#last chapter

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27 @magicwithaknife

[yuyatem]

Forever.

How could I not finish this story with the puzzle boys being wed in the end with my last contribution to this year’s puzzlejune. It’s been really fun and challenging and hopefully when looking at everything together from start to finish, there is some form of coherency in this (drawn out) visual canon compliant/divergent puzzle art fic.

[savasavva]

kafka pls i'm beggin'

[artificial-absinthe]

Last to Follow, chapter 5

Through bad and through worse.

Illustration from the last Chapter of "Last to Follow", @vsphelix 's beguiling, gorgeous work, which has been such an stimulating ride throughout these last months (?). I wish it never ended🪦

Chapter 5, the last one, rises the tension to a climax cutting like taunt wires, beautifully and ingeniously written as all the others, striking and impressive, and leaves you wishing for more.

Alas! It's the ending. But what an ending.

Some of you perhaps are wondering, Is he that massive? Yet he is exactly like that, I swear. Soundwave barely reaches his hip now.

The measures are the result of comparing what part of Megatron's body Soundwave's head used to reach before (above Megatron's waist), and then comparing upgraded Optimus to Megatron. Finally, measuring unicronian Megatron to upgraded Optimus. Then, lo and behold.

(please notice Megatron's legs and hips. Soundwave: superior. Unicron: inferior. Sharing line art later)

Summary: The war is over. The Decepticons are no more. Megatron has fallen mortally ill, and the jaws of Autobot retribution are closing in. Soundwave will never abandon his leader. Tarn rejects the dissolution of his Cause. When their paths intersect, Soundwave clashes with the DJD in the ultimate test of loyalty.

Last to Follow (14890 words) by ARTificial_Absinthe, vsphelix Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Megatron/Soundwave (Transformers) Characters: Soundwave (Transformers), Tarn (Transformers), Megatron (Transformers), Decepticon Justice Division, Ravage (Transformers), Laserbeak (Transformers), Minicons (Transformers) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Cybertronian Civil War, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), RID2015 never happened, Fugitives, Major Illness, Flashbacks, Ideology, Illustrations

[3-2-whump]

The Morgue

<prev next>

Dear Readers,

Yep. This is it. Eternal's last chapter (at least for now). Thank you for sticking around for so long, I appreciated each and every one of you for reading this story and interacting with it! And thank you beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for reading draft after freaking draft of this story for months now; I look forward to collaborating with you in the future.

The ending is kind of open ended, and I acknowledge this may frustrate some people, but I promise I'm not gonna pull a Netflix and drop this series on a cliffhanger (looks passive-aggressively at Netflix). Whatever happens next is for tomorrow; today, without further ado, here is the conclusion to Eternal!

TW/CW: death of a major character, aftermath of death of a major character, gore /graphic descriptions of a corpse, blood, emotional angst (I think?), nonconsensual nudity, slave whump /transfer of ownership, defiant whumpee, creepy whumper

Khaled was more than a little concerned when he woke up the next morning and his master’s bedroom was still empty. He was downright worried that he had not heard even a word from him by midday. This is so unlike him, Khaled thought as he checked the spare phone for any text messages he might’ve missed in the night. No new messages. Where is he?

He went to his room and retrieved his hidden cellphone from the place he had hidden it. There was one new message from Julio, but Khaled quickly swiped past it to text the one other contact he had on this illicit device.

To: Nic-Nac Have you seen the Boss today? He didn’t come home last night.

The subtle click of the door unlocking made his heart jump into his throat. Khaled quickly hid the phone away, bolted into the living room, chucked off the blanket, and assumed a perfect kneeling positon by the entrance, back straight, chest out, palms down on thighs, just as he’d been trained. His heart sank as the door opened and a man who was definitely not his master entered the apartment.

“Throw a coat on and-” Underboss Luca dropped his gaze down at Khaled once he realized he was not at eye-level. “Oh, right,” he groaned, punctuating his comment with a dismissive eye roll. “Should’ve known you’d be on your knees.” Khaled’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Get up and put some clothes on, we need to go to the morgue and identify a body!”

The last part of that command jolted Khaled out of his conditioning as abruptly as a kick in the teeth. “Wait, what?!” he asked, straightening up from his kneeling position.

“Just get dressed and come with me!” Luca said. He fumbled around his pockets until he found a small key. “You know where the safe is; get your clothes, and let’s go,” he instructed, tossing it to Khaled.

The young man caught it and dashed to the safe in the master bedroom, unlocking it and sprinting with the pile of clothes in his arms to change in his own bedroom. As he quickly dressed, he had an unshakeable feeling of dread. Thomas not coming home at all last night, no communication this morning, Luca coming over, and now this trip to the morgue –it was all adding up. If his master was truly dead, then he had no idea if or when he would be back at the apartment.

Khaled saw the designated hiding space for his cash jar out of the corner of his eye. He yanked it out and emptied it onto the bed, quickly folding and stuffing the dollar bills into every pocket, fold, and crevice of his outfit he could manage. Lastly, he grabbed his forbidden cellphone from its hiding place and jammed it into his pants pocket as he sprinted out to meet his foreboding feeling head-on.

Luca filled him in on the details as they drove to the morgue. A little after six in the morning, a bloodied and mangled body had been found hanging upside down from a crane at the dockyard. The ID in the dead man’s coat pocket had identified him as Thomas J Costa, but his face was barely recognizable beneath the blood and gore. The forensic pathologist would need a positive ID on the dead man’s corpse before they could tell the coroner to issue the death certificate for Don Costa, hence the need for Luca and Khaled to come down to the morgue.

“You know, if it is Tommy-boy on that slab, all of his assets will immediately be transferred to my control,” Luca reminded him, snaking an arm around the young man in a feigned gesture of comfort as they walked to the entrance of the morgue. “All of them,” he whispered. Khaled bristled under the other man’s touch as Luca moved his hand downwards. He did not miss the hidden meaning of those words. He jumped a little as Luca experimentally groped his ass on the way through the entrance.

The forensic pathologist met the men, their androgynous face set into a grim expression. “Next of kin for Mr. Thomas J Costa?” they asked. Both men nodded. The pathologist waved at them to follow them. “I gotta warn you though, he’s not a pretty picture. I cleaned him up as best I could, but just be prepared.”

No forewarning could’ve prepared Khaled for what he saw when the sheet was lifted from the corpse on that autopsy table. He recognized the cold gray eyes that now stared unseeingly up at him, the telltale scar at the man’s left temple, and what remained of the skull and snake tattoo on the man’s left pec, but that was about it. The rest of his master’s body looked as if wild animals had gotten to it. His usual dirty-blond hair was stained a coppery red, matted in places with clotted blood. There were cuts, bruises, and even burns scattered around his face, disfiguring it into something near unrecognizable. A long, jagged cut ran from his jugular down to his sternum, deep crimson with coagulated blood that had long since stopped bubbling from its schism. Deep gashes of a knife punctured his upper body and torso. His privates were…gone… and his legs from upper thighs to ankles were littered in cuts and bruises. The soles of his feet looked as if they had been burned away. Merely looking at his feet made Khaled feel faint, so he let his eyes travel back to Thomas’ face. The man’s dull gray eyes stared up at him.

“Well, is this him?”

“Yes,” Luca answered solemnly. He quickly swiped a hand over his eyes and took a breath to compose himself before turning to Khaled.

No matter how much he wanted to, he could not tear his gaze from the man’s dead eyes. He gave a small nod, at a complete loss for words otherwise. The pathologist merely answered a quiet “okay” before draping the sheet back onto Don Costa’s mutilated body, shielding Khaled from those steel gray eyes forever.

It’s finally happened, he thought. Master is dead… Instead of hope, or sorrow, or anger, or even a sick sense of satisfaction from witnessing this karmic justice, Khaled searched within himself and found nothing. He felt nothing, and then he questioned what kind of person he was, to feel nothing.

“Khaled, hey, Khaled…” a faint voice called out to him through the fog of his mind. Khaled stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he stared down at the veiled corpse.

“Khaled, sweetie, it’s time to go.”

He’s dead now, which means…which means what? The feeling of Luca roughly pulling him away from the autopsy table and dragging him back the way they came answered his own question for him. All the while, Khaled took shelter in his thoughts, not even fighting back as he tried to process what he just saw and what it meant for him. The man who had fed me, clothed me, given me everything is dead, and now, what am I?

“Well, it looks like you’re mine now,” Luca announced, pulling on his leather gloves as they exited the morgue and stepped into the parking lot.

That snapped Khaled out of his mind quick. The man who had once openly said he would’ve taken him while he was still a minor flashed him a small, sad smile. “Of all the ways I could’ve gotten you, this is the last one I wanted,” he admitted. He raised a gloved hand to Khaled’s face, gently caressing his cheek with leather-clad fingers. “But maybe, together, we can help each other process our loss.”

No. Khaled shook his head. Luca’s soft caresses quickly hardened into a crushing grip on his face. He drew him in closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You’re mine now, Khaled,” he growled, glaring into the young man’s eyes. “I never approved of the erratic, unpredictable way Tommy treated you, and I promised myself that when it was my turn, I would be better.” Khaled’s hands scratched at Luca’s arm, which only served to tighten the hand around his jaw. “But not if you’re going to fight me the entire time!” He drew Khaled in closer, too close for comfort, as he maintained that crushing grip on his face. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna be a good boy for Master, or are you gonna make me hurt you?”

Letting go of Khaled’s face to allow him to answer was the greatest mistake Luca would make. With a fierce desperation to die rather than be owned by someone far worse than Thomas, Khaled drew his head back and collided their skulls with a crushing force. Both men withdrew from each other, each groaning in pain as they held their heads, but Khaled recovered from the head-butt first, and used the ten-second head start to make a run for it out the parking lot.

“You bitch! Get back here, you stupid little slut!” and various threats of bodily harm were shouted at him as he ran. He kept running, even when he rounded the corner and an exposed piece of chain-link fence grazed his thigh, nipping the skin enough to draw blood. He kept running, even when he wasn’t sure which streets he was running down as he single-mindedly sprinted ahead, most definitely lost. He kept running, even as the tears blurred his vision and the cold air stung his throat and lungs, and every time he tried to blink back his tears all he saw were those cold, dead eyes staring up lifelessly back at him. He kept running.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[changenameno]

My Own (Chapter 10)

Summary:

Geralt finds himself once more on the path, gloomily looking at what lies ahead.
And you? You had no one, no home and certainly no coin. Well that’d be something you had in common. No coin. You two are surely off to a great start…


Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem. Nymph Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Geralt feeling guilty, teasing, pet names, oral sex (fem. receiving), size kink, breeding kink, biting, rough sex, p in v, brattyness, possessiveness, happy & fluffy ending

 Wordcount: 4.2K

 

A/N: Can’t believe this is the last chapter. Hope you’ll like it…As always any mistake is my own. Appreciate every reblog and comment. Thank you and most importantly enjoy ;) ❤️✨

!The Witcher characters and world are not mine!

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

(In case you’ve missed CHAPTER 9)

 

CHAPTER 10

You had to walk, because riding on Roach would hurt worse than going by foot. So you and Geralt trudged side by side through the forest.

 

Again, you were the first to speak up, after an hour of silence, “You know that it wasn’t your fault, right?”

 

 

Geralt turned to watch you for a moment, trying to guess, why or how you could possibly know, he felt guilty. But you gave nothing away, so he simply assumed it had to do with your nature, being a nymph and all.

Though in truth, he just wasn’t as mysterious as he thought. You had seen how his jaw kept working, tightening every few steps, so you assumed he was tense, and the only explanation you could come up with was, that he must have something on his mind, so you’d guessed. Apparently quite accurately, going by his astonished expression.

After a while he finally answered,” It was my fault, if I had been quicker with my sword. None of that,” he gestured to your injured side, “would have happened.”

 

 

Thinking about his words, you waited a bit before replying,” You know what wouldn’t have happened also?”

 

“Hmm, what?”

 

“That werewolf, actually no, that man, would have died. He never would have been able to return home to his wife, to his two children. And now he won’t have to ever turn again. So technically speaking, you not only saved his life but any future being from getting mauled or killed by a werewolf, as well.”

 

 

Geralt couldn’t believe what he was experiencing, never before had someone so quickly been able to change his mind, though he had one last but,” Alright I get what you mean and I agree to some extent. But you were the one saving future victims from getting in harm’s way with your charm and neckless and all.

 

You only hummed and nodded.

 

 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

 

It took you longer than you had anticipated to reach the waterfall. It was already late afternoon, when your eyes landed on the lake.

 

 

The body of water sparkled invitingly, surface gently rippling from the constant stream of the waterfall.

 

Your feet automatically lead you closer, then you exclaimed, “So beautiful!”

��

 

While Geralt had to agree the scenery was stunning, he found it had nothing on you. As you stood there, carefully removing your shoes to feel the water on your bare feet, he thought you looked more beautiful than anything or anyone he’d ever seen. The comparison to a flower, filling his mind again. Though a feisty one…

 

 

Feeling the cooling water on your skin was heaven, you just knew it would do wonders for the wound and all the other aches still deeply ingrained in your muscle memory. But you also knew, to have the full effect you had to be completely submerged in the water.

Turning back around, you found Geralt already looking at you, “I…I have to get in. Could you…could you turn around?”

 

 

His eyes crinkled in mirth as he answered, while stepping closer, “I could.”

Though he didn’t show the slightest inclination of doing so, he only continued to come closer.

 

 

When he came to a halt not even an arms length between you, he whispered, “Or…I could join you.”

 

Before you could gasp, he had gently pulled you against him, hand resting on your nape, pressing his lips to yours, this kiss for once uninterrupted. His soft, deep moan into your mouth had butterflies dancing in your belly, heat rapidly began to pool between your thighs.

 

 

You pushed against his shoulder, breaking the kiss, “Gotta do something first.”

 

And with that, you kneeled down. Not giving two shits about your clothes getting wet in the process. His sharp eyes rested upon you as you closed yours, beginning the complicated spell.

 

 

Your hands looked like they were dancing through the water, more ripples forming on the surface, as you began to utter your incantation. His gaze transfixed when the water started climbing, snaking up your thighs, like a vine, until your dark blouse lifted slightly so it could continue upwards.

 

 

The cool water was a relief against your burning wound, you sighed when you felt it prickling across your skin. Once you had spoken the last few words of your spell a white light shone from beneath the fabric of your blouse. Then the water-vine dropped and the only rippling of water was on the other side, where the waterfall met the lake. Finally all your pain was gone.

 

Upon opening your eyes, you were surprised to find Geralt kneeling in front of you. He reached out, carefully lifting your blouse, making a content noise in the back of his throat when he saw your skin unmarred once more. He let one of his rough fingers gently glide over your ribs, making sure the wound was really gone.

 

 

You smiled cheekily at him, taking his wrist, to pull it, and the fabric further up. He got the notion and gently removed your blouse all the way.

 

 

Groaning when he could now see your erect nipples standing at attention.

“Oh fuck, look at you.”

 

You coyly bit your lip, teasing him, “Actually I’d like you to do more than just looking…”

 

 

He growled, “Little brat all the way, huh?”

 

Though he didn’t wait for another cheeky answer, he pulled you onto his lap. Your thighs having to part, to accommodate him in-between them, whimpering when you felt his bulge press against you.

 

 

He grinned meanly, nibbling on your earlobe while grunting,” That’s right, you’ll take…Every. Last. Inch.” Each word underlined by a tender bite to your neck.

 

 

It made you squeal in delight, picturing how he’d fill and pound into you, in any and every possible way.

 

The only warning you got, “Hold on tight,” before he effortlessly stood up with you in his arms. What surprised you even more was, that he sat you down again, so that you had to stand on your own feet.

 

He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out, he let his thumb tease across your nipple, tweaking it for good measure, which earned him the most wonderful mewl from you.

His smirk grew even more predatory as he commanded, “Undress.”

 

You complied immediately.

 

Standing now naked in front of him, even though he was still completely dressed, made you feel vulnerable, but in the best of ways.

The black fabric of his breeches pulled taunt over the enormous tent that had formed.

But you deemed it unfair, that he still had all his clothes on, so you didn’t let his eyes roam about your bared body for long. Gracefully you spun around, quickly wading deeper into the water, despite its coolness, until you couldn’t stand anymore.

 

 

Geralt watched you retreat into the lake, every one of your steps making your ass bounce deliciously. But he growled frustratingly, because now he was unable to reach you. Though he had every intention to remedy that, and quickly.

 

 

You laughed a little when his angry growl reached your ears, swimming a bit further into the lake. When there was a loud splash, your head whipped around. But the witcher was gone, only a heap of his clothes left on shore. He had dived into the water and now you couldn’t see him anymore.

 

You turned this way and that, but couldn’t spot him, so you called out, “Ah come on, you’ve had your fun. Where are you?”

 

Suddenly big arms hugged you close, wet lips against your sensitive ear-shell, “I’m here, you little minx.”

 

His warm body pressed into your back, making a shiver run up your spine. “And I have every intention on staying here,” whispering the last part, “for as long as you permit me to.”

 

 

This time, he felt your shiver and easily turned onto his back, swimming closer towards shore with just one arm, until his feet could touch the lake’s ground and he could stand.

 

 

Only now could you feel his stiffness poking into your lower back, filling you with the lewdest thoughts. His arm squished your breasts harder, therefore pressing you further into his broad chest. You tilted your head back, placing your lips against his jawline and nibbling lightly, causing him to growl again. Certain you had just felt his member twitch.

 

“Careful there. I will bite back.”

 

You couldn’t stop behaving like a brat apparently, as you mocked,” Hmm. Oh no, wouldn’t want the big, bad wolf to come out, now would we?”

 

 

That earned you an even tighter grip around your torso and a hand at your throat, squeezing once in warning.

 

“Won’t be able to hold back, if you continue to antagonising me.”

Though that only fuelled the desire, spreading through your body. Cunt clenching uncontrollably around nothing.

 

 

With his hand around your throat, you could only breathe back,” I don’t want you to hold back. Want. Every. Last. Inch.”

 

 

In your position you couldn’t see his face contort into a hungry grimace, but you felt the growl rip from his lips as it reverberated inside his chest and therefore against your back.

 

 

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

And with that he started walking to shore, the minute the grassy ground was close enough, he unceremoniously dropped you. You were about to complain, but he roughly manhandled you into his desired position. Taking your breath away, when he ripped your thighs apart to create enough space for him to kneel there.

 

He glowered down at you, tilting his head slightly, as his eyes slowly began roaming your body. Stopping at your tits to admire the soft flesh of your breasts, before continuing to move downwards.

 

 

You began panting, as you were now able to see his wild expression, full of hunger and desire as he stared at your dripping pussy. A little overwhelmed by his heated glare, you unconsciously tried to close your legs, but his steel like grip prevented you from doing so.

 

 

Suddenly his intense eyes snapped back up to your face, shaking his head, “None of that, little pup. That right there, “he nodded to your pulsing centre, “is mine. MINE. Do you understand?!”

 

Pathetically aroused by his possessiveness and the pet name, you whimpered and nodded.

 

 

Geralt knew exactly what his words did to you, smirking evilly when he continued, “Oh will you look at that, I thought you hated being called pup.”

And as if on cue, your treacherous cunt started clenching.

 

“And yet, here’s your little pussy, completely drenched for me when I call you pup.”

 

 

When only another whimper escaped your mouth, Geralt chuckled darkly, “That’s right. My little puppy, aren’t you?”

 

 

He didn’t wait for your answer, not that you would have been able to reply anyhow, before he sunk down further. Hot ragged breath against your most intimate place, big hands digging into your soft thighs, holding you open for him.

 

 

When his nose pressed into your clit, your back bowed of the ground and he grinned up at you, clearly enjoying teasing you mercilessly.

 

As Geralt gazed at your scrunched up face, pleasure written all over your features, his grip tightened even more. He needed to taste you and now. So he dove in, tongue slithering through your wet folds like a serpent.

 

He managed to have you mewling for him in seconds, hips trying to ride his face because his slow pace was driving you absolutely insane.

 

“Ge-geralt…”

 

His name moaned from your lips, sounded like the finest tune in his ears. Without removing his face from your centre, he replied, “Yes, pup? Tell me what it is you need.”

 

 

You wished you could, but with every swipe of his fat tongue, he erased all your thoughts and with that, the hope to formulate a decent sentence.

 

You could feel his groans against your core, when a long finger suddenly started to push inside, “Fuck, you’re so tight, might actually not fit.”

 

 

“Ah mhmm.”

 

 

His finger was now all the way inside, knuckles brushing against your hole, “What was that? Fucked the thoughts right out of you, with just one finger, huh?”

 

 

You would have slapped him, if he didn’t make you feel this amazing, so instead you reached down, pulling his still wet hair and therefore face harder against your pussy.

He more than complied, as he started to eat out your cunt with vigor, enjoying the slightly painful pull on his scalp and every sweet moan from your lips. He was quickly able to add another finger, beginning to spread you in preparation for a much larger intrusion. His own cock was raging painfully, and he had to stop himself from humping the grass like a pitiful virgin wanting to get his dick wet for the first time. Your whimpers drove him to the brink of insanity, but he knew he had to make you come at least once before you could take him. Impatient he doubled his efforts, two fingers pistoling in and out, while he circled your clit with his tongue.

 

 

“Ah… there right there…soo close,” you nearly screamed, when Geralt hit your g-spot every time he plunged his fingers inside.

 

 

It didn’t take long for him to get you off, growling when he felt your imminent orgasm. He couldn’t spread his fingers any longer as your cunt bore so tightly down around them. With a last clever bite to your little nub, you were flung over the edge, so suddenly all you could feel was total ecstasy flooding your body.

 

“Yes that’s it come for me. Come on my fingers, just like that.”

 

 

You hummed quietly once your breath had calmed down enough, both hands reaching down trying to pull the witcher up by his shoulders. Reluctantly he finally let your poor cunt rest, pulling his fingers and tongue away, to crawl up, completely covering your body with his. Elbows supporting his weight so he wouldn’t crush you beneath him.

 

 

Even though he just made you come so hard you were seeing stars, your pussy felt terribly empty, wanting something to fill the space again. His wild eyes rested on your face, searching for something, and finding it when you smiled at him wickedly.

 

“There’s my wild, little pup.”

 

Your hands were still resting on his shoulders, pulling him down into a sensual kiss. Though it quickly grew more heated, teeth clashing and loud groaning, every bit the wild animal you had just witnessed between your legs.

 

 

Then it slipped out, without your mind’s consent, “Need you… need you to breed me…”

 

 

Geralt stopped all motion, staring down at your equally surprised face. Though he recovered a lot quicker than you did, “Say that again.”

 

 

When you only continued to stare at him wide eyed, still a little shocked by your own words, he glared at you.

 

 

Without warning, he jumped up, taking you with him. You swiftly wrapped your arms and legs around his body for more stability, as he snarled directly into your ear, “Say. That. Again!”

 

 

Only when he bit down where your neck met your shoulder, were you finally able to pull free of the stupor you had been in, “Fuck. Please, Geralt breed me. Need…need.”

 

He bit you again, this time harder, making you shriek, when he roared, “What do you need?!”

 

 

“Need your…your cock to breed me. Please! Ger-alt!”

 

 

His sharp teeth sunk into your skin, not letting go. Then you felt it, the wide tip of his cock dividing your lower lips. You hadn’t had time to really look at his cock before, but you didn’t have to, to know he was every bit as thick as he had said.

 

 

Having your warm, wet folds spread around his tip felt heavenly already. One hand squeezing your ass, easily holding you above his heavy cock. Geralt’s other hand gripping his base, positioning himself perfectly beneath your hole.

 

 

Removing his teeth from your shoulder made you hiss with anticipation. Excitement cursing through you. He let the hand at your arse wonder upwards, settling on your upper back, so he could lean you back a little bit and look at your face. After all, he wanted to see every micro expression when he’d enter you for the first time.

 

 

And just like that, be began pushing his tip in, both of you moaning when it wholly popped inside. The head was already so wide you had to try to relax, knowing there was much more to come.

 

 

His hips twitched involuntary, pushing more of his length inside, making you yelp. “There, there pup. You can take it.”

 

 

Your walls were strangling him, he had difficulty breathing, especially combined with the bruising grip you had on his shoulders and the little noises escaping the back of your throat.

 

 

He kept on pulling you down, on his cock inch by inch, eyes fixed on your scrunched up face, so he could see when to stop in case it’d be too much for you.

 

 

It was right on the edge of too painful, as your cunt was spread wide open to accommodate his insane girth. After moments of taking deep breaths, Geralt began placing small kisses on your face, succeeding in relaxing you and making you sink lower still.

 

 

“Halfway there, just a little bit more.”

 

 

That made your eyes fly open, “Halfway?!”

 

 

His smug chuckle, did nothing to sooth you as you stammered, “Can’t…no that’s too much. Doesn’t fit…”

 

 

He had the audacity to taunt you, with your earlier words no less, “Thought, you’d take every last inch of me? Bit more off than you can chew, pup?”

 

 

There it was again, that damned pet name, making your cunt pulse and him chuckle more as he felt every little movement around his stupidly, big cock.

 

 

You hissed, “Well that was before…”

 

 

“Before what?”

 

 

God did you hate him right now. Him and his smug grin.

“Before…before I knew how big you w…,” interrupting yourself with a loud whine.

 

 

Geralt amused by your bratty remarks, had tilted his hips, knowingly pushing against your special spot and shutting you right up.

His plan was to make you relax, else you really wouldn’t be able to take him, so he sneaked one hand down between your bodies and pressed the heel of his palm into your clit. Your reaction was instant, lips forming a big o, though no sound left them, too stunned by the electric current strumming through your body at the touch.

 

 

“Think I really have to fuck the brattiness out of you, hmm?”

 

 

You keen lowly, feeling how you were sinking down on his shaft, this time without pain despite his massive length spearing you open. You threw your head back, as the final inch passed through your hole, filling you up so much you were sure he reached past your navel.

 

 

He rumbled darkly, “See, told you, I’d fit…fuck, there you go.”

 

 

Emboldened by his words, you carefully circled your hips against his, testing the waters. You were sure, he must be splitting you down the middle. But because his palm was still pressed against you, the little pain you actually felt, soon made room for bliss.

 

 

Geralt’s mouth roamed your throat, biting here and there, waiting, growing increasingly impatient. Your walls enclosed him so tightly he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to move.

 

 

Finally you had eased up on your death grip a little. And your next words ended the sweet hell of his immobility, “Please, Geralt mo-move.”

 

It was barely there, so caught up in your own bliss you weren’t able to raise your voice above a whisper. But it had instantly broken the spell the witcher had been under, making him roar when he lifted you up, only to let you fall back down onto his cock.

 

 

He didn’t ease you into it, an insane pace from the start. And every single fall, was met by such a powerful thrust upwards, you were sure you’d be incapable of walking, come morning.

 

 

Your channel squeezed him tighter with every harsh pound inside your cunt, walls fluttering around him.

“Ah fu-uck Geralt,” you cried out after an especially brutal thrust.

 

 

“Yeah, feel good? That what you wanted, pup?!”

 

You could only screech in respond as he repeatedly stole your breath away, when he bottomed out with every forceful shove into your quivering pussy.

 

 

Not knowing how he did it, but not complaining either, he ever increased his pace, fat cock bullying your cervix mercilessly. You were losing yourself completely in pleasure, moan after moan spilling out, followed by equally loud growls from him.

Each drop and motion against him, made a loud squelching sound, that would have you hiding your face away in embarrassment, if you still had the capacity to be ashamed. But Geralt had truly fucked out any decent thought, no longer caring if anyone would hear your loud cries.

 

 

The witcher drilled into you without abandon, cursing as he felt himself growing closer to the finish line, though he knew you weren’t far behind.

 

“Yeah, ready to be filled? Gonna come so deep inside, you’ll drip my cum for days!”

 

 

His filthy words, tipped you right over, whole body spasming in his hold as you came. The sound you made so pathetic and purely animal, Geralt’s own orgasm was ripped from him. His pace did not slow for another few pumps, until you’d truly milked him to completion. You felt his hot cum adding to the pressure inside your belly.

 

Still buried deep inside, he panted, “Fuck pup. Took it so well. Did so good f’r me.” Nuzzling your neck lovingly and breathing in your scent, now more mouth-watering than before.

 

 

You let your fingers card through his white hair, enjoying the closeness.

 

 

Once you both were ready, Geralt pulled out, making his spent dribble down your legs. Slowly he set you down, until you managed to stand on your own. When you walked into the water to clean yourself, you heard him laughing behind you. You turned around, eyebrow raised in accusation, “What are you laughing at?!”

 

 

He grinned, when he answered, “You’re wobbling around like a new born fawn.”

 

 

Your glare intensified as you grumbled back, “And whose fault is that?!!”

 

He swiftly joined you in the water, pressing his chest against your back like, before he replied lowly, “Mine.”

Though he didn’t sound apologetic, if you didn’t know any better he actually sounded quite proud of himself.

 

 

Then he helped you clean, gentle hands roving up and down your body, even softly kneading your muscles until you were pliant in his hold. He led you back outside and with a lazy wave of your hand you were both dried off.

The both of you quickly getting dressed, as the chill of the evening had begun to catch up to you.

 

 

Geralt watched your breasts vanish under your blouse, and when you caught him staring, you teased, “See something you like?”

 

 

As a serious expression overtook his face, you grew nervous, thinking maybe you had teased him too much and he had grown tired of your banter.

 

 

Though the opposite was the case. He unhurriedly approached, pulling you down with him, until you sat comfortably astride his thighs.

 

“Actually no, I didn’t see something I like,” he paused, gazing into your fearful eyes, though a faint smile was growing on his lips, “I saw something…I love.”

 

 

You gaped at him, shocked by his admission and at the same time beyond happy he felt that way.

 

 

“I meant it earlier, you know?” You stared at him quizzically.

 

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, pup. I love you.”

 

 

You couldn’t help yourself, so overcome by emotion you took his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his lips, before beaming up at his crinkling amber eyes.

 

“Hmm that could be a long while though. Because I’m not going to let you go, master witcher.”

 

He chuckled, hugging you closer to his warm body, “Well you’d better. I don’t intend to let you go either. As I said, you are mine.”

 

 

Geralt let himself fall backwards, until he lay on his back, with you sprawled over his torso like a weighted blanket, ready to fall asleep when you piped up again,” Geralt?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You know this goes both ways, right?”

 

“What does?”

 

Holding your breath, before letting the words tumble out, “I love you, too. And you belong to me, just as much as I to you.”

 

After a beat of silence, he shifted so he could see you face, “Of course. I’m yours and you are mine.” To your chagrin, he added, “My own, little puppy.”

 

You huffed indignantly, hitting him on the shoulder, “Hush. Look at you, not even needing Jaskier to ruin the romantic moment, apparently you are plenty capable yourself.”

 

His belly rumbled with laughter, his happiness so contagious you had to join in, giggling alongside his deep chuckles.

 

 

“Sorry, my love. I promise solemnly to get better.” His eyes still twinkled with mirth.

 

You simply ignored his amusement, too content with just lying here, so you snuggled closer into his chest for more warmth.

 

He lifted one of your arms, pulling you up, so your head lay just below his jaw. Then he placed a kiss on your palm, mumbling, “I love you. Sleep well, my little pup.”

 

You breathed back, “Love you too. Good ‘ight.”

 

 

Geralt had never felt this content and happy before. Certain, sleep would come easy tonight, and every night thereafter, as long as you’d be safely tucked away in his arms. Knowing that, he finally began to relax.

He listened to your slow, rhythmic heartbeat, until he was lulled to sleep himself. Though no dream of his could be better than the reality of knowing, you loved him too.

THE END

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[isacksteban]

First Kiss (Special Ending)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (4.4k words, fluffy ver) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {This is just a mix of different moments, i'm scared to let them go}

last part - masterlist - it's over ☹️

"I want a baby" A tipsy Lance muttered, face barely illuminated in their shared hotel room.

"What?" Fernando laughed, unsure what Lance was talking about, he never made much sense when he was drunk.

"A baby, Nano." Lance frowned, eyebrows furrowing at the sound of the Spaniard laughing

"You want a baby? Lancito you are a baby." The older man said, sitting down next to Lance

"Do you not want a baby with me?" His voice cracked, eyes welling with tears as he sat on the edge of their bed.

"Ay, Mi sol. I do, I do want a baby with you." Fernando backtracked, moving his hand to brush the Canadians hair from his face "Let's sleep before we get a baby, okay?"

Lance nodded and before Fernando knew it the taller boy was curled up and asleep under the duvet.

The sun streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Lance stirred, groaning slightly as he rubbed his eyes, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to him. Fernando was already awake, sitting in an armchair by the window, a cup of coffee in hand and a knowing smile on his face.

"Good morning, mi vida," Fernando greeted softly.

Lance sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Morning, Nando."

Fernando watched him carefully. "You remember what you said last night?"

Lance's cheeks flushed. "Sort of. I said a lot of things."

"You said you wanted a baby," Fernando prompted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lance's eyes widened as he recalled his drunken confession. "I meant it, you know," he said earnestly, his voice steadier now. "I really want us to have a baby."

Fernando's expression softened. "I know you did. And I want that too."

The weeks that followed were filled with research and conversations, the initial idea turning into a plan, el plan. By December, Lance and Fernando had finalized the adoption process, ready to welcome a newborn into their lives.

On December 21st, they found themselves in Bulgaria, meeting their son for the first time. The tiny baby was swaddled in a soft blanket, his dark eyes wide and curious. Lance’s heart swelled as he held the baby close, Fernando at his side, both of them marveling at the little life that had become theirs.

"Look at him, Nikola Stroll-Diaz," Fernando whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Lance gently touched the baby's cheek. "He's perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Back in their home, the nursery was ready, filled with soft toys and a crib waiting for Nikola. The transition to parenthood was an adjustment for both men, balancing their careers and new responsibilities, but the joy they felt was undeniable.

In the early hours of the morning, Lance would often be found rocking Nikola to sleep, the baby nestled against his chest. Fernando would join them, wrapping an arm around Lance, their little family complete.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, Nikola asleep in his crib, Lance turned to Fernando. "You know, when I said I wanted a baby, I never imagined it would feel like this."

Fernando smiled, pressing a kiss to Lance's temple. "It's better than anything I could have imagined."

Their journey had been unexpected, but as they watched their son grow, both men knew they wouldn't trade it for the world. Lance and Fernando had found something more precious than any championship title, they had found family.

The house was quiet, except for the soft coos of Nikola, who was nestled comfortably in Lance's arms. The snow outside created a serene backdrop, the fireplace casting a warm glow inside the cozy living room. Fernando entered, his expression thoughtful, as he sat down beside Lance on the couch.

"Lancito, there's something important I need to talk to you about," Fernando began, his voice steady but serious.

Lance shifted slightly, adjusting Nikola in his arms, the Spaniards tone worrying him. "Hm?"

Fernando took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Lance's. "I've decided to leave Renault."

Lance's eyes widened in surprise. "You're leaving Renault? What happened?"

Fernando nodded, understanding Lance's reaction. "But I feel like I need a new challenge, something that will push me further."

"Nando, we have a baby now, is that not new enough?" He joked before his curiosity deepened. "So, where are you going?"

A small smile tugged at Fernando's lips. "McLaren."

Lance's surprise turned into a smile. "McLaren? Do you know who your teammate's gonna be?"

Fernando nodded, his excitement evident. "Lewis Hamilton, I'm pretty sure you guys were in F3 together"

Lance nodded before looking down at Nikola, who was now dozing peacefully in his arms, and then back at Fernando. "I’m proud of you, Nando. I know you're gonna do great."

As the podium ceremony began in Malaysia, Lance made his way closer to the stage, navigating through the throng of fans and team members. Fernando stood tall on the top step, his face beaming with triumph as the Spanish national anthem played. He glanced down, his eyes finding Lance and Nikola in the crowd, his smile widening even further.

After receiving his trophy and the customary champagne spray, Fernando looked back at his family, his expression a mix of joy and love. Lance waved, Nikola’s tiny hand mimicking the motion with Lance’s help.

Fernando couldn’t resist. As soon as he could he made his way towards the two the crowd parted, allowing the man to reach his family. He took Nikola into his arms, pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead before leaning in to kiss Lance.

The cameras on them and shocked expressions from people in the crowd meant nothing when he had Nikola and Lance in his arms.

Lewis was one of the first to voice his support after the two publically announced their relationship. In the next race weekend, he wore a "Love is Love" shirt during media day, making a small yet powerful statement. "We’re all part of this family," he said in interviews. "Fernando and Lance are showing incredible bravery, and it’s our duty to support them."

Kimi also showed his support. He was seen wearing a rainbow wristband during the pre-race drivers' parade, a subtle yet significant gesture. When asked about it, he simply said, "It is no different than me and Jenni."

Nico, Felipe, and Jenson joined the movement, each wearing "Love is Love" shirts during various race weekends. Their actions spoke volumes, showing unity within the paddock. Nico, in particular, used his platform to speak out against the negative reactions. "This sport should be inclusive and welcoming to everyone, both black and gay drivers."

Giancarlo and David added their voices, emphasizing the importance of acceptance in such a high-profile sport. David, during a television broadcast, said, "My past rivalries with Lance has nothing to do with how I feel. Their love and commitment to their family is something to be celebrated, not condemned."

In private, the support from fellow drivers meant the world to Fernando and Lance. It reinforced their belief that they had made the right decision by coming out, not just for themselves but for the many others who might be struggling in silence.

Nikola, still blissfully unaware, continued to bring joy to their lives. The paddock began to embrace him too, with drivers often stopping by to say hello and spend a few moments with the bright-eyed baby.

After the podium celebrations and media commitments after the European GP, the two returned to their hotel suite, where Nikola was waiting with his mémé. As they entered, still riding the high of their dual podium finishes, they found Nikola playing on a soft blanket spread out on the floor.

"Hey, mi sol," Lance greeted, scooping Nikola up into his arms, having made sure to wash off the champagne before he returned. "Did you miss us?"

Nikola’s eyes lit up at the sight of his fathers, and he reached out towards Fernando, who joined them, pressing a kiss to Nikola’s forehead. “Today was a good day,” Fernando said, his voice filled with contentment.

Lance gently bounced Nikola in his arms, Fernando sticking his tongue out at the baby. Suddenly, Nikola let out a high-pitched giggle, his eyes sparkling with delight. Both Lance and Fernando froze, their eyes widening in surprise.

“Joder. Did he just laugh?” Fernando asked, a broad smile spreading across his face.

Lance nodded, his own grin matching Fernando’s. “Oh my god!"

They took turns making silly faces and noises, their smiles growing with each giggle that escaped Nikola’s lips. The room filled with the sound of his infectious laughter.

“Look at him, Nando,” Lance said, his voice choked with emotion. “He’s so happy.”

After the season had concluded, Lance, Fernando, and Nikola retreated to their home in Dubai for a well-deserved break and to celebrate Lance's 20th birthday.

Fernando had woken up early, setting about preparing a special birthday breakfast while Lance and Nikola slept peacefully. Lance awoke to the delightful scent and the distant sounds of clinking plates. Rubbing his eyes, he smiled as he heard Nikola’s excited babbling from his crib. He turned to see Fernando entering their bedroom, a tray with breakfast treats in hand.

“Happy birthday, mi sol,” Fernando greeted warmly, quick to peck his boyfriends lips.

Lance’s smile widened. “Thank you, Nando. This looks amazing.”

Just then, Nikola’s babbling escalated, and they saw him standing in his crib, eager to be let out.

“Looks like someone is ready to join us,” Fernando smiled, setting the tray down and lifting Nikola out of his crib. The baby giggled, reaching out for Lance.

Lance gently scooped Nikola into his arms, planting a kiss on his chubby cheek. “Good morning, sweet boy,” he cooed, eliciting more giggles from Nikola.

Years passed in a flash, Nikola now 2 and Fernando back with renault. He took Lance outside, Nikola not far away on a blanket over the grass, distracted with toys.

"Lance," Fernando began, his voice filled with emotion as he looked deeply into Lance’s eyes, "from the moment we met, you’ve brought light and joy into my life. You’ve been my boyfriend, my best friend, and the love of my life."

He paused, his heart racing with anticipation. "Today, I want to ask you something. Will you marry me?"

Fernando reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a stunning ring nestled inside. "I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to love you with all that I am, for all the days of our lives. Lance Stroll, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

He held his breath, waiting for Lance’s response, his heart overflowing with love and hope for their future together.

Touched by the sentiment, Lance leaned over to kiss Fernando, forgetting to say yes as his emotions swallowed him. “I love it. Thank you,” he murmured, his heart full.

"Is that a yes?" Fernando whispered as the kiss broke

"Yes" He nodded eagerly, vision blurred with tears as Fernando put the ring on his finger

In 2010, they finally got married. The venue they chose was a picturesque estate in Asturias, nestled amidst rolling hills and lush gardens, offering a serene backdrop for their special day.

The morning of the wedding dawned with clear skies and a gentle breeze, setting the stage for an unforgettable celebration. Lance and Fernando, surrounded by their closest friends, family, and colleagues, prepared for the ceremony with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

Lance looked gorgeous in a tailored suit, his expression a mix of joy and anxiety as he awaited the moment to see Fernando. Fernando, radiant in a sleek tuxedo, exuded confidence and happiness as he made his final preparations. Their son Nikola, now a lively three-year-old, played happily with his cousins and friends, adding a warm energy to the pre-wedding festivities.

As the ceremony began, guests gathered in an intimate garden adorned with floral arrangements and soft candlelight. Lance and Fernando stood side by side under an elegant arch, exchanging heartfelt vows that they had written themselves. Their promises to support and cherish each other resonated deeply, accompanied by the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft murmur of loved ones’ affirmations.

Nikola, the ring bearer, toddled down the aisle with a mischievous grin, holding the rings in his tiny hands, eliciting laughter and applause from the guests. Lance and Fernando beamed with pride as they watched their son play such an important role in their union.

The ceremony was followed by a joyful reception, where guests enjoyed delicious cuisine and danced under the starlit sky. The evening was filled with laughter, heartfelt toasts, and moments of pure happiness as Lance and Fernando celebrated their love and the journey they had embarked upon together.

Among the guests were many of their fellow Formula 1 drivers, who had become not just colleagues but close friends. Giancarlo, Nico, Sebastian, and others raised glasses in a heartfelt toast to Lance and Fernando, expressing their support and admiration.

As the night drew to a close, Lance and Fernando stole away for a quiet moment together, gazing at the stars and reflecting on the significance of their wedding day. “I never imagined I could be this happy,” Lance whispered, his hand intertwined with Fernando’s.

Fernando pulled him close, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Today was perfect.”

In 2016, Nikola experienced his first karting race. The venue was a local karting track in Montreal, the same one Lance had raced at dozens of times before.

Nikola, almost ten years old, approached the race with a mix of excitement and curiosity. He had shown a natural aptitude for driving even at his young age, often mimicking his Papas movements on their simulator at home.

Nikola, dressed in his racing suit labeled "Stroll-Diaz" at his hip, looked tiny but determined as he stood next to his kart.

When the green flag dropped, Nikola sped off, barely visible above the kart’s steering wheel. He maneuvered through the twists and turns of the track with surprising skill, his concentration evident even under his helmet. Lap after lap, he pushed himself, gaining confidence with each corner.

To everyone’s surprise and delight, Nikola crossed the finish line first, claiming victory in his debut race. The cheers of his family and the proud smiles of Lance and Fernando echoed across the track. Nikola, his face flushed with excitement, couldn’t believe he had won.

"I won! Dad, Papa, I did it!" Nikola exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment as he removed his helmet.

Lance and Fernando exchanged amused glances. "You did great, sweet boy," Lance said, ruffling Nikola’s hair gently. "You ready for the next five?."

Nikola’s eyes widened, having not realized there was more. "What?"

Lance and Fernando had noticed Nikola had been proudly telling his friends at school that he was Spanish and Canadian, just like his dad and papa. While they appreciated his admiration and identification with them, they also wanted him to understand and embrace the fact that he's Bulgarian.

"Nik, can we talk to you about something important?" Lance began, his voice gentle but firm. Nikola nodded, curiosity evident in his eyes as he sat between his fathers on the couch.

"We love that you want to be like us, niño," Fernando chimed in, placing a reassuring hand on Nikola's shoulder. "But we also want you to know who you are."

Nikola furrowed his brows slightly, he was well aware that he was adopted but he didn't understand where this was going. "I'm Nikola Stroll-Diaz?"

Lance nodded, leaning in to explain. "You are, but you're also Bulgarian."

"We want you to feel proud of all the places that are a part of you," Fernando added, his voice warm with encouragement. "Bulgaria's where you were born, and it will always be a part of you, no matter what me and Dad are."

Nikola pondered this for a moment, processing the new information. "So, I'm Spanish, Canadian, and Bulgarian?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Lance replied with a smile. "You're a little bit of everything, and that's what makes you special."

As Nikola grew older and more involved in karting, his connection to his Bulgarian heritage deepened, both Lance and Fernando trying their best at learning and teaching him the language and culture.

At thirteen years old, he decided to compete in the WSK Open Cup, a significant step in his racing career. Determined to honor his Bulgarian roots, Nikola made a deliberate choice to race under the Bulgarian flag.

Nikola's dedication to representing Bulgaria on the international karting stage earned him a nickname that resonated deeply within the racing community: the Bulgarian Lion. He wore the name with pride. So much so that on his sixteenth birthday Lance finally agreed for him to get the words tattooed.

During the races, Nikola showcased impressive skill and maturity beyond his years. His speed and strategic racing maneuvers caught the attention of seasoned competitors and racing enthusiasts. Off the track, journalists and fans alike praised him not only for his talent but also for his commitment to honoring his Bulgarian identity.

Lance and Fernando watched with pride as their son embraced this new chapter in his racing journey. They supported him wholeheartedly, attending races, offering guidance, and celebrating his achievements both on and off the track.

As the season progressed, the nickname "the Bulgarian Lion" became synonymous with Nikola's racing persona, making waving the Bulgarian flag after winning the championship a thousand times more meaningful.

As they prepared for the 24-hour Endurance race in Dubai 2021, the atmosphere in the team garage was electric with anticipation. Nikola, suited up and ready for his stint behind the wheel, exchanged a nod with Fernando, who was overseeing the final preparations with a focused intensity.

"You've got this, Nik," Fernando said, his voice filled with confidence as he checked the telemetry readings. "Remember to stay focused and keep your lines clean. We're counting on you."

Nikola nodded, adjusting his gloves with a determined expression. "I got it, Papa," he replied, his voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. "I'll make you proud."

Lance stood nearby, a proud smile lighting up his face as he watched father and son exchange encouraging words. "You've trained hard for this, sweet boy," Lance chimed in, patting Nikola's shoulder reassuringly. "Trust yourself."

Nikola glanced at his father, a mix of excitement and gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."

Fernando stepped closer, placing a hand on Nikola's helmet with a smile. "Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

With a nod, Nikola slipped into the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life beneath him. As he rolled out onto the track, Lance and Fernando exchanged a proud glance, knowing their son was ready for the challenge ahead. Throughout the grueling hours of the race, they monitored his progress, offering encouragement over the team radio and celebrating each successful stint.

When Nikola brought the car back into the pits after a particularly intense night stint, Fernando was there to greet him with a firm handshake and a heartfelt embrace. "You did it, hijo," Fernando said, his voice thick with emotion. "You drove like a champion out there."

Nikola beamed, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. "Thanks, Papa," he replied breathlessly.

Lance joined them, wrapping his arms around both Fernando and Nikola in a tight hug. "We knew you could do it," he said proudly, his voice tinged with emotion. "You've made us so proud, Nik."

Fernando and Lance were enjoying a rare moment of downtime in the living room of their home in Dubai, the hum of the Formula 1 season momentarily distant. Nikola, had been spending a lot of time on his phone lately, having just gotten into his first Serious relationship.

Fernando opened twitter and was greeted by Nikola’s face, him and one of his friends in theid fireproofs wearing chains with a song playing on the background Fernando couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the video catching him off guard.

Lance, sitting next to him, leaned over to see what was so funny. His amusement quickly turned into concern. “Fernando, we need to talk to him about this,” Lance said, his tone serious. “Our image and his are important. We have to be responsible on the internet. He's not just a teenager, he's our son.”

Fernando, still laughing, shook his head. “Come on, Lancito. He’s just having some fun. Let him enjoy himself. Besides, the fans aren't taking it seriously.”

Lance frowned, clearly not convinced. “It’s not just about fun, Fernando. What he posts online reflects on all of us. We can’t just ignore how things can be perceived. We need to teach him about maintaining a good image.”

Fernando put his arm around Lance, trying to ease his worry. “Nik’s a smart kid. He knows where to draw the line. And honestly, it’s good for him to have some fun, racings been stressing him out. We can guide him, but we also have to let him be himself.”

Lance sighed, nodding slowly. “I know you’re right, but I still think we should talk to him. Just to make sure he understands the balance between having fun and being responsible.”

“Of course,” Fernando agreed, still smiling. "He’s growing up, people talking about him is gonna do more than us talking to him"

In 2025, Nikola joined Prema in F2, taking another significant step towards his dream of racing in Formula 1 as his Dad had around his age. His rookie season was challenging, filled with ups and downs, but Nikola's talent and resilience shone through. He secured multiple podium finishes, earning respect and admiration from his peers and racing fans.

One particularly memorable race took place at the Spa. Nikola started from the back of the grid due to a technical issue during qualifying. Undeterred, he drove with remarkable skill and tenacity, overtaking car after car. By the final lap, he was in third place, chasing down the leaders. With a daring move at the last corner, he secured second place, earning a standing ovation from the crowd.

After the race, Lance and Fernando were there to greet him, their pride evident in their expressions. "That was incredible, Nik," Lance said, his voice filled with awe.

Fernando nodded, his eyes shining with admiration. "You've got the heart of a champion, hijo."

Nikola smiled, his exhaustion replaced by pure exhilaration. "I learned from the best."

As the years went by, Nikola's journey in motorsport continued to inspire many. He remained grounded (somewhat, he also remained aware of his advantages both from family and his good looks), always remembering the lessons his parents had taught him about love, resilience, and the importance of embracing one's identity. His success was not just measured by trophies and titles but by the impact he had on the sport and the legacy of acceptance and inclusion he helped foster.

In 2028, as Nikola finished the last race of his first season in Formula 1, placing 3rd in the championship, he stood on the same podium where his Dad and his Papa had once celebrated countless victories. The echoes of the roaring crowd filled his ears, a blend of cheers and applause that seemed to merge the past and present. The sun set behind the grandstands, casting a golden glow over the circuit, making the moment feel almost surreal.

Nikola’s heart raced, not just from the adrenaline of the competition but from the overwhelming pride and joy coursing through him. He glanced down at the crowd where Lance and Fernando watched with beaming smiles. Their eyes glistened with pride and love, their expressions reflecting the countless years of guidance, support, and encouragement they had given him.

Lance, ever the serious and composed figure, had tears welling up in his eyes. He remembered the many conversations they had about anything and everything, about the hard work and dedication it took to succeed in such a demanding sport. He had always been the one to emphasize responsibility, ensuring Nikola understood the weight of the family legacy he carried. Watching his son achieve this milestone was a testament to their shared efforts and dreams.

Fernando, standing beside Lance, couldn't contain his wide grin. He had always believed in letting Nikola find his own path, balancing hard work with joy and laughter. Fernando’s laughter had often filled their home, rubbing off on the other two in the house, a reminder that passion and fun were essential ingredients for success. Seeing Nikola on the podium, Fernando saw the perfect blend of their teachings. A young man who was as dedicated as he was joyful.

As Nikola raised the trophy high, he felt the weight of his family's legacy in his hands. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, a symphony of support and admiration. He could see flashes of both his fathers' victories in the eyes of the fans, a reminder of the history that had shaped him. But more than anything, Nikola felt the unbreakable bond of his family, a constant source of strength and motivation.

The journey to this moment had been filled with challenges, triumphs, and lessons. Nikola remembered the early mornings at the karting track, the long nights spent discussing strategies, and the countless pieces of advice from both Lance and Fernando. Every step of the way, they had been there, pushing him to be his best while reminding him to enjoy the ride.

Standing on that podium, Nikola knew that no matter where his racing career took him, the support of his family would always be his greatest strength. The future was bright and full of possibilities, but the foundation built by his Papa and Dad would always guide him. As the national anthem played then the champagne was sprayed, Nikola looked towards the crowd, locking eyes with Lance and Fernando. They nodded, a silent promise of unwavering support and love.

In that moment, Nikola understood that his victories were theirs as well, a culmination of shared dreams and relentless dedication. He stepped down from the podium with a heart full of gratitude, ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing he would never walk the path alone.

[aeoneskova]

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy is complete!

The final chapter + epilogue is up! Sorry for the wait but I wanted to post them together and here’s some art I did of Percy to go alone with it :))

Thank you all so much for sticking with me! I plan to continue with some Wolfstar wips (a pirate AU and an astronaut AU) so if you’re interested in those I’ll share updates on here.

For now though I hope you enjoy the fic <33

[dramioneshipperz]

Anything But Your Enemy

Chapter Nine Sneak Peek

"Yeah, reckless behavior A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day Fucking and fighting on It's our paradise and it's our war zone

Pillow talk My enemy, my ally…”

Pillow Talk by Zayn

[gege-wondering-around]

Last Chapter out!

GUYS! IT'S BEEN SO LONG, I'M SORRY!🫂

i haven't feel weel for the first week of 2025 and i didn't find it in me to work on any writing of any kind, but now i'm managing to get better and i'm finding my way back to writing, besides i've been binge reading fics like there's no tomorrow and have felt the spark of inspiration came back to me so we'll see where it leads.

about the prompts and the few ideas i have scattered around here, i think i'll work around the prompt and if it doesn't work i'll go over this idea and see if i can work with it as my first work back of 2025; besides, i also have a little think for @dontcallpanic to get done and i'll take my sweet time with it to make the best out of it, so to summ up: to those who send a prompt, i saw you and i see you. i promise your idea will come to life and the rest of the ideas i had and that i posted will come to life too with time.

about the tags i have recieved in the past weeks, i promise i saw them and i'll get on the game since i really appreciate all the tags and i love all of them.

this said, thank for have been patient with this and @patolemus @sterekloverforever, i hope you'll like the end. i miss all of you who have read this work or simply tapped on my blog.

as usual, with all the love, here's the reminder to @jadezdominion for this work as well.

[ilterzouomo]

[sonnista]

Aaaa the end of an era !! ; v ; The last chapter of @aestromeri and my collab has been uploaded on AO3 💕☕️

You can read it here:

Beautiful art by Cali 🫶💓

[gabbyp09]

[bandgie]

Predator & Prey

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

a/n: 6th and FINAL chapter omg

warnings: somno, fire, biting, blood, dark thoughts from Nyryx, one degrading word said (whore), uhh I think that's it

6.8k words gyyaattttt

Maybe it was your nerves, but you wake up just as the birds start chirping. You could fell Nyryx solid beneath you, his chest softly heaving as he slept. You laid on top of him, your own personal bed. You felt bad that he slept on the cold ground, but his calm, neutral expression showed that he didn't care much. His wings were wrapped around you, keeping the heat in. You smiled.

You gently picked your head up, looking at the early morning sky. There was faint pinkish color against the blueish heavens. It had been so long since you woke up so early. You rarely admire the beauty in the waking sun, but against the snowflakes and cold, white powder makes you cherish the sight.

Though you could easily fall back to sleep, especially with Nyryx under you, you don't. It's your first time being awake before Nyryx. When you traveled in the woods, he would be the one to wake you. It's a weird gift you've been granted on your last morning with him, and you're going to take advantage of it.

You looked back at him, loving how soft his features looked. Nyryx usually had a frown, or contemplating look, but there are no traces of hard lines. Instead his eyebrows are relaxed, mouth slightly open, and eyes closed with long lashes to compliment him. He sleeps peacefully, as though neither of you had sent a village ablaze only hours ago.

Your fingers reach up to trace his details. His skin was a little rough in your fingertips, but you still smiled as you felt him. Nyryx didn't stir in his sleep when you played his with lips, but his nose did twitch. You help back a laugh at the cute movement, instead trailing your hand to his cheeks. You decided to travel a little more down and place your hand on the side of his neck.

You rubbed your hand up and down, and without meaning to, your hips followed the movement. You really didn't mean to touch him with any sexual intent, but you just adore the way he feels under you; How still and compliant his is, another gift you've been given this morning.

You slowly adjust so your knees are on the cold ice below you, straddling him. You shiver when you make contact with the ground, the snow almost burning on your skin. Ignoring it, you shuffle so that you scoot down just barely, face lined with his chest. His wings move unconsciously, allowing you more movement. You kiss his chest in gratitude.

Nyryx doesn't move while you trail your kisses downward, hands holding his sides for balance. You would think such a killer would be on high alert even when asleep. Instead it's you that moves in a predatory way, stalking and slyly moving down his body.

Is this how he feels? You wonder as you take advantage of his unconscious state. Nyryx is the one who's supposed to take you like this, asleep and unaware. You're filled with excitement as you think of your reversal of roles. He must feel a power trip as he hovers over his prey, similar how he is to you right now.

When you reach his trousers, you stop. You're shaking, most likely from the cold, but also from the adrenaline in your veins. If he wakes, you don't know how he'll react. Would he be upset? Mad that you succumbed to your horny feelings? That you bested him in a game he plays most well? Or would he be happy? Would he like that surprise you woke him up with?

After all, this is like breakfast in bed for him.

Coming to your conclusion, you carefully free him of his pants. Pulling down just enough for his semi-hard dick to come out. It's less intimidating seeing him softer than usual. You have a lot more confidence this time when you take the tip of him into your mouth. He's salty, it makes your mouth water on instinct to dilute the taste. After what seems like forever, he moved. Legs opening a little wider to give you more access.

You stick your tongue out in the underside of his dick, tongue messily licking while you sucked on him. It didn't take much effort for Nyryx to grow exponentially, hardening in your mouth with a soft groan. You pull away and stroke him a few times, ignoring how cold your body is getting from being away from him.

You fear for a moment if the wetness between your legs can freeze, but you'll make sure to fix that before you have the chance to find out. Though the outside of your body is burning cold, your insides are burning hot. You swear your arousal alone could warm your entire body, but you'd rather have some of Nyryx's help.

You engulf him in your mouth again, bobbing your head to get some action going. Your hands aren't gentle anymore, they grip at his waist almost possessively. Your rough touch must wake him up at some point, but instead he continues to lie there. His body jolting when you suck his tip harshly, how you move your tongue down to lick his balls, the way your throat closes around him when you gag.

You can feel the spit dribbling down your chin, the saliva that coats your hand when your stroke when you can't fit in your mouth. You can't help but move your whole body when you take him, hips grinding on nothing but cold air. You pop him our of your mouth and you swear you hear him whine when you do.

You shiver as you sit up, discarding your pants and underwear when you do. Before you take your place back on his lap, you place your clothes on a rock near the almost dead fire. You don't want to be sticky having to put cold, wet underwear back on.

Once you finish, you scramble to sit on his lap. The morning cold is almost unbearable, but you're glad there's no wind at least. You take a good look at Nyryx's sleeping face, how it's not contort in what seems like impatience. You grab his hardness again, this time lining it up with you pussy.

You know it would be painful to take him in one sit. Nyryx always made sure to get your cunt doodling before you took him, but now that's all up for you do to yourself. So, despite the want and need you ache for, you grind on his cock. It's weird at first, how his hands are limp besides him, wings fluttering besides you as you hump his dick. Still, you find some disgusting satisfaction with you in control, with you on top.

Maybe you aren't as much of prey Nyryx thinks you are.

You hear the slickness of your pussy as you grind on him, looking down to the strings of essence that connects your bodies. You moan at the sight, giving you motivation to keep using him. After all, you are supposed to be teaching him self control. Who knows? Maybe this is the perfect way for him to get his meal.

You rub your clit on his tip, gasping at the feeling. You could feel every vein and even the crown of his head as you grind on him. You bite your lower lip to keep from moaning loudly, but it's more difficult that you originally thought. You're panting, legs starting to get sore from rutting against him. Still, the heat in your stomach encourages you further.

Your legs tremble as you approach your release, wet sounds emulating from beneath you. You find the strength to look at him, unbelievable seeing his eyes still closed. He has to be faking it at this point. He can't still be sleeping with your wetness on his thighs, his dick. How aggressively you're humping and even smacking your pussy on him.

Your body tenses, your orgasm threatening to spill out of you just before you decide to sit up, pulling away from his dick. You shake and tremble from your self edging, almost curing yourself for not finishing. It doesn't matter though, you would much rather cum with him inside you.

You wobbly adjust so you're actually hovering over him, his tip already leaking from the edging. Nyryx's fists ball up and and relax, body trembling as he fights to keep from thrusting into you in his sleep. Though you're now 100% sure he's not really sleeping. You're quick to catch him briefly open his eyes before he shuts them again. You laugh.

"Nyrryyyxx..." you teasingly sing his voice softly. He pretends not to hear you though, instead keeping his eyes closed and lifting his hips to let you know that you should get back to business. It only makes you laugh more at his eagerness. You reach down and grab the base of his dick, shoving his tip in.

You purposely do it slow, feeling every crevasse and vessel his dick as to offer. You love his irritated face, how he looks at you between his lashes. Though you're completely aware of his consciousness, he maintains his sleep like state. Staying (kind of) still and moaning softly as you push him halfway through inside you.

"I know you're awake, you don't have to pretend," you tell him. Despite being this close to his body, you're freezing. The sun is finally over the horizon, but it's far too early in the day for it to give any actual warmth. "I'm cold," you comment to him. You think it will make him break. Have him wrap his arms or wings around you to shield you.

Instead, he smiles, fangs poking out, "Sit on my cock properly and I'll reward you." You're stunned by his morning voice, how deep and gravely is sounds. Perhaps it's also because you're teasing him with the one thing that gives him life, but that's just a theory.

You push him deeper as you exhale, eyes rolling back at the painful stretch. You can feel yourself fully sit on him, ass to his thigh before he finally lift his wings up. Nyryx quickly wraps then around you, forcing you down on his chest for more heat. You moan at his warmth, inside and outside of you. He lets you adjust to the new position before he thrusts upwards gently.

You whimper, burying your head into his neck from the deep angle. In this position, you're also able to rub your clit on his pelvis. Nyryx also uses his hands to snake around your waist, using is was leverage to fuck up into you.

You bite down in his neck, desperate to not make any noise, but Nyryx is displeased with this. "Louder prey, I wish for the birds to sing your moans." His voice holds authority, and you obey. You had been forced to keep quiet with Nyryx in the spare room, but now there is no one to stop that. Only the trees and morning animals will keep your secret.

You let yourself moan with no restraint when he resumes. Nyryx is loud with his grunt, but they're drowned by the slapping of his skin on yours. All you can do is take it as you entire body is jolted by his movements. Drool pours from your lips when you feel him kiss your cervix, so so deep inside you.

Nyryx doesn't hold back in any aspect. You think he was treating you gently compared to now. He doesn't let the snow under him affect his fucking, not the early morning you woke him up at, not your loud moaning in his ear, nothing. Nyryx is still careful to not accidentally stab you with his talons, they're dangerously close to your stomach and trapped under his wings.

He could easily nick you, tear your pretty flesh open and watch you paint the snow red. Hurting you never gives him pleasure, he hates your sorrowful cries from his doings. It doesn't stop him from taking pleasure in the danger though. Your life is in his hands, literally. He could easily take everything from you. Nyryx could keep you from your world, your family. He could have you every second of the day just by threatening you with his power. He could consume your lust, fear, hatred, every emotion your body has to offer.

Nyryx hates how his thoughts turn wicked, how easy it is to make his delusions a reality. Your pleasureful moans though, pull him out. Goosebumps cross his skin as you cry, waking up every animals that still slumbers. He can feel you twitching, gushing out more lubrication when he reaches down to grasp your ass. He shoves you even harder on his cock. you swear you see stars from the deep penetration.

You're supposed to be teaching him control, but instead he's using you like a cocksleeve. You don't think he noticed that he was also drooling, his eyes turning scary wild as he keep his eyes past you, looking at your bouncing hips. He was mumble something, your name occasionally leaving his lips. You thought he was moaning or praising you, but he almost seemed in a trance.

You grew curious and slightly worried, but all you could was whine when he pushed you deeper on him, gushing your cream all over his cock. His dick must be painted white like the snow that surrounds you, but neither of you will ever know. Not when he keeps fucking into you and spreading your essence between you both.

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back, the noises that leave you are inhumane. Probably even a turn off, but Nyryx takes pride in your moans. You can feel the coil in your stomach, the tingling sensation near your thighs. Nyryx and his creamy cock are quick to notice your closeness, holding you tighter against him so that you could fully feel your clit being rubbed.

You're a babbling mess, not even bothering to properly kiss Nyryx back. All there is between your lips are spit, drool, and clashing teeth. The heat in your stomach builds, almost unbearably before you come crashing down. You sob loudly, feeling your orgasm drip down out of your pussy onto his cock again. Nyryx still beneath you, letting your twitching body come down from your high.

Your cunt is clutching him so tightly, Nyryx couldn't move even if he wanted to. It's not until you go limp against him he decides to move again. It's long before he hears your protests, your whines for him to wait. "Please Nyryx," you gasp. "I-fuucckkkk-you slow down please." Nyryx is riddled with guilt, but your pleas are so beautiful. He wants to keep ignoring you just to hear them more.

Against his primal desires he stops, almost cursing himself. "Just a little longer, prey," he whispers in your ear. "Let me have you." You moan at his words, your sensitive pussy aching for you to listen to him despite the one being abused. You bite your lower lip, eyes meeting his.

Nyryx looks so desperate, so fucked out. You forget that he also goes insane when you fuck, it's unfair for you to use him like you did earlier while not letting him get the same. You nod, eyes dropping to his lips you want to taste so bad. "Okay, but kiss me please," you agree.

Nyryx accepts your terms and condition immediately, tongue slipping in the same time his dick pounds into you. You cry into his mouth, moans unconfined. You can feel how the same pussy that was crying for him ram into it also cry for him to take it out. You don't know how you can take it, the feeling of his cock was too much to bear. Maybe you can't in a way, Maybe it's why you can't help the salty tears you taste on your own lips, the way your hips try to escape his deathly grip.

It doesn't take long for him to resume his violent thrusts, his tip touching the deepest parts of you. Nyryx doesn't stop kissing you, even opting to lick your tears and consume you in anyway he can. He snarls against your lips, a clear indiction of how close he's getting. He's sloppy now, uncaring of how hard he bounces you on him to meet his thrusts. You can taste the sweat on his skin, how it drips and mangles with your kiss, if you can call it that.

Your body trembles from overstimulation. You can feel how your stickiness has completely coated your lower body parts, including his. "Nyryx come, please please I need it," you beg. You do want to feel him come inside, but you also want it to end. You don't want to spray your essence all over the place again. You can't stand the thought.

"Shit, please. Baby I need it so bad, don't stop don't stop," you let a pet name slip you. You're not even sure if he understands the term of endearment, but Nyryx seems to enjoy your dirty talk regardless. "Is that so?" He taunts. "Want my seed deep inside. You are a lucky whore, I don't give it to just anyone."

Nyryx uses you like a rag doll, your body a mere vessel for him to use as he cums. His moan in so animalistic, the bids near by take flight. His warm ropes find their way deep inside you, it fills you to the brim. You moan with him, matching his heavy breathing. Your chests rise and fall together, your bodies in harmony.

Riding out his orgasm, Nyryx gives you a few more thrusts. They're much softer this time, almost lovingly in how he caresses your body. Rather than pulling out, Nyryx let's his cock stay inside you to soften. You're more than happy to comply, feeling your walls envelope him in a wet, warm blanket for him to snuggle in.

Though you both had woken up not too long ago, you were drained. The previous night was cruel, both in sleep and wakefulness. You yawned against Nyryx chest, ignoring the voice that screamed at you to stay awake. To spend every waking moment with Nyryx before night fall came. Your body had different plans though, his seemed to as well. He moved his hand from your ass to tilt your head up, looking at your sleepy eyes.

He placed a tender kiss on your lips, pulling away before either of you could deepen it further. "Rest now prey, you have a journey ahead of you."

-

The remaining day is spent with Nyryx inside you the moment you woke up again. It didn't matter the position, the location, or the weather. He loved being in your mouth, he learned. The feeling of you gagging around him, your dull nails digging into his thighs when he pushed too far 'accidentally.' The best part, however, was when you cried. The silent tears mixing with your spit and his arousal in your mouth. Despite the blissful, almost eager look in your face you still wept.

Not that he cared of course, Nyryx would pull you up to him by your neck. He would kiss you harshly, moaning into your mouth from all the liquids mixed together. He didn't even have to cum from you sucking him off of fucking you, he could lick your sobs away and finish in his trousers.

Though you also loved choking around his cock, you preferred riding him. Sure it was a lot more work (and he would do most of the thrusting anyway), but it was a great way to act like you were in control. The feeling of sinking all the way down on it, being able to maneuver your body so that you could hit all the right parts, the brutal grip on your ass, it was euphoric.

Not to mention how he realized his tail could wrap around your body, giving your clit harsh or soft rubs while his hands stayed on your hips. It was a great way to not only keep balance, but multitask on pleasing you in every way possible. You both loved the view as well. How Nyryx's face would twist in pleasure, his sharp teeth being revealed behind his lips, his dark eyes eating you up in the most vile way.

Nyryx's eyes couldn't leave your body, not when you bounced on him like that. As though you were chasing your own pleasure, that it was the only way you could live despite him being the incubus. Not to mention your tits, how they bounced and pebbled at the cold air around you. It was a fortunate circumstance that Nyryx could produce inhuman heat, and keep his wings around your body so you would stay sick-free.

You didn't feel hungry, completely satisfied with the amount of cum Nyryx poured into your belly. Maybe it was because you just simply didn't have an appetite, you didn't want to waste your time with Nyryx by eating. That didn't seem important to you, not when the demonic being was on top, hips driving into you roughly. You could feel the cold snow on your back, but it was actually soothing on your hot skin.

You were gasping for air, moans spilling out of your mouth when he grabbed your hips to wrap around his waist. With your ass off the ground, it gave Nyryx a better angle to drive into you, dick practically pushing through your cervix. He was going to bruise you for sure, but Nyryx was determined to leave you full of marks. I want you to remember these, he told you. His hips slowed for a second, fingers trailing your purpling skin. Even when you will have left me, these will stay.

Nyryx knows he shouldn't, he knows he should send you back without any suspicion of where you've been. The aftermath of two worlds colliding would be far worse than the humans hunting him, far worse than anything both of your worlds have endured. Still, he can't help himself. Not when you seem more than willing to let him claim you, inside and out.

Nyryx's dipped one of his hands down to your pussy, fingers playing and rubbing on your sopping folds. You arched your back even more, clamping down on his dick. You cried out at this over stimulation, body shaking from the painful gratification he gave you. Nyryx groaned at your tightness, his torso leaning down to place hot kisses on your face. He didn't care if he got your mouth multiple times, only that he got his lips on your flesh.

It was disgusting really, the horrifying way you were crying. Like you were being murdered, like the incubus above you was taking advantage of you as he's supposed to. It didn't help that your hips instinctively tried to get away from him, jolting and pulling away from his own. You gave thanks for the snow and trees drowning out your sound, eating the way you sobbed and the way Nyryx ate you.

When Nyryx came, it was anything but devilish. He looked angelic, his loud moans in your ear, his dominating grip, the convulsing of his body. You took him all, your pussy drinking his release happily. You quivered beneath him, whispering his name like a chant. Nyryx kissed your neck sloppily, ignoring the way you cried when he clamped his teeth harshly on your sensitive skin.

You were tired, so tried that you didn't notice Nyryx laying you down down on the snow. You couldn't feel the burning cold, but you could see Nyryx rushing to grab clothes, your clothes. Wordlessly, he began dressing you. Each leg, one by one through the warm pants. Then to your arm, carefully placing them into the long sleeves before pulling it down your stomach. He reach for your shoes, struggling on the laces before he gave up.

By the time he was done, you realized why he was dressing you. The sun had began going down. The moon was beginning to shine, not to its fullest, but a reminder of the power it was grant Nyryx. A part of you felt like you wasted the day, fucking into oblivion. You should have spoken with him instead, telling him how much you'll miss him, his world, what could have been.

Yet, when Nyryc picked you up, carrying you in the way he liked most, you realized you did communicate to him, and he to you. How his body moved against yours, how you met his thrusts restlessly, the way you kissed, the feeling of not being close enough despite him being in the deepest parts of you. Maybe you didn't talk through words, but you've always been told that the sword is mightier than the pen.

In this case, the sword was very mighty.

You let him walk through the woods, going deeper than what you expected. The trees once beautiful in white became eerily close, as if they were whispering when you walked by. They became tangled within each other, not even the birds dared to rest of their branches. "Where are we going?" you didn't bother hiding the fear in your voice as you asked.

Nyryx kissed your forehead soothingly, taking notice of the quiver in your voice and the increase in your heat beat. "We should be out of sight, no where near humans. If they see what I can conjure, there will be no stopping in the hunt for me. For the others of my kind," Nyryx speaks slowly, as if he's carefully you understand that he doesn't intend on scaring you. It's for both of your safety.

You nod, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Nyryx walked for a long time, filing the silence with questions you didn't expect him to ask. He ranged from asking about your family, if you also worked at a bar back at your world, what Easter was and why boiled eggs was so important. Despite being with Nyryx for over 2 weeks, it was one of the first (and last) times he asked you about your personal life.

It was cute of him, being curious about your life. You answered him happily, occasionally complaining about your troubles that he couldn't help but laugh at. Nyryz wasn't necessarily the talkative type, opting to listen and only really talk when it was naughty. This however, made you recognize that he was nervous. He was just as anxious as you. Nyryx didn't want you to leave, didn't want to say goodbye and never see him again.

Despite being satanically bred, he had obvious human emotions.

The stars were bright in the sky, and you recalled the night in the bathtub, how bright they shone there too. When Nyryx found a spot he deemed worthy, he set you down gently. You sat on a near by rock, dusting off the snow. Just a few feet in front of you, stood two trees. Their roots wrapped around each other as did their branches. The only opening was between their trunks, like a passage way. You knew that on the other side was more snow and more trees, you could see it under the starry sky.

Still, you felt the chill on your spine, the tremble of your legs. It was ghostly, almost, the way the trees ominously intertwined with each other. You looked away, rubbing your neck to feel some type of warmth and settle your uneasiness.

"Is this the portal?" You asked as you kept your eyes down at the snow. Nyryx was clearing the fallen sticks and branches from the ground, seemingly unaffected by the sinister atmosphere. "Yes, it's quite the eye catcher, no?" He smiled. Nyryx could taste your fear, and it was tempting to play into, but he held back. He wouldn't want you leaving pissed off at him.

Instead, Nyryx busied himself with work. He stomped on the uneven snow, attempting to make a steady runway for you to walk on. He gathered his found sticks into 3 piles, small enough to fit into his large hands. You picked your head up, curious at what he was doing. Nyryx paid no attention to your stare, instead taking deep breaths to hone into his energy.

He stood at a distance from his piles, his long fingers creating a shape you couldn't quite see from your place. The silence was deafening, you could practically hear the blood rushing in you veins. "You said there is no magic in your world?" Nyryx voice makes you jump. "Y-Yeah," you compose yourself quickly. "Not real magic at least."

Nyryx looks in your direction, and you shiver. Every fiber in your body is screaming run despite you knowing he is the only person you're safe with. His eyes are full blown black, new red orbs staring into your eyes. His horns are protruding at a length you've never seen before, curving inward at the tip. His wings, even have seemed to grow larger, his wingspan stretching out from him. He gives you a wicked smile, fangs reaching down to his chin, "Then, I suppose it's up to me to show you real magic, prey."

With a loud inhale from his chest, Nyryx turns his head to focus on the sticks. He whispers softly, so lowly you thought it was the wind tickling your ear. Nyryx exhales, strings of fire coming from his mouth that whirlpools into the piles, bringing them to flame. You don't dare to make a noise, not even to gasp when he steps close to the fire. He breaks the formation in his hands to slit his palm with his talons, blood oozing from the wound.

He drips his blood onto the fire, and they seem to grow bigger. Each fire gets so big, that they reach beyond Nyryx's height. They wrap around each other similar to the trees that's your portal, thinning out as they grow taller before bending downwards. The flames start to form a circle around you, Nyryx, and the trees. Your hair whips in your face from the force, the heat so strong, your chest begins hurting from breathing.

"Bleed," Nyryx commands, his voice almost unrecognizable. It takes a second to register that he's talking to you. With a shaky breath you stand, walking to the wall of fire behind you. Your eyes scan for something to prick yourself with, trying to stab your fingernails into your palm to no avail. You don't notice Nyryx's silent steps toward you, you don't notice him until he grabs your wrist. You gasp when he turns you around, taking your wrist into his mouth until he bites down, hard.

You scream when his teeth dig into your flesh, blood pooling from his lips onto the snow. Tears welt up into your eyes, arm aggressively pulling away from his as you slap his chest with the other. Nyryx releases you, but you don't miss the way he cruelly smiles with your blood on his teeth.

He spits into the fire, and it roars in response. You hold your injured arms into your chest, tears spilling while you violently sob. You're scared, you're cold and hot at the same time, your wrist is burning from pain. You're experiencing fear, fear at it's rawest form once again. Nyryx hates himself for taking pleasure in it, your pitiful form practically begging him to soothe you. He can't though, not yet.

The moon brightly shines above you, and it's really the only thing you can find comfort in. Not matter the world, the moon and sun rise and set just the same. The fire travels in circles until it finds its way between the portal of trees, red sticking onto the trunks. You think for a moment that it'll catch ablaze, but instead the fire start turning into a solid. The flames continue to pour into the center of the opening, turning it a blue color.

Nyryx is still besides you, eyes rolled back to his head as he chants softly. Blood starts dripping down his nose, his ears, and you swear you could see it starts seeping through his eyes. With your good hand, you wrap your fingers around his. He grasps your hand desperately, squeezing comfortingly before the final bits of fire create the portal. Now you see why he needed so much energy, animal blood wasn't going to cut it.

It feels like an eternity before silence falls in the woods once again. The roaring fire stops abruptly, leaving you gasping and choking your weeps. Nyryx stumbles backwards, finding balance in your enveloped hands. "Nyryx! Sit down," you voice is laced with concern. He listens though, plopping down on the rock you were sitting on. He still look deadly, even more so with blood all over his face. Though, his horns had shrunk in size, his eyes no longer blood red, but still pitch black.

Nyryx doesn't let go of your hand, holding it close to his face as he leans forward. While you tell him words of comfort and ease at his level, he gathers snow. He tenderly takes your wounded wrist and places the snow on it. You hiss at the pain, but quickly find solace in the numbness. Nyryx kisses you passionately, ignoring your groans of protest from tasing your own blood.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on your forehead, breathing heavily. Before you can start talking again, he places another kiss on your lips.

"Would you believe me if I said that was my first time opening a portal?"

-

You both stood before the portal, it was hazy and blue, giving the impression of the beach you were at. You almost cried when you heard the waves crashing, hand tightening around Nyryx's. It was here, it was real. Home is on the other side, your family is on the other side. You could taste the salt on your tongue already, feel the wind in your face. Nyryx could smell it too, his nose flaring at the sour aroma of the beach.

"Holy shit," you breathed. "I can't believe it's really here." The temperature had drop significantly in the night, your breath fogging as you spoke. You couldn't even tell though, too entranced at the sight. Nyryx nodded, "It is."

You turned to face him, and he to you. Your eyes locked, and before you could get any words out, your cried. Babbling incoherent words while he laughed, bringing you in for a hug. It was awkward as first, his stiff body against your weeping one, but Nyryx quickly found solace against your body as he molded into it.

You didn't want to pull away, but Nyryx did. He held his arms on your shoulders, "You cry so easily. I think that will be what I miss most." You laughed and sobbed at the same time, throat scratching at the mix. You took shuddering breaths, your hands clapping over his, "Will you really be okay? You don't need anything?"

Nyryx hummed thoughtfully at your question, "I would rather you somehow keep you...essence here, but I suppose I'll have to go back to eating pig's blood." You rolled your eyes at him, no longer feeling sorry for the demon. When you released him from your grip to turn to the portal, he called your name.

"Yeah?"

Nyryx held is hand out, a large, black feather in it. His own feather, you don't have to ask to know. You carefully picked it up, holding it up in the moonlight to inspect it. You smiled thoughtfully, holding it tightly in your fingers, "What's this for?" Nyryx thought for a moment, as if he was careful on what he was going to say next. "So you don't forget me," he concluded.

You wiped your tears and cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean? How could I forget you? Or anything that's happened?" You started to laugh, but seeing his serious, solemn expression made you stop. You eyes him cautiously, breath stuttering in your chest. "Nyryx," you started, "I'm not gonna forget anything, right?"

"You should hurry," he ignores your question, "The moon will lose its power. The portal won't hold forever." Nyryx pushes you closer to the portal. You wriggle out of his grasp, whirling to him. "Am I really going to forget everything? This world? The bar? Meredith? You?" Your voice was breaking again, but you tried to not let any tears fall.

Nyryx tensed, and for the first time, he was noticeable scared. "Truthfully, prey...do not have high hopes that you will remember. Not many do, it's what happens when you cross the border between worlds. It's what maintains the balance between us and other worlds." Nyryx wipes the tears that betray your wishes and fall, keeping his hand at your face. His thumb rubs soothingly on your cheek.

"So," you hiccup, "You'll forget me?" Nyryx shakes his head, his lip jutting out into a pout. "No," he confirms. "If I were a human, maybe. But I am already a supernatural being, this will not affect my memory." You nod against his head, trying to find some comfort in his words, at least one of you will remember.

For the last time in your life, in either of your lives, you kiss him. It's gentle, careful. You kiss like he'll break, like he's the purest thing on Earth. He kisses you the same, shivering as he wraps his arms around your torso. You pull away slowly, not missing how his lips chase yours just for a second.

"Thank you," you whisper, not ready to see goodbye. Nyryx gives you a sad smile, his eyes darkening for a second like he's going to cry. "Of course prey. Should we be born again, I hope to spend that life with you. Without being hunted." You laugh at his joke, tears halting from spilling. "Reincarnation? You really believe in that?" You ask.

"Well," Nyryx contemplates, "If it is possible to travel between worlds, I suppose reincarnation is not inconceivable." You tilt your head side to side, also thinking about the thought of being reborn. "Yeah I guess you're right. I also, would spend that life with you, if it exists."

He smiles as you, releasing you from his grip. It takes a second to adjust to the cold again. You ignore how lonely you feel, you step closer to the portal. To the gentle breeze that calls you, begs you to come home.

You take a last look at Nyryx, "So, see you later alligator?"

He looks puzzled at your words, but nods nonetheless, "Yes, but I am not an alligator."

-

You stumble out of the cave disorientated. Your dress stickily clings to you, it's so humid. Your heels find balance on rocks, the sand. It doesn't help that the sun is beating do harshly on you. When did it get so hot?

You can hear your name being yelled in the distance, coming closer. You look up to see your younger sibling running to you, dressed in nice attire like yourself. They have an annoyed look in their face, obviously not as disorientated like you.

"There you are!" They yell, panting. "Mom and dad have been waiting forever! We still have to take pictures come o- what's in your hand?" You quirk an eyebrow, eyes following where your sibling is looking until you see your hand. Between your fingers is a black, gigantic, feather. It swallows light, as if it doesn't want to be seen.

"I dunno," you shrug, eyes still on the feather. When your sibling reaches for it, you pull away, almost protectively. "Hey!" they complain. "I want to see it!" You raise the feather well above your head, a place they can't reach at all. "It's mine, go away," you brush them off.

Your sibling continues to complain, but gives up soon. "Whatever! Hurry up!" They run to your parents without another word. You roll your eyes at them, but you can't shake how you reacted to the feather. You didn't care much about feathers, you didn't even like touching them. So why this one?

You shove the feather into a pocket, deciding not to wonder about your feelings. You made your way to your family, their hands waving you down and shouting for you to hurry up. Surprisingly, you find yourself walking faster, almost fully running to them. Your chest aches, your throat bubbles like you're going to cry. You don't know why, but you're actually happy to take pictures with them.

Despite the overwhelming happiness you feel, a shadow of longing also fills you. You reach in your pocket you squeeze the feather, oddly comforted by it. A weird part of you thinks this mere feather is a gift. From what? You have no idea. Mother Nature perhaps.

You decide that you should keep it. Maybe it's a good luck charm.

a/n: holy shit and thats it. did I check for typos? no! if you see them, no you didn't. thank you for being with my on this journey! I'm pretty rusty from writing, and I feel like I could do a lot better in the future with dialogue and shit, but still, thank you everyone!!!!! I'm thinking about writing like a second part where reader and Nyryx meet in a different life, but I'm debating on different scenarios, I might put out a poll???? anywho yeah, that's that and im totally gonna work on my dead dove I need more gore >:(

taglist: @whatamidoing89, @panda-wolf, @fatgumsbby

update: second part is here

[lis4ux]

Chapter 21/21. I’m sorry, but I do love you

He's in the kitchen, trying to get a glass of water so he doesn't end up throwing up in an hour, when a cute brunette approaches him. Her hair is straight, and she's got a cute face. Her tits are nice, but he only knows that because she's wearing a string bikini top and she's peaking underneath the fabric.

"Hey," she purrs in his ear.

"Sup," he replies, turning back to the sink to drink his water. Over the rim he sees that Kiara and the Pogues are also heading towards the kitchen.

"I saw your race," she tells him, lifting her chest a bit higher, clearly trying to get his attention. "You're pretty good."

"Glad to have a fan," he says with a put on smile.

By this time the Pogues are at the island, and Pope is suggesting they leave. The perky brunette doesn't pay them any attention though.

"I can be more than a fan," she says, pulling his attention away from the group.

Kiara coughs a little at the comment, clearly finding it desperate or some other disapproving way. JJ's eyes snap to her face, but he's not amused. He knows he's supposed to ignore her. He's not supposed to give a shit what she thinks. Problem is, his drunk brain is not the greatest at figuring out how to convey that subtly. Or accurately.

"Least someone is," he says, directly to Kiara.

Kiara looks side to side, like she wasn't sure he was actually talking to her. "What?"

"Don't know why this is any of your business."

Pope and John B flank him, trying to settle him down. He's not hearing anything they have to say though.

"It's not," Kiara says, turning her face from confused to defensive. "Do whatever you want."

"Thanks, not like I need your permission," he snaps back.

"What is your problem?" she argues, crossing her arms. "I have literally done nothing to you all night and you're being a dick."

Yeah, that's accurate. He knows that. He knows she's right. But being right isn't the point.

"I don't have a problem," he disagrees. "I know EXACTLY what I want, unlike some people."

"Yeah, okay, I can tell," she responds with snark. "Go on, go fuck her," she says, waving a hand in the direction of the very confused girl.

It makes his blood boil. The indication that that's all he wants. That he'd settle for less than what he's staring at right now. Irritated that she could ever think there would be a suitable alternative to her.

Does she actually want him to go with that girl? Does she really not give a shit? It's hard for him to believe that, but what other choice does he have? But just so he's super clear, and there is no confusion about anything, he pops off.

"I don't fucking want HER.”

Read the final chapter on AO3

[gun-roswell]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV), The Dead Boy Detectives (DC Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU), Original Characters Additional Tags: Fan Events and Prompts, Painland, Painland week, painlandweek, Short Ficlets and Tales, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Fun, Confessions, Domestic, Sicfic, casefic, Soulmates, AU, ghosts! Series: Part 1 of Painland Week, Part 4 of Tales of the Dead Boy Detectives Summary:

The week long fan event for the Dead Boy Detectives series:

Painland Week prompts Day 1 (5 Aug) - Language of love / Sickfic Day 2 (6 Aug) - Myths / Legends Day 3 (7 Aug) - Love confession / First kiss Day 4 (8 Aug) - Domestic AU Day 5 (9 Aug) - Canon divergence / Casefic Day 6 (10 Aug) - Freeday Day 7 (11 Aug) - Soulmate AU / Crossover

Summary: A combination of very short ficlets as picked from the prompt list for the Painland Week event.

Tales of Edwin and Charles stumbling about in their ghostly lives, trying to figure out where they belong in each others existence. Or rather non-existence.

Part of the Painland Week / Tales for the Dead Boy Detective series

@painlandweek​