky. It was a familiar feeling. Whenever Laxus got too worked up, he would emit electricity ever so slightly into the air around him. And Freed, often being at his side, had slowly grown accustomed to it.

“Laxus…” Freed called, stalking into the woods cautiously, “Please.”

The Rune Mage could feel his throat start to squeeze, every ounce of emotion starting to bud at his eyes.

“I don’t…” He clenched his hand tightly against his sword, “I don’t know what you were thinking. Just bringing you and myself out on this quest. You can really be a big idiot sometimes.”

He expected to hear Laxus’s all too familiar disgruntled grunt, but all that could be heard was the continuous patter of rain against the leaves.

“I know you enjoy taking charge. I know you think you're strong enough to do these jobs on your own…” Freed spoke, an unwanted hiccup escaping his lips. This wasn’t like him at all. “But please. I can’t take it when you get hurt more than you’ve been. I’ve seen you suffer and I don’t want to see it anymore.”

He couldn’t help the tears that began to roll down his cheeks. If anyone else were here he would excuse it as rain.

“I could never live with myself if you were to be suffering more without me around to be with you.” He sobbed, body shivering from the overflow of emotion and the freezing rain. “Laxus—”

Another loud crash of lightning boomed from nearby, so close that Freed had to take cover, shielding his head with his arms.

Breathing heavily, Freed anxiously surveyed the area before running off where the lighting had struck.

“Laxus!” He shouted, nearing a mass of rock and rubble. “Are you—”

A low mumble from the wreckage interrupted his question. Overwhelmed, it took Freed a second to process before finally spotting a torn piece of Laxus’s jacket wedged in between a few rocks.

“Hold on.” Freed said seriously now, wiping away his tears as he neared the rocks, but before he could get further, a wall of runes blocked his path, surrounding the entirety of the scene. “Ah…”

Composing himself, Freed quickly dispelled the runes, keeping a mental note of the style and formation of the spell for later aid in the job, and hurried over to where Laxus was buried.

“Can you hear me?” He asked, already tugging the large rocks off and throwing them behind him with little care or attention. “Are you hurt? What happened? Why aren't you speaking?”

“Give me a second to explain myself and I will.” Laxus finally said, weakly pushing the final boulder away from himself.

Freed looked down at the lighting mage with a glare, whilst simultaneously looking over his body for any injuries. Fortunately nothing too serious, but he couldn’t miss the obvious signs of magic drainage. “Go on.” He urged impatiently.

Laxus watched him for a moment, noting the redness in the whites of his teammate’s eyes… however he chose to ignore that for now in the matter of current circumstances. “Firstly… I'm sorry for leaving you behind. It must be an undying habit of mine to go off and do things on my own.”

Freed clenched his jaw but stayed silent so Laxus could continue.

“I chased after what I thought was one of our targets. I remembered hearing something about a rune mage, that's initially why I thought to bring you along I guess. But I guess it didn’t cross my mind that he was a trickster like you and probably set a trap.” Laxus sighed, patting a rock that sat beside him. “The runes were slowly draining my magic energy. On top of that, a stupid second thief trapped me down here the minute I let loose that first lighting strike. He must’ve caught on that I was trying to lure someone over… that being you.”

“An idiot you are for using such large blasts.” Freed scolded, his hand subconsciously moving to cup Laxus’s cheek, letting his thumbs brush over the dark circles beneath his eyes. “I would have known it was you with the smallest sliver of lighting.”

“You would,” Laxus agreed, watching Freed with amusement. “I’m as much an idiot as you are reliable it seems.”

***

Getting back to the hotel, Freed forced Laxus to promise that they’ll postpone their raid on their targets until he had properly regained his lost stamina. Although the job requester didn’t seem too happy with the news, all it took was for Freed to give a dark, haunting glare, and they were well on their way.

After compelling Laxus into taking a bath, Freed immediately got to work cleaning and patching up the lighting mage’s wounds.

“Back in the forest,” he started, spreading ointment generously onto Laxus’s collar bone, “You said you thought of me initially. That makes me assume the reason changed.”

He was greeted by silence at the theory.

Looking up and away from the wound, he noticed that Laxus was looking away towards the window with an odd expression on his face. “Laxus? Is there another reason you brought me, and left without Ever or Bickslow?”

Freed watched as Laxus’s facial expressions flowed between different emotions before landing on one that could only be described as a calm dedication.

“Since the war ended, I’ve found myself talking to the old man more. Both of our run-ins with near deaths helped us mend whatever crack in our bond we still had.” Laxus closed his eyes for a second, thinking over his words. “He started to talk about seriously stepping down… wasting no mercy in saying that he was deciding between Erza, Mirajane, and… me.”

Freed’s eyes widened at the reveal, forgetting about the wound he was treating. “That’s… wow… But that doesn’t explain why you brought me.”

Laxus shook his head weakly against his pillow before continuing with his story, ignoring Free’s statement for the time being. “I thought he was crazy to think of me. After everything I’ve done. My selfishness in the past... But he didn’t give me a chance to argue. And he left to go think about his decision.”

He paused for a moment, nibbling at his lower lip.

“Since then I started thinking over and over about what the future had in store for me. If I were the guild master, I couldn’t imagine what I would do. All those past thoughts of ruling and taking control… it's all so… undesirable to me now. But I know that if he picked me, I would never say no to him. So I just had to figure out how I felt. I knew that once I became guild master I wouldn’t be able to go out on these missions with you or the Raijinshu as much as I like to. Maybe not ever since our guild is rather… crazy.” He chuckled, looking up at Freed now who was watching him with such pride and adoration. “Evergreen urged me to take this job with you… alone. Originally it was going to be the four of us as usual but she turned it down and promised that you alone would give me the answer.”

Freed couldn’t help the blush rising to his cheeks at the sentiment. “Answer?”

“I needed a reason to decline his offer. Straight up. Before he could even say anything to anyone. I… I planned on this job going much easier. I lost sight of my purpose here in the first place really.” Laxus huffed out a laugh, his eyes never leaving his partner’s. “But the way you found me, dispelled those runes, patched me up and ordered me to take care of myself. The way you look at me, Freed, I am so fucking helpless.”

Freed gripped onto the bed sheets, lower lip quivering despite his efforts to remain stoic.

“Even though I have a habit for getting myself into this idiotic situations ending in me usually getting hurt, I would still miss it so much if I can’t just be out here doing jobs with you. I know as a guild master I’ll always be able to see you but I’d never see you in action when I want to.” Laxus spoke softly, moving his hand to rest on top of Freed’s shaky ones. “I don’t want to lose any time I have to watch you conquer the way you do. I’m afraid that I love that too much to lose to paperwork and meetings.”

Laxus watched as Freed started to move closer, and in turn he slowly started to rise from his pillow to match the other’s movements.”

“I love you more than any responsibility and title I ever thought I wanted. I love you.” He spoke quickly before colliding with Freed, cradling his jaw in his hands as he pressed a fiery, yearning kiss against the other’s lips.

“I love you too,” Freed whispered, smiling against the other’s lips as he leaned over him from his forgotten seat beside the bed. “I love you so much.”

[lostinsantacarla]

Twisted Love

Part 2-

Serenity had two options. Be smart and walk away from the challenge to live another day, while the wound in her heart festered some more until the night came around and he returned, or give in to the need and let him relieve both their wounds. The injuries he could produce were nothing compared to the agony she was in mentally without him. At least physical pain was a direct feeling on the surface instead of the other kind that hid beneath one’s skin like a coward.

Paul knew she couldn’t die from blood loss or most physical injuries and she wondered if he had pondered any ideas about how to kill her, let alone become aware of the fact that once she was gone, another form of chaos would erupt in his being. The loss of a mate. A soul mate to be exact, even though the term had long since become yet another thorn in her mind’s eye. It was too fluffy, and overused.

“I just wish things could go back to the way they were before,” she voiced. The words were meek like she was about to cry, but even that emotion was unworthy at this stage.

“Yeah!! Well they can’t!” His body slammed into the glass of the window as he said this, his arms out wide, and the palms of his hands once again flat against the surface. He looked crazed. High off some drug laden blood he’d consumed. “You brought this on yourself, Seren. Used and abused.” He chuckled. “Now I gotta cut these chains, one way or another.”

Paul was right. Serenity had been selfish with him and smothering and she knew better, even when he wanted to spend every moment with her, it still wasn’t enough. Her way didn’t suit his way all the time and it was unhealthy, even for a vampire.

No. Things couldn’t go back. It was better to move forward and face whatever fate had in store for them. A cleansing of sorts. If her death was the answer, then so be it. At least she would die in his arms, by his doing.

A weird sense of peace and freedom overcame her even as loneliness still reared its ugly head making her fret as she moved towards the lock. The unwavering stare she’d given him earlier now fell on the latch as her fingers slipped over it, and a hitch in her heartbeat took her breath away as the excitement of having him touch her again rose.  No doubt any sensible human wouldn’t be throwing themselves in the path of death, but the black hole she’d fallen into was endless. Not only was he her grim reaper, but he was also her savior.

What a predicament.

By opening the window and inviting him in, she was going to sign her life away. But it was something she’d already done a long time ago, the moment she’d let him into her life. The mark on her neck was proof of that, even if it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. It ran deep into her soul.

Paul was rocking to the tune of some song in his head on the other side, barely giving enough room for her to work. He lifted his head up at her with a cocky nod. One of those hot headed, sexy gestures he often gave others when he flirted.

It made the window on hinges harder to open considering it swung outwards and as soon as a small crack appeared, Paul grabbed hold and threw it open, nearly tearing it off.

The rain had shifted its pattern due to a light wind and it pelted the sill, inviting itself in before Serenity had a chance to give Paul the permission. She’d jumped back from the assault on the window, even though she’d expected such a move on his part.

This was her last chance to change her mind.

“You gotta ask yourself who you wanna be,” Paul said, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on the sill. Water dripped off of them in a steady rhythm. It left a sheen on the eye ring he wore.

Serenity felt a numbness come over her and she closed her eyes, gulping hard. Tears welled behind her eyelids and fell through dark eyelashes, down her cheeks.

The wind howled. The rain whipped in and misted over her bare skin. Another old song started to play somewhere in the shadows. It wasn’t in her mind or Paul’s, but an outline to their current situation from a familiar radio station. It brought her a sense of understanding, even through the tears, and she found herself mimicking the words, lip singing them. They played off of her as if the tune found her energy and fed off of it.

Sons of vengeance, can you rescue me They got me tied up to an old oak tree They had me screamin' and alone in the night I'm beginning to see what's wrong and what is right What is wrong and what is right Oh, oh, what is wrong and what is right

The gates was gettin' rusty, as we sailed into the dark The stars were out and shinin' against the moonlit hour The wolves were out and howlin', most of the time And I was cold and shiverin' and bleedin' in the night Bleedin' in the night, Oh, oh bleedin' in the night

Screaming in the night, Fighting for my life, I'd die for you…

She knew who she wanted to be all along.

“Come in.” It was that simple and that deadly.

Before she could open her eyes, cold, damp hands clasped around her neck, catching her breath, and locking it beneath her collar bone as she gasped unable to control the sound. Even without opening her eyes, she felt his swift movement bringing them both back until her spine hit the wall and her head knocked against it.

It wasn’t enough to cause swirling stars, but enough to open her eyes and take a real good look at the monster before her. Who could love such a thing? A snarling beast full of rage, fangs dripping saliva, and reddened demon eyes. It wasn’t blood lust that stirred his nature, it was the complex configuration of patterns inside his head that led him to believe he could still love when the cold darkness no longer provided a shadowed cloak from it. The promise of undeniable power and no regrets now a lie as he stared her down, hesitation evident as he paused, mouth still wide and a slight faltering quiver to his lips.

Instinctively, her hands fell on the wrist that pinned her. The dark spikes of his bracelet pricking the inside of her palm, even as she refrained from fighting. The light inside her easily able to throw him across the room, yet it too had become a crumbled, withered thing. It was the yin and yang effect. One needed the other to survive and when the balance was thrown off, the wheels that spun ceased and remained locked until the balance was restored.

The idea of trying to restore things was good, but there wasn’t a guidebook, only mystic lore and a set of rules that had never been broken, and so, the questions that were needed remained unasked.

Serenity had no idea how to restore the shift that brought them both agonizing pain. She only knew to follow her heart and the gut feeling deep inside. Everyone dies. It’s just a matter of when and how and maybe this was her way to find the light again. Although what good it would do the universe keeping a blood sucking creature of the night alive, she had no idea.  Perhaps the torment of his loss would bring things into perspective one night down the road, long after she was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. His hold wasn’t tight enough to keep her words from sounding out. “I just want it to be over.”

Serenity didn’t mean the coupling between them, but a release from the pain. A release from the burden they were both carrying on their shoulders.

For a second a twinkle in his eyes reverted the amber into a smidge of beautiful blue and she could see the understanding behind his savage rage.

‘Me too.’

His words were silent. Sounded out inside her head but they were his and she reached forward, placing a hand over his heart.

‘Do it.’ She answered back, tilting her head as best she could in his grasp. The soft spot there on her neck smooth as the pulse brought the thick jugular vein to the surface.

No regrets.

Except his hesitation was off-putting. She grunted. A small squirm. There was still a barrier between them keeping him at bay due to their connection and her movement helped to wake him up.

Once more his hell bent eyes flared and he snarled, rushing up against her, his weight pressing her form into the wall as he bent down and locked his jaw, his fangs sinking deep like a hot knife through butter.

She gasped. Her body heaved and her hands moved, entangling themselves in the depths of his sopping wet hair. His bite both pain and pleasure. Once again, she closed her eyes, taking in every last thought and feeling she could as her blood pumped into his mouth, one gulp after another. The scent of his rain-soaked hair, a combination of purity and fresh air tainted by all the weed he smoked, and the overpowering incense that had long ago soaked into the material that made up his jacket. Drops of unruly water dripped onto her bare feet, and the small patches of bare skin where her shirt had raised due to his aggression, felt the cold metal that adorned said jacket. It jingled now and then as he moved in the moment, adjusting his mouth as if her blood weren’t draining fast enough.

All she could do was hold on until the stars danced and a veil of black cloaked her vision. It was cold then. Colder than his skin. In fact, in those last few moments, he felt hot to her, but she couldn’t feel her fingers. They were numb, pressed against his scalp as if she’d been holding on too long. Her body was weightless, her heartbeat absent. One last breath escaped her lips before it all went dark.

He laid her body down across the bed, a look of defiance on his face as she swiped a finger under his nose and stepped back, unable to really admire his handy work. The room was aglow through his eyes thanks to her life now circulating through every bone and joint and organ inside his body, but the relief had yet to come.

A sense of freedom and release. There wasn’t any. Instead he felt a knot in his chest and the hole of burden in his heart growing wider. His red eyes filled with remorse.

Fuck no. This wasn’t happening. It was the god damned mark. He had to rip it out. That was the only way. Otherwise he was no better than a human with all these feelings. That wasn’t why he became a vampire. Only the weak felt guilt for bringing death.

He shook his head, shedding the remainder of water from it and glared, blinking away the weakness in the form of tears. He moved forward, kneeled on the bed with one knee. The weight of his knuckles at her side caused the mattress to sink as he hovered over her form. She looked peaceful to him. No more pain. That’s what he wanted. He’d do it as respectfully and carefully as he could, he decided.

“Are you really going to kill her?”

Paul’s head jerked up towards the open window. The rain had stopped, and David stood there in the corner of the room.

(The song mentioned in this is called, Screaming In The Night by Krokus)

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Cousins Look Out For One Another

@ashleybenlove​

Summary: Hiccup had no idea what he was doing. He had a pretty good idea of how the human heart worked, but to get it working again after it stopped meant taking a leap into the unknown. For his cousin, he was willing to take a risk. SNOTLOUT WHUMP.

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1 516

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: CPR

Author’s Notes: Here it is! My second prompt from my @badthingshappenbingo card!

This one has been in the works for quite a while now.

Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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Hiccup didn't know what he was doing. Not if it was helpful in any way, if he was doing more harm than good, or if there was even the slightest chance that there was still a way to save Snotlout, but he was doing it anyway.

His cousin was lying before him on the banks of a thawing river. He was pale, still, and he wasn't breathing. Hiccup was doing everything he could think of to bring him back.

They'd been on a camping trip, just the two of them and their dragons. An "adventure of bonding between two men" he had called it. According to Snotlout, they were in desperate need of one.

They were crossing a river far outside of the village. By foot, they were at least an hour or so away. They walked as they searched for a suitable camping site as was Snotlout's wish, much to Hookfang's annoyance. Why walk when you can fly?

None of them knew that it was already thawing, that the temperatures of the past few days had been too warm for it to stay frozen. And in the seconds it should've taken them to cross, the ice gave away beneath Snotlout and he ended up falling through.

Panic broke out in an instant. One moment Hiccup had been laughing weakly at Snotlout's snark about how he needed to inch forward if he didn't want to fall on his rear and the next he was just gone.

Hookfang let out a shriek of terror and immediately lunged at the hole. Hiccup's first instinct was to dive down into the water and try to pull Snotlout out himself, but Toothless kept him from going under, fully aware of Hiccup's terrible history with water.

"Toothless?!" With the frozen surface layer melting, the river's current was as strong as ever. Even if Hiccup managed to take a dive, Snotlout had already been dragged away by the water. The Night Fury kept a tight grip on his arm with his gums.

It was Hookfang who saved him. Taking off into the sky in a hurry, kicking up snow all around him, a bird's eye-view helped him spot his Rider in the water and it was easy to break through the surface to reach him and pull him out.

There was no time for relief even as Snotlout was pulled out of the river. Hiccup knew something was wrong when he saw his cousin and friend was limp in Hookfang's hold.

Jumping up to his feet, Hiccup came running, almost slipping in the snow. Hookfang gently placed his Rider down on the banks for the lead Rider to take a look at. He knew he could trust Hiccup. He could trust him with anything.

Hookfang was restless, whimpering and whining as he nudged Snotlout's cold face.

Hiccup dropped down to his knees next to Snotlout. With his heart pounding in his chest, Hiccup saw how pale he was, how motionless, and it terrified him.

"Snotlout." He tried calling his name. He cupped his cheeks with his hands and felt how cold Snotlout was. His lips were turning blue.

"Snotlout?"

With his hand, Hiccup checked for breathing and there was none.

Then he opened up his winter cloak and pressed an ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat and there was none. Hiccup couldn't help but let out a sound of distress.

In those few minutes in the water, his heart had stopped beating.

Hiccup froze as he stared down at Snotlout. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He felt sick, like he was about to throw up. His hands trembled and it wasn't entirely because of the chill of Winter. He felt cold inside.

His cousin was dead.

Snotlout. Family. A best friend. A fellow Dragon Rider that has been by his side through good and bad.

He was dead.

His tears and sobs left him before he could stop them. His hands took Snotlout's cheeks again.

Hookfang nudged Hiccup with his snout to tell him to hurry up, to do something, but Hiccup wasn't so sure there was anything more he could do. Snotlout's heart had stopped.

"I know, Hookfang. I know!" He sobbed. The Nightmare was desperate to see his Rider saved.

"There's nothing I can-"

Hiccup stopped himself.

The faint spark of an idea ignited in his mind. His gaze went from Hookfang, to Snotlout's face, and then his chest.

His heart, what if Hiccup made it beat?

The weak beginnings of a plan were forming, if he could even call them that. Pulling Snotlout's furred coat wider apart and straightening out, Hiccup hesitantly placed a hand of his in the middle of his chest, a little bit to the left. He wasn't a healer in any way, shape or form, but he knew that was where the human heart resided.

He paused, unsure of what he should do. He should push, right? If he wanted to reach it? But how deep should he push? Hiccup had no idea, but he figured he was about to find out.

"I'm not giving up on you." Hiccup told Snotlout, hoping he wasn't too late yet. With his tears freezing on his face, he began pushing down on his chest with all his might.

He let go once he thought he'd gone deep enough before pushing back down again. It was difficult and awkward, it took a lot more out of him than he realized it would. He felt his shoulder already cramping up after twelve or thirteen times. Sweat quickly gathered on his brow the longer he repeated this motion.

Something didn't feel quite right. Hiccup didn't feel like he was pushing deep enough. The choice to use both hands was quickly made and this felt more right.

It took some doing, he needed to reposition them more than once, but eventually, he found something that seemed to work.

Hookfang and Toothless watched from the sidelines. Hookfang was still distraught, crooning and moaning in worry, but Toothless put his faith in Hiccup. He believed in his clever Rider.

"Come on, Lout. Come on! You can't do this to me." Hiccup begged him as he kept up the pace. He tried to use his own heartbeat as an example, using all his strength. His arms and shoulders were cramping up, but he couldn't let up.

He was counting every push in his head, but he lost count. Which one was he at now? He couldn't remember.

And then, just as Hiccup worried that all of this was in vain, Snotlout sputtered back to life and began to cough up all the water inside his lungs.

"Snotlout!" Hiccup was quick to pull him onto his side and let him get it out to keep him from choking on it again. He patted his back to help him remove it all. Hookfang roared loudly in joy upon seeing his Rider alive again and Toothless gave Hiccup a soft headbutt as he kept Snotlout in place. He gave his dragon a weak smile.

"It's okay, Snotlout. You're okay! You're okay."  Hiccup told him and let his forehead rest on his arm until he calmed down again.

He waited until Snotlout stopped coughing before turning him onto his back.

"Hey, Lout, how're you feeling?" Hiccup asked, his hands on the other's cheeks.

"I'd be a lot better if I knew why my ribs ached so much." Snotlout muttered, but it was loud enough for Hiccup to hear. His chest hurt, he felt every breath he took. He shivered, too. He didn't have a clue to what was going on, but he was sopping wet and cold. His helmet was missing too, he noticed.

Upon hearing Snotlout's retort, Hiccup let out a laugh out of pure relief.

"Oh, thank you." He thanked whoever allowed him to bring his cousin back and he bent over to press their foreheads together, a hand of his on the back of Snotlout's neck while the other remained on his cheek.

Snotlout's eyes were too heavy to open and he didn't need them to to know that Hiccup was starting to cry, completely overwhelmed by emotion. He could feel the other's tears falling on his face.

"Are you crying, muttonhead? You're too sensitive." He slurred softly.

Hiccup gasped out a laugh, smiling from ear to ear.

"You think anyone knows?"

"Pssh." That was his only response and Hiccup didn't need anything else.

Snotlout was going to be okay and that was all Hiccup needed to know.

Coming down from this high his joy of seeing Snotlout survive had given him, Hookfang purred as he lowered himself down next to the two humans. With his snout, he gave Snotlout a loving nudge. Snot's hand went up to scratch the Nightmare's chin.

Toothless joined them, curled up around the two while Hookfang did the same. Snotlout needed to be taken back to the village as soon as possible, but they figured they could afford to have at least this one moment of relief before they needed to think of more pressing matters.

[fuckingthefictional]

Hi! I love your writing ❤️ I was wondering if you could pretty please write a one shot where Reggie finds out his girlfriend is abused by her father (if you don’t feel comfortable writing this I completely completely understand 💕) and he stepped in and basically saves her from her own home? Pls?❤️💕❤️💕❤️💕❤️💕❤️💕❤️

Broken Home

A/N- Okay I want to make this clear, I’m not romanticising abuse in any way. It is such a shitty thing and I’ve seen what it can do to people both mentally and physically. If you as a person are affected by this, Please remember that you are not alone! You have people who care about you. There are people and places to reach out to. I have also never been abused by my parents- like the ‘y/n’ in this fic. I have tried to research and make this as realistic as possible. Because there is absolutely no reason to sugar coat anything related to this topic.

M a s t e r l i s t

Reggie Mantle was never perceived as particularly academically gifted. That was for the most part, true. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t notice things.

After his dad left him and his mom, he had a tendency to look out for others in a situation similar to his own. For the people who silently suffered and endured all the pain that they didn’t deserve.

Abuse was something Reggie was familiar with. He’d perfected the art of lying to his peers at school about the bruises that were constantly being littered across his skin. Saying that they were from football practice.

The messed up thing was that he couldn’t confide in anyone, because he would just be told that he was weak, that he needed to just man up to his dad. That it wasn’t real abuse.

So he went through it alone. Something he’d never let anyone go through alone.

Most people in Riverdale knew Reggie as the “stupid, rich football player”, he saw himself as the weak, pathetic boy who couldn’t stand up to his own father.

Y/N hadn’t though, Y/N could see right through the wall he put up to protect himself. Because she had the same defense mechanism. The same wall that protected her from the judgement of everyone in this shitty, little town.

Riverdale- the town that created psychotic killers and abusive parents. The town that was the reincarnation of hell. The place of suffering.

More often than not, Y/N found that sleep was the only way to escape. Even if it was for a few minutes, it was an escape from everything that she was forced to endure when she was awake.

“Where’s the little bitch gone?!” A slurred voice rang out, the crashing of glass following soon after.

Y/N felt her heartbeat spike in fear, Her mother was the worst when she was drunk. She got physical and violent.

Y/N immediately scarpered to the wardrobe and climbed in, she felt her body shake and her throat tighten. Her arms wrapped around her knees in an attempt to get some sort of comfort.

The sound of her Mother’s stomping footsteps came closer.

“Y/N,” the last syllable of the name dragged on, “Where are you?"

Y/N felt the tears start to form, but was determined to keep her hiding place a secret. That was until the sounds of her possessions hitting every other hard surface hit her ears.

She let out a small whimper, when she felt what she assumed to be glass hit the wardrobe door.

It was then when the door was ripped open and Y/N was dragged out, sobbing and crying out for mercy.

“Mom! Stop please stop!”

She felt pain coursing through her veins, and the vague shouts of her to “shut up!” She felt disoriented and scared.

Y/N’s body was thrown down onto the floor, down into a pile of glass debris. She felt nothing but pain. Hot, searing pain.

Before blacking out she saw the hazy figure of her mother, towering above her imposingly. She felt dissociated like she was watching from the outside. She watched despairingly with tears welling up in her eyes as her mother threw one final kick to Y/N’s ribs and spat down on her, before she finally lost consciousness.

She woke up to the generic hospital smell, the beeping of the monitor and the blinding white walls of what she assumed to be the local hospital.

The first feeling that Y/N felt rise in her was panic. Or more specifically what the hell her Mother would do to her when she was released.

She would be so angry and so undeniably pissed. And the beatings would be ten times worse that usual, and it scared her. She felt trapped, like she had no other option than to endure the pain.

The beeping of the monitor became more rapid and quick paced. Y/N was getting even more anxious- she didn’t want to answer questions on how these injuries had occurred.

Instead it alerted a sleepy person sat in an uncomfortable looking chair, in the corner of her room. He immediately bolted up right, panic clear in his eyes too.

He was tall, muscular and Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t think he was handsome. He had somewhat tanned skin and raven hair that had obviously not been attended to for a few day. Reggie Mantle.

The star football player, took small steps forward trying to show that he wasn’t going to hurt her.

“W-Why are you h-h-here Mantle?”

“It was my turn to return the favour.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion, her face prompted Reggie to explain what he meant.

“I know you called the cops on my dad Y/N.”

She felt her heart stop  and her face heat up, “I-I-” Y/N stuttered, “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. I’m glad you did it. Y/N you saved my life.”

“You know my name?” Her head cocked to the side. All she got in return was the classic Mantle smirk.

“See you around...Y/N.”

Reggie didn’t know what to do. He felt conflicted on what he should do. Should he report whoever did this to Y/N? Should he keep an eye on her? Or should he just forget it all?

He thought back to when he was in the same position, how he wished someone would intervene and save him.

And as unmasculine it sounded- he remembered fearing for his life. He thought that he would be caught by his father and punished for trying to get some support.

So what did he do?

He’d try his best.

For the next few weeks you’d noticed Reggie’s behaviour becoming...different. He hovered around more, watching you as if he was trying to figure something else. Whether there were any new marks lashed on you probably.

In all honesty you hadn’t been back home since the ‘incident’, instead you chose to stay with a friend on the Southside.

You were so sick and tired of this abuse. You wanted to turn in your mother. You wanted to leave Riverdale and never come back. But you were scared, a coward.

You knew that your ‘mother’ would hunt you down and kill you, if you got her arrested and you wouldn’t put it past her to do something as horrific as that.

Cut to a few months later and Reggie was still at a loss of what to do. So he did the only thing he could think of. Asking his Mom for advice.

He walked into the living room to see his mother sat on the couch, glasses on and book in hand. Completely in her own little world.

“Mom.”

She looked up and smiled at her boy, but it fell once she saw the sad look on his face.

“Reggie Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” She placed the book aside and opened her arms for him to hug her and gain some comfort.

“I need your advice Mom, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

She sat the both of them down and sighed deeply, “What’s going on Reg?”

Reggie rubbed a hand across his face, “There’s this girl and I know she’s being abused. Like badly abused. The same girl I visited in hospital a few months ago- and I don’t know what to do.”

His mom smiled sympathetically, “What’s her name?”

“Y/N.”

“The same Y/N that turned in your-“

“Yes.” The simplicity and finality in his voice was heard.

“What I was going to say was that, she saved our lives. She ended the one thing that gave me the most pain in my life. Which was watching you get beaten down every single day. I am forever in her debt and I will do anything to help her, even if that means she lives under our roof for a short while.”

Reggie nodded, it needed to happen. This needed to end.

The next thing he did was called the Sherrif’s office in town, anonymously tipping off that something was happening at the Y/L/N residence and that he was concerned as a neighbour.

About 2 hours later a fast paced knocking sounded on the door. Reggie and his Mother were locked in a gaze. The footballer creeped towards the door, paranoid that it may be trouble. He counted to three and yanked the door open.

Only to see... Y/N, sopping wet from the torrential downpour outside. She was sobbing hysterically and shivering uncontrollably. There were red patches of what he could only assume was blood on her shirt.

“Y/N?”

She stumbled clumsily into his arms, her breath becoming a spurt of hyperventilated gasps.

Reggie turned back to where his mom was around the corner.

“Mom! Come quick!”

He immediately heard the quick paced steps on the wooden flooring, a gasp was heard.

“Oh god. Reggie take her to the couch, I’m going to get a first aid kit.”

He complied to his mothers words, swooping you up into his arms. He felt you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Your hot breath caused goosebumps to pop up all over his skin.

“Y/N, you need to tell me what happened. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

“S-She did it a-again. She b-beat me... b-but this t-t-time she went t-too far and she tr-tried to s-stab me. Her new b-boyfriend t-tried to f-force himself-” Reggie watched as you wiped your tears away, his shirt was soaked with tears but he didn’t care.

“She succeeded b-barely, I only j-just got c-cut. And then the p-po-police showed up and a-arrested her. And now I’m h-here I guess.”

Her teeth were chattering, she was freezing.

“How did you know where I liv-“ he was cut off.

“I didn’t. I just ran and this is were my feet took me. And now I’m homeless and worthless and damaged.”

“You are not damaged, nor worthless.” The hard voice of Reggie’s Mother sounded behind them, she carried a red tin box with a white cross in her hands. “You are brave and so so strong.” She placed a snuggly blanket around both teens and sat down at Y/N’s feet, taking a shaking hand into her own. “I know what’s it like. But you’re a survivor. You fought through this and we are both proud of you.”

You nodded slightly before wincing at the unbearable pain in your side.

“Right lets get you cleaned up.”

After you were all stitched up, had taken a warm shower and changed into some of Reggie’s clothes. You walked down the corridor to what you could only assume was Reggie’s room. You knocked softly this time until you heard the muffled “come in”

He saw you enter and an immediate smile was placed on his lips, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

You frowned and sat down next to him, “No I’m not.” You tightened your fists into little balls, “I’m unlovable, I’m a waste of space and nobody could ever lo-“

A pair of warm lips covered yours, effectively stopping your self destructive rant, breaking apart you pressed your foreheads together.

“You shouldn’t be with someone like me.”

“I think you’ll find that you’re way out of my league and I’m so lucky to have you.”

“But Reggie, I’m unlovab-“

“Well then, it’s a shame that I’m already in love with you.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise

“Let me show you what love is like, let me look after you and take you out on dates and be completely whipped for you. Just let me be yours. Be my girl.”

You’re thoughts were overwhelming, each of them flooding in almost to fast for you to handle.

“Okay, I’ll give us a chance.”

“A chance is all it takes.”

[especially-heinous-ada]

To Be Alive

Hey, tumblr friends! Here with a one-shot fic, based on a request from @bisciwri 

TW: depression, suicide

The request was for how Rafael would support a reader who struggles with depression and self harm. Depression and mental health are topics close to my heart, as someone who has struggled with depression and, on my worst days, suicidal thoughts. If you are also struggling, I encourage you to reach out to people you trust, who care about you. It can make all the difference in the world. Please know that it will always get better, even if it might not seem like it. I love you all and you can always talk to me about whatever is on your mind. 

A menacing crack of thunder sounded through the night air. Rafael shifted his position on the couch, then turned the page of the novel he was currently addicted to. It had been pouring most of the day, making him long to stretch out on the couch and catch up on all the reading he hadn’t had the energy for lately. He eagerly rushed home when he finished with his workload for the day, picking up dinner on the way home so that he wouldn’t have to leave this comfy spot once he got settled in.

With a content sigh, he glanced out the window to watch the rain fall. It was a dark and drizzly night. The kind that makes it difficult to see your surroundings while walking down the street. On the plus side, it had drastically reduced the foot traffic on his walk home.

An abrupt chirping interrupted his musing and he glanced at his phone where it sat on the side table. The screen was illuminated. With a sigh, he picked it up to examine the caller ID.

“Y/N?” Rafael read aloud, furrowing his brow.  

Usually, you were in bed by now. Though, it was the beginning of the weekend. You did occasionally call him late on Friday nights when you had too much to drink and needed help getting home. He was the only guy you trusted for this special task. An honor he didn’t take lightly. Though, you did tend to get a bit…flirty with him when you got that tipsy. His heartbeat quickened and his cheeks grew warm at the thought. Pressing answer, he held the phone to his face.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s going on?” Rafael smiled, waiting to hear your tipsy giggles. There was no response. He frowned. “Y/N?”

From the other end of the line came quiet sniffling noises, and Rafael began to worry.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Do you need me to come get you?” The crying intensified and you sobbed uncontrollably between shaky, gasping breaths.

“Where are you?” He demanded, bolting upright and hurrying toward the door. He grabbed his jacket and jammed his feet into his shoes as you continued to sob. Grabbing his keys and wallet before exiting, his mind raced as he could think of only the worst.

“Home.” You managed to gasp as he finished locking his front door.

“I’m on my way.” Rafael assured you as he charged down the street in your direction, hailing a cab. He stayed on the line with you the entire ride over, only hanging up once he stood outside the door to your building. He buzzed up and the door swung open. He moved as quickly as his legs would take him, heart beating a mile a minute.

Stopping outside your door, he let himself in with the key you’d given him after the last time he brought you home. He pushed the door open to see you on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, which were curled into your chest. Your face was hidden, head hung low. He could hear the sound of your whimpers. His face fell, with his heart.

“I’m here, Y/N.”

You didn’t even look up. You looked so defeated. What had happened to you? Rafael fretted as his eyes scanned you for signs of assault. He saw none. No bruises or blood. No cuts or scrapes. You were in your pajamas, with no shoes, which would normally have led him to believe you’d been home all night. Somehow, though, you were wet. Soaked to the bone, with damp hair. A chilly breeze blew through your apartment and Rafael looked toward the balcony, where your sliding door was left wide open.

He stepped further into the room, thinking to draw the door shut. Wet as you were, you’d catch cold in a room chilled by the night air. As he drew nearer, he noticed one of the black barstools from in front of your breakfast bar had been dragged outside. He remembered you telling him once that sometimes when you were lonely or bored, you liked to sit on the balcony in the rain and feel it hit your skin. As he began to pull the door shut, lightning flashed, and he glanced outward toward the horizon. Suddenly, he froze.

His heart plummeted and his eyes grew wide in horror. He couldn’t look away. Drawn in like a moth to a flame, he stepped forward into the cold, damp air. Rain came down in sheets on top of him once more, but he couldn’t be bothered—his eyes transfixed. Thunder crashed in the background as his world shattered.

He reached his hand up in the darkness of the hazy night and felt the rough, scratchy fibers of rope. He felt as if his heart had been wrenched from his chest as the realization set in. The reason for your weeping before him dangling down from above. He swallowed hard, turning back toward your apartment, stepping back through the doorway and sliding it shut quietly. The sound got your attention and you lifted your head, turning to face him.

When you saw the look on his face, you felt hot tears well up in your eyes once more. Rafael was the person you cared most about in this world. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. But you’d been suffering for so long. You couldn’t take it anymore.

He drew closer to you. Slowly, gently—as if you were a skittish animal, or a wisp of smoke that might be blown away by a careless gust. He sat beside you on the couch and pulled you into him, wrapping you into a tight embrace. You could feel his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“Why?” He whispered, as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes.

“I hate myself.” You responded, sniffling and futilely wiping away your tears with a wet sleeve. “I hate the way I look. The way I talk. I’m no good at anything. No matter how hard I try. People hate me. They’ve always hated me. They think I’m a bitch—and they’re right. I can’t keep a man to save my life. I chase people away! My job is unfulfilling and stressful, and—there’s just no joy in my life. I’m miserable. It feels like there’s this black cloud over me, and it’ll never go away. When one thing goes right, three things go wrong.”

As soon as you started to spill your emotions, you couldn’t stop. You told Rafael about all the feelings you’d kept bottled up. You cried and sniffled and wailed in pain as you told him everything that had been weighing you down—including some things you’d been too afraid to admit to yourself. Rafael waited patiently and intently listened to every word. When a silence fell over the room, he felt compelled to ask.

“Why?” He didn’t elaborate, but you knew exactly what he was asking.

“I just wanted the pain to end.” You said in a low whisper. “I’d been thinking about it for a while now, but I could never do it. Then today, it was worse than ever. I made up my mind that I was finally going to do it. When I stood out there on my balcony and my life flashed before my eyes, I thought of you. And I knew I had to hear your voice again. So I called you. To hear it one last time. And when you answered so happily, I—I just couldn’t—”

Rafael sniffed, pulling you back into him, and buried his face in your hair. Tears streamed down his face and he tasted their salt in his mouth as he sucked in a jagged breath.

“I had no idea. If I had known, I’d have—”

“Don’t blame yourself; that’s how I wanted it.” You interrupted. “I didn’t want to burden you. You already have enough problems with work.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Rafael said with a great sadness in his heart. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you understand?” He pushed your shoulders back to get a full view of your face once more. His eyes were full of tenderness and your heartbeat quickened. You were never happier than when you were looking into those beautiful eyes. A gentle hand caressed your cheek before resting on your chin.

“Understand what?” You whispered, feeling your breath catch in your chest. He tilted his head ever so slightly and leaned in, pulling you close and crashing his lips into yours with a palpable passion. Caught off guard, it took you a moment before you realized that this was not a dream and began to kiss back. You couldn’t believe it was real.

The intensity of his kisses electrified you and he was all you could think about. Suddenly, you were so glad to be here. You didn’t care that you were sopping wet and exhausted, or that you’d probably wake up with a cold tomorrow. You were so glad to simply exist, here in this moment. So glad that you’d finally taken the weight off your chest. Elated to know how much Rafael cared. On fire with the fervor of his kisses.

“I love you.” He breathed “I always have. Ever since I first laid eyes on you. But I was too afraid to admit it.”

“Me, too.” You confessed. He gave a meek smile.

“It sounds like we were both hiding things we shouldn’t have.” You nodded, and he studied your expression. “Y/N… I want to be with you. Your one and only. Forever.” You felt yourself blush at his declaration.

“In order for that to happen, we have to be open with each other. You have to tell me when you’re struggling, or I can’t help. When times are hard, just tell me. You don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your own.”

You nodded in acknowledgement before glancing out the window. The storm had calmed. The sobbing had subsided and your breathing had stabilized.

“I don’t ever want you to feel this way again. If you give me the chance, I promise you, I will do my damndest to show you why life is worth living.”

You smiled.

“It might take some time to believe it—that life is worth living. But I do know that you make me happy. And that’s enough for now.”

“Trust me when I say…no matter how bad things seem…no matter how long that dark cloud lingers…the sun always comes out eventually.” Rafael reassured you.

“I hope you’re right.” You said as you snuggled into his chest. He laid back on the couch, allowing the two of you to get comfortable. Utterly exhausted, you quickly drifted away, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of Rafael’s heart. In the darkest storm of your life, you’d reached out. And now you could see a glimmer of light. For the first time in a long time, you were happy just to be alive.

[avengeultrons]

Title: Escape the Night IV (Stark! Reader x Peter Parker) 

Summary: Three challenges testing strength, hand-eye coordination, and balance. They need the fourth and final artifact, but whoever loses, dies. 

Word Count: 1820

A/N: I literally love this series so much. I also take no credit for the material, solely inspired by Escape the Night on Youtube Red I’m not this creative. 

PART 1

--

PREVIOUS:

“Peter,” Arthur said quietly, trying to avoid eye contact with the boy whose face went as white as a sheet. You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, his eyes glued to his shoes. Your stomach dropped to the floor and a ringing filled your ears when he said the next name. “Our next opponent, Tony.”

Your heart was in your throat as the Ringleader read the rules. Three challenges testing strength, hand-eye coordination, and balance. Whoever lost would be subject to a dunking booth full of flesh eating fish. It definitely wasn’t a joyful circus experience.

All of your faces were melancholy and filled with an uneasiness. Natasha took your hand and gave it a squeeze as you all held your breath. Every time you did another challenge like this, someone died. There was no way this one would be any different.

“Gentlemen, your first task is the strong man task. Swing the mallet and hit the bell,” the ringmaster gestured to the large contraption in the corner, a heavy mallet propped up against it. The task seemed easy enough.

Your dad was up first, grunting as he picked up the heavy mallet. The crowd of onlookers was already booing so you shot them a glare, Natasha squeezing your hand to keep you from lashing out. The bell rang loudly in your ears and you exhaled in a sigh of relief, “Good job!” you and Natasha shouted. All of you clapped for your dad, who was watching intently. Now Peter had to do the same

The crowd erupted into cheers, your stomach churning as you watched. Peter’s face turned beet red; he was one mark away from hitting the bell but just missed it, which meant that he lost the first challenge, “It’s okay! Two more challenges, Pete!” you felt like you were going to pass out, and they were only on to the juggling challenge.

Your face was washed out and a pale green tinge took over as you clapped for Peter, who was the first to juggle. He did so successfully, even on his first try. Tony clapped for him too, grabbing his set of juggling balls from the table. He smiled over at you and took a deep breath before beginning his first attempt at juggling. He groaned loudly as he failed at his first attempt, “It’s okay! You still have another shot,” you called after him.

Tony lost the juggling round.

“For the grand finale, the tight wire of death! Whoever fails this shall face their punishment.” the crowd gasped and clapped for the thin wire suspended above the ground. The Ringmaster’s assistant grabbed a balancing pole and sent Tony up first.

“You’ve got this, Tony!” Steve shouted from the sidelines. All of you were on the edge of your seats as you watched him apprehensively. You could almost hear a pin drop in the tent as he slowly tiptoed across the wire, nothing on his feet but the thick socks he was wearing. Once he made it to the opposite side and jumped onto the safety of the wooden platform, you all erupted into cheers. He had made it across.

Now, it was up to Peter. If he didn’t make it across, he would for sure be the one to face punishment and die. Tony looked over at you and nodded, your eyes welling up with fearful tears. Natasha squeezed your hand and smiled. You looked up at Peter and mustered up the courage to smile, for the boy looked  like he was about to keel over. His face was drained of all color, a clammy sweat breaking in his forehead that made his hair stick. He knew that he had to make it across, too.

Your breath rattled in your chest as he wobbled, the rod he held for balance swinging every which way. Peter was halfway across yet he came to a halt, swallowing hard. You were silently cheering him on, afraid that any sudden movement or sporadic shout from the crowd would make him fall. He picked up his pace again, leaving you on the edge of your seat. If you could take this challenge from both Peter and your father, you would in a heartbeat.

Natasha pulled you up and you all started applauding loudly, even though it sounded muffled in your ears. Peter had made it across safely! You were extremely relieved, so much so that your knees felt weak as you ran over to the two of them, “I knew you could do it,” you said through the lump in your throat. Tears were starting to burn your eyes as you hugged Tony, crying lightly into his chest. Both of you had come so close to losing the other in this one night, it was becoming unbearable.

“Looks like your boyfriend is waiting for one of those hugs,” he held you out at arm’s length with a sigh and a smile before hugging you again, “Okay, go on. I need to get with everyone and figure out how we’re going to get out of here.”

You turned to Peter who was staring at you with wide, gleeful eyes. He was filled with a rush of adrenaline and stood there a little restless, bouncing from foot to foot. You smiled at him from across the tent filled with crowds of people, even if it felt like there were only two of you at that moment. You started to walk towards him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you did so. Everything came crashing back down, thanks to the Ringmaster stopping you dead in your tracks, his hand pushing you back by your shoulder.

“Not so fast! Since it was a tie, the audience shall decide the fate of these performers. We’ll hang them from the water drop tanks and whoever has the least applause shall be dropped into the piranha infested water,” you almost fell to the floor, if it weren’t for Steve right behind you to catch you.

Your vision was blurred, hearing obscured. Steve led you back to the bleachers, “I know, I know,” he said. You watched as both your dad and Peter were loaded into separate drop tanks, their feet dangling over the water. You were going to be sick.

“Give it up for our young boy!” the assistant waved her hands dramatically in front of Peter, who kept his head down. You all erupted into cheers, as loud as you could muster. You had to make each round sound even.

The ringmaster waved all of you off and pointed a cane at your father, “Now, the man. Give it up for Tony!” The opposing crowd booed as you all screamed and clapped for Tony, glaring at the other side. Hopefully it was a tie yet again, “Oh, well. I can’t tell so I guess both of them will be facing the piranhas,” he shrugged. Everything happened so fast.

The assistant laughed and pulled a large, theatrical rope in the corner of the tent. Peter and Tony were both dropped into the water below their seats, limbs flailing, “NO!” You jumped up and screamed, Natasha and Steve each grabbing one of your arms as you tried to run over to them. You had to get them out.

“Oh, that was fun, wasn’t it?” the ringmaster laughed. You turned to him, your eyes wild and full of anger and pain. He glanced over at Peter and Tony, who were now both breaching the surface, gasping for air as they clung to the edge, “I just wanted to have a little fun. No piranhas! I can’t harm you, you’ve brought my guardian home after all. Now, get them out and get out of here.”

Natasha and you both ran to pull Tony out as Steve and Clint checked on Peter, who was bent over the side looking as green as can be. He looked like he was seasick, on a boat rocking back and forth for hours, “Don’t say a word until we leave this hell of a circus tent, you hear me? I know you’re pissed, I am too. Just don’t say you are,” she pleaded. You nodded, yanking your dad out of the water. He coughed and sputtered, hugging you tightly.

“My God, I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said through sobs, resting your head on his shoulder. Water was dripping from his sopping wet hair onto your head as you embraced your dad, who was shivering slightly in your tight hold.

Natasha took off her elaborate, faux fur coat and draped it over his shoulders, “Just for now,” she said when Tony whipped around with a quizzical look.

“No, give it to the kid,” he insisted, shrugging it off of his shoulders. He kissed the top of your forehead and jumped to his feet, “I love you so much, you know that? I don’t say it enough.”

You smiled up at your dad before clambering to your feet as well, “I know. I love you, too,” you all began to file out of the tent before you stopped and whipped around, “Wait! The fourth artifact. That was part of the deal, you owe it to us,” you crossed your arms defiantly over your chest, staring the ringleader down.

“Ooh, persistent!” he laughed, tossing the final artifact as if it was a football. You caught it and scoffed before turning on your heel, “Now, go. Don’t let that kid vomit on my property.”

“Nice job, Y/N,” Natasha snatched the artifact from you as your group began the tiresome trek back to the house in the chilly darkness, “I think you should fall back and talk to Peter,” she winked and took off to catch up to Clint and Tony who led the pack up the hill.

You stopped walking to fall in stride with Peter who kept his eyes down at his feet, Natasha’s warm and lavish coat enveloping him like a big hug, “Hey,” you said quietly. He looked up briefly, hair curling up even more now that it was drying, “Are you alright?” you asked.

“I mean, yeah,” Peter said. You nodded, letting the comfortable silence surround the two of you. Your heart was pounding so loud that you were worried that he would hear it, for it was echoing in your ears.

“I’m glad. I...I really care about you and I worried about you there for a minute,” you said. Your face burned with embarrassment, an emotion that painted your face red all the way to the tips of your ears. You were grateful that it was so dark that you could hardly even see your face. Peter felt the same way. You’d just said that you cared about him.

Peter exhaled and intertwined his fingers with yours nervously. You swallowed your excitement and smiled shyly over at Peter, who nervously smiled back, “What do we do now?”

[thedistantstorm]

Drowning

Continues from Fever (or you can read this one alone, your call). Pre-relationship. Gets a little heated toward the end. Zavala almost dies. Who knew full Titan armor was not conducive to swimming?

-----+++++-----

It sounds like his ears are ringing, like a grenade’s gone off. His chest hurts. Did he fall on one for the civilians? Wait. A mental check of all four major extremities confirmed everything was in place. The aching and slightest pull of the link he and his Ghost shared confirmed that no, he has not died, and yes the light is still gone.

He was also… cold?

Yes. But no, that wasn’t quite right.

Wet. He is cold because he is wet. Why is he-

Oh.

Right. He’d tackled a stealth vandal that had gotten the drop on them to prevent it from killing one of the members of their patrol group. Off a cliff. Into the lake below. The almost frozen lake. It is not his most impressive moment, but certainly there have more grievous situations.

He opens his eyes blearily; It takes several times for them to actually focus on what’s happening above him. They widen monumentally. He does not move. He cannot move.

Suraya Hawthorne is straddling him, on the ground in the woods. Her hood is down, and her short hair is edging over her eyes, midnight black contrasting with amber irises he wants to sink into. She’s focused hard on his chest, where both her hands are primed and waiting for… something. Her hands are warm through his sopping undershirt, so his chestpiece is… somewhere. She’s panting, out of breath. Her cheeks are pink. She is a masterpiece.

More importantly: She is also wet.

It is not the worst sight a man could wake up to, he thinks, instead of the rational ‘why am I in this situation’ that he should be. She inhales shakily, swipes the back of her hand across both eyes, and abruptly clambers off when she notices him staring at her face.

He thinks her lip trembles, but she schools her expression into a fierce glare. He realizes that he’s actually incredibly grateful that he’s wearing a codpiece, because they are not alone, and really he has no idea what in the Traveler’s name is happening, but that was a vision he’ll never forget.

“I need ten,” She all but shouts, stalking off into the woods. No one says a word on the subject, instead waiting for him to catch his breath and gather his bearings. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that he nearly drowned if he doesn’t remember the how of getting back to land, and the fact that he sees one very suspicious Hunter Vanguard lurking in a nearby tree does nothing to make him feel better.

There’s also a rope tied around his waist.

Right. His armor is heavy, and he’s not light to start with. He wonders how many of them it took to pull him out of the water. They are uneasy but glad he’s alright, and the thought doesn’t occur to him until he’s almost back to the Farm that none of the other members of their group are wet.

-----+++++-----

She scoffs as she throws her wet poncho over the large drying rack next to his red sweater. “Stupid Titans and their stupid death wishes,” She grumbles, not paying any mind to anyone else around her as she retreats to the barn.

In her mind’s eye, it’s cornflower colored lips and grey skin with no aura, and fingers snapping off armor even though she can’t feel the ends of each tingling digit. It’s water as cold as winter and shaking that comes from her chest and radiates out, it’s cold but not cold to blame. It’s panic-

It’s the burn of her lungs as she knows she can’t breathe but has to tie the knot, has to do something because she can’t pull him out of the water by herself, she’s not superhumanly strong. It’s three sharp tugs and a firm kick off and his head knocking into hers and a tight arm around his middle and please don’t die on me and-

It’s dragging him with her to the grass and clearing his airway and pinching his nose and opening his mouth and sharp breaths into it with a hand over his absent heartbeat. It’s a fist twisting in his sweater before she realizes this just might be the way the world ends.

It’s a sob when she pushes down hard enough to break his ribs and breathe, damn it and more breaths on his mouth and more compressions and rinse, repeat and finally - finally - he coughs it out and breathes and - and - fuck, just fuck, she loves him-

Suraya realizes with a few blinks that she is looking out at the Shard, the creepy purple light of it radiating even in the night, that her feet have taken her to the roof of the crumbling barn, even pushed herself up through the reinforced rafters. She sighs, and pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around herself. She’s still cold and wet, and she probably should have changed, but that’s something she’ll berate herself for later. She just needs to be away from everyone. Needs to breathe.

Doesn’t want to focus on the Hunter and the Titan walking out to the fireside, or the fact that the Hunter - stop it, Cayde - is already looking up at her and drawing Zavala’s attention her way. She purposefully curls up tighter and turns away, with a humph that’s swallowed by the ambient noise of the Farm below. She sighs. Hopefully she’s putting out the vibe that she does not want to interact with anyone because honestly all she wants to do is have a good cry about things so she can bottle up her feelings again and shove them right back down into the dark pit of other things that she refuses to think about because she’s responsible for the greater good of the countless thousands of people who can’t afford for her to stumble over feelings or anxieties or inadequacies and-

These people deserve far better than her.

-----+++++-----

Cayde slaps him on the back - a good thump without his chest armor there to deflect the blow from the mostly metal and silicone Exo. He doesn’t wince, but it isn’t exactly comfortable. His chest still hurts a little, but it doesn’t hurt to breathe, and his lungs don’t feel like they’re half submerged in water anymore, so all is positive on the horizon. That and his head finally feels clear. The first few hours were a little hazy, but they told him to expect that when he’d begrudgingly allowed a medic to check him out. He was to take it easy - as if that would conceivably happen - but mostly to consider himself a lucky man.

“So,” The hunter says, raising an eyebrow in a questioning smirk, “How’d it feel to receive the kiss of life?”

His brows furrow. “I have no idea what you mean.” And he truly does not.

The fire crackles and spits as Cayde looks up over at the barn and back. “Really? You don’t know what that means?” The irritated nostril flare and shake of his head egg Cayde on. “CPR, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation… you catching what I’m throwing down? Poncho was pounding pretty hard on your ribs. I’m surprised she didn’t break any.”

Zavala casts his eyes over toward the barn, where Cayde had pointed her out a few moments ago. She was facing away from the fire, toward the pale light of the Shard. It always looked like the moon was full here, because of the discarded piece of the Traveler looming in the distance.

“She-”

Cayde chuckles. “Yeah. Full on mouth-to-mouth, buddy. Couple rounds, actually. You should’ve taken advantage and played dead a little longer.”

The Titan hisses. “Nothing about that was playing, Cayde.”

“Oh, I know,” He says, with a look that’s all Hunter cunning. “That’s why she ‘took ten’ and ran off after.” He shrugged, almost bragging, “I totally followed her. She was too distracted to realize I had, screaming to the wilderness about ‘that fucking asshole, who does he think he is,’ and ‘stupid Titan who does stupid Titan things and tries to get himself killed.’ Honestly, I think she likes you.”

“I think you’re mistaken.” There’s a cold edge to the Commander’s statement that brokers no argument.

Cayde looks at him for a solid ten-count, before leaning back against the bench and turning his gaze toward the fire. “Yeah. Maybe I am.” He pulls out a flask from his vest and takes a swig. “Still, at least you got a smooch today.”

Zavala’s eyes can’t possibly roll any harder. “Yes, because I was not breathing.”

“Minor details, compadre. Minor details.”

-----+++++-----

She drops down from the rafters silently. Everything is silent, the Farm quiet in the pre-dawn hours. She manages to retreat into the Farmhouse without interruption, slipping into the bathing quarters and soaking herself in lukewarm spray. When she’s finished and can no longer smell the stench of lake water on her, she steps out and dresses in a spare set of clothes. Her poncho isn’t worth worrying about right now. The only things worth worrying about are her bed and the inside of her eyelids.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought until she laid eyes on the armor-less Titan sitting on the edge of her bed. Her eyes darken.

“What are you doing here?” The irritation in her voice is palpable.

He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. “I came,” He croons in his low baritone, “To say thank you. You saved my life.”

She shrugs. “Not a big deal.” The fact that she doesn’t make eye contact completely negates the validity of her words. “Anything else?”

A sideways pull of his lips to the left is the only indication that he’s here for something besides the obligatory thanks for her actions.  He sighs. “I almost died today. For good.”

“I was there,” She whispers, nodding, seeing it in her mind’s eye. “I know.”

He looks up at her, leaning her left hip against the door frame. “We could die tomorrow,” He says.

She laughs. “You’ve just now realized you’re mortal? Aren’t you a bit late to the party?”

“I know I do not have the Light to revive me,” He mutters. “But, I was not prepared to recognize what that might mean. There might not be other opportunities to-”

“I see. This isn’t a conversation we should be having,” She says, crossing her arms.

“Hawthorne - Suraya, listen to me-”

“Stop it, Zavala. I’ve already told you.” She shakes her head, her lips tightening to a thin line, “We can’t.”

He stands, his wide shoulders shadowing most of her, his frame back-lit by the lamp in her room. “If this all ends tomorrow,” He whispers, looking down at her lips and back to her molten umber eyes. “If this is the only chance we get-”

“This is not the time.” Her fingers are squeezing her elbows now, her body tense. “Let it go.”

“And if I do not?” He cocks his head to the side, arcbolt blue eyes all but sparking they’re so bright and heavy on her. “You continue to say that we can’t, but what you do not say is that you do not wish to.”

She can only glare at him. She is not denying it.

He has her, and she knows he knows it. His brow raises just slightly, in a little quirk that’s almost haughty. She stares him down, but he advances, hands on her hips, splaying, fingers pointed toward her tailbone. It’s not a tight grip, but she does not move away.

“Answer me. If this all ended tomorrow-”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

“No.”

Her startled eyes look up to his. She looks like she’s about to sputter, and that pretty blush is back. “Answer the question. If this is the only chance we get,” He pulls her flush against him and she gasps. He is all muscle. Not that she didn’t know that already, but it’s hard to focus with so many hard planes against her, “Wouldn’t it be better to come clean? Leave nothing unsaid?”

“I am not someone you should go around falling in love with.”

He rears back and moves his hands from her hips to her cheeks, tipping her head up to ensure eye-contact. “Let me be the judge of that.”

She sighs. “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”

“Tell me that you do not feel the same and you are free to go.”

Her eyes flutter closed and arms come up to cup the back of his head. “I can’t,” She admits quietly.

“I know,” He hums as he tilts his head to the side and captures her lips with his. It is very tentative and gentle, a chaste, small thing that brings sweet, dragging heat to their bellies and up into their chests.

Suraya draws back, breathing just the tiniest bit heavier. His eyes are glazed with something different, something she saw that night when she was sick. It was something that matched the subtlest hints of a smile that isn’t actually a smile. She loves that look on his face. Something about it just makes him so handsome that she almost hates him for it.

It’s that thought that brings back all the ugly, half-repressed feelings of earlier. Her eyes flick up to his eyes and then his lips and suddenly she’s pushing him into a kiss, her forwardness sparking a move backwards on his part into the bedroom, and the next thing she knows, she’s sucking on his bottom lip and hovering over him - he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs almost straddling his lap.

“You almost died today,” She says with something akin to awe. “Fuck,” She curses, when the familiar burn of tears starts in her nose and behind her eyes.

He chuckles, ready to diffuse her anxiety. “Luckily for you - ahh,” The words die in his throat when she lowers herself on top of him, rocking forward in one motion. The friction of her pelvis on his has the desired effect, and she scrambles to grab his shoulders and push him down to the bed, mouth dragging along the line of his jaw as she returns to his lips with tongue and teeth. “Suraya,” He groans into her lips. No, he thinks, when she bucks harder against him, that is not what he’s aiming for. They need to slow down. He had no intentions of instigating this, but by the Light does it feel incredible. “Suraya.” It takes some effort, but he manages to still his hips from their fluid motion against hers - he did not even know he’d started - and his voice is even and not laiden with strain from her efforts.

She leans back, giving him room to speak.

“You do not have to-” He pauses. “I did not mean-”

“If this all ends tomorrow,” She reminds him of his words, umber eyes so beautifully unguarded for once, flicking back and forth as she focuses, enthralling with gaze alone, “And we don’t get another shot at this-”

The realization is not lost on him as Titan strength rears its head in the form of steady hands against her ass and suddenly he’s standing with her legs wrapped around his hips before he lays her down, sinking her into the old mattress. For all his power, it’s startlingly gentle, infinitely tender.

He undresses her like he’s unwrapping a present. It’s easy enough - her chestguard thankfully abandoned before her shower to save them the hassle - and it takes no time for him to have her bare beneath him. He leans out of a sizzling kiss just long enough to remove his shirt and when she bites her lower lip, her eyes ablaze with desire as they rake down his bare chest, he can't help but smile.