#{fire in her bones honey in her soul. she’s sweet when she has to be and fierce when she needs to be : dianna}

[hoeforhao]

RED AND CREAM ✨️🧨🎈🩸Wonwoo Oneshot

pairing : military official wonwoo × fem!reader

genre : pwp, pure smut

warnings : mention of blood, unprotected sex ( wrap it up guys ) , creampie, abusive talks, minors DNI

author's note : so umm I kind of wrote this smut for someone but then thought why not post it with wonwoo in mind. Bear with the he(s) pls.

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As he stood there looking at her with dark clouded eyes with his hair all messed up from the intense fight, blood dripping down his knuckles onto his black boots, she saw the devil in him. The devil staring at her, telling her that he has finally came for his daughter. That he has finally found his worthy offspring to spread his bloodied rays into the world.

Stepping close to him, she looks into his red burning eyes as if she's gonna light him up on fire that very moment, as if she's going to draw out those popping veins in his eyes with her red nails.

Pushing his legs apart with hers she stands between them with her black heels on while her hands take his fist in hers and gently swipe off the blood off of them with her fingers and put them into her craving mouth, gently sucking onto them as if giving him the temptation of how she would treat his dick so good yet so rough between her cavities.

All this time her knees move up and down his already tightening up crotch, sometimes pushing it a bit too hard earning muffled up moans from him. Because he's a man. He cannot show how weak and needy his woman is making him feel now. Being done with sucking off all of his enemy's blood and injecting it into her system, her hands now move upto his neck to hold it tight and firm in place while her lips curve up into a satanic smile.

She quickly brings her mouth up to the bone protruding so prominent out of his neck and instantly plants her teeth onto the skin, pulling it with her canines making tears swell up in his eyes from the intense sting.

"If you thought I'll let his blood infuse into kine and make me impure, you're so wrong honey. I'll make sure that yours takes control on his and completely overpowers him. I want to see you overpower each and every individual on the face of this planet and be at the very top" and with that she bites into his skin at animalistic force and draws out blood like a vampire feasting on its meal after ages. As if a blood thirsty demon got the first taste of vanilla sweet blood burning with rage finally on her lips, all the while he cannot touch her or do anything to her because he was pinned down.

But she very well knew that she would be overturned in a minute if he truly tried for it. Having had enough of his woman being a brat he finally engulfed her legs by his and pushed her down onto the floor. He stood tall before her, while she lay on the cold marble with a sinister smirk knowing quite well what was coming next.

Bending down to her level the very first instinct he had was to rip off ever piece of clothing from her body, making her completely naked infront of the beast that was now to feast on the vulnerable little prey infront of him. Having his legs placed on both sides of her shaking ones, he took her lips in his. And no it was not a gentle kiss at all. It was a hungry, desperate one. One to prove how he will always have the upper hand over her, how she will just be a playtoy under him.

While his teeth pulled onto her lower lips, popping the slender veins there making blood drip down the corner of her mouth, his hands played with her boobs. More appropriately abused them. His nails drew deep and sharp around her supple jiggly skin, leaving behind deep rooted tracks of his invasion onto her body and soul and mind.

Shifting from her lips, he now focuses on slapping the living shit out of her breasts, earning constant pleas of mercy from her, knowing that the undertone in them was nothing but her asking for more brutality.

When he's finally done abusing her chest, leaving it all red with his hand prints, as if something turns in him and he gently places his mouth on her nipples and suckles onto it like a child feeding on his mother. But oh well isn't his entire persona deceiving? While his mouth work like a complete gentleman around her mounds, his fingers find her throbbing clit and aggressively rubs it's like it's some sort of enemy he needs slain down.

Her eyes rolled from the intense pain and pleasure that her body was feeling at the same time. She licks off her own blood from her mouth and slightly pushes up her head as if to see what is happening to her bare body, only to find that it's a red hill down there. Every part of her skin is burning aflame. And in that very painful moment, he quickly unzips the tent in his pants and brings out his rock hard dick to now graze up and down her sloppy cunt.

Never giving her the pleasure to feel him inside her, while she claws out his toned back, he slaps the tip of his dick onto her throbbing pussy and sometimes teases her hole with it by pressing it a bit down and taking it out immediately. Not being able to take the torment anymore she takes things into her hand and harshly slaps him across the face.

That was his last string. How dare a bitch have the audacity to slap a man like him. And with that he presses himself in her in seconds without any warning, without giving her the time to even adjust to him.

"You wanted it so bad you whore hmm? How you like daddy's dick tearing up your walls into shreds now huh" he runts into her soft delicate hole like a complete animal gone feral, like a tiger getting a good meat after days.

He could see tears rolling down her eyes onto the floor from his intense thrusts, him completely ruining her pussy for the new few days so that she remembers he is who she belongs to, every inch of her body belongs to him and is only for him to ravish and eat and feast on.

With one more push down her cunt, he feels his high riding him as he releases all his anger, frustration into her, making his cum ooze out of her swelled up walls, mixed with some traces of blood from the intense abuse.

[unicyclehippo]

touch

‘you know i’m like this all the way down, don’t you? it isn’t - it isn’t an act, i do laugh it off sometimes dear, it can be terribly funny but. i am like this. forever. and it’s—could you—do you think you might be able to withstand that for a long time? i should like to be with you for a long time but it would depend on - on when you get exhausted, you see, because i must live with this or - ha - not live with, i suppose, but survive, contend, with this for however long i shall live but you, well.’ laudna’s twists her face into graceful acceptance. soft, understanding, hardly sad at all. it’s very easy to do, once you have the trick of it. ‘you needn’t. deal with this. the bark and the hair and the nails. the popping joints. the ichor, the aches, the smell, the stares, the rot.’ the word drops between them, gross, embarrassing, like she’d spat by accident. her teeth are hatesharp in her mouth. ‘the teeth,’ she adds.

imogen looks up from the book she studies with such careful, wonderful intent. so smart. she quirks a brow, amused. ‘i know what you are, laud. you forget we’ve been travellin’ together awhile now?’

‘no, no.’ her stomach twists, her hands twist, knot, roots. so is she, rooted in place. ‘i know, dear, i only mean to remind you—should you need a moment to yourself, or, or should something in particular sicken you—‘

‘laudna.’

she sinks low. imogen isn’t listening. of course not. she is kind. she lo-hmm. yes, well, laudna can surmise imogen likely loves her. which is, well, lovely! but they haven’t been in love for very long and laudna has never done it before, romance, love, but she knows herself. how she clings to things. she knows herself. love to her is like…tar. sticky and black, bubbling and pouring up and up around their ankles their calves their knees her beautiful knees. if imogen doesn’t know that now then gods help her, what if she drowns her—them—in it? and she would, imogen would stay with her she would be pleased by it, even, because she loves her, but there is something wrong with it. impossible to know if it has always been this or if it’s all the death and the accessories she’s obtained through it—lady d, trauma, blah blah blah—but she thinks she has a capacity for love like a pyre, grease-fire and rising choking smoke; like a hungry dog, snapbite shut around the hand outstretched. and she knows what she wants for imogen, the kind of love she deserves, and how far it is from what she has to offer.

‘what are you afraid of, honey?’

laudna nibbles at her bottom lip. she takes up the bone she has been carving and turns it between her fingers, not wanting to see the moment imogen sees her, maskless, exposed.

‘i want to hold you until we both die,’ laudna says, sad and sweet. ‘i want to lay down in a grave with you side by side and i shall never move again and every worm that comes to eat us up will be little versions of us, because they’ve fed on us, and they will be in love and they’ll feed all the farms and chickens and we’ll be a thousand souls in love. i want to open up your scars and see what is under your skin, what your magic does under there. i want,’ she says, and folds her elbows close to her rotten chest, folds herself small, words small, so not a page stirs, not another soul could be stirred by what she admits. ‘i want to taste it. i want to grow into a tree and grow around you like armour like a second skin so you are always safe and maybe grow taproots, grow into you. through you. i want you as part of me forever. i want to touch you, i want to always be touching you, i want you to never be able to move without feeling me beside you, i want you to crack me open and see how vile it is inside of me and plunge in neck deep and when you struggle to get out, i want to hold on.’ she pauses. ‘i want to dislocate my jaw.’

imogen sits very still. her eyes very dark. she lets out a slow breath, pink tongue flicking out to wet her lips. ‘what-‘ she clears her throat. ‘what does that last one have to do with me?’

‘it doesn’t really. but. i’ll always be quite horrible to be around and i want you to be with me anyway.’

[butmakeitgayblog]

Always, Lexa has loved her. 

In every lifetime. In every iteration of her.

Forged in the fires of hell and phosphorus embers of perdition, Lexa, a demon, walks among them. From the dawn of man crawling from their caves on bended knee, to the concrete skylines of the new world, she watched them flourish, thrive, and crumble. Smelled the smoke of their burning Eden while sipping their sin like the finest opulent wine.

"Kiss me harder," Lexa whimpers against the heat of Clarke's milk and honeyed mouth as hands work their will below.

In every lifetime she is different. A different face. A different name. Golden blonde bleeding to silver, burnt amber to black. A village healer who seeks to comfort. A coven leader who works her incantations in vain. A conjurer, a shawoman, a witch by so many shifting names. From the days when beasts roamed free and she, only a nomad protecting her clan through a veil of ancient mystics, to Clarke Griffin of the new age, the midwife with a strange knack for saving lives already thought lost to this realm.

"Fuck, Lex," Clarke sighs, rolling her hips into the thrust of Lexa's fingers hard enough to rattle the bones.

From the beginning, Lexa has watched her hone her craft, over decades and centuries and long lost millennia. Has watched her conjure and harness death in the smoke of fire-stoked chants, as her beating heart burned at the stake. Has kissed the choked, 'May we meet again' from the blue of her lips, felt the cold of her skin as she drowns on the riverbanks by their righteous hands in the never ending cycle of loving her, and losing her, and patiently waiting for that someday when she is reborn again.

"I've missed you." Lexa feels her tears turn to ash in the chalice of Clarke's kiss; quenching and searching and chasing after so many years without. 

Hell doesn't burn quite so lovingly in the lifetimes when she loves her back, returning Lexa's kisses and aching for her touch with equally wicked smiles. When she breathes her passion and pleasure against the warmth of Lexa's lips and lays her body among the ruins of their blasphemy. Back arched and legs spread as she pants for Lexa to fill her more, to take her rougher. To pour her sinister lust into her. The lifetimes where Lexa gets to hold her, taste and touch her, to feel her wrapped tight and wet around her fingers… Those are lifetimes that bring color to the grey of Lexa's damnation. When power seeps from her like a sieve of midnight fury, tasting of blood and summer sweet dandelions on Lexa's tongue. 

Clarke gasps in pants and sacred salt, hands breaking the circle upon such consecrated ground. "Don't let me forget, baby. Don't let me forget you."

Beyond her earthly bindings, the truth of her remains. The unwavering essence that calls to Lexa from the four corners of the Earth whenever she returns to her. 

Her soul remains true in every lifetime, in every iteration

And always, Lexa has loved her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Or, Demon Lexa falling for every reincarnation of Witchy Clarke over the expanse of eternity, but mostly I'm just here for the aesthetics 🎃

[jadedloverart]

The night is chilly, but the fire is warm. It's warm, and it stands alone, a single flickering pinprick of light, burning like a lonely star against the endless expanse of grassy plains.

With a somber sort of peacefulness, Kara traces the airborne embers as they spiral towards the heavens, winking out of sight like fading dreams, and all the while, she counts the slow muted thuds as they gently percuss the air.

Most nights she finds herself aimlessly watching the stars, listening to the workings of her own heart as she once did in the vast reaches of space. This time, however, her eyes remain fixed on the distant constellation of Orion for fear that if her gaze were to drop, she might find Lena staring back at her.

Even now, Kara feels the weight of that stare- almost fears it. Yet avoidance has ever been a futility that ends in the inevitable, simple act of eyes jumping from one point to another- from the sky to Lena's eyes, soft and alight with flame.

And she's so beautiful Kara can't breathe.

It has become almost second nature for Kara to force air into her lungs; to center her attention on the scents that accompany each breath in an attempt to clear her head.

This lungful brings the sweetness of grass, the moisture of the earth, and…

Lena turns her head, the black silk of her hair spilling over one shoulder as though from a broken bottle of night, and it looks like the softest thing Kara has ever wanted to touch.

The dancing light sends deep shadows to waver and jump along the column of Lena's throat, and transfixed, Kara watches the play of it as the dull ache within her chest sharpens with every passing second. It's a familiar pain by now, and indeed it's become a nearly pleasant sensation, yet it remains no less unbearable; no less irresistible.

When Kara finds the precious flutter of Lena's pulse, she is sure that something within her breaks over every beat. Her resolve, maybe, or some tedious standard of self-control that once promised her protection. Now amid the rubble of it, she feels only a brazen vulnerability.

And then, Lena looks at her again, the green of her eyes clear and warm. Lena looks at her, and this time, Kara holds her gaze. She understands in a manner akin to a subconscious acknowledgement, or rather, a recognition of something familiar- some ancient truth that she could trace to the marrow of her bones.

Lightning has only ever struck Kara twice, and both times it infused her with a vibrating, chaotic sort of energy, reminiscent of the sun yet different- as though every atom in her body was attempting to shake apart with the overload of it. She feels it again, now, as the world suddenly presents itself to her with perfect clarity. The shock of it could make her cry; the rightness of it nearly does.

Mouth opening and closing, Kara tries to speak, her voice stubbornly refusing to come out, and in an act of resignation, she rises, feeling almost as though she is moving through a dream. The grass folds mutely beneath her feet as she circles the fire with quiet, careful steps, listening with curious wonder as Lena's heartbeat quickens.

There is a softness to Lena's expression that rarely shows itself to the world, and in that softness, Kara knows her soul could easily drown without leaving a single trace behind.

And suddenly, jarringly, Kara finds herself standing before Lena.

Some undeniable instinct spurs her to sink to her knees, and distantly, she registers the falter of Lena's breath and the startled look of awe upon her face. For a moment, Kara wonders if Lena knows.

But then, how could she not?

As if in response to Kara's silent query, Lena tilts her head slightly, that same awed look in her eye, even as an odd smile twists the corner of her mouth. That little quirk draws Kara's gaze like a fly to honey, and she aches to trace the curve of Lena's lip, her fingers lifting slowly from the safety of her side.

Without another thought, Kara is brushing the hair back from Lena's face, the tips of her fingers lingering in the warmth that radiates from the smooth skin of Lena's cheek. She savors it- feels it like it's the sun, though the sensation borders one hotter than any fire she has ever had to walk through.

The air begins to thrum in a series of rapid little waves only Kara can ride, and the tremor of it settles easily within her chest, overriding every rhythm of her flesh. The dark centers of Lena's eyes have grown like the expansion of a black hole, drawing every helpless thing in with gravitational force, and into that beckoning, Kara feels as though she could fall forever and still name it flight.

She doesn't realize how close she is until Lena tilts her face up ever so slightly, eyes bright with a longing so intense any flimsy pretenses Kara has ever held before her fall away like old cobwebs.

A beat passes, muted and thundering, and as it lulls, Kara moves as if through honey. Some vague, unimportant strain of caution whispers that there is no going back after this, and in the face of it, she takes hold of a boldness within herself whose voice she has called upon thousands of times, yet has always feared. With that boldness clutched firmly to her, Kara forges ahead, her hand moving to cradle Lena's cheek.

And then she kisses her, and the world fades to nothing around them, twisting reality and dream together. She knows without a doubt that any man made of softer stuff would break against the wildness that rises within her heart, and there, beneath Earth's distant stars, Kara begins to understand the final lesson of courage.

[littlelynx22]

🩷✨Ariana✨🩷

Info

Ari/Aria/Ariana is the daughter of HuskerDust

She lives in the hotel with..

Charlie (Auntie)

Vaggie (Auntie)

Husk (Father/Dad)

Angel (Pa/Papa)

Alsotor (Uncle)

Nifty (Firend)

Lucifer (Uncle)

Melody (Twin Brother)

Info

Name: Ariana~Dust

Pronounce: She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nickname:

Sweet Pea, Feathers, Honey-Pie (Angel)

Sweetie, Kiddo, lil Wings (Husk)

Cutie Pie, Ari, Fluff Ball (Vaggie & Charlie)

Lil Feathers, Petite Ar, lil Fellow (Alsotor)

Rockstar, Wings, Mini Angel (Lucifer)

Feathers, Fa-Fa, Lil Ang, Buttons (Cherri Bomb)

Buttons, Hearts, Prankster (Sir Pinches)

Ms.Ari, Ariana, Wings, Mini Husk (Nifty)

Feathers, Fluffy Face, Ari (Melody)

Likes

LOVES PANCAKES 🥞

Jazz

LOVES SUSHI 🍣

Flirting (Not all the time)

Italian Food

Her Dads (HuskerDust)

Her family

Wearing Casual Clothes

Tank tops

Boots

Being a Stripper (Like Angel)

Her Freedom

Half Cat-Spider Appearance

Dancing

Listen to Music

Drawing

Writing

Reading

LOVES Pranks

Color Purple/Pink

Cooking

Gambling (she always WINS)

Magic Shows (Her Father's)

Watch people in pain/suffer (being Psycho)

Fashion

Velvet (The from the V’s)

Dealing with other people’s souls/fear

Parties

LOVES Whiskey (Age of 20)

Dislikes

The V's (Valentino & Vox)

Valentino (Angels Boss)

Travis

Vox

Treated like a pet

People being fake

Mimzy bringing trouble

Being treated like a pet

Cat instincts

People annoying her

People cheating (Gambling)

Memorizing scripts

Anyone else ending up like her

Niffty getting into trouble/handling weapons

Depression

Uncle Alsotor Deals

Loud Noises

Abilities

Retractable Arms/Wings - Aria has a third set of arms that she keeps hidden and only uses them as her last resort and Uses her wings at any given time, place or When she needs them

Flight - Thanks to her large pair of retractable avian wings, Aria is capable of flight, Though, it has been stated that she doesn't fly often like her father Husk

Sensitivity - She can sense incoming storms, danger or a threat from a mile away

Bilingualism- Speaks Italian, Spanish, Japanese and Russian fluently as for English

Flexibility - Aria demonstrates some impressive flexibility as she is able to remove chains that were restraining her with ease, as well as pole dancing

Skilled Combatant - Aria uses her cards to fight, acting as a sharp weapon for melee and throwing projectiles, and using dice acting like grenades.

Immense Regeneration - As a Hell born (The only hell born including her brother), Ariana has enhanced regenerative abilities that allow her to heal in the blink of an eye, her regeneration was relatively slow compared to other sinners, taking a few moments to heal her wounds. Also allowing her to reconnect her whole torso and body parts as well as regrow her arms and legs instantaneously.

Exploding Blood - Aria can ignite the blood that has exited her body, turning it into crimson-pinkish flames that are harmful to Sinners, Winners, Overlords Serphims etc.

Card Manipulation - Aria can use this as an illusion to know what card the dealer or the opponent picked as a cheating system or by memory

Fire Manipulation - Aria Can damage people without resisting to heat

Pyrokenesis - She can create flames that burn twice as the rate it goes

Agnikinesis - Aria uses this power to control fire at will

Typgokenesis - She can create smoke at will

Webs - Aria can create webs from her fingertips. She utilizes them to bind and trap her victims in the same way a spider might. Extremely fine threads that can cut through even the thickest material if used rapidly. This can also cut through flesh and bones. She can also control the flames on them and how much damage she can do to her victims

Feather Darts - When Aria wings/feathers get damaged her wings won't Fall off those feathers will regrow in her wings, but in a different way her feathers are like needles the feathering of the are soft but the stick its self it has deadly needles that can go through flesh and bones even paralyzing, poisoning her victims until they're dead

Speed reading - While reading Ariana has more set of eyes which she is able to read at a fast pace even when having large piles of papers and remember what was on it.

Personality

She's a very quick learner when it comes to combat or anything she learns, she loves to hangout by herself or with fat nuggets or her family. She's Speshel in her own ways, when she gets angry or annoyed she'll act like Husk and when she's excited or up going she's like Angel Dust.

She is very confident, sometimes bold, she'll be a good person when she wants to be, but she's mostly chill or out going and when people get on her bad side she'll turn into a demon like cat about the size of Bee(Helluva Boss) and she'll kill anyone who getting her way or who causes pain to others.

When she's with her family she's happy and and loved, but when Angel takes her to Work with him she will not hesitate to kill Valentino and Vox, but Not Vellevet cause she thinks she's kinda chill.

As Aria starts training she goes to Camilla Carmine as her combat teacher and friend, she'll go to Rosey and just see how things are going and if she needs anything, but back at the hotel when she's with Alsotor she's a bit of Husk when she goes near him, she's not scared or him {Maybe just a bit} but she doesn't show it at all so she can be strong.

Ariana on her days off or when she needs a break she’ll go with her “Auntie” Cherri Bomb to blow buildings up (Valentino’s Clubs) go out and causes a ruckus, sit and chill with her and have fun to reales her anger when she’s with Cherri.

When Aria is with Velvet she's just chill and she only comments on the fashion only, she'll kinda make fun of them, but She's just Aria she just likes to see others misrible only when it's convenient, but with Velvet or Vel as her nickname from Aria she's only there to help with fashion then leave.

Aria will drink blood or lava to regain her strength and skills, when she drinks blood she'll drink Angel Blood mainly to get her back up and running, so Lucifer gives her some of the exercise blood that they stored for her when she was a baby she drank blood from an exercise, and that's what she drank mostly

Ariana and her twin brother share a tight bond, supporting each other through thick and thin. Though they have their typical sibling disagreements, their love for each other is unwavering. Their unique connection as twins only strengthens their relationship, and they know they will always have each other's backs.

Characteristics

Goth Girl

Easily Annoyed

Protective

Funny/Fun

Chill

Feeling Loved by family

Sassy

Has Attitude

Happy (Optional)

Kind/Carring

Smart

Skilled

Confident

Skilled in Combat

Unkillable

Strong

Fun

[crimsontroupe]

What Flavour is Your Soul?

rosemary (adonia)

ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. the time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. you've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. but kindness without limits is self destruction. oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. you wish to please everyone, to protect them all. but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. protect yourself too. you know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. be a friend. your loved ones will not forsake you for not being perseus slaying all their demons. you have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. you know that right? be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

honey (aliah) "sugared mel e lingua serpentis." sugared honey from a serpent's tongue. oh dearest, look how you gleam. how the sunlight dances off your shoulders, how the heavens shine across your wingtips. but you are hollow, hollow, hollow. even the taste of nectar can choke a man. sometimes the sweetest flowers hide the sharpest poison. you lie to yourself, the worst lie of all. you needn't be so obsessed with perfect. the greatest beauty lies in our faults. do you think the moon apologizes for their mara? no, their craters add to their glow. my dear, breathe. you are not an island, breathe, before the honey drowns you. you wish to be lovely, you long to be loved. but did aphrodite trade her powers for perfection? she did not. you can be beautiful, and also whole. be whole above anything else dear. a heart of diamonds is worth nothing if inchor oozes from it. inward. look within and question how well do you know yourself? little petal are you trying to be a god? why? can a god bloom from sullen soil? no. you are whole as you are.

vanilla (equinox)

oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? you are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. but why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. you mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. you say you do not care about trivial things, but don't you? sweetheart relax. you can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. you think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? feelings are what makes this world pulse. do not suppress your feelings. your heart can still thaw my dear. trust.

tagged by: @blindedguilt (love u. mwa)

tagging: @kesil (phos), @voiceofduality (emil), @viilein + @weavermasked, @saintsdawn, @inabsentiia, @amaurotine, @tomepact (🐛), @thronelessking (vanya + arlas) + you! tag me so i can see ur results.

[libidomechanica]

Let therefore two sides her hand show

And around the tower of use     and a curst magician’s heart I’ll tell his position: I     don’t birds may taken with this vestal vow take and loosed our     light the mind that, oft I her shame? Who kill? News but a body     and where I profane,

should die like Adam’s recollect     my heart on fire more the gallant gentle eye, and so Your     humbles away around then she sting! Now ryse vp Elisa,     decked the prove him her long since their troth, and leave, with no     more, and prosody are

in perilous bustle, but would     not speak, she was long ago; lust of all within was still     back return, return, even years? Though the core of This admires     my Lady Blanche had no summer breathless to benefit     mankind. Into Bagdad

came there all the market for     this cunning Time was a regular bird on every senses     with ourself hath and to revealed in still were the mood     than not be fair young a husband like a hawk encumbered     with standing spouts up in

wine, both sea and love’s first, behemoth,     grinning Time had some skill wandering hard, and suffer’d     and moanings dark: quickly on my eyes, instead. With thought the     time when the age here should not. So saying, soothe mystic art,     if such faltering was

the grave proves to love I thinking,     doth their eyes like skaters lie with everywhere then reign’d. Besides,     and a deuced balmy conscious bosom, and away;     and pretence clos’d their Muses! No serpent to singen soothe     a tiny earth said that

art their love you pressure, so these     this is no reason, owe, and implores he past,—this, and half-     torn man; even ashes cold in skins, raw from his wrongs to     my weary watch that the worldly bustle; while she laye, and     their best upon the plays

in such a cure, they were green, ended     knees, more dead. Low or dove, not both interest face from     the cedar gloom wrought, that pretty, say very human on     Neptune’s feet. We have drawn and then—God known the mother,     I will be like Wellesley

now; each house with new-born Goddesses,     a prince, sensitive, the deep, are than the least by the     College gown, there than can I fly no concern’d; beside, as     if she brought us lodge in me. Nuptial knot, and so stream:     to following knees most

starte, and alone; I know by her     how, not a page with her grace can your system to peep, to     leave me these hallow’d, o’er thee. I would hardly and then as     a woman every branches yearning out of more, that     howsoever in the levelling

bones of man, if her rich as     gathered me strangle a line swept far less nightiest lips meet     that has gone. On softer thee. The press, chest; their new jubilee,     who nails him fast fa’ the cause that dwells in ice; its very     turn Romeo boots.

Is sweet to my well-bred, when natured     eye, and ruddy dropping lies were slate the brilliance ’gainst     the stroked my heart is lost in the kingly way? Like call they     say t was her through unfathom’d bring of birds is out; for     threescore—a quietly

inurn’d; for its workings that dainty     of blossoms, as the strange doubt. But the strove whole life, wishing     sore him in their death? Around me, my form, look upon     my gardens green, ended late! The maid, wife, and aloes, with     sapphire in the work

is here are the twilight which arose     a clapping from week and lucent sun hurried at with     vain bubble of its lengths of classic lecture slain, ye shall     answered. Music’s gold fin in stone—when the took pity. The     one to Wámik—Oh Thou

victim, and over heaven, mankind.     Or redeeming in the soft as an honest bark bay     deep-damask’d the Princesse the cedar shakes. Or eyes. Who make     all proceed; you’d call her sae sma’! For thys, not kills me the     fast sponge of trees feel

palpitated to the Water light.     Moments came: she said again, if I knew thy poppy the     honey locust and down upon this way. To overfraughts     each humble down the comfort neer. With your mother again,     my soul invincible.

[diannahq]

💜

[lilyjcne]

tag dump !

[apocalyqse]

tag dump !

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serena  |   ❛  thread001.  ❜   (  blank.  )

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[brooklynislandgirl]

Her mouth midwifes the sound from his throat, gliding upward as she feels it travel upward, sending a faint shiver down the channel of her spine. One that ends up pooling warmly at her root chakra. That sensation dovetails between offering her a deep sense of safety, of belonging with a wild femininity, desirous as well as desired. If she said as much, would he laugh at her gently and wrap a lock of long dark hair around his finger before giving it a tug? Would he grin down at her knowing she has some silly fancies incongruous to the world around her that charm him any way? She lives for those moments when she can steal him away from his grim determination. When she can see his midnight eyes light up with all of his soul. Or maybe he'd confess that he feels those first things within her embrace. Maybe she calls to a primordial sense deep inside him that makes him just that much of a better man ~she's never not taken the opportunity to tell him that she always believes he's one of the best that she knows, and the only other person she's mentioned that way is her own sibling~ and that stokes in him a matching fire. Rough fingers glide like silk across her legs. Not quite close enough to where the devil on her shoulder whispers they should be but impossible not to feel the faint quiver as they trek and the residual heat so close to his skin. He pries her apart with no resistance. Like water she flows around him to cradle his hips between her thighs, locking ankles at the bottom edge of his backside. An uptick of pulse at her throat, a small mewl of alarm when she goes up and up, her hands coming to perch on his shoulders, pinkies coming to rest at the sides of his neck. She is perhaps the smallest member of the group, shorter even than Carl, than little Beth Greene. Height makes her queasy but this time the disorientation is abated when she feels his breath along her collar bones. When she drowns in his gaze. She swallows hard just before his mouth meets hers. Coaxes her to open for him and feels the sweet of his tongue as he deepens those kisses, determined to steal away her breath. He presses into her and an ache comes alive from the close contact. The wall provides all the support she could crave as her bones seem to melt from within. "Yes," she whispers heatedly, though with eyes half lidded, molten green and hot honey, it might be debatable whether she's answering his husky questions or whether she's remarking on the way his tongue draws its lines against her skin. That seductive plea-turn-command envelopes her just as tightly as his arms. She strokes the back of his neck and leaves light furrows in the passing of her nails. He ignites a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, and a swath of goosebumps ~chicken skin, she calls it~ across her flesh. She takes only quick shallow breaths as she searches his face though what she seeks is hard to quantify in any meaningful way. Beth's body shifts against the wall, not quite jockeying for position, and her lashes flutter as the motion has her hips grinding against him but for as close as they are, the friction does nothing to that growing ache that pulses with every beat of her heart which itself is beginning to beat stronger and faster. All because of his voice. Low and deep against her bones. All because of how it winds in and out of her, the words themselves dangerous. She trails her lips to his jaw, grazes the line of it with the edges of pearly white small and sharp teeth. Delights in the rasp of stubble against her tongue when she soothes the little nips sprinkled here and there.

@brooklynislandgirl asked: It isn't often that she and Shane are... well, allowed isn't the right word, is it? No one is technically holding them against their will, they could not call the situation Stockholm Syndrome or anything of the like, but it is a matter of sense and responsibility.

There really happens to be no question that Shane is their greatest warrior, a knight-defender whose entire mindset and body is ready to protect the group and their interests at whatever cost. She doesn't ever tell him how much that stalwart nature of his scares her when she has to watch him go. And just maybe, deep down, Beth wants to believe that Shane feels that same feeling in the pit of his stomach when he has to leave her behind in camp when he forages for supplies or goes on patrol.

Like it or not, it makes sense that she stays behind. With Lori in her condition, and Doc Greene being a man of a certain age with veterinary skills while hers stay grounded in human medicine? It would be fool-hardy to risk sending a doctor in Walker-infested wilds. Problem with that, she'd almost argue is that there's no promise as the days drag on that the farm itself won't be overrun. And she won't add more weight to his shoulders by confessing that fear.

But there are things she needs to keep up the health and sanity of the group. She could describe them, write it down, send him off and then settle back to wait and hope. But Shane's girl? Small as she is, she's quick, soundless. She's agile. She's strong in her own way and so she holds firm, insisting the foraging party would have better luck in taking her, especially with Daryl is still not a hundred percent.

And she's not wholly disappointed when the night and the weather turn against them. Shane finds an abandoned house and is fast at sweeping through it. Their luck there are no bodies rotting with in, nor is it occupied by the enemy whatever form it wishes to take.

They make short work of setting up a nest on the second floor, a mostly boarded up window for vantage, stringed cans across the stairs at intervals for an alarm. The delight of clean sheets and blankets from the bathroom's linen closet and when was the last time they could say they had something not washed in river water?

Maybe it's a moment of actual privacy in a relatively luxurious space. Maybe it's the way his shirt strains against his shoulders as he opens cans ~they can spare a few, this once. After all, what good are they to the group if they don't make it back?~ so that he can cautiously heat up supper for them. Or maybe. Just maybe... Beth wants to feel him close. To breath him in and suck the heat out of his bones to banish all the dark things that lurk inside of her.

Whatever it is, she finds herself wrapping her fingers at his hips, half pushing-half pulling him away from the counter. A few tripping steps and she's pushing him against the wall of the dining room, just on the other side of the marble island. Straining on the tips of her toes to try and buy just one more inch to get closer to his mouth, she still comes up just a little short.

Beth knows how to improvise. Letting him go, she slips fingertips into the collar of his shirt and tugs it down. Her lips fix themselves to his bones there. The soft press of full lips becomes a wet little suckling motion as if she doesn't have a care in the world about leaving her mark on him.

She really doesn't. Care, that is. Not when she feels the heat. The steady beat of his pulse. Tastes the salt on his skin, and she sighs, eyes half-closing.

Send me “Against The Wall” to slam my muse up against a wall and kiss them.

Once more another darkened night, the marriage of storm clouds and dulled moon, into a home that wasn't their own did Shane and his Beth go. Nestled within a neighborhood whose blue sign was beaten down by the elements and hands grayed - Wiltshire Estates - scratched around the lettering, the hinges almost wholly loose from the metallic post. Proud on the corner where sidewalk led the way, the roof of the home was pristine in nature, untouched, would serve well to keep out the unwanted, both alive and not so. Lifeless slate that went about in rows and rows of shingle; the inside of the home was pleasant and quaint, the memories of an old couple still stationed on the walls, their faces forever hung in picture frames, smiling with cheeks painted pink. Arms wrapped around each other, wife and husband united in more than their silver, their ultimate fate uncertain. Shane gone from one end of the house to another, Beretta 96 handled in steady, tight grip, finger readied at the trigger, unable to find those lost lovers. Neither them nor any Geek of similar kind, for the time spent, he and Beth would be protected. Safe from an end worse than death - in a home that wasn't, couldn't, be theirs.

Cans not used for the sake of security measures, that was to be dinner. Cracked open by hand and eyed with the same sort of disinterest, both mind and belly that yearned for more and better. Too tired of the same bland and tasteless meals; unable to stomach the heaviness that came about from beans, the lack of full from corn or carrots. Desired so much for what was used to be had, straight from the oven, smothered in sauce and hot to the tastebuds, the flavors that spoke delicious. What could impress and what did so, what Shane would've cooked for Beth had the Lord above been kinder. Less harsh in the remaking of the world, when such things mattered most in life, the play that came about from courtship and dating, romance and sweet beginnings. Dates from home, surrounded by the comforts that were so easily taken for granted, to winnow the bad and never the good. More than room temperature canned delights, what Beth deserved, their relationship too beautiful for such messes.

So pure, nearly had Shane been completely overwhelmed by it. Stunned, his feet almost knocked out from under him, his entire heart stolen from his chest before he so much realized. An attraction so devastating; the love he felt for Beth was painful, an agony that worked its way into bliss, the sort of hurt that he bore happily. Compared to none, there was no love greater to Shane than Beth. Always sought for but never found, the faces of the past blurred together, mere moments to a life that desired more, craved more. Assumed to have discovered such in Lori - bonded by trauma, lust fall into so soon as the ways of the heart - Shane left all alone, in the end. A man scorned, lover thrusted from warm embrace, a father pushed aside because the truth was too bitter a pill. Much too difficult to swallow with dry throat, the mutual sin that couldn't ever be changed, the faults of two but suffered separately. Ardor akin to a whirlwind - hurricane of emotion and wounded feelings - from Beth did Shane comprehend how foolish he had been. Beth was that real love. Long awaited for, too precious to ever let go of, would die for without question.

Slender bone around his hips, pulled away from the newest of opened canned goods, when his back met hard wall, Shane was drawn from his daydreams, the thoughts that always tried to outrun him. Pinned at the point between kitchen and dining room, helpless, traditional roles reversed because of determined plan. Fingers around his shirt neck, the yank to the cloth strong but not brutal, directed just where Beth wished him to be. Not given the chance to protest - not for a second did such words dare to escape his lips - her mouth on his flesh, the mark of Beth deeply rooted in the space of collarbone. Expanse that couldn't be hidden by properly adjusted shirt or collar; bound to be mullberry, the sweetest of fruits, labors so dedicated. Like the tartness of the berries they shared when love was first confessed, all over their mouths and fingers, chased by kisses, a rumble started in Shane. Carried from his throat upward, the sort of purr that signaled more possessive streaks, fell from his lips in the shape of a moan.

Hands taken from the space at his sides, empty and hung lazily, to the curve of Beth's thighs, into a lift did Shane force her position. Scooped into his arms and held by his waist, until her legs wrapped around his hips and locked, Beth looking down to him, he up to her. Glance so warmed that they could be compared to sparks; brown turned into blaze, the juncture of sane man and untamed animal. Wordlessly, with his touch still kept at her thighs and legs, Shane kissed Beth. Propped her against himself as he spun them both around, placed her against the wall instead, pressed his weight to her and kept her there, attacked her with kisses. Kisses and more kisses; the gentle slide of his tongue over her lips, across her neck as his face slid south.

"Markin' me up, baby? Wanna make sure, that when we get back to the others, everybody knows I'm yours?"

Shane whispered, voice like honey, liquid gold and decadence, parted only by kisses. "Do it, Beth. Mark me. Bite me. Sink your teeth into me - do whatever you want to me, darlin'. Make me yours - I am yours. Just like you're mine. All mine, always mine; gonna leave my mark on you. You want that? Beth? You want me to do that, cover every inch of you in love bites? Mark you with my teeth, my tongue? Ain't nobody gonna question who you belong to after, who either one of us belongs to. Say the word, baby. Just say the word. Tell me, Beth."

[oddaodd]

· MASTERLIST ·

THOMAS SHELBY

· Fast Enough · In which the reader is there for Tommy during one of his mental breakdowns. (Angst)

· Awfully sensitive · In which Tommy comforts an emotional reader. (Fluff) 

· Her Eyes · In which Tommy and the reader are in an arranged marriage. (Fluff/Angst) 

· Hesitation · In which Tommy´s reaction to the reader´s pregnancy isn't what she expected. (Angst)

· Wishful Sinful Wicked Blue · In which the reader and Tommy love drinking together. (Smut/Fluff) 

· Concern In Painting · In which Tommy snaps at the reader´s concern about his wellbeing. (Angst/Fluff)

· Tender Sunken Sea · In which the reader convinces Tommy to go to the beach with her. (Fluff)·

· Not Quite It Seems · What You Want (part two) ·In which things turn sour when feelings get involved between Tommy and the reader. (Smut/Angst)

· In The Depths Of Despair · In which the reader refuses to let Tommy go into the tunnels alone. (Angst)

· All The Knives That Lacerate Your Brain · In which the reader deals with the aftermath of Tommy´s PTSD. (Angst)

· Stormborn · *Requested *  In which Tommy helps the reader give birth. (Fluff) 

· Body And Soul · In which the reader convinces Tommy to paint. (Fluff/Angst) 

· Relax · In which tommy helps the reader relax. (Smut) 

· A Second,Or Two, Or Three · in which the reader tells Tommy she loves him for the fist time. (Fluff)

· I Will Be Your Wine · A Lace Ghost · (Part two)  *Requested* In which the reader realizes she and Tommy were never meant to be. (Angst) 

· Dancing Out In Space · In which the reader has an anxiety attack and Tommy is there for her. ( Fluff/Angst) 

· The Wait · *Requested* In which Tommy deals with the reader’s mood swings during pregnancy. (Fluff) 

·A Mundane Occurrence Heavy With Significance · *requested* In which Tommy spends the night at the reader’s place for the first time and his nightmares pay an unwanted visit. (Fluff) 

· Pretty Empowering I Must Say · *Requested* In which John and Arthur tease Tommy for being soft in the reader’s presence. (Fluff). 

· Dedicated To Touch · *Requested* In which the reader makes a touch starved Tommy feel loved. (Fluff)

· What No One Would Ever Know · *Requested* In which Tommy’s wife is badass and he is soft only for her. (Fluff).

· Besides Tea And Toast · * Requested* In which the reader is a war widow with a daughter and Tommy proposes to her. (Fluff) 

· The Flames Singing · *Requested* In which Tommy is vulnerable and Y/n comforts him. (Fluff) 

· Cold Tea And Romantic Gestures · In which Tommy makes the reader feel loved. (Fluff)

· Mementos Of The Sea · *Requested* In which the reader takes tommy away to the sea for their wedding anniversary. (Fluff) 

· Lydia Pinkham’s Remedies · *Requested* In which Tommy comforts the reader while she suffers from period cramps. (Fluff) 

· The Emerald’s Life Long Wait · *Requested* In which Tommy feels the reader deserves better than him. (Fluff/Angst).

· One Of These Days These Heels Are Gonna Stomp All Over You · *Requested* In which the reader is harassed by her boss and tells Tommy. (Angst) 

· Winter Son · *Requested* In which Y/n and tommy rejoice over their baby son’s first Christmas. (Fluff). 

· For Ages · In which Y/n falls for Tommy, her lifelong friend. (Angst/Fluff)

· What’s Going On? · *Requested* In which y/n isn't sure who her baby’s father is, Tommy or John. (Drama) 

· I Was Listening · In which Tommy makes the reader feel less insecure. (Fluff)

· Dangerous, The Horse · In which Tommy doesn't want to open up to the reader. (Angst/Fluff)  

· Broken Bones · *Requested* In which Tommy’s wife breaks her leg and he takes care of her. (Fluff)

· Light My Fire · *Requested* In which the reader, Charlie’s nanny, gets pregnant with Tommy’s baby. (Smut/Fluff/Angst) 

· Unwanted Surprises · In which the reader wonders if she and tommy have fallen out of love (Angst). 

· Can You Feel How Fast That’s Going?· *Requested* In which tommy needs to sort out his priorities and confesses his love to the reader. Based on the The Weekend’s song Where You belong. (Angst/Fluff/Smut)

· Just Till Noon · *Requested* In which the reader convinces Tommy to stay in bed a bit longer. (Fluff) 

· Whisky Floors · *Requested* In which Tommy disappears for two days and comes home to his annoyed pregnant wife. (Angst/Fluff)

· Birthday Pearls · The reader wants Tommy to spend her birthday with her, but he’s busy. (Angst/Fluff).

· Maimed · *Requested* In which Tommy finds out the reader had to resort to prostitution when he was away at war and doesn’t react well to it. (Angst)

· A Conjured Up Death Wish · *Requested* In which the reader begins to worry about how much damage Grace’s Ghost can cause (Angst) 

· Delightful Misty Dream · In which Tommy joins the reader in the bathtub after a rather stressful day. (Smut/Fluff) 

· A Whimsical Tale · *Requested* In which Tommy gets jealous of Finn flirting with his maid because he likes her. (Smut/Fluff). 

· Nice Things · In which Charlie snaps at the reader and Tommy feels guilty. (Angst) 

· Ominous · *Requested* In which Y/n gets hurt stopping the Lees from raiding the betting shop and suffers from it. (Angst) 

· Heedless Words That Numb The Heart · *Requested* In which Tommy snaps at the reader and then makes it up through small acts of love. (Angst/Fluff) 

· A Concoction of Honey, Oatmeal and Herbs · In which Tommy agrees to do skincare with the reader. (Absolute Fluff) 

· A Dress Made Out Of Daffodils · In which the reader isn't ready to sleep with Tommy and he is understanding and loving about it. (Fluff)

· They Were Closer Now, Fernando · In which Tommy comes home exhausted from a bussiness trip in London and snaps at the reader. (Angst/Fluff)

· Cloudberry Flavored Midnight Cravings · *Requested* In which the reader is craving some biscuits late at night and Tommy being the loving husband he is scours Birmingham to satisfy his wife’s craving. (Fluff) 

· Soft Words Professed Amidst Uncertainty · *Requested* In which the reader is shocked by tommy’s newfound compliments towards her. (Smut/Fluff) 

· Fake It Till You Make It · *Requested * In which Tommy pretends to be Y/n’s boyfriend in front of her brothers. (Fluff) 

· Gardens That Like To Run with Blushing Flowers · *Requested* In which the reader leaves a flower on tommy’s desk every morning and one day he confronts her about it. (Fluff) 

· Slumberless Hours On A Gloomy Saturday · In which Tommy tries to make Y/n feel better after Charlie tells him she has been feeling down. (Fluff/Angst)

· The Devil’s Hour · *Requested* In which Tommy comes home late at night to find the reader still awake waiting for him because she wants to cuddle. (Fluff) 

· Bishops And Pawns On The Storm · *Requested* In which the reader teaches Tommy to play chess (Fluff) 

·Idyllic Announcements In The Wake of Epsom · *Requested* In which the reader has something very important to tell Tommy after the races. (Angst/Fluff)

· I Don't Go In For Sweets · *Requested* In which Tommy reluctantly agrees to marry the reader and is awfully cold and distant towards her. (Angst/Fluff).

·July's Official Birthday Flower · In which the reader suffers from yet another miscarriage and Tommy is there for her, but there's always going to be a reminder of what they've lost. (Angst)

·Wailing Teapots · In which Tommy begins questioning Y/n's allegiances and goes and pays her a visit to confront her about it only to find out a dark truth. (Angst/Fluff)

CILLIAN MURPHY 

· Slip Of The Tongue · In which after an embarrassing slip of the tongue while filming a scene with Cillian, the reader feels she ought to explain herself. (Fluff) 

ALFIE SOLOMONS 

· Home · *Requested* In which y/n Shelby falls for Alfie. (Fluff) 

· Cointreau · *Requested* In which Alfie is intrigued by his next door neighbor. (Fluff) 

· The Best Pies In England · *Requested* In which the reader finds out that Alfie isn't really a baker and gets sad that he cant bake. (Fluff) .

· Life In Margate · *Requested* In which the reader decides to move with Alfie to Margate when he tells her he has cancer. (Angst/Fluff).

MICHAEL GRAY

· A Lavender Bath · Chamomile Tea · *Requested* In which Michael receives a distressing phone call from the reader. (Angst) 

· Like A Queen In Days Of Old · *Requested* In which Michael offers his coat to the reader who is a jazz dancer. (Fluff) 

· What About France ? · *Requested* In which Michael tells the reader he must away to America (Smut/Angst)

ARTHUR SHELBY 

· Sounds Like A Dream · *Requested* In which Y/n makes Arthur feel better after one of his breakdowns. (Angst/Fluff) 

· A Lemon Tree Would Also Be Divine · *Requested* In which Arthur goes strawberry picking with the reader and then they bake a pie together. (Pure cottage core fuel/Fluff) 

· Someone Able To Put Your Fires Out · *Requested* In which Arthur relaxes as the reader reads to him (Fluff) 

JOHN SHELBY 

· Passing Clouds ·*Requested* In which the reader suffers from depression and John comforts her. (Angst/Fluff)JOHN SHELBY 

[littlelynx22]

🩷🐾🎶Melody🎶🐾🩷

Info

Mel/Melo/Melody is the son of HuskerDust

She lives in the hotel with..

Charlie (Auntie)

Vaggie (Auntie)

Husk (Father/Dad)

Angel (Pa/Papa)

Alsotor (Uncle)

Nifty (Firend)

Lucifer (Uncle)

Ariana (Twin Sister)

Info

Name: Melody~Dust

Pronounce: He/They

Sexuality: Gay

Nickname:

Sweet Pea, Feathers, Honey-Pie (Angel)

Sweetie, Kiddo, lil Wings (Husk)

Cutie Pie, Mello, Fluff Ball (Vaggie & Charlie)

Lil Feathers, Petite Mel, lil Fellow (Alsotor)

Rockstar, Wings, Mini Angel (Lucifer)

Feathers, Fa-Fa, Lil Ang, Strips (Cherri Bomb)

Buttons, Hearts, Prankster, Strips (Sir Pinches)

Mr. Mel, Melody, Wings, Mini Angel (Nifty)

Feathers, Fluffy Face, Fuf-Poofy (Ariana)

Likes

LOVES PANCAKES 🥞

DRAG QUEEN

Jazz/Pop

Sex

LOVES SUSHI 🍣

Flirting

Italian Food

his Dads (HuskerDust)

His Twin

his family

Wearing Casual Clothes

Working at Clubs

Tank tops

Boots

Being a Stripper (Like Angel)

his Freedom

Half Cat-Spider Appearance

Dancing

Listen to Music

Drawing

Writing

Reading

LOVES Pranks

Color Pink

Cooking

Gambling (He always WINS like is Sister)

Magic Shows (His Father's)

Watch people in pain/suffer (being Psycho)

Fashion

Velvet (The from the V’s)

Dealing with other people’s souls/fear

Parties

LOVES Whiskey (Age of 20)

Partying

Drinking

Honest people

"Being a jackass"

Smoking

Her phone

Reading magazines

Sleeping

Dislikes

The V's (Valentino & Vox)

Valentino (Angels Boss)

Travis

Vox

His feet (his feet look like Angel Dust)

Treated like a pet

People being fake

Mimzy bringing trouble

Being treated like a pet

Cat instincts

People annoying him

People cheating (Gambling)

Memorizing scripts

Anyone else ending up like him

Niffty getting into trouble/handling weapons

Depression

Uncle Alsotor Deals

Loud Noises

Bad vibes

People who insult him

Belphegor not letting him use the former's "party drugs"

Working

being baby sit

Taking medicinal shots

HATES WATER

Abilities

Immense Regeneration - As a Hell born (The only hell born including his sister), Melody has enhanced regenerative abilities that allow him to heal in the blink of an eye, his regeneration was relatively slow compared to other sinners, taking a few moments to heal his wounds. Also allowing his to reconnect his whole torso and body parts as well as regrow his arms and legs instantaneously.

Exploding Blood - Melo can ignite the blood that has exited his body, turning it into crimson-pinkish flames that are harmful to Sinners, Winners, Overlords, Serphims etc.

Webs - Melo can create webs from his fingertips like is sister. He utilizes them to bind and trap his victims in the same way a spider might. Extremely fine threads that can cut through even the thickest material if used rapidly. This can also cut through flesh and bones. he can also control the flames on them and how much damage he can do to his victims

Agnikinesis - Aria uses this power to control fire at will

Fire Manipulation - Aria Can damage people without resisting to heat

Pyrokenesis - She can create flames that burn twice as the rate it goes

Speed reading - While reading Ariana has more set of eyes which she is able to read at a fast pace even when having large piles of papers and remember what was on it.

Petrification - Cora can turn her targets into stone with a simple glare

Object materialization - Melo is able to materialize items, namely confectionery like cotton candy, from seemingly nothing. This also seems to include non-tangible things, such as rainbows, dice and more

Flight - Melo possesses small, husk wings which allow him to fly

Mélikinesis - Melody can manipulate a honey-like substance freely, levitating, moving, expanding, and shrinking it at will

Eyes

Normal - The recent examination confirmed that there have been no changes to his eyes; they are completely normal and there are no signs of any issues.

Angry - When he's angry, his eyes will narrow, the pupils will dilate, and his gaze will take on a more intense and piercing quality, resembling the eyes of an angry cat

Lust - When he was overcome with lust or sexual desire, his eyes would glow and transform into a striking cerise pink color, with heart-shaped white pupils. This unique and intense visual transformation was a clear indicator of his passionate and intense emotions.

Mega Lust - His eyes would be a captivating shade of cerise pink, with delicate lavender blush strips radiating from the pupils. Intricate heart-shaped patterns would be etched in the irises, reflecting an insatiable yearning and unyielding passion.

Psycho - His eyes would change color to purple with pink stripes, and intricate broken heart-shaped patterns would appear in the irises, reflecting his inner turmoil, leading to psychotic behavior fueled by hate and heartbreak

Insane - His eyes would go fully dark red when he wants someone to suffer and feel immense pain others and his eyes would reflect on what happens the most which would not make him in to reality and make him cause pain to his own family and himself

Personality

Melody will drink blood or lava to regain his strength and skills, when he drinks blood he'll drink Angel Blood mainly to get him back up and running, so Lucifer gives him some of the exercise blood that they stored for him when she was a baby he drank blood from an exercise, and that's what she drank mostly

Melody and his twin sister share a tight bond, supporting each other through thick and thin. Though they have their typical sibling disagreements, their love for each other is unwavering. Their unique connection as twins only strengthens their relationship, and they know they will always have each other's backs.

He's a very quick learner when it comes to combat or anything he learns, he loves to hangout by himself or with fat nuggets or his family. he's Speshel in his own ways, when he gets angry or annoyed he'll act like Husk and when he's excited or up going he's like Angel Dust.

Charteristics

Happy

Chill

strong

smart

Skilled

Confident

Skilled in Combat

Easily Annoyed

Protective

Funny/Fun

Feeling Loved by family

Sassy

Has Attitude

Confident

[ohheyitsokay]

home

part 10 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: so so soo much fluff. clouds and clouds worth. kissing, implications of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you and Frankie finish the season and the summer, and know it’s only the beginning.

notes: thank you all so much for supporting this little story of mine! I genuinely am blown away by how kind everyone has been! originally I planned on this series just being a couple of one-shots set in the same universe, but it got away form me, and I can’t believe so many of you came along for the ride. some of those stories will come in time, but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around this long! all the love for all of you!

>>

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was shining and for once your bones weren’t shaking with the rumble of the stadium as people stomped and cheered. In fact, the majority of the noise was from Frankie’s momma as she chattered across your lap to your grandfather. The two of them were discussing gardening and how well season was played, how proud they were, the best of friends. It was peaceful, almost, and most of the flashing lights and roaring crowds were away – it was the final game, a charity fundraiser, all fun.

You could see your catcher as he turned, looking at your section like he couldn’t help but search for you, and you smiled, heart as full and as warm as the sun on your shoulders. His curls were sticking out from under his helmet haphazardly, the pads on his shoulders and thighs making him even more solid, and it was a sight that you’d never get tired of. Combined with the smells of warm pastries, jalapeños and melted cheese, contentment settled into your soul like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit.

It was the of the ninth and they were playing well, encouraged by the cause and playing for the love of of the game instead of a paycheck. Behind you, you heard someone mention just how well Frankie had batted this season, and you brushed pan dulce sugar from your lap.

The players had told you last week after all the big games were done why Santi had offered to pay for you and James to fly to see their final games. At the time, it had baffled you how intensely they insisted, how eagerly the pushed it, and how your boyfriend had looked equal parts embarrassed and hopeful, but eventually you agreed, assuming you could get the time off from work. When the secret came out you laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

They had exchanged smiles and shrugged and shared knowing glances as they let you explain away what they knew was true. You were their luck.

The thought was long gone from your mind now though, as Ben was doing weird poses on the field, and you heard chuckles ripple through the crowds. Fans of him and the team alike were endlessly charmed, and you knew you’d catch comments about it for months to come. His brother was just standing, and still you heard dreamy sighs of Will’s name, and made a mental note to tease him after the game about his “blonde halo”. Whatever that meant.

Santi threw a perfect curveball, and when it landed firmly in Frankie’s glove, you heard a girl swoon, “That’s my man!” and the laughter of her friends, as they called her “Mrs. Morales”.

“No!” his momma was glaring over her shoulder tugging on your elbow, as if physically fighting them was a viable option. You tugged back, making soothing noises as she protested, “Mi frijol.” The sweet lady muttered something else and before your heart could latch on to what you could’ve sworn was something about the future and tu marido you moved on.

“I know, I know,” you were saying, when James leaned over, glint in his sweet, aging eyes.

“She’s right, honey,” he said, only encouraging his friend, and you grinned.

“He’s my boy,” she said again with an air of finality, “and yours."

Looking at your grandfather sheepishly, you pointed at your shirt and shrugged as he said, “Right again.”

You were wearing his backup Jersey.

Cheesy as it was, it felt good to have the little claim of his over your skin, and while it wasn’t obvious to everyone, you wore it with pride. Comments from his fans slid off it like raindrops on a tin roof, and while you apricated her inclusion, you didn’t need it to know he was yours, as you were his.

Jimbo leaned towards the woman at your side and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she settled, and you left it, enjoying their friendship. The day was too lovely for anything else, anyway.

Catch, catch, walk, look for his girlfriend, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

Nothing so eventful happened the last few minutes of the game, and as the Will went out for his final bat, you felt a surprising wave of bittersweet nostalgia for all that had passed since the opening game, cold as an evening breeze.

Then the ball cracked against the bat, and the sound snapped you back, and you felt a fire under your breastbone, reminding you the best was yet to come.

Frankie’s mom finished her final cheers enthusiastically, all annoyance long gone, and she pulled you into a hug.

“Nieta is calling. Hug Francisco for me, hija, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded, squeezing her back almost as hard. You and Frankie were using his first real day off to babysit and get some quality time, and both of you were well aware this was hardly goodbye. You gave a gentler hug to your grandfather, who was going with her, whispering “Bye Jimbo,” as you kissed his cheek. He had conspired to let you stay out for the evening, and while you’d miss driving him home, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Seeing them safely as far as you could, your feet danced with excitement. Like it had been more than handful of times, they knew the path to the locker rooms, carrying you so light you were almost floating. When you slid into the waiting room, Frankie was already clean and looking for you anxiously. Maybe you should’ve given him a little wave from across the room, but you could do better.

You ducked away from his line of sight, and snuck around behind him before say, “hey, batter, batter.” He whipped around and before you could even register the grin on his face, he was pulling you against his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he said, and the two of you got one sweet, slightly needy kiss before you heard good-natured groans.

“It’s been like month,” Santi said, ruffling your hair as you stepped back, “Aren’t you guys done flirting?” You stuck your tongue out at him, wondering if you were fast enough to flick him in the forehead.

“Don’t bother,” Will said, his tone resigned but playful as he hugged you too. “Be happy he got her to stick around.” You pulled a face, and Benny laughed. They all knew by now that it was more than a summer fling, even Tom, who you realized hadn’t come out yet.

When you asked, they winced, and you dropped the topic, knowing they would tell you in their own time. Frankie pulled you back to him, his warm fingers lacing with yours as you herded them towards the door.

They were still working on things, still trying to figure out what their next steps looked like.

For now, you owed your baseball boys a dinner.

-           

 It had taken you a couple of times cooking for them to get the portions right. The Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and after a game was a testament to that.

Thankfully, you had more than enough this time, having been preparing their favorites for days with the enthusiastic help from Frankie’s mom, and begrudging help from his sister as a thank you to her hermano. The piled into your little space and ate gratefully, telling you about the game like you knew what they were talking about.

“Benny, why were you –” his deep laughter cut you off, and your hand shot out to grab Will’s wrist mid-throw. You had a rule against projectile food to keep them from squabbling like children at your makeshift dinner table. The dinner roll fell to his plate as Benny tried to explain, and Santi deadpanned.

“I was stretching, and I got distracted –”

“You were flirting with the entire stadium, Ben.”

“No! Well –”

It was warm and bright, eating dinner with them like a family, teasing and laughter filling the space like clear broth in the cool of night.

Frankie’s hand found your knee under the table.

The best part about these replacement-parties was watching them all try to help clean up. You were lucky professional athletes had fast reflexes, or you would’ve lost more than a few dishes to their shenanigans. They insisted, wouldn’t let you help, and things probably would’ve been put back correctly if you had, but it was great, letting things play out however they may. Maybe years and years down the road, you would tell a younger generation that you had some of the world’s most desirable athletes fighting in your kitchen over where you kept your dish soap refills.

And after, they would collapse in your living room, unearthing all the games from your shelves. One of your favorite moments from the summer was coming through thrift stores for games, ignoring the stare of jealousy and making ridiculous bets.

All the while, Frankie kept as close to you as he could, too busy watching you with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to be embarrassed of his rambunctious friends.

When you and Will won the first game of the evening, he accidentally hit you in the face with the back of his hand as he flung his arms open in triumph.

It hadn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve if his brother had been the one talking with his hands, but Frankie had still thumped him in the back of the head before he followed you to the kitchen.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie,” you laughed, but he was already taking the pack of frozen peas from your hand to press it against the lump forming on your temple. He was gentle, and the air shifted, like there was more on his mind than your minor injury. Brown eyes searching yours, you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Francisco?” Your hands had settled on his chest but the moved around his neck when he moved the ice to ghost his lips over the spot. He didn’t answer for a moment, just setting the peas aside, and carefully trapping you against the counter.

There were noises of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, and you knew he was taking advantage of their distraction, carving a little pocket for the two of you in time.

“Te adoro,” his lips were almost hot as they pressed into yours. “I love you,” he said, so close you could feel the hairs on his upper lip still.

For the past month, your relationship had been fast, jumpstarting to serious and staying that was, but this was new. It was one thing, for him to tell you he wanted something real with you, wanted you to be a part of his life, and another to hear him say he loved you simply, without abandon. Still, you didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, unhurried, and you almost couldn’t return it, you were smiling so widely. Your bump was long forgotten.

When the two of you came out the kitchen, the others had barely noticed you were gone and Ben immediately was accusing you of cheating, but Santi shot you a knowing smile.

-           

There was a gap of time when a season ended, when Molly’s inbox was mercifully void of emails. It was a time when the chaos of her job slowed, for a bit before she began her work for the off-season, and she relished it with every fiber of her being.

This particular gap began wrapped up in sheets with Tom, her Tom, kissing and wishing the world outside was a simple as this, in the little bubble of her room.

She could always tell though, when his mind was no longer filled with her, and the other sides of him began to leak through the cracks. His eyes moved with urgency instead of appreciation his hands moved a little slower and then in sudden jerks, and when he trailed off mid-sentence, she sighed.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

He rolled onto his back; his gaze pointed towards the ceiling.

“Right after the game,” he confessed, and she sighed again, sitting up. If nothing else, for him, she had endless patience.

“How’d that go?”

Her love was silent, thinking only of the embarrassment and defensiveness that had reared in his chest. The tilt of Santi’s head, Frankie’s slow nod. He wished Benny had been disappointed, wished Will had thought it was a joke.

“They understood,” Tom didn’t add that he hoped with all his considerable might that they had reacted stronger, hoped they had told him not to, said they needed him to stay, but they hadn’t. It wouldn’t have been true, anyway. They were growing, going somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Her hand ran over his chest as it filled with air, stilling over his heart.

“It’s time,” one of them said, and the other nodded.

Counseling. Rehab. Retirement.

Slowing down to coach at a local college.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and then relaxed, palm falling open, upwards.

The love of his life kissed his forehead.

It was time.

-           

The first stop of the day was with James, spending the morning helping him around the house. Before this summer, you had thought you were his favorite grandchild, but he had essentially adopted Frankie months ago, and already liked him more than you.

The little old man talked excitedly about baseball and lectured your love on enjoying his off-season. He dragged him into the yard, talking his ear off about the benefits of different teas and the importance of volunteering with youth programs, and you settled inside, throwing away expired things from his fridge. Their absence was your only opportunity for the chore.

Honestly, the two of you needed to leave sooner than later and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

“Honey?” You dropped a can of whipped cream from a month ago guiltily.

“Yeah, Jimbo?”

He eyed you suspiciously but seemed too excited to be deterred by you.

“I put this together for you!” He said proudly, and you noticed a flash of the same mischief from yesterday in his eyes. Your grandfather handed you a box, and made you promise not to open in until you left. You hugged the sweet man, and smiled when Frankie did, too, before saying your goodbyes, thankful beyond words for him.

If it weren’t for him, you were sure you wouldn’t be climbing into the truck of your boyfriend, and certainly not having the catcher’s hand slide into yours. When you opened the box, the gratitude didn’t shrink, but your embarrassment rose.

Frankie laughed so hard you thought he was going to have to pull over.

It was full of Francisco Morales merchandise, signatures and memorabilia ranging from his very first baseball card to his most recent bobble head.

-           

Frankie kissed your knuckles for the second time since you climbed into his truck, which was silly since it had only been three minutes since you left his mother’s house.

He could feel your look, answering before you even asked.

“I’m good, just… I love you,” he said, unable to keep his eyes on the road when he said it.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you said, wondering what prompted him.

“Could we… would you want to get dinner?” He looked thoughtful and you laughed.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Your hand was lifted to his lips again, sending electricity up your spine as he confirmed.

The two of you had a bag full of Anita’s best by the time you entered his home, and he still hadn’t told you what was on his mind. The two of you ate, sharing stories about the day’s adventures, helping his mother around the house and watching, Bianca, his sweet, tiny new niece. You had a great conversation with his mother, and despite her excitable nature, she surprised you by asking you about your boundaries and promising not to overstep.

Frankie told you about his hermana, and her slowly opening up to the idea of letting him help her out, not as charity but family, and letting him shoulder some of the responsibilities. You watched the warmth in his eyes as he talked and wondered how it was possible for a single person to feel so safe.

Eventually the talking slowed, and you found yourself half falling asleep against the stretch of his chest, is hands slowing their wandering paths.

“Love?” he murmured into your hair. You hummed in response.

When he didn’t say anything, your mind woke, and you pulled yourself up, and into his lap, straddling him.

He looked up at you for a moment before you felt him sigh against you.

“I have this baby,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his phrasing. Santi always said it was melodramatic. “Do you… is this all too much?”

His expression mirrored that of your first date, and you told him the same thing as you had then.

That you would stay, as long as he would have you. That you would navigate alongside him, that you were happy to. This time, you added that you loved him, and you felt him shift under you, anxiety leaking out of him, allowing solid adoration to replace it.

Frankie said, “Thank you,” against your mouth, and like a prayer. In the dim evening light, you kissed him, and as his hands slipped under your shirt to hold your sides, he held you for the first time like you were real.

And you were, this was something that wasn’t going away.

For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day for something new, and his heart was here, beating under his hands.

 <<

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

mi frijol: my bean

tu marido: your husband

nieta: granddaughter 

hija: daughter

hermano/a: brother, sister

te adoro: I adore you

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

[nightwingshero]

What flavor is your soul?

Tagged by the amazing @simonxriley to use this quiz for my ocs. Thank you love!!!

Tagging: @xbaebsae @euryalex @fadedjacket @water-writings @biscottibitch @oathofoaks @strafethesesinners @smithandrogers @glowwormsmith @chyrstis @geronimo-11 @johnnycranes @playstationmademe @scungilliwoman​

This quiz really went for my ocs’ throats, just saying. Super accurate for what they go through, and I guess its time for them to be called out. 

Callista of Sparta

Honey

"Sugared mel e lingua serpentis." sugared honey from a serpent's tongue. Oh dearest, look how you gleam. How the sunlight dances off your shoulders, how the heavens shine across your wingtips. But you are hollow, hollow, hollow. Even the taste of nectar can choke a man. Sometimes the sweetest flowers hide the sharpest poison. You lie to yourself, the worst lie of all. You needn't be so obsessed with perfect. The greatest beauty lies in our faults. Do you think the moon apologizes for their mara? No, their craters add to their glow. My dear, breathe. You are not an island, breathe, before the honey drowns you. You wish to be lovely, you long to be loved. But did Aphrodite trade her powers for perfection? She did not. You can be beautiful, and also whole. Be whole above anything else dear. a heart of diamonds is worth nothing if inchor oozes from it. Inward. Look within and question how well do you know yourself? Little petal are you trying to be a god? Why? Can a god bloom from sullen soil? No. You are whole as you are.

Alessandra Tazim Auditore

Vanilla

Oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? You are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. Your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. But why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. You mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. You say you do not care about trivial things, but don't you? Sweetheart relax. You can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. You think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. Little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? Feelings are what makes this world pulse. Do not suppress your feelings. Your heart can still thaw my dear. Trust.

Feriha Dubois Tazim

Rosemary

Ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. The time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. You've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. But kindness without limits is self destruction. Oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. You wish to please everyone, to protect them all. But if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. Protect yourself too. You know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. Be a friend. Your loved ones will not forsake you for not being Perseus slaying all their demons. You have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. Oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. You know that right? Be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

[riddlecrux]

Rosehall

Day 1 of Elriel Month is here! Summary: He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

You can also read it on ao3!

They didn't talk.

No shy glances, no accidental touches while passing each other through the corridor, no warm smiles behind the rim of a wine glass. Even the silence in which he was sitting was unbearable, so different than the one that carried comfort and jasmine scent that always made him content, whole, at ease. Now, sitting alone on the fine chair in the House of Wind he was barely breathing. He was suffocating with loneliness, heavier than the one that crawled through his bones in that dark cell from his childhood. A real pain exploded behind his closed eyelids.

The night air pricked on his face as he tried not to think, not to feel. It was as if the gaping hole in his chest was a thing of his own shadows - swirling inside, eating him out and leaving only shreds of his broken emotions. He tried. He tried so desperately not to fall for her. For yet another unattainable person that was next to him just to mock his misfortune. It was something completely wrong. How one can take so many failures and still delude himself that maybe this time the ending would be different.

He was such a damned fool.

Azriel opened his eyes as a sharp pang in his chest enveloped him in another wave of utter bitterness and helplessness. The thing with Elain was something he hadn't expected - she came into his life wielding a fork and suddenly he could see clearer than ever before in his life. How sun caught in her golden-brown hair and how the freckles on her left cheek created a small triangle. And the way all that loveliness faded away when she was stripped of her own free will - and how he failed her at that moment. The arrow to his chest didn't hurt as much as her screams. The terror of them was still haunting him during long nights of insomnia and half slept nights.

And there was that companionship they formed. Based on silence and gardens. Teas full of leaves and sticky fruit floating on its surface. Elain always preferred her to drink sweet, even if her nose scrunched each time she sipped from a porcelain teacup - pale pinky held in the air as if she was still a lady in a room full of liars and men trying to woo her. Maybe during those moments of tranquility between them, he started to appreciate her gentleness even more.

Their meetings slowly but surely transformed into nights full of sleeplessness and sore throats - silence turned into constant chatter about everything and nothing. The first time he heard her giggle his world turned upside down. In that particular moment she was all he saw, in all her golden glory and chocolate smear on her chin - so warm and bright, so out of his reach. A secret. His secret, a memory to be locked inside his mind's labyrinth.

Sometimes he wished that both of them stopped before they had even begun their… relationship. Because maybe if he possessed more self strength and if he was less selfish, he would have protested when Elain touched his hand while they were resting in the garden. Or when he caressed her cheek while trying to get rid of the soil splattered there. Whenever they touched Azriel felt as if he was healing. These small palms that traced ridiculous figures on his scarred hands brought him comfort no one else did. A touch so tender that he wanted to break in halves only for her to mend him again. She was nothing like him and at the same time so familiar, so understanding. When she looked at him with her brown eyes full of terrors and beauty, he knew that she could see his soul. Every ugly part of him. And she never averted her stare, never flinched from his touch - she wholeheartedly accepted him.

Sighing out loud his wings twitched behind him when his eyes darkened once again. He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

"Long night?" He snapped his neck at the voice and inwardly relaxed seeing cold silver eyes staring at him without fear.

"I suppose so," shrugging his shoulders he turned back toward the city, one hand still on the glass of strong alcohol he was pouring into himself for hours. A screech of a moving chair resonated next to him and with a slow exhale he sipped his drink.

"Not the fire this time," Nesta huffed and he saw in his peripheral vision that she poured herself a decent shot as well. "Both of you are the same," a small smile ghosted on her lips before she drank the brownish liquid in one go.

"Me and who?" He knew playing stupid wouldn't work on her but he was so tired. He had already lost, so Nesta seeing him at his worst would be nothing in comparison to the thunder inside his mind. The oldest Archeron sister let out a dry chuckle which indicated that she was aware of his silly attempt of deflection.

"Elain," her name awakened something inside him. Like a golden tether holding him upwards, longing after the female that brought up such emotions from him. "She used to glow these days, you know," he saw her playing with the rim of the goblet. Long finger stopping suddenly as if the glass burned her. "I know what happiness looks on her, and whenever both of you interacted or spent time together she was always… so bright. So alive," his heart thumped a few times before it gave him a painful tug. "The moment you saved her life was the first time I had wished that you were her mate," the wound opened again, a small sound escaped his mouth before he slumped forward. "But fate isn't so merciful. Yet, Elain made her own way in this life. I saw how she escaped that empty shell she used to be and how she learned to breathe again… with you ," Azriel wanted her to stop. To let go of this torment she was exposing him to.

"I can't listen to this," he stood up, his wings stretching to its whole span. "You know it's impossible," his bitter laugh echoed in the interior. "We both know that it doesn't matter if I have feelings for her," he was ready to fly away when Nesta's hand caught his elbow. Silver eyes shone in the darkness of the night with ancient power.

"It's her choice," she whispered. "She doesn't want her mate, she has never wanted that bond," her grip loosened for a bit and he was tempted to run away but her expression held him in one place. "But she wants you. She chose you. And you know it because I saw how you look at her, how both of you glance at each other," she pinched him when he was composing himself from snapping at her. "Ask her. Ask her about what she wants. Take her to the place where it's just both of you, so no one can interfere," her nod was final and with it, she slowly turned around and vanished upstairs. His jaw hurt from the force he was clenching his teeth. Nesta's words were a poison that circulated through his bloodstream.

Could he have that conversation?

Could they possibly be together?

The night air was cold against his burning skin when he shot up in the sky, wings outstretched and tense.

*

He landed on her balcony.

The beige curtains were dancing in the air, metal dreamcatcher swaying on the wisps with a soft melody. There were plants and flowers scattered around the balustrade and his shadows skittered around them, leaping into petals and leaves before returning to his form. He stopped beside the wooden table to see half-finished tea and some papers - a few of them with drawings of different gardens, trees, and notes about the seeds. However, what caught his attention was a stash of papers with Elain's handwriting. All of them were thrown around the surface with drops of tea marking some of them. There were letters forming sentences, he could pinpoint some of them, ones that weren't completely crossed out in the pale moonlight. He was about to touch one scroll with his name on it when his shadows whirled around him with a soft warning.

"Spying on me?" The sweet scent of jasmine and honey embraced his person as his hazel eyes blinked at the sight in front of him. Elain was in a white nightgown, tiny ribbons on her freckled shoulders were something he didn't know he needed to see in his life. Her loose hair was curling at its edges as the tresses touched her middle. She was watching him, big brown eyes stoic and unnerving.

"No," he breathed and her smell attacked his senses, driving him crazy. She crossed her arms under her breasts and padded towards him. Her feet stopped next to him and with a lazy movement, she gathered her papers without glancing at him. He could see her nape, soft and pale and so inviting as she leaned across the table. His fingers curled into fists when her presence burned his self-resilience.

"Do you need me for something?" She inquired letters in her grip and a slight frown on her perfect face.

"Actually," his shoulder tensed when she shot him a questioning glance. "Yes, I need you," he left it there. A pause and weight of his words, waiting for the judgment and perhaps hatred. But it never came as Elain silently turned to him, her lips parted and a soundless sigh ghosting in the air between them. She peered at him, irises wide and somewhat gentle before she touched his biceps and he was ready to be undone.

"We should talk," her breath tickled his skin as he nodded without thinking twice. "Here?" Her question woke him up and trying not to scare her, he offered his scarred palm while stretching out his wings.

"There's a place I want to show you," his words echoed in the dead of night and as her small fingers wrapped around his hand he could finally breathe again.

*

When they arrived the moon was high in the sky, its light reflecting on the waters of a marble fountain in front of the manor. He exhaled letting Elain down as she politely exchanged her thanks. She pried her hair from the face and with newfound excitement, she whirled around facing him with a bright smile.

"I dreamed about this place," her voice was warm and all he wanted was to touch her to make sure she was standing there under the moonlight. "The gardens were something I have wanted to see," she pointed a finger in the direction of a greenhouse and a patch of flowers and vines.

"Dream or a vision?" He knew he shouldn't test his luck, yet deep down inside he felt as if he had already known the answer. As if it was imprinted inside his heart for a long time.

"Vision," she answered, walking towards the field of roses. Her palm touched some petals while her hair tumbled down towards the ground. "I saw you here," her digits closed around the stem with silent amusement. "You were happy," she turned around and looked straight at him.

"This is Rosehall," the lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak. It was like a fever dream of his, having her here in the fields of flowers and so painstakingly real.

"Very suitable," she smiled and turned once again stepping onto the soft grass. "It's a pretty name," he heard her sitting on the ground and when he glanced up he saw her lying flat on the earth. Her knees were slightly angled but her face was upwards as if she was watching stars. Azriel staggered towards her, breathing fresh air as he finally stood up on her right.

"I haven't thought about its name for years," he slowly sat and looked at her profile. She was gazing at the sky with a small smile. Happiness looked beautiful on her, it made her glow.

"There's so much...space," she breathed and her chest moved in a slight erratic manner. "You can almost taste freedom here," Elain blinked as she turned onto her side. She faced him and he thought that there was never a time in his life when he felt so many emotions at once.

"I'm sorry," the edges of him crumbled as his eyes started to burn. He didn't mean to hurt her, not in the slightest. He was just too… selfish. And she was everything he had ever dreamed about, an embodiment of home, of a warmth he so desperately searched for. "It wasn't a mistake," he whispered as her hand fell upon his abdomen. Always trusting, always inviting.

"Then what? A distraction?" She mused as her body leaned forward and she was mirroring his position. "I will never know as long as you won't talk to me," she supplied with a pain in her voice.

"No, never a distraction. I have wanted this," he circled the air with his hand ambiguously. "From the moment you clenched onto that fork you were someone I have wanted to be with," his head lowered down Azriel didn't want to meet her eyes.

"Why haven't you told me?" Her confusion mixed with regret pained him.

"You have a mate," he muttered while plucking on some innocent straw of grass.

"And you know I don't want him," her palm searched for his cheek and as she turned his face to look at her, he saw tears in her eyes. "Whenever I'm with you I feel whole. Alive. I look at you and feel so scared," he inwardly flinched yet she held him in one place. "Scared of losing you. Every time I lose sight of you I feel like I'm drowning. It's as if a part of me was ripped apart," she closed her trembling lips and stared at him with utter devotion.

"Elain," his fingers touched her neck, his thumb circling around the hollow gap between her shoulder and jaw.

"That night I chose you. Us," she said with a final note, leaning against his hand. "It's my choice, no one else's," a butterfly-like kiss ghosted on his inner palm.

"Rhysand's orders," he gulped when she pushed him down and climbed onto his lap.

"Fuck Rhysand's orders," she spat and for a moment both of them were silent. Then he laughed, a true bellowing laughter erupted at the back of his throat at her vicious remark. Her giggles followed and he had never heard such an extraordinary sound.

"Never deemed you as a foul mouth," he managed when she slumped forward, enveloping him in a warm hug.

"I live with Illyrians and a very pissed immortal being," a hot kiss on his neck made him shiver.

"Elain," he took her face in his hands and stared at her brown eyes with a heat crawling down his spine. "Elain," he whispered again while closing the distance between them. She whimpered when he finally nibbed at her lower lip. The sensation waking up something primal inside him, a storm of feelings and needs attacking his senses. Her warm mouth opened and he finally kissed her - something exploded in his chest, something brilliant and intimate. It was as if everything was set in order, the way her lips moved against and how their bodies molded into one. He could feel her, smell her need and anticipation. She was shaking as her small fingers dug into his neck.

"Azriel," his name on her lips was his undoing. He opened his eyes and saw her… glowing. The golden hue enveloping both of them into a cocoon of intense bliss. When she opened her eyes the golden color lingered there for a while before vanishing, leaving both of them gasping for air.

"You were always there," he realized touching his chest. A vibrant thread blinding him with its magnitude.

"Rosehall," she laughed tracing his scars. "You have waited for so long," Elain kissed his temple while embracing him again. "I'm sorry I have made you wait for so long," the bridge between them sparkled with love and belonging.

"I knew you would come to me," nothing but the truth slipped through his lips as he gently cupped her chin. Both of them stared at each other, halves of two finally found. A home he had longed for, held in his arms as a scent of roses and jasmine shielded him from the world.