i keep looking at the vein

there’s dozens of stories about some kid from our world falling into a different, magical one,  being the chosen one or the close companion of the chosen one and saving the world, and then going home where they’re delighted to see their family again and have a new appreciation of their own life. but what about someone who didn’t miss it? what if you save the world and you’re given your medal and stripped of the magic you learned and put back in a world you never missed? and you’re furious.

maybe you gave up a few years of your life. you have callouses and muscles and a few scars and maybe a missing eye or something. you definitely have some blood on your hands. you might have PTSD you can’t talk to anyone about. and suddenly you’re fifteen again, in a body that’s too soft and too short and too complete. you’re always cold because there’s no magic burning in your veins anymore, and even as you grow up the feeling of not fitting doesn’t go away because when you look in the mirror at eighteen you look all wrong: this is not what youre supposed to look like at eighteen. the sky clouds and you rub at the phantom ache of injuries this body never received. you wake up screaming sometimes remembering the sorcerer who burnt your hand to ashes, or the final battle you almost didn’t make it through, or the moment you felt the magic in you go out.

but here’s the thing: they took you and made you into a weapon that was determined enough and powerful enough to save a whole world. they can put you back where they found you but they can’t undo everything. and there’s this, too: the place between worlds clings to you. you can’t tease fire out of the air but you can feel the pull of the doorways all the time, although none of them so far go to your world.

but you try to make it work for a decade, anyway. you’re dutiful. but one night you leave work late and for the thousandth time you catch yourself searching the sky for firebirds. and you break. of the three portals within five hundred miles, one is a howling, frozen wasteland and one is a deep violet void, but one opens into a misty forest that you step into and don’t look back. it’s not your world, but if you keep going long enough, you’ll get there.

(and maybe much, much later, hundreds of worlds later, you climb through a window, or a door of woven branches int he middle a field, or push aside a curtain, and as you set foot on new land you feel the fire in your veins and sparks at your fingertips and finally, finally, you’re home)

Praise Kink

In which Harry is incredibly nervous and y/n knows just how to calm him down.

A/N: WELL I did it. Barely.  I managed to get this finished before Harry’s single dropped so that I’ll be able to freak out in peace tonight.  I hope you enjoy because this is… kinda filthy.  LOVE YA BUY SIGN OF THE TIMES ON ITUNES!

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Victory

K A I R O S | 05 |

/ˈkīräs/

(n.) the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement

An arranged marriage AU.

Paring: OT7.
Genre: fluff, angst, a lot of suggestive parts and eventual smut.
Waring: Mild sexual content
Word count: 6.1k
Author’s note: Part 5 is the final chapter, I am discontinuing the series. An ending post with a summarized ending will be posted along with a short explanation as to why I’m discontinuing. Overall, thank you for reading guys!

Parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (M) |

“But mom, I’m not going to live with a bunch of strangers-!”

“I had the maids pack your things last night, your bags are outside.”

//

Cliche is underrated.

Especially when you just got kicked out of your own house by your ever so loving parents to stay with seven boys you’ve only heard notorious things about.

Oh, and you’re supposed to pick one to marry by the end of next month

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Your god can’t help you now

Originally posted by thefacesofdeath

*GIF not mine, but let’s take a moment to thank his parents please”

Masterlist

Request: @yummyfanta

Hiya! Love your work as I’m completely obsessed with Vikings rn especially since the sons are in ;) May I request where reader is a saxon lady in Ecbert’s castle and she is engaged to maybe Alfred but she and Ivar become lovers while he is held prisoner? Maybe right at end Ivar comes back with his bros to claim back his woman? Thanks love :)

Yeah i know i just said i would change the plot and i probably will do, or you’ll get a new request if you wont to love! IM so sorry i messed up your request after you’ve been waiting for sooo long! :(( Anyhow im an indecisive little shit and decided to post it anyway. And don’t worry this will get a part two, because i simply loved the idea, but i wanted to wait until the last episode to make it more correct (if you guys can understand my bad explaining)! 

- And 1 last note for my fellow Hvitserk trashes out there, part 5 is right around the corner ;) i think

Warnings: The devil is working hard, but im working harder aka NSFW

Wordcount: 4.958 (and this is only part 1 omg)


I lifted the fork to my mouth, slipping the pice of meat of it. The tough consistency making it hard to chew it, so i let some of the sour wine aid me in swallowing it down. It was silent. Only the quiet steps of the servants and the harsh cutting from my husband-to-be. He was obnoxious, tense, always on guard now days - ever since the news of the pagans arrival. Myself had always thought the subject of these dangerously intriguing, hearing stories of their savage ways. The king had even told me stories about how they had several gods. But what i had liked most with them was how a woman was allowed such power. Such freedom. They where not enslaved and own by their men, something i’ve always dreamt of. 

But i wasn’t going to complain. I had more freedom than most women of my country had, thanks to my king - or my sister. Ever since she had gained the favor of king Ecbert, her life and mine had dramatically improved - but for how long?

The king was getting older each day and how knows how long it will be before my fiancee is crowned instead. And with his crowning as king, or freedom is sure to vanish once again. 

“Prince Aethelwulf! My prince!”

The loud outburst from one of is foot soldiers broke the silence, immediately catching my fiancee’s attention.

“What?” he answered impatiently. 

I felt myself growing more impatient by the second. With such hurry the shaken soldier had, it must be something important. 

“They’re here. The pagan king is here.”

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simon imagine: i love you, and that’s a wrap

REQUESTED:  ‘i really want an imagine when y/n is really happy with Simon and stuff but then like one day it hit her, she notices all these little things that tell her that he doesn’t love her anymore and then she finds out that he’s cheating and smth like that’

The entire house was silent. Nobody dared to speak. To move, to breathe. Tension filled the air, a thick, vicious substance. The marble of the kitchen island was the only thing separating me and him.

He sat across from me, his eyes focused on the surface in front of him. I kept mine glued to him. 

“How long for, Simon?”

He pulled his lip beneath his teeth, chewing the skin, still not looking up at me. I waited patiently for an answer. My legs shook discreetly against the bar stool; I wasn’t sure if this was down to nerves, or just plain anger. Anger seemed easier to come to reason with.

“I don’t know, Y/n.”

“Bullshit.” I cut him off, my tone full of toxicity. Simon was visibly taken aback. His eyes closed, as if he had just been hit in the face. I silently begged myself to keep up the anger act, knowing this would help the conversation massively. I wanted him to believe that was all I was: angry. 

“Y/n why do you even want to know? How will that information help you in any way?” He bit back with the same poisonous tone, his stubborn ways shining through. 

“Because I want to know Simon, can you not even offer me that decency?”

“Fine Y/n you wanna know! Six months, that’s how long! That better?”

“Six months?”

“Six fucking months. Better?”

My blood ran cold through my veins as realisation hit. I looked him deep in his eyes. “Six months ago…that was when we had the conversation. When I told you I felt like you didn’t love me anymore.”

His face softened, lips parting slightly. He looked up finally, making eye contact and suddenly all the anger subsided. 

“No, Y/n, I swear-”

“I was right wasn’t I?” My voice was soft, surprisingly calm but audibly hurt. “You fell out of love with me then, didn’t you?”

“No, Y/n, I didn’t fall out of love with you then.” It was his turn to hurt. He mirrored my tone, sounding hoarse and uncomfortable. 

“But you fell in love with her.”

Again he focused on the island, breaking the eye contact. I let my eyes flutter shut. It felt as if somebody had sucker punched me in the chest. I wanted nothing more than to climb over the counter and hit him, and then hug him, and tell him I hate him but tell him I love him too. I envisioned that conversation six months ago, how we sat by the fireplace, how I opened myself up to him in all my vulnerability. I wanted to run back in time and sit by my past self, tell her to run, run as fast as she possibly could. I wanted to be the Y/n from seven months ago, before it all went down hill. But in this moment, I am not Y/n from seven months ago, and Simon isn’t Simon from seven months ago and we are nothing but two broken, incompatible souls sitting across from eachother at a table. 

“Did you love her?”

“Y/n, please-”

“Simon answer the question. Did you love her?”

He inhaled, closing his eyes. “Not at first.”

“But you grew to.”

“Yes.”

“More than you loved me?”

Laying astray on the table in front of him, his phone vibrated, breaking the silence. He looked up at me immediately and I laughed. 

“That’s her, isn’t it?”

“Y/n are you sure you want to do this-”

“Answer me Simon.”

He stared at the phone, not touching it as the vibration died out slowly. His voice was merely a whisper. 

“Yes.”

“Simon did you ever really love me?”

“Y/n are you serious?” Again he looked up at me. His sea blue eyes were glassed over with tears, presumably a mixture of guilt and regret. His voice was louder, filled with passion and shock but still hoarse. “Of course I fucking loved you! You were the first person I ever loved, my first girlfriend, the first girl I introduced to my parents. How could you even ask that? I loved you with my everything.”

It was my turn to avoid his eye as I looked down, watching a single tear splash onto the marble. My lips trembled, chest aching. 

“So what changed your mind?”

“I don’t know, Y/n,” he sniffed, his head turning away, looking around the room. “I wish I knew.”

“Simon,” I whimpered. My entire careless, angry act shattered around me as I hugged myself, wrapping my own arms around me in an act of comfort, something I’d been doing since I was about five years old. “Is it my fault? Is there anything I could’ve done to change your mind?”

“No, Y/n please don’t blame yourself this isn’t your fault.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough Simon?”

I collapsed into tears, putting my head in my hands. Never had I been more ashamed of myself. I wanted to be rude, angry, spiteful, maybe even hateful. I wanted to come here, cuss him out and then leave him speechless and full of regret as I walked away. But instead, I crawled back into his arms, my mascara stained tears staining his t-shirt. I was broken and I knew it. Simon was everything I had ever wanted, and everything I would continue to want for the rest of my life. More than anything I wanted to fight for him - after all, if you don’t fight for what you want, you cry for what you lose - but deep down, I knew it was useless. I would be fighting a losing battle.

I think that hurt the most. Physically I was in Simon’s arms, but mentally he wasn’t here. Mentally he was with her. He had walked out of the door a long, long time ago.

Y/nickname you were enough, you were always enough I swear to fucking God. The problem isn’t you not being enough, it’s me being too much. I’m fucked up, I’m disloyal, I’m a cheat. And you deserve more than that.”

A tear landed in my hair, this time not one of my own. As he held me I became more and more aware of how alien the warmth felt. In fact, it didn’t feel like warmth at all. It was cold, and sad, and lonely. This wasn’t my home anymore and I knew it.

“Simon,” I pulled away, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. “I have to go.”

“Please, you can’t leave like this, this can’t be the last image I have left of you in my mind.” He let the tears flow freely and I bit my lip to hold mine.

“I’m sorry Simon. I need to go,” I picked my bag up off the floor, heading towards the kitchen door. As I reached it I turned to face him.

“I really hope she was worth it, Simon. I hope you change for her. I hope when you hold her it feels so warm, and so right, and so happy. I hope she appreciates your hold because every time you hold her she’s sitting comfortably in the only place I ever called home. I hope she really makes you happy, Simon.”

I wished I meant my words to be bitchy and spiteful, but I didn’t. I meant them to be genuine. Because that’s what happens when you love somebody; you want the best for them. Even if that best isn’t you. 

With bloodshot eyes he looked back at me.

“I love you, Y/n.”

I shook my head. “No you don’t, Simon.”

Freakshow

Originally posted by juptern

|Imagine being the new girl that captures Jughead’s interest with your writing because you were partnered off in English and he did a peer edit for your paper. You go to Pop’s and discuss what’s been going on in Riverdale and his story. Reggie’s a jerk but what’s new|


“That’s a little creepy, suicide squad.” Reggie mocked from the booth across from you. 

You felt Jughead shift beside you as if he was uncomfortable. He had probably been too caught up in the ideas you were suggesting to realize the diner was no longer empty.

A glare settled onto your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recall asking for an opinion from someone with a horrible personality and an IQ as low as yours.” You spoke in a confused tone, remembering what an asshole the guy had been to Jughead earlier that day.

Your eyes settled back on your laptop, ignoring Reggie sliding into your booth, uninvited.

“I know you’re new but you don’t have to sit with the freak. It’ll be something you regret. Especially when he runs out of ideas and you suddenly wind up in a ditch.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, annoyance filling your veins. “I have a strong feeling you’d wind up in a ditch before I ever did. I mean, thanks for your concern, though.”

Reggie’s hand darted up, closing your laptop as he looked up at you with a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m serious, he doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t know how to keep them.”

“Oh yeah, because you really know how to have friends, Reggie? Every friend you have came from your ability to toss a ball. People can barely tolerate you, it’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it? Are you pissed because you couldn’t get a date? You’re tying to talk to the one person in this town who doesn’t know how pathetic you are and you’re still getting rejected?” Jughead snarked, dryly.

Your hand darted out protectively when Reggie surged forward in the booth but Reggie was pulled back almost instantly.

Jughead was staring at the ginger who had a grip on Reggie with a conflicted expression that made you curious.

“You really don’t want to have to pay for breaking a table.” The ginger reasoned, pushing Reggie away from the booth.

You had let out a soft sigh of relief when you were left alone with Jughead.

“So, was he trying to insult me or befriend me?” You question in an amused tone.

“He probably doesn’t even know the answer to that.”

You made a noncommittal noise, turning his laptop to face you, your eyes scanning over what he had written earlier today.

Originally posted by justjensenanddean

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: Swearing, mild dirty talk, smut. I have no shame.
Note: Happy late Valentine’s Day; here’s some smut. I didn’t proofread this, so sorry in advance for any errors.

Dean’s wearing that coat again. 

You tried not to stare when he came out of the motel room earlier in the morning, but– okay, you’re only human. 

The worst part is – well, not the worst part – is that he knows how good he looks in it. The whole day he’s been sauntering around, that goddamn smirk on his face, and you can’t decide if you want to punch him, or kiss him.

(You definitely want to kiss him)

“Gotta hit up the library, kid.” He says, getting back in the Impala after he talked to a witness. “We should find out more about the history of that house.”

“Uh huh.” You agree, distracted as you watch him loosen his tie and pull off his coat.

He snaps his fingers in front of you. “Are you listening to me?”

You snort. “You sound like my Mom.”

He glares. “That’s hilarious.”

Dean pulls away from the curb and you watch as he glances in the mirrors and rests his right wrist on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the window. That’s another thing – whenever he wears this coat, he ends up getting too warm and takes it off halfway through the day, leaving him in a dress shirt with the sleeves inevitably rolled up. Another favorite Dean look.

You’re trying not to stare at the veins on his arms, you really are, but they’re right there

Keep reading

I looked at my hand and saw lines that could travel for miles and veins that made me look like I’ve lived for longer than my 20 years. I looked in the mirror and this time I really looked at my face. What stared back at me was deep dark brown eyes that looked as if their only job was to keep the universe together. I saw lips of truth and love, ears that were humble and empathetic. Without a doubt these last 20 years have taught me about beauty and love, but my god, I’ve never felt more beautiful than that day that I really looked at myself. I’ve never felt more love than that day that I really decided to love myself.
—  what a day it was
What Did I Do To Deserve You?

As requested a while back, Daddy kink Logan, i have sinned.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: Smut, pure smut. its just porn bro, oral sex (both recieving) fingering, DaddyKink!Logan,  heavy snoggin’. face-sitting, praise, worship, etcetc.

A/N: GIF isn’t mine

~

The moonlight shone through the window of your room, the white and blue rays illuminating the pale sheets of the bed. The night was young, winter, only 7 in the evening.

You sauntered over the room towards the window pane, dressed in only a t-shirt and panties, your hair still damp from your shower and a book in hand. You had gone through all of the ones on your shelf and this was the last one left unread: The Double.

The moon was full, the sky was clear and it had only a few stray clouds, a clear, rain-free night nonetheless. You always wondered what space was like, personally, the feeling of weightlessness and silence surrounding you, the earth behind you as you floated far away.

You looked back to see the sleeping and lightly snoring Logan sprawled out on your bed, still in his combat gear from the previous mission he came back from earlier in the evening.

He looked so at peace, so gentle and quiet.

As you sat next to him on the soft mattress, you set your book on the bedside table. Lifting a gentle hand to his forehead, you brushed some stray hairs from his face, gliding your fingers against his soft skin.Logan grunted as he fluttered his eyes open and smiled once he saw you.

Rolling onto his back, he winced.

“What’s wrong baby? Are you injured from the mission?”

Logan grunted whilst nodding his head. “I uh, I feel a pulling sensation in my shoulders and back, doll, could you help me get this shit off please?” He muttered, motioning to his combat vest and trousers.

“Of course, honey, do you want me to run you a hot shower afterwards?” You asked, your fingers deftly unzipping everything that was unzippable.

“Mhm, please, sugar,” Logan mumbled before placing an innocent kiss to your plump lips.

Fast forward to 20 minutes, Logan had been in the shower for about half that time. You occupied your time by reading more of the book in your palms. You were so engulfed that you didn’t notice Logan sauntering out of the bathroom.

What you DID notice was the towel hanging so low on his waist he may as well have not worn it at all. You licked your lips at the sight of the hair on his torso, trailing all the way from the v of his hips to his chest.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.” Smirking, he placed a hand on the edge of the towel, tugging it down a little, the glistening of his wet body making you bite your lip at the thought of what lay underneath.

“Can’t I admire the art?” You smiled up at him, placing your book onto your bedside table once again. You ushered him to come and sit on the bed, he winced at the feeling of his muscles stretching.

“How about a massage?”

“What did I do to deserve you, sugar?” You giggled at the little nickname, raising to your knees and kneeling behind him. You started to knead his muscles, placing light little kisses in your wake. You hit a certain spot near his shoulder blade which made him groan.

“Mm, it feels so good Y/N. Please keep going.” You felt a pang of heat between your thighs as he kept sighing and groaning, the odd curse coming out then and there.

As your fingers kneaded the muscle between his neck and shoulders, Logan whipped around and captured your lips in a searing kiss which would have made your knees buckle and collapse if you were standing.

“You’re my rock, you know that, sugar?” He smiled against your lips. Logan laced his fingers through your hair as he laid you down on the bed, his free hand coming to nudge your knees apart so he could snake his way in between them.

“So, so beautiful, and all mine, all mine.” You whimpered as he started to place agonizingly slow kisses down your neck, the mixture of tongue and teeth making you arch your back and raise your hips. You felt the growing hardness of him grinding against your heat, and the sensation made you moan.

“Oh, Jesus…”

“Jesus can’t save you now, kitten. Now would you be a good girl for me and stay still for me? Can you do that?” You nodded at him, “I need you to use your words baby.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hummed planted wet kisses down your lithe body, skimming the curves of your waist and hips and thighs, you let out small moans and whines as Logan’s lips skipped past your sex, he was always such a fucking tease.

“You want these off, princess?” You looked down and saw his index finger curled over the band of your panties, pinging them twice against your hip bone.

“Please,” You keened.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Daddy.” your fingers raked through the soft tresses of his hair. Your hips writhe upwards as he pulled the fabric down your thighs tantalizingly slow. As they got to your calves, Logan raised to his knees and bent your legs upwards, kissing along your skin, worshiping you.

“You can get these back later…” Logan spread your legs with one hand as the other tossed your panties across the room, you giggled as you watched them land on a lamp on your desk whilst feeling your boyfriend’s lips against your collarbone. You felt the hard line of Logan’s cock underneath his towel, and you bucked your hips upwards but stopped.

“I wanna please you tonight, I wanna make tonight about you, can I?” Your voice was lower than a whisper, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch against the pressed up fabric of the towel. Logan raised his head and kissed you fervently, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip, coaxing you to open your mouth, so you did. As you felt is tongue stroke against yours, you both let out moans, the vibration sending shocks of warmth down to your core,  making you ground your hips against his.

“Anything you want, my love,” Logan mumbled against your lips, you pecked him lightly and used your strong thighs to roll him over and straddle him, his hands resting at the curve of your waist

“What am I allowed to do, Daddy?” You batted your eyelashes at him as you stroked his broad chest, your hands drifting lower and lingering over the edge of his towel.

“Like I said angel, anything you want…” He bit his lips as you shifted down his legs, tugging the bath towel off of his hips.

His cock sprung up and you licked your lips, taking him in your soft hands. You stroked him up and down for a few seconds before lowering your mouth to his tip, softly licking the head. He groaned lowly as his fingers laced through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his length. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked on his tip, slowly flicking your tongue against him.

You popped him out of your mouth, looking up at him through your lashes as you licked a long stripe from base to tip and you watched him groan loudly and throw his head back.

“That’s my good girl, get my cock all wet baby, show me how nasty you can be, hmm?” At his word you spat on his cock, making him wet and lubricated as you lowered your head onto him some more. You relaxed your throat and took all of him in, deep-throating him.

“Oh Y/N, baby, that feels so good, you naughty little minx.”

You looked at him through your lashes again, seeing him biting his lip as you reached your small hand up to his balls, massaging them carefully as you kissed up and down his shaft again, lightly sucking at the underside, right on top of the thick vein.

“You like that, Daddy? Am I doing good?”

“Y-Yes baby, fuck, oh God, fuck- k-keep doing that, I love it when you suck my cock like this, princess. Such a good girl for your daddy…” You moaned at his words, the wetness between your legs slowly sliding down your thighs and you reached down to tease your clit, moaning once more and earning a choked whimper through Logan’s lips as the vibrations went through his cock.

“I’m gonna cum baby, where do you want it?” You hummed and took all of him in your mouth, licking and sucking as you kept bobbing your head up and down. You suddenly felt a hot, thick liquid enter your mouth, swallowing it down- trying not to gag at the salty and sweet taste.

You released him as a little bit of cum dribbled from your lips and onto your chin, Logan leaned up and wiped it with his thumb and brought it to your mouth. You suckled on his thumb, collecting everything that he had on it. He placed a delicate but passionate kiss upon your lips again, the erotic taste of himself lingering on his tongue as he pulled away.

“Oh Y/N, what did I do in my life to deserve you in my life, hmm? C'mon, I want to do something new.” He gripped your hips in his large hands, squeezing and massaging.

“W-What is this ‘new thing’ Daddy?”

“Sit on my face, baby, I know you wanted tonight to be about me, so let me do this one thing, please?”

“O-Okay, um, could you…?” Gesturing to his hands, silently asking him to help you up onto his level.

As your pussy hovered over his face, you felt his short breaths fan over your heat, making you gasp. Logan smirked at your blushing state and lowered your hips down, connecting his mouth to your wet pussy.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, “so wet for me, sugar, is this all for me?”

“Y-Yes!” You gasped as you felt a large hand spank you lightly on your ass and his soft tongue running lightly up and down you folds.

“Yes what, Y/N?”

“Yes, Daddy I-oh, fuck. More please, please Daddy!”

Logan held you in place with his hands on your ass, dragging you down onto his face as his tongue darted out to lick you and taste you. You moaned Logan’s name at the feeling of his wet tongue drawing circles against your clit, which earned you a hard spank to your ass cheek again.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not my name at the moment baby girl, what is it? Hmm?” He kept lightly spanking you until you could form the strength to speak through the intense pleasure of his tongue.

“D-Daddy, oh, fuck!” You shouted as you felt Logan’s wonderful tongue probing against the entrance of your pussy. He licked lightly at your labia, sucked hard on your clit and it made you grind your pussy hard onto his face, you realised what you had done and jolted your hips back, but Logan’s strong hands kept them in place.

You let out something between a sharp moan and a whine as you felt one cool, calloused finger nudge your pussy lips apart, sliding slowly inside and curling against your g-spot.

“Hnng, you like that baby? Hmm?”

"F-Fuck yes, Daddy, I love it so much, please k-keep going!” You cried out as you felt Logan suck hard on your clit whilst he inserted another finger into your throbbing heat, both probing against your g-spot.

“You gonna cum, kitten? My beautiful Y/N is gonna cum, isn’t she?”

With his hoarse words and the flicking of his tongue against your bundle of nerves, you let the coil in your lower stomach unravel and you became a moaning, arching, grinding mess. You came so hard you had to bite down on your arm to stop from screaming the whole tower down, leaving teeth indents on your tanned skin.

Logan assumed your legs had gone weak, so he used his strong arms to lift you up and place you on his lap, stroking your hair and kissing your neck and face as you gained a steady breathing pattern once more, slightly gasping when your wetness rubbed against his still-hard cock.

“How do you feel, baby? Did that feel good?” He whispered, his lips ghosting against yours.

“Mmm, yes Daddy, I-I loved it. Thank you, can I kiss you?” You whispered, earning a 'mhmm’ from him. You connected your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You began to subconsciously roll your hips, trying to find more friction, you were wet and still so aroused you could cry.

“You want my cock, Y/N? Does my baby girl want her Daddy’s cock inside of her wet, warm, tight little pussy? You want it rough or soft, kitten? Hard or slow? Tell me, sweetheart.” Logan growled and tugged at the collar of your t-shirt, attacking your neck with his teeth and tongue, his dominance making you turn into putty in his hands.

“I-I don’t know, whatever feels- oh, that feels so good!” You hissed as Logan bit down hard onto the patch of skin between your shoulder and neck, he tapped on the fabric of your t-shirt, asking permission to take it off, and you lifted your arms in consent. His mouth assaulted your collarbones, kissing down your chest as his hands squeezed your breasts, his tongue flicking across each nipple with wanton need.

You rolled over onto your back, Logan’s muscular frame hovering above yours and pinning your arms above your head with one hand as his other tickled down your body, earning some happy giggles from your lips.

“Lo-Daddy, t-that tickles- ah!” He chuckled with you, pressing his lips everywhere from your face to your neck to your chest. You let out a content sigh when his fingers stopped dancing against your skin and instead started stroking your wet folds, preparing you for the thick cock that was yet to fill you up.

“You want my thick, hard cock inside you, Y/N? You want me pushing you to the edge, making you cum so hard you scream my name?” You nodded as you bit your lip, his tip slotting in your entrance. “I need you to use your words, kitten, speak up.”

“Yes, Daddy, I want your cock inside me, I want to cum so hard around you, I want you to abuse my pussy, mold it into the shape of your cock, please,” You writhed against him, your hips bucking against his cock, wanting more, more, more.

As Logan slid his cock all the way in, you both let out moans and groans. The feeling of being filled with your boyfriend’s thick cock almost made you cum then and there, but the non-existent movement of his hips helped you calm yourself.

“Go slow, please Daddy…” At your words, Logan moved on queue, his hips creating a slow rocking motion, the curve of his cock rubbing against THAT spot, your bodies moved against each other like waves, one of his hands were in your hair, tugging very lightly, and the other was on your hip, keeping you in place as he fucked slowly into your wet heat.

You let out a low moan as he slid all the way out and slammed back into you, hard. Logan kept his slow pace until you wrapped your legs against his hips, your ankles digging into his ass, bringing him closer, he ground against you, the soft stubble in his pubic area rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

He started to quicken his pace, the wet slapping of skin and your heavy breaths and light moans filling the room. The wet squelching sound of his cock sinking deep inside you at a fast pace made your pussy quiver around him, earning a loud groan to rip from his chest. He licked and sucked on your neck, leaving small hickeys here, there and everywhere.

“F-fuck, princess, Daddy wants to take you from behind, can he do that?” You nodded as you looked into his eyes, his pupils stretched so wide he barely had any iris left.

He slipped his cock out of your abused pussy, lightly spanking it with his cock, “You gonna be a good little girl, Y/N, and take Daddy’s cock from the back? You gonna let Daddy fuck you doggy style, hm?” His voice was gruff and hoarse as you clambered onto your hands and knees.

“Spread your legs, sweetness, Daddy wants to see that pretty pink pussy of yours.” You opened your legs and immediately felt Logan’s deft fingers part your folds, teasing your slit and spreading your slick from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp and Logan your hips backwards against his fingers as he slowly pumped them in and out only once.

You felt Logan’s thighs press against yours as he lined himself up to your entrance once more, his hand on the soft skin of your back, urging you to arch your back.

He started a slow pace again, his cock pumping in and out of you at a torturing speed, you felt every vein of him throb inside your wanton pussy, your muscles slightly spasming around his girth. Logan started to shift his hips a little faster, leaning over and curling his fist into your hair, yanking backwards as his hips started to slam roughly into yours.

He pulled you up by your hair, his hand wrapping around your throat and the hand in your hair snaking around your hips to toy with your throbbing, engorged clit.

You moaned at all of the sensations.

“You like it when I choke you?” His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, making your eyes roll back as the pleasure spread through your whole body. “You like it when Daddy abuses your pussy, making you scream and moan and squirm?”

“Y-Ye-s!” You choked out, feeling your orgasm rising. Logan spanked you so hard you knew your ass would be a pretty red for the rest of the week.

“Yes, what?” You felt his plump lips move against your earlobe as he growled the words.

“Y-yes DADDY! AH!” Logan spanked your clit lightly, making another jolt of intense pleasure roll through your body, goosebumps rising at the new feeling.

He raised a hot hand to your breasts, tweaking both hard nipples one at a time before moving his fingers against your clit again, drawing hard and slow circles around the sensitive nub.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum!” You gasped.

“Then cum, my sweet Y/N, I’m right behind you, ahh, fuck, baby.”

A few spanks to your clit and you were a goner, your hands braced on the headboard as your pussy quivered and contracted against Logan’s thick cock. White spots started to flash before your eyes and your breathing hitched. You soon heard Logan’s loud groans as he shot thick ribbons of hot cum inside your core.

As you came down from the euphoric feeling of your mind blowing orgasm, Logan slipped his slowly softening cock out of your hole, bringing you to curl up against his chest as he laid down, his rough hands rubbing your soft skin.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl. I love you so much, Y/N.” You turned around to face him, your hands stroking against the stubble on his jaw.

“I love you too, Logan, now let’s get some rest before the sun rises.”

Come Home (Feysand Angst)

A hurtful comment said in the heat of the moment leaves Feyre miserable and alone. Rhys, wounded and angry, departs for a diplomatic mission before Feyre can tell him something important. As the months wear on and Feyre hears nothing but silence from the other end of the bond, her condition deteriorates. Will Rhys return home in time? Or will he be too late?

Word Count: 2664

Read on AO3

………………………………………………………………

“Rhys, please, don’t go,” I plead.

“Feyre darling, it’s only for a couple of months. I just need to sort a few things out with the different courts now that the war is finally over.”

“Then at least take me with you! I’m your High Lady, I–”

“Exactly. You’re my High Lady,” he says, interrupting my pleas. He takes my hands gently in his and looks into my eyes with love. “You’re needed here, to sort out matters in our own Court.”

“You’re just coming up with excuses to keep me here,” I say, ripping my hands out of his. Rage is coursing through my veins like fire. “If you trap me here without you, you’re just like him.” That’s when I know I’ve stepped too far. Rhys takes a step back, in both anger and shock. I can feel the walls between our minds start to build.

“I am nothing like him, and you know it,” he snarls, his wings folding behind his back as if he can protect them from my words. “I told you a long time ago to stop making that comparison. Even if part of the reason I want you to stay here is for your own protection, I am not locking you up. I am not keeping you in this house. You are free to come and go as you wish. Visit the House of Wind. Visit Mor. Visit Amren.” He runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace in front of me. “The other High Lords are still wary of your powers, I don’t want anything happening to you–”

“I can take care of myself! I thought the war would’ve proved at least that,” I protest. My hands are beginning to tremble with nerves, and I clasp them behind my back to hide my distress from Rhys. This argument is bringing back unpleasant memories from my times at the Spring Court…my times with Tamlin. Rationally, I know that Rhys is not Tamlin. He would never be Tamlin. But today is not a rational day. Panic swells in my chest and my heart begins to race.

“I know darling, of course I know you can take care of yourself. But this is the first diplomatic trip since the end of the war, and I just want to feel things out first, there will be plenty of over trips for you to go on.”

“Rhys, please. I don’t care what the other High Lords think of my powers, they must know if they try to hurt me–”

“NO, Feyre.” Rhys stops pacing and growls at me with frustration. I flinch back. My blood is racing through my veins. I can hear my panicked heartbeat in my ears.

Da-dum.

Da-dum.

Da-dum.

Da-dum.

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You Are Not My Mother Part 1

A/N: This was a random idea that came to me in the middle of the night. I woke up out of a dead sleep and had to write it down before I forgot it. I’m considering turning this into a series. Let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated (even if you only click the like button. It means a lot!). This actually won’t follow the show, but I’m going to try to incorporate as much as possible. (I thought of this after watching the episode “Stuck In The Middle (With You)”.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of past neglect
Summary: While heading back to the bunker, Mary makes a detour that makes her daughter question everything.
Word Count: 1247    
Tags below the cut

    There was a flash of blue light and suddenly Castiel was healed. I was checking him for injuries while the others talked to Crowley. I helped Cas stand after Crowley disappeared.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Let’s hit the road before anything else happens.” Dean suggested.
     We agreed and headed for our vehicles. Sam and Dean climbed into the Impala while Mom climbed into her car. I helped Cas into the passenger seat of my car before walking over to the others.
“Be safe.” I told. “I’ll see you guys at the bunker.”
“Okay. You guys be safe too.” Sam said. “Keep an eye on Cas and let us know if anything weird happens.”
“Will do.” I smiled before heading back to my car.
     I started my car as the boys pulled out and Mom followed behind them. Mom had been acting strange all evening. I had some suspicions, but I didn’t want to voice them to my brothers. We had enough to worry about.
“You mind if we make a pit stop?” I asked Cas.
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “Can I ask where we are going?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.” I answered.
       I could make out the Impala’s taillights in the distance and Mom’s not far behind them. Suddenly, Mom turned off at the exit and I slowed down before following her down the winding ramp.
“Where’s Mary going?” Castiel asked me.
“We’re about to find out.” I muttered under my breath.
“Should I call your brothers?” He questioned.
“No.” I said quickly. “We can handle this.”

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love like an ache in the jaw

this is really old and its been sitting in my wips since forever but this is for @jiilys because nothing i ever do will ever stop being for you and even though i wrote this when i was trying to be like you its ok because i dont think i’ll ever stop trying to be like you


Nothing makes sense to me anymore. You walk with me to Potions even though it’s on the other side of the school and I know for a fact that you have Divination right now. I can’t stop looking at you. Every time I do it’s like being jolted awake, and all of a sudden I am 14 and staring at your collarbones, like, holy shit, James, when did you get tall? Your grin is crooked one side when Mulciber socked you in the jaw after you cursed him for calling Sirius a traitor. There’s a chip on one of your canines and when you wink at me it turns my insides to water, but I’d never tell you that. I think I am close to dissolving when I am around you.

My stomach tightens into a fist when I catch you staring at me in Transfiguration. Every time I quench down on hope it sparks an ache somewhere in my body, behind my right knee, the hollow at the base of my throat, the tips of my fingers. Somewhere along the way we take a trip to the beach and I can’t process the thought of you, glorious and tan and seawater glistening all over you. I try to hate you, because that would make everything so much easier. I hate your stupid face and your stupid hair and the way you call my name. You dunk me in the ocean and saltwater fills my nostrils and it is so much less painful that the feel of your bare hands on my waist.

I am trying to paint my nails in the dorm when you knock on the door and muscle your way in, throwing yourself down on the bed and complaining about homework. You make it seem so easy, staring at the ceiling as though bounding into my dorm room at 3:00pm on a Monday afternoon is completely normal. I can see the underside of your jaw from where I am sprawled on the carpet. I wonder what it would feel like underneath my lips. I manage to kick over the bottle of nail polish and it spills over the carpet, the colour of blood, like a stain that will never come out, like you, like this immovable weight on my chest when you stoop to help me clean up the mess. Nothing is messier than the tangle of veins and arteries looping around my heart, beating a tattoo against my chest. Your breath tickles my nose. I am blinded by what I cannot have, and it is the hazel in your eyes and the soft sweep of your cupid’s bow and the way you bark out blatant laughter on the uptake, like I am glorious, but I am wretched, because I want to feel your lower lip between my teeth.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if we had stayed friends, because now there is a barren landscape between friends and where I want to be, which is nestled in the region of your neck and shoulder. You kick me under the table in Charms and I lean over to pinch you. You have your shirtsleeves rolled up and I can see veins cording your wrist. I can handle an E on my Charms exam but I cannot handle this. I cannot handle the way you are looking at me. We end up having a pinching war and Flitwick gives us both detention, but it is worth it. It is worth it because you laughed and the sound of it is like shockwaves, keeping me awake.

You are like an itch that I cannot scratch. I blast Blondie in the dormitory at 8:00pm on a Saturday night to flood out all the thoughts of you. If you were a ghost you’d be a filmy apparition in gossamer thread and cheeky smiles. My thoughts always seem to stray to you like a default, as though it is normal to be thinking about what you look like without a shirt on. We go to Hogsmeade and I gaze in every storefront window so I can catch your reflection without having to look at you.

I start to have dreams. Dreams that wake me up in the dorm in the early hours of the morning in a sweaty, gasping mess. I should be thinking about famine and war and my Transfiguration test next week but last night I dreamt that you planted a terrarium in the space between my ribs. I fight my way into sleep and it’s fucking delightful and I enjoy it, because you are everywhere in my head and I don’t have to think about it. The thought of you seeps all the way to the ends of my fingers and I itch to hold you for real, completely. It’s so much easier to call you a git and kick your shin on the way to Herbology but I rarely see any colours anymore apart from the hazel of your eyes.

The other day you paid me out for liking Simon and Garfunkel and I almost thanked you for it. Instead I punched you almost hard enough to expel all source of feeling from my knuckles. I am wasteless for you, inexhaustible for you. You leave me breathless, listless, like I have been knocked out, like I am punch drunk. Pretending becomes easy. I do it all the time. For example, today I pretended that I wasn’t perturbed by your knee touching mine under the table in the Great Hall. I can pretend that I don’t quake with the thought of you, neglect to quiver like something waifish and insubstantial when I’m around you, that the touch of your hand on my upper arm doesn’t send my nerves into overdrive.

Avery called out to me on the way back from the library the other day and it shouldn’t affect me but it does. I can’t even remember what he said because I was drowning in anger and spite but somehow he’s planted a vision in my mind of what it would be like without you and it is scaring the shit out of me. I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if that were true, if at some point under the thumb of this war I lost you and I cannot stand it. I want to run to you, hold you beneath my hands but I don’t because you should not miss something that you never had. Instead I sit in the dormitory at 1:00am because if I go to sleep I know this will haunt me worse than you did, and I am shaking and pale and sweating and the gentle padding of your footsteps down the staircase doesn’t help. ‘Lily,’ you say, and then you are crossing the room to me because I bet you can see my hands vibrating where they’re clutching a blanket around me and you are saying, ‘Lily, Lily, oh my God, are you ill? What’s wrong?’ A crease furrows between your brows and I am shaking my head you are clutching me tightly, so tightly, like you’re afraid I will shatter without you there.

A few days later you corner me after Charms, and I am bright and wieldy and I have been sleeping better since you stroked my hair until I fell asleep, but you look burdened, and you are asking me what happened to me to make me frightened and pale at 1:00am in the dormitory. Somehow I clamour out with an answer something like, ‘I lost you in my head,’ and it doesn’t make sense but you have my head between your hands and you are murmuring to me, saying that I will never loose you, not so long as I live. Then you ask me what made me so ill, because you think I may have given it to you, and I am giggling and laughing and you are holding me to your chest and breathing comes easy with the reminder of your heartbeat under my hands.

Dear Anonymous:

1. I hope she reacts well to your inclinations. I used to love someone like that too. I hope she loves you back. I hope you’re happy.

2. I just want to love too. I think soulmates work that way because life’s too short to be stuck to one person, but one person can change your whole perspective– one person is all it takes to fuel the rest of your life with passion. It’s always worth the rejection. We were built to break and rebuild. Sometimes heartbreak is the way in, but it’s also the way out. Timing is everything. Timing is everything… if you didn’t meet them when you weren’t ready, you’ll never be ready for someone else when they’re ready for you.

3. It doesn’t matter if you’re gay– love is love, right? Who cares if you’re in love with a she or a he, they’ll break you apart or keep you together. It’s such an odd thing. To die and live in a simple three word sentence.

4. A book? By the end of this year, it’ll happen.

5. I am from the darkest corner of your thoughts, the sun crawling through your curtains– I’m the cup of coffee that needs a fuck ton of sugar. I’m the distance we had to keep, I’m the apologies that made us weep.

6. An apology seems to be my only way to start the day as of lately. I’m sorry too.

7. Love is a coffee shop, we’re just the misplaced books. We’re the sentences, we’re the typos. I’ll be the incorrect emoji for the moment, if you’ll be the text sent to the wrong person. I’ll say I love you if you never say it back. I’ll love you if you don’t love me back. You can be sure about that. You can be sure about that…

8. My mind feels kinda broken, I guess we’re all kinda messed up sometimes.

9. This is not talent, this is hard work. Don’t confuse the two. I was not born with this, I woke up one morning like this. I will die with this, I will ink my whole life into your skin if you let me.

10. You loved them enough to let them go. There’s nothing more beautiful than that one simple realization. I will love you from afar and we’ll both grow. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right? I don’t think it would’ve worked out anyway, we need this. This time spent apart, we need this. All of it.

11. “Don’t ever make someone your person when they don’t even know how to be their own.” Realest shit I ever read. Big ups.

12. I will never quit writing. She’s always reading. She’s always reading.

13. I’m sorry, I think we’re all in need of assistance. We can’t do it alone. Go out and make a few new friends. They’ll help. I promise.

14. Shit, I don’t know either. I wake up like that. It sucks, but you’ll figure out the truth eventually. I promise.

15. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. How can I answer you if I don’t even know the answers myself? I’m just human. I’m just like you. Nothing new here, just more human frailties.

16. It’s been a year plus, but I still love her too. We’re all missing someone, we just need an outlet.

17. Love doesn’t like to break even, love doesn’t like to remain still– love should feel like a few broken ribs, love should feel like a few torn heartstrings– but love should also feel delicate, love should also be soft.

18. I don’t know what language you’re speaking in, but I’m pretty sure it’s definition is beautiful. Stay beautiful.

19. I fade away every night. If you want to be nothing, I get it. It’s the easy way out. The shortcut to the end. Who doesn’t want that? But choosing to live, choosing to figure it out. That’s commendable. Always is. Always will be.

20. You need to let go of him because until you do… you’ll always be dependent of him. You’ll never be yourself. There is more oneness in loving yourself first versus oneness in loving someone for the sake of feeling whole. Love is an illusion.

21. If I am the Galaxy, then explain my black holes. How many times must I die before I feel like it’s time to live?

22. People can die from a broken heart, but people also forget that they’re a garden. You are the roses. You are the florist. You are the sun. You are the sun. You are the blossom. You are the growth. You are the bees. You grow into me, like how I’ll grow into you.

23. Thank you doesn’t even start to explain you.

24. Fear is a powerful tool for motivation. Use it wisely.

25. If you don’t want it to end, then write it down. Because some day, he might not be there. Some day, all you’ll have are those words. Nothing lasts forever and that’s just something that we must remember. How can you love yourself if you don’t keep that in mind?

26. I’m sorry. I’m not him. I’m not you. How can I possibly give you some ending? We’re all looking for more poison to fill our veins with.

27. I slept for 24 hours, but I’m still tired.

28. It’s hard to backtrack too.

29. It ends when your heart gives out on you. It ends when your search hits a brick walls it ends when your lights dim just enough for you to read the truth etched into your skin like a story that was never supposed to be told. We were meant to feel the love stories, but we could never keep the last page from ringing true. The truth is I love you too.

30. I’ll let you know right now. I am not your ex. And if in some way, I am… then know that no one is out to get you. The only person that’s doing that is you. Waking up to fear is no way to live. Letting go… it’s an excellent start.

31. My opinion on loving someone that doesn’t love you back anymore is this: if you’re doing it. Stop. Just stop. Save yourself some time. Stop yourself from that mistake. It doesn’t end well for you. It doesn’t end well for your emotions. Start with you. It’s a good place.

32. I’m not Filipino.

33. Hello.

34. Pretty crimson leaves used for a pretty crimson sneeze.

35. We’ll never be the same. Change is the only way to live your life.

36. I’m from the same place that all poets were born into. A Silk Road of heartbreaks and slow songs.

37. We’re all unique. From your first thought of today to your DNA.

38. Maybe kiss him today? Fuck it. Life’s too short. Let the make out sessions begin.

39. My thoughts sink us into tomorrow.

40. They say that the smaller you write, the more you care about others. The bigger you write, the more love you’ve got for yourself.

41. I’m afraid that you’re right.

42. There’s always beauty in loneliness. The way he reads that book from across the street. The way she pulls back her hair to drink her tea. The way they fell in love made yesterday like a today we’ll never share.

43. The question is the answer.

44. I’ll call you some day.

45. I’m looking for myself. Shouldn’t we all?

46. You’re a beautiful creature too.

47. Two strangers? The start of every love story.

48. You can call me K.C.

49. Twice by Madeline Stauffer

50. Nothing is wrong with you. There is only more to love.

51. And that’s exactly why I’m answering all of them in this post.

52. I changed my URL because I wanted it to be less about her and more about me.

53. Take a break and walk around. Artificial lighting can hurt us. The sun’s good too.

54. No comment.

55. I’m a robot.

56. I don’t answer anonymous asks anymore because how can I help others if I can’t even help myself kinda realization. My apologies.

57. Poetry about being viewed for only sex… hmm… you sound like somebody I know.

58. Pick yourself first. Always pick yourself.

59. Don’t die. Do not die. There’s so much more out there.

60. Sticking to yourself is a good start.

61. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s only more to love.

62. I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out myself actually.

63. I’ll draw more once my mind is less exhausted.

64. There’s nothing wrong with reading poetry.

65. Love is something that’s immensely felt and hard to measure.

66. I’m trying to be more than just another broken heart.

67. I feel like a disappointment to myself constantly. We’re too hard on ourselves. It sucks.

68. Maybe they should profess their love to each other?

69. I’m sorry.

70. You should listen to your mother. If she’s your guardian, respect her wishes until you’re of age.

71. Drinking and smoking– there’s nothing wrong with it. Although it is nice to give your body a break here and there.

72. I think you’re right.

73. You need to lean on yourself. Remember that people need space from us. People need room to breathe. You can’t smother them.

74. I love you too.

75. I’m sorry. Maybe you should stay away from him. You’re obviously catching feelings when you shouldn’t.

76. Falling in love with your best friend? That sounds terrific tbh.

77. Are you alive? Suicide isn’t the answer.

78. I’m sorry. You need to give yourself some time to heal. Maybe you’re not ready for love.

79. Sometimes I think I’ll die at an early age too.

80. I love them both.

81. All love stories should hold mysteries.

82. Life is full of regrets– you just need to pick the right ones to live with.

83. You deserve to love yourself first.

84. I’m sorry. Empathy is a bitch, isn’t it?

85. “But it’s the way she smiles, like every bullet missed her…” the only way to smile.

86. I would never give up this part of me.

87. I understand. Give yourself more time.

88. Because people are just as lost as you are.

89. I’m trying to be better. I promise.

90. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

91. Who hasn’t fucked up? It’s learning to be better… that’s the only thing that fucking matters. You’re still here, right?

92. Hold his hand and call him yours.

93. I’m sorry. I can barely understand myself. How can I explain you for who you are?



94. You say that I’m a little harsh. Life is rough. Why would I sugarcoat the truth?
—  The truth about you
Save Me

Word Count: 1,166
Reader Gender: I used female pronouns, but you can substitute.
Warnings: Cussing, torture, blood, fluff
Love interest: Damon
Note: I got this idea while rewatching Season 1 of TVD

Originally posted by theeskyisthelimit

Originally posted by torturezone

I screamed out as they shoved a knife through my arm, the blade stuck in the wood of the chair. They were ‘questioning’ me on how to get something that Damon had in his possession, and naturally I told them to go fuck themselves. Unfortunately for me, they didn’t like that answer. I didn’t even know these guys, and not being able to place a name with a face was really irritating me. They pulled the knife out before pouring alcohol into the wound.

“WHERE IS IT?!” The woman yelled out.

“Right on the corner of Piss Off and Go Fuck Yourself!” I yelled back.

“I said,” The knife was shoved into my stomach, “Where is it?” The woman questioned again.

“Well, I can tell you this much,” I gasped, “It’s not in there.”

The knife was shoved a little farther up before she asked the same question, and the wound was growing larger and larger by the moment. My head was spinning, probably from the blood loss, and my breathing was ragged. I didn’t know how old the two vampires torturing me were, but they couldn’t have been that old. The lacked the vibe and disposition of a vampire who had experience under their belt.

The blade was now under the middle of my rib cage, and blood was pouring from my mouth. The man smiled, walking up to me and catching some of the blood on his finger. The popped his now bloody finger into his mouth, looking quite pleased with himself. I lifted my head up enough to spit a mouth full of blood in his face. I suppose he didn’t like that, ‘cause next thing I know I have a fist in my face.

“Little bitch.” He spat.

“Only on Sundays.” I winked, earning another fist.

“Why won’t you just tell us!” He yelled, now angry.

“Get back to me when you can punch just a little harder.” I laughed, leaning back onto the chair.

“What was that?” The woman asked, perking her head up.

“Someone’s here.” The man concluded.

“You’re a genius.” I mocked, my head resting behind the chair.

The blood was building up in my mouth, almost making me choke, so I returned my head to the previous position. My chin rested against my chest as the blood poured freely out of my mouth. I heard the door get splintered, and I assumed it to be him. I chuckled for a moment, knowing that the both of them will be dead in less than a minute. I would’ve done it myself if I wasn’t, you know, a human and all.

“Wait, wait, wait-” The woman began.

“You hurt Y/n,” Damon paused, “Big mistake.”

“Damon?” I weakly questioned.

“Y/n, holy crap.” He said in a surprised tone, taking the ties off of my hands and legs, “What did they do to you?”

“What didn’t they do to me.” I questioned jokingly, Damon catching my body.

“Oh my God.” He whispered, seeing my wounds, “I-I can fix this.” His voice broke.

“Damon?” I heard his brother call, “Dam-Jesus Christ.”

“Stefan?” Elena asked, “Stefan what’s wrong?” Stefan took her to the side.

I looked over at Damon, blood on my lips as he slowly set me onto his lap. He bit into his wrist, tears in his eyes. He held his wound over my mouth, his face contorting as he tried not to cry. I brought my mouth up as far as I could, drinking from the punctured vein. After a moment I brought my head back down, unable to keep it up any longer. His hand moved to cup my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I was in a tremendous amount of pain right now, and I don’t know if he was able to get to me in time. I put my hand on his gently, my brows furrowing in pain. I felt myself begin to heal, but I was also still bleeding out. My vision began to blur as I tried to sit up, Damon helping me. I leaned onto his chest slightly as I fully sat up, and he put my arm around his neck. I put a hand over my stomach as another wave of pain set in.

“Damon, we need to get her to the house,” Stefan said firmly, “Now.”

“I know, I know,” Damon’s voice broke, “I’ll, uh, I’ll meet you there.”

“Stefan, is she going to be okay?” I heard Elena ask before I was flashed to the house.

Damon set me down on the floor near the fire, which was great for me because I had begun to feel cold. I turned on my side and curled into a ball, shaking lightly. Damon put a small blanket over me and I held it tightly to myself, hoping that it’d be over quickly. I felt him sit by me and I slowly put my head gently into his lap. He provided a sense of comfort to me, like everything was going to be okay.

–3rd P.O.V.–

Damon sat near the fire with Y/n in his lap, and he gently played with her hair. Y/n had really scared him today, and for a minute there he was sure he had lost you. He was still worried, and even though your breathing had returned to normal, he was still worried that you wouldn’t wake up. There was still that negative spot in his mind that told him that everything wasn’t going to be okay. He refused to let you go, and he refused to lose you.

He heard Stefan and Elena enter the house, but his attention was still on the sleeping figure on his lap. He felt terrible, he blamed himself for letting it happen. He blamed himself for causing it. He didn’t even know, or remember, the two vampires that captured you, but he still felt awful. Stefan and Elena entered the room, but Stefan asked Elena to give the two of the a moment. After she left, Stefan slowly made his way over to his brother.

“She’s gonna be alright.” Stefan said, hands in his pockets.

“No, she’s not,” Damon paused sadly, “Not if she’s around me.”

“Damon, what happened today wasn’t your fault-” Stefan began firmly.

“She almost died today, Stefan, solely because of me.” Damon countered stubbornly.

“Damon, they would’ve just tried to kill someone else instead.” Stefan reasoned.

“Yeah, but I don’t care about someone else, I care about her.” Damon said, looking back at you.

“If she didn’t want to get hurt, or if she didn’t want to die, she would’ve just told them what they wanted to know.” Stefan said.

“I just-” Damon began and Stefan sighed.

“Let me tell you a little secret, I don’t think she cares.” Stefan spoke truthfully, and Damon remained silent, “Just be glad she’s alive, and don’t push her away because I can guarantee that she’s not going anywhere.”

“Thanks.” Damon said after a moment.

“Anytime.” Stefan said before walking away.

You Need to Eat.

“You have to eat, honey. You need your strength.”

But 13-year-old Adalyn didn’t want to eat, never again. Nothing stayed down anymore. She had been unable to keep food down for years. Just the smell of the homemade chicken soup caused a fresh supply of bile to rise.

She pushed the bowl away and closed her eyes. “I don’t want this,” she said. “Where’s the nurse?”

“She left 30 minutes ago while you were still asleep.”

Adalyn tried to move to a comfortable position, something almost impossible to do with the IV and all the tubes hooked up throughout her body. She groaned and tried to lie down.

“Don’t do that. You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your lack of hunger is what got you here. Everyone is worried about you. It’s wrong to starve yourself.”

Adalyn sighed. She knew better. Even if she wanted to eat she couldn’t keep anything down. She could never keep anything down, not since she was a little girl.

“Everyone is so worried about you.”

I bet they are, she thought.

The nurse walked in, to Adalyn’s relief. “Hello, sweetheart! How’s our patient?”

“Fine,” she said without enthusiasm.

“She’s doing much better,” her mother said as she applied a fresh coat of dark lipstick, “but I can’t get her to eat.”

The nurse looked up from Adalyn’s chart and then placed it back in its spot to the side of the hospital bed. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Anderson. We can put her on a controlled diet here. You don’t have to keep bringing stuff in.”

“But she’s had severe food allergies,” her mother broke in, “and I can’t be sure what you all give her won’t make her worse.”

Adalyn observed the exchange. They had been through this before. She had never been allowed to have hospital food. Why would she get lucky this time? The nurse gave her a glance, and Adalyn looked at her with desperate and pleading eyes.

“Really,” the nurse went on, “we can take care of her if you want to go home and rest for a few hours.”

The veins in Mrs. Anderson’s face bulged out. “Are you insane! I am her mother! There is no way I will leave her side!”

The nurse shrugged and left the room.

Adalyn blinked back her tears. It was always the same thing. Her mother pushed the bowl of soup toward her again, only this time she wore a look of frightening authority. “Adalyn Nichole Anderson, you need to eat and eat now. Don’t make me tell you again!”

She reached out with her bony arm, now noticing as if for the first time just how frail she had become. Adalyn picked up the spoon full of soup and raised it to her mouth. The smell of household cleaner mixed in brought on fresh nausea. By now her mother was busy on phone.

“Yes… thank you for your prayers… I know, but having a sick child is my cross to bear…”

Cassian x Reader, Part 1

Title: Whatever It Takes / AO3 
Part 2: tumblr
Part 3: tumblr
Length: 7.5k
Series rating: M for language and sexual content (contains some torture)
Summary: Reader and Cassian have kept their relationship a secret but when Reader is captured and tortured by the Empire, it’s obvious to all of Yavin 4 that Cassian will stop at nothing to get her back.
Author’s Note: A lovely anon requested this incredible idea and I immediately fell head over heels in love with it. Starts out pretty angsty but there will be fluff to make everything better, promise. :) Happy reading!! XOXO
Masterlist / WIP List 

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Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 28

Baz

I haven’t had nightmares like that in years.

           Replaying the scene of my mother’s death is a classic, and it’s been a while since I’ve dreamt it, but it almost always has me waking in a cold sweat.  Occasionally I see it as I did when I was a child, but often it’s me as I am now, and the last thing I see is the look in her eye.  It’s not afraid, it’s just sad, disappointed that I’ve carried my sickness with me all these years.  That I never finished what she started by sending the nursery up in flames.  That I’m still walking the planet with vampire’s poison in my blood.

           There’s always the reassuring thought that I’ll wake up as soon as I’ve seen that look and the fire takes over, but this time it doesn’t work.  I keep dreaming, and it gets worse.  It turns into the nightmare that haunted my dreams almost every night for all of fifth year.

           I have to bite Simon.  I’m starved of blood and he is placed before me, veins pumping like drums in my head.  Someone somewhere is egging me on, sometimes it’s Fiona’s voice, sometimes my father’s, sometimes my mother’s.  I keep telling them no, and then Simon picks up a knife.  He tells me it’s okay and he presses the blade to his neck, tracing a shallow line and drawing just the thinnest stream of blood but the smell alone is enough to set my senses blazing.  I’m begging him to stop and he just walks calmly up to me, like the hero that he’s always been destined to be.  

           Sometimes I wake up in time.  Sometimes I don’t.

           When I don’t, I give in.  I always give in.

           His blood tastes real and alive and after one drop I lose control, drinking from his neck like I’ll never eat again.

           Sometimes I stay in the nightmare long enough to feel him run his sword through my stomach before I wake up.

           That’s what happened last night.  Before I was shaken awake, clutching at the phantom blade in my stomach, to find him gazing down at me with wide, fearful eyes.

           In the moment all I wanted was to pull him into my arms, to convince myself that he was real, we were awake and alive. Well, him at least.

           Instead I burst into tears in front of him.  Of course.

           He made no further move to comfort me, which is for the best.  Where in Merlin’s name would we have gone from there?

           When my alarm goes off this morning, I don’t bother hitting snooze.  I just slam the off-button and sit up.  My eyes are fuzzy and heavy, and I can feel the tears dried onto my cheeks.  I feel like a bear waking up from a terrible hibernation.

           Simon hauls himself out of bed, his curls standing up off his head like he was the one who didn’t get any sleep.  When he looks over at me, there’s a sort of caution in his gaze.  “You alright?” he asks tentatively.

           “Brilliant, Snow,” I croak, my voice raw from crying and the little sleep I got, “never been better.”

           He doesn’t move to get ready or even get off the bed, just keeps staring at me, and I can only imagine what I must look like right now.  Red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, probably a rat’s nest of hair.  A wreck.  A vulnerable wreck.  Wonderful.

           “Maybe…” he ventures, trailing off.

           “Words, Snow, I’m not in the mood to read your mind.”

           “Maybe you should skip class this morning.”

           I scowl at him.  “I know I look like death, but it’s nothing a hairbrush won’t fix.”

           “No,” he shakes his head, bronze curls falling in his eyes, “I mean you need your sleep.  I can say you’re sick or something.”

           I raise an eyebrow.  “Since when are you invested in my well-being, Snow?”

           “You didn’t hear yourself last night,” he mutters, and I think I see him shudder, staring at the floor, and it dawns on me that I must have been talking in my sleep.  My blood runs cold imagining what he might have heard, what I might have revealed.

           “No need to worry yourself,” I say, though I can barely keep my eyes open.

           At this point, he gets up and crosses over to me. I’m too shocked to protest when he gently pushes me back to the mattress and pulls the covers over me again, but I look up at him quizzically.

           “Just go back to sleep,” he tells me before heading to the bathroom to change.

           I’m practically asleep again by the time he leaves the room, shutting the door slowly and quietly, like I’m a sick child in his care.  The thought should be terrifying, but I’m out like a light before I can finish it.

*** 

           Even though I sleep for another few hours, I still wake up in a bad mood.  The rain pouring down the window doesn’t help, and I just have too many thoughts swimming around my head to feel refreshed.

           Second class has already started, so I take my time in the shower, scrubbing the feeling of the sword away from my torso. If I think too long about my nightmare, the tear-tracks on my face start to feel like Snow’s blood, and I rub the sensation off until my cheeks are burning and red.

           I don’t think about the nightmares.

           I don’t think about the concern in his eyes last night.

           I don’t think about his gentle touch pushing me back into bed.

           Instead, I think about our game.

           Snow never made his move.  So what does that mean?  He sure didn’t look like he wanted to pull anything on me this morning.  In fact, he looked quite the opposite, almost guilty, like he felt responsible.

           So who’s move is it?

           Mine,I think as I shut off the water. He forfeited his turn, so now it’s my move.

***

           I wait until classes are over to act.  I haven’t seen much of him since this morning (Crowley knows he can’t be seen talking to me in a civil manner outside the room), but I find him in the study hall.  Bunce and Wellbelove sit across from him, the three of them engrossed in their notes and textbooks.  Snow has a set of earphones in, and his phone sits on the table beside his work.

           None of them notice me when I come in, nor when I take a seat on the other side of the room.  I open one of my own books but I can’t concentrate when I look down at it. I’m still feeling the effects of the terrible night I had, plus I’m not even here to study.

           I see Snow say something to Bunce without removing his earphones.  He must have the music low enough that he can still hear.  Perfect.

           I wait a few more minutes, until he’s lost in his notes again, before pulling my wand out of my pocket.  I won’t be able to swing the wand as usual with this many people around, but I discreetly aim it at Snow from across the room.  More specifically, at Snow’s phone.

           “A little bit louder now,” I whisper.

           Snow jumps back from his table, frantically ripping at his earphones as his music goes from quiet to blasting in less than a second.  Wellbelove actually stands in shock, and someone’s papers go flying.  

           I don’t see the tail end of Snow’s reaction, as I have returned to staring pointlessly at my text.  When I glance back up, he’s turning the phone over and over in his hands, trying to figure out what happened.  Bunce hands him her earphones.  Classic.

           This time he only puts a bud in one ear, and he’s visually stiffer, ready to react if it happens again.  Which it will, of course it will.  Once he’s dropped his guard and I get bored of skimming over my book.

           This only takes approximately fifteen minutes. After another five, he’s noticeably flagging, his eyes drooping closed, the heel of his hand pressing a red mark into his cheek.

           As if he lost sleep last night.  As if he’d had the nightmares about killing me.  Well, not me, I suppose.  Someone who matters to him as much as he matters to me.  Wellbelove, maybe.

           That thought alone makes me sick.  Stupid Wellbelove and her stupid perfect hair and perfect face and perfect clothes. I almost want to turn my curses on her.

           They haven’t dated in almost a year now, but the fact still remains that they did.  At one point, Simon looked at her in that way that makes bystanders sigh and go all mushy.  He doesn’t look at her that way anymore, but it’s like a stain that won’t come out.  I can still see it, or imagine that I’m seeing it.  I wonder if it will ever go away.

           It’s with this thought in mind that I cast the spell a second time, expecting some sort of satisfaction when he once again jumps a mile into the air, but finding nothing but bitterness.  Stupid Snow and his stupid golden curls and splatter of moles.  Fuck him.  Fuck the way his eyes turn into oceans in the dark.  Fuck his crooked smile and the way his laugh makes the rain turn into sunshine.

           I forget to look away when he catches me glaring at him, and too late I see him figure it out.  He doesn’t glare back defiantly like I expect him to, just holds my gaze levelly like he understands.  What in Merlin’s name he’s understanding is beyond me.

           Thrusting my chin forward I mouth the words “your move” slowly and obviously. He just nods once before turning back to his books, deliberately leaving his earphones on the table.