RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023) Directed by Matthew López.
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@adrianivashkv
RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023) Directed by Matthew López.
LEO WOODALL as NIKI WHITE - Tuner (2026)
LEO WOODALL as NIKI WHITE - Tuner (2026)
LEO WOODALL as NIKI WHITE - Tuner (2026)
Get on your knees
patient needs neck kisses to survive
dedicated team effort
#ilya baby get behind me
After an extensive round of training, Mason was practically hollow with hunger, eager to attend his dinner plans with Eddie. Once he'd seen Neville off at the training centre's entrance, and dismissing the worry that settled over him at leaving his charge alone, Mason began to wait for his best friend, eyes flickering between the corridor and the clock. It was unlike Eddie to be late, usually Adrian's lack of interest in regards to their sessions lead them into being the first pair out. Perhaps they'd lost track of time. With that idea in mind, Mason made way to their private room instead, his desperation for a meal triggering his impatience. His eyebrows rose with surprise when he made it there moments later, thrown off by the faint moans coming from behind the door. Adrian must've been in a better mood today if they were still sparring. Shaking his head in amusement, Mason pushed on through, clasping his hands together. He went to praise them for the overtime, until his vision focused, and he noticed what they were doing. "Oh — shit." He was stunted in disbelief, mouth agape as he watched Eddie quite literally pull himself out of Adrian. Neither of them had a single item of clothing on, and they were both dishevelled, breathless, with Adrian's body pressed against the wall. It left no room for uncertainty, although Mason was certainly confused on the why, and the how, and the when. Knowing he should never have witnessed this, and flushing with embarrassment, Mason turned away, almost choking on his next statement. "Sorry, I'll... I'm — I'm gonna' wait outside. What the fuck —"
With the Angel as his witness, nobody could say Eddie hadn't tried. He'd tried to keep them on task, tried to keep the training session to what it was supposed to be about — actually training. But all resistance became futile once Adrian went to his knees. His charge just wouldn't leave him alone, and how was Eddie supposed to compete with that? Needy hands always on him, his shorts had been tugged off before he'd even come up with a meagre excuse, and seconds later, he was groaning, Adrian taking him into his mouth. They'd made some progress in sparring, he supposed. It hadn't all been for nothing. They could afford to take a few minutes off. Eddie reasoned with himself until his mind clouded over with want, suddenly unable to think of anything else but Adrian's touch, his hands, his mouth. "Fuck, Adrian," he moaned, trying to keep quiet but caring less and less the longer it went on. Right then, the guardian didn't care if the whole world knew what they were doing, so long as it didn't stop.
Feeling his own breath quicken, Eddie suddenly moved, pushing Adrian back to release him. He didn't want to go too early, not before he'd had him. "Come here," the dhampir ordered, holding onto Adrian's elbow as he guided him from the floor to the wall. His charge's back now pressed against the wall, Eddie made quick work of their clothes, tugging them all off until they were both stark naked. Breaths heavy, finally, he kissed him, ravenous and unthinking. Eddie was convinced both of them were insatiable. They'd been sleeping together constantly for two months, and yet, each time still felt like the first, though also underlined with an anxiety that it might be their last, and that they couldn't have each other fast enough for what if it were to be taken away?
They'd shared a few times far more tender than this, but neither of them were in that headspace right then, Eddie turning his charge a minute later, front flush against the wall. This was about want, about need, about power. Lately, Eddie was always irritated and frustrated during training. He was desperate to prove himself, constantly worried what the others thought of him, and always stressed by the never-ending game of keeping Adrian's mood balanced somewhere between happy and focused. All of those feelings compounded with lust, and suddenly, he could think of no better way to get his charge to comply, to listen, and each time he did so, Eddie felt a satisfaction like he'd never experienced. In those moments, when they were truly connected, he felt respected, he felt safe, and he felt worthy. It was addictive, Adrian was addictive, and Eddie lost himself in the motion, pushing into him again and again, a hand finding the back of the blonde's head, keeping him steady. "Stay still —" his voice was gruff, breathless. Every now and then, he glanced at the expression on Adrian's face, at the bruising scattered across the base of his neck, at where their bodies met, and he'd smile, mind whirring from the high of it all, in the confirmation that Adrian was his.
The scent of their sweat became too much, and Eddie found himself wanting his blood again, knowing it would complete them both. "I want you —" he grunted, removing his hand so his lips could find his charge's neck instead, trailing along until he found a recent bruise. But no sooner had he started to kiss the tender spot did the doors fly open, and the world came crashing down upon them. Eddie met his best friend's gaze, and in a rush, all breath left him. The guardian pulled back so fast that both of them staggered, unbalanced. Suddenly so far from the synchronised harmony they'd just been, Eddie gasped, trying to find some air but getting none. He didn't hear Mason apologise, didn't hear anything, his ears ringing. Then, suddenly, his best friend was gone again, and as if his body was unlocking itself, Eddie hunched over, the hand that had fisted Adrian's hair moments ago now finding his chest, rubbing at his lungs, trying to inhale through the seizing panic. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. What... what just... fuck —" His stomach turned, body reeling from the sudden change in emotion, feeling the urge to vomit. "No," he gagged. "Fuck —"
Whilst Eddie had spent the majority of today's training session attempting to keep them on task, Adrian had actively worked against him, trying to steer them off it. They'd woken up later than usual, disrupting their morning routine, and disallowing them the time to get each other off before they'd exited the house. It'd left Adrian feeling incredibly frustrated, distracted, so much so that he hadn't listened to a word Alec had said in their opening debrief. He only had one thing on his mind. The struggle became more difficult the second they were alone, but Adrian knew he'd have to at least pretend to make an effort if he wanted to reap the rewards. Still, he purposely failed at every move thrown his way, turning what was meant to be dodged into a hit, if only to feel Eddie's skin on him. He lingered too long, brushed too close, hands constantly wandering where they shouldn't. Adrian barely made it through the hour before he was dropping to his knees, tugging at Eddie's shorts like he'd been starved.
Eddie's moans only served as encouragement, and Adrian eagerly took him into the back of his throat, unsteady fingers gripping at his partner's thighs. His motions were faster than usual, driven by his own impatience, his eagerness to be taken. He was willing to keep it up regardless, desperate to please, even if his own clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight. Eventually, finally, Eddie gave the signal he was too close, pulling him off, and Adrian smirked through his swollen lips, all too happy to be pushed around.
In a few moments, he was exactly where he needed to be. The wall was cold against his now bare skin, but it was hardly the draw of Adrian's focus, not when their lips were smashing together with an unwarranted sense of urgency. It hadn't even been twenty four hours since they'd last been intimate, and yet they were behaving as though they'd spent years apart, as if they'd never see eachother again. Of all the people Adrian had been with, it'd never been this intense. It only solidified the fact that Eddie was his person, that this was right. He would've pondered the thought, had he not been spun around, reminding Adrian that now was not the time for tender ideology. "Eddie," he groaned, unable to catch his breath as he felt his partner press into him, forehead resting on the brickwork, his only source of balance.
It wasn't enough. Ever the brat, Adrian refused to stay still, purposely disrupting their rhythm, seeking punishment. He deserved it, considering he'd spent their entire session winding Eddie up. "Make me." There was something intoxicating about the hands that were sworn to protect you also being the only ones allowed to bruise you, and Adrian played into that all too often, getting off on it with a submissive arrogance. It was a reversal of the stereotype assigned to them, subverting the Moroi and Dhampir dynamic, but Adrian wouldn't have it any other way, allowing Eddie the control he should've held himself. As was typical, though, Adrian's cockiness soon melted away into a incoherent chorus of pleads and moans, knowing what was to come. He stretched his neck out once he felt Eddie's kiss there, chasing the pending high, no better than a bloodwhore from the communes. "Please, Eds. I need it —"
Then Eddie pulled away, the movement so fast Adrian staggered where he stood, whining at the absence like he'd been kicked. He was so lost in them, he'd barely noticed Mason's swift entrance and exit. "Oh fuck." He watched Eddie's aura change, a swirl of deep red and white rapidly bleeding through the enhanced purple like an open wound. Adrian had never witnessed those colours in his guardian before; he quickly came to recognise them as shock. "Eddie, hey. Hey, it's alright. Ćhavo, si miśto..." Adrian should've been more panicked himself, but he had no room for it then, too overcome with worry for his partner's mental state. It was also too rapid of an adjustment for him, the weight of being caught hadn't even had time to sink in. A tender hand met the top of Eddie's shoulders, soothingly rubbing the skin there. "We weren't doing anything wrong. It was only Mason. It's gonna' be fine," he tried to reassure, even if he suspected it'd be futile. This had always been Eddie's greatest fear, the argument that'd so often held them back. "Hey, look at me."
It had taken hours for the initial panic to subside, Eddie shaken by each revelation he came across as he and Mason talked it through. He still couldn’t understand how he’d gotten everything so twisted, how he’d become so wrapped up in his own feelings and lost sight of what was most important. How he hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen in love. And now, if he didn’t let it all go and bury it down deep, he was at risk of losing it entirely; losing Adrian, losing his future. All-consuming dread gripped him when he thought about having to confront Adrian with that information, about having to hurt him and withhold the truth. But the boys had both agreed — the initial hurt was nothing compared to losing him forever. If Eddie didn’t pull back right now, they’d be forced to separate down the line anyway, a thought which caused his chest to ache. Their actions had put him at risk of exile entirely, and whilst he knew they were under Alexandria’s protection for now, they couldn’t run from Alicante forever. Adrian was royal, his family would come looking for him, and they’d only want the best. So Eddie had to be the best. After giving Rose a heads-up, Mason had insisted on staying the night, steadfast in his decision to not let his best friend go through this on his own. After hours of agonising discussion, there were still a few grey areas, but all in all, Eddie had reached a decision, one he knew he had to see through no matter how hard it would be. Side by side on his bed, Eddie stared up at the ceiling, Mason’s soft snores now the only sound filling the room. His presence was comforting, familiar, but it still wasn’t enough to get Eddie to sleep, mind churning, stuck on a loop. Suddenly, a harsh light broke through the murky darkness, Eddie finally tearing his gaze away from the ceiling to find his phone. Adrian, again. He was drunk, clearly, and at Barcelo, waiting for an escort home. Every text felt like torture, ignoring them even worse, but he couldn’t switch his phone off either. What if something happened? The fifth message that came through was total gibberish, and with a heavy sigh, Eddie forced himself to close his eyes, to dull the flashing light. Creating boundaries seemed like an impossible task, but he had to start somewhere, and he had to do it quick. Fast and blunt was decidedly best, to keep emotion out of it. He was unsure how much time passed then, desperate for sleep to come and relieve him from his distress, but it didn’t. Instead, there was a knock at the door, a few actually, accompanied by the calling of his name. Eddie shot up fast, the panic returning from the sound of his voice. Mason was sure to wake with all the noise, but regardless, he knew Eddie had to do this part alone. Taking a few deep breaths, a focus technique he’d learned from Benji, Eddie made his way out to the front door, willing himself the strength to do what needed to be done. All willpower seemed to dissipate once he laid eyes on the Moroi though, crushed by the sight of Adrian’s genuine grin. But it was his fault that it had gotten this far. He had to make it right. “Hey,” his smile was feeble and forced, but he still tried. “You okay?” The question was genuine, though from first glance, his charge seemed okay despite the lack of sobriety. Usually, Eddie would’ve been equal parts concerned and irritated that he'd gone so hard, but the guardian was far too distracted to mind. Perhaps the news would land better this way. Despite the conversation, Eddie hadn’t removed his frame from the door, not allowing the Moroi a path through. “Hey, I think uh.. I think you should maybe stay at Rose’s tonight. You alright to get there?” The suggestion filled him with a healthy surge of jealousy, but at least she’d be awake and hopefully alone. She’d take care of him.
Adrian hadn’t drank much since settling into a relationship with Eddie, he hadn’t had reason to, his mind distracted with an infatuation so intense that he could often disregard his unhealthy coping mechanisms. His mind didn’t spiral in despair because it was focused elsewhere. Even now, in the presence of his beloved friends who’d encouraged him to visit Barcelo, Adrian couldn’t get his partner off his mind. His phone was glued to his palm as his feet skidded across the dancefloor, as he ordered drinks, as he shouted over the music. He was drinking for fun, not to cope, and he was enjoying himself, but the absence of his guardian was too noticeable. Especially considering his stream of drunken text messages were being ignored. The alcohol he’d thrown back only amplified Adrian’s want, which now bordered on desperation. If he couldn’t get him through the tablet, he’d have to make the journey, instead.
With a discouraged farewell, and a kiss on Henry and Luke’s cheeks, Adrian exited the nightclub and began stumbling to Eddie’s house, finding the walk taxing in his current state. Considering his recent sobriety, the fresh night air hit Adrian hard, and with no one to lean on, he had to pause several times to ensure his legs didn’t give way underneath himself. In those brief moments of stabilisation, Adrian found himself wondering what’d caused Eddie’s silence, he’d never made this trip alone before. But he couldn’t ponder on it for too long, the excitement of seeing Eddie surpassing any worries that arose, happy to dismiss it as a one-off. He’d trained too hard and crashed on the couch, his phone was broken or on charge, he’d been pulled on some Alexandrian-related duty. It didn’t have to signify something sinister.
Eventually, Adrian made it to the doorstep, bouncing on the balls of his feet with restless impatience. “Eddieeeee!” His smile was wide as the door broke open, a heavy breath of relief lowering Adrian’s chest upon seeing Eddie standing there. Safe, unharmed. “Well, I’m alarmingly drunk, and the object of my affection hasn’t been replying to my messages. So no, I’m not okay,” he teased, trying to make way inside. But Eddie made that impossible, blocking his path.
In an instant, Adrian’s mood soured, his shining eyes settling into an expression of confusion. So something was wrong. He damned himself now for bypassing his suspicions so easily, blaming the alcohol for fogging his judgement. Happiness always seemed to have a price. “I should stay at Rose’s?” Even as Adrian repeated it with his own slurred tongue, it felt like an insult. A rejection, certainly. “Last month you’re getting upset about my relationship with her, and now you’re telling me to stay there? What the fuck, Eddie?” None of it made sense, and the hurt was already crushing his chest. This wasn’t how they operated. Even after they’d argued, they slept beside one another; they didn’t hide. “Obviously I’m not alright to get there, it almost killed me getting here. Since you clearly didn’t want to be my escort tonight. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up in the gutter.”
The vodka in Adrian’s system made it hard to focus, his emotions flickering between anger and upset, unable to settle on either. “You said you were fine with me going out when I mentioned it earlier, so that can’t be your excuse. What did I do? ‘Cause I — I’ve spent this entire night pissing my friends off by constantly talking about you, and now you don’t even want me here? You give me a fake smile, you don’t kiss me, you block the fucking door. At least tell me why before you throw me out into the street.”
A quick round of shots had sounded like a great idea at the time, hoping the growing cold pit in his stomach could be treated with more burning liquor. But he should've known better. All day he'd ignored the warning signs, and now he stumbled along the streets with Adrian, focused on finding their friend, hoping to any god in all of theology that he was just suddenly very intoxicated. Yet no sooner had they tracked Luke down, finding him slumped on the street with a suspiciously gorgeous blonde by his feet, did Henry lose all control, turning fast to projectile vomit all over the ground. And in another second, he was gone, leaving nothing but a pile of clothes behind. With an unceremonious thud, he landed in another location entirely, now stark naked. "Ow, fuck!" Henry swore through gritted teeth, ribs having collided awkwardly with the side of the bathtub as he dropped seemingly out of thin air. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and gave himself a few seconds to get oriented, the thudding in his head dulling with time. He already felt grateful he was at least indoors now. That gave him some dignity. Supporting his ribcage, he finally pulled himself up, gripping the edge of the tub for purchase. "Motherfucker," he hissed, trying to keep his voice low. He had no idea where he was and what world he'd just dropped into. As always, he had to be very careful.
Getting his bearings, Henry looked around the room, searching for any signs of familiarity. The space was spotless and so unlike his own bathroom, he almost found it funny. There was something strangely regal about it too, the curtain and matching towel sets bearing a familiar symbol. In his right mind, he could've placed it, but regardless, Henry could say with certainty he'd never been there before, which made things a lot harder. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed a fancy towel off the rack and tucked it around his waist. Finding clothes was usually step one. Finally stable enough to move, Henry cracked open the bathroom door and was met with more impressive interior design, thick carpet and tinted glass windows. This space, however, was far messier, clothes and belongings strewn every which way. Paper covered almost every inch of the walls, all nonsensical drawings and paintings, and the gaps in between that weren't plastered still displayed deranged scribbles. He was so distracted by the unsettling images, he failed to notice the figure with their back to him until they'd made a noise. Adrian? Instantly, Henry was filled with relief at the sight, knowing he didn't have to run and hide — though it was hard to tell the man's age from this angle. He could only hope they knew each other in whatever time this was or he was up for a very awkward conversation. As Henry moved closer, cautious and quiet, he realised Adrian himself was the artist. In fact, he seemed to be working on something right now, paintbrush directly meeting the wall with the same mix of colours as all the others — purple and yellow. Yet none of the images seemed connected, all exhibiting different backgrounds, foliage, symbols, rough textures, some almost like rocks dotting through the paint. Was that blood? Disturbed by the art, and forgetting himself entirely, Henry cleared his throat. "Uh, hey, bud. What's uh... what's all this?"
Adrian should’ve been surprised by the sudden intrusion, but was so entrapped by his own artistry that he didn’t care to question Henry’s appearance, figuring he’d slipped in after Lissa had passed through. He also failed to answer promptly, erratically dabbing at an empty space on his wall, his paintbrush forming what resembled a sharpened tooth. Adrian tutted, knowing it didn’t align with the image he’d seen. “It’s Eddie,” he finally replied, somewhat annoyed to be pulled from his vision. “I managed to reach him again this afternoon,” he went on to explain despite his irritation, finger poking at the wet brick, ignoring the transfer onto his own fingers. He was covered in a sea of colour anyway, even his face held evidence of his own fixation. “This isn’t right. It’s not right.” Shaking his head, Adrian raised his palm upwards, and he scratched at the scab that had started to form there, drawing blood. He then dragged the crimson over his work, staining the tooth red. “That’s it. That’s what Eddie’s seeing.”
Taking a step back, Adrian tilted his head in contemplation, trying to decipher his own image. He only got flashes, because despite his own lack of recreational drug use, Eddie clearly wasn’t sober enough to reach. The Moroi tried every other hour, thankful that he didn’t have to sleep himself to dreamwalk. Images of distorted landscapes, darkened auras and the occasional flash of teeth were all he had to work on. He had to keep trying. If the situation were reversed, Eddie would stop at nothing, he knew that with absolute certainty. Adrian couldn’t allow himself to be immobilised by the absence, despite how much his grief threatened to consume him. There was no resting until they were together again, that being Adrian’s driving thought in motivation. It was the first time he hadn’t hit the bottle to cope with his despair, but he was still harming himself in the process, his abuse of spirit and the weeping gash along his lifeline evidence to that. “I won’t live without him,” he whispered, mostly to himself, seeming to forget Henry’s presence again. “I’ll get through to him. I don’t care what it does to me. I’ll reach him.”
To say Adrian was on thin ice in Benji’s eyes was an understatement. Things had been hard since the brothers had snuck out of Alicante, harder than Benji had ever imagined. Alexandria was nothing like their home, not to mention run by vampires, their sworn enemy. It was up to him and his fellow dhampirs to keep their wits, protect their own whilst the world found its feet once more. Juliet’s arrival had thrown a spanner in the works, Benji’s world tilting on its axis, but he’d worked tirelessly for the last few months to right that ship, to fight every impulse he had for their Moroi's sake. For his brother’s. And yet, once again, here was Adrian, seemingly spitting in the face of all they were trying to achieve, in everything Eddie was doing for him. After their argument earlier that month, Benji had decided avoiding him altogether was the best way forward. Leave him behind in the gutter — surely they’d all be better for it. That way, they could actually get their work done. But, unfortunately for both of them, Adrian was now the person most likely to know of Elijah’s whereabouts, so he did little more than roll his eyes at the initial response, waiting, with growing frustration, for a proper answer. And finally, that proper answer came.
It only took a moment for that professionally-tamed rage to spill over. Any semblance of care Benji might’ve still held for the Moroi before him was lost in the anger, swallowed by the panic, the love for his brother.
In one swift move, he threw Adrian's champagne bottle to the floor, the sound of the glass smashing lost amongst the music, and with two hands, he grabbed the Moroi's collar, bundling him up and slamming him against the wall. “You selfish, immature child,” he growled, every word emphasised with an accompanying shake. “I don’t give a fuck if you want to destroy yourself. Drink yourself stupid, waste your guardian's time, disappoint everybody around you. But you will not take my brother down with you. Vy menya ponimayete?” Their faces were inches apart, Benjamin’s grip tight, holding Adrian in place, oblivious to the dancing bodies around them. “You stay the fuck away from him, I mean it. Mudak —” And with that final curse, he shoved the pureblood once more before heading in the direction of the bathroom, hands curling into fists.
Although arguably deserved, Adrian hadn’t expected an immediate psychical repercussion to his actions. The champagne bottle he could’ve irritably dealt with, knowing there were plenty of replacements behind Barcelo’s counter. But he was useless in a fight, that’s what guardians were for. As Benjamin clearly showcased, moving him with ease, causing Adrian to wince as his back collided with the wall. He was thankful, at least, that the alcohol in his system would prevent the pain from lingering. He could do nothing but remain in the dhampir’s grasp, venomous words spat in his direction, unable to feel the weight of them in his current state of mind. He was certain to feel guilty later, and the idea immediately made him want a hit of something stronger than vodka, because despite his behaviour, Adrian did care about Eli. He was the only one in their group arguably more unstable than himself, which is exactly what had enticed Adrian to invite him in the first place; he wanted to help him.
Adrian should’ve known that Benji’s wrath would be the outcome, initial good intentions or not. If Eli was left in someone’s care, and that someone fell short, Benji would be the one to instil the punishment. His amazing level of self restraint had but one exception: his younger brother. The only time Benji had allowed himself to bend his own rules was if Eli was involved, if he felt a need to protect. That was the case here, and although admirable, Adrian found himself infuriated at the accusations that were being fired at him regardless of their reasoning. He felt a need to defend himself, but only did so after Benji had released him, hoping his words weren’t entirely drowned out by the music. “Funny that you call me a child, when you still treat Elijah like one. Little dhampir bipolar can make his own decisions now, Benjamin. He’s drunk in the bathroom, not dead in a gutter. He’ll be fine tomorrow after some water and a Tylenol. He was having a good time. For once!”
Adrian sighed, wiping a hand over his face, the collision having knocked a sense sobriety back into him. The room began to swim with colour, people’s auras shining brighter than the club’s lights. He wanted Eddie’s comforting embrace so badly that his chest started to ache, but he couldn’t go there. Not anymore, their fight having made that abundantly clear. So, muttering nonsensically to himself, Adrian headed towards the bar instead, hoping to cross paths with Rose again on the way.
ILYA "HOLEMATIZED" ROZANOV.