#I also got stood up by THREE different people at that damn party last year

[amethysttribble]

My father gave me some advice that I struggled with for most of 2024

It was, “Remember, but never walk around with vengeance in your heart.”

He was trying to warn me that, yes, I had been poorly treated and done wrong, but carrying resentment wouldn’t be helpful either for my career or personally. I really wanted to follow this advice, but it was hard. I dwelled a lot. I thought nasty things and rehashed old hurts far, far too often (to the point, one time, of being so lost in my thoughts that I fell and fractured my arm, lol. There’s no better metaphor than that.) Sometimes, I said things I regret. I daydreamed way too much of an eventual scenario of getting my comeuppance.

For a while, I kinda thought it would never go away.

But… it has. I noticed it a month or so ago that I’d stopped thinking about it all so often and when I did think about it, it didn’t ignite a fire in my chest anymore. And last night I went to the same Christmas party that I decided to quit my job at last year.

I had fun <3 and I know that, a year out, I’m no longer walking around with vengeance in my heart.

[wellenklavier]

Andrew Eldritch for Bravo Magazine, 1992

Concerts are a horror for him! Eng translation under cut:

Bravo Talk Show: Stars One-on-One

Andrew Eldritch – Sisters of Mercy; Live concerts are a horror for me!

BRAVO: Do you actually never take your black sunglasses off? Andrew: Only when I go to sleep, otherwise never. My eyes have become very light sensitive because I’ve run around with lenses for several years. Daylight bothers me.

BRAVO: How’s your band, Sisters of Mercy? Andrew: I hardly know if it still is one. I’m still there, anyway. So sometime there will be something new from the Sisters of Mercy. Andreas (Bruhn) is doing a solo thing in Frankfurt. Tim (Bricheno) also has new ideas in mind. The last time we spoke with each other, he said to me that he doesn’t want to work with melodies anymore. I don’t know how that should work, in any case it won’t with the Sisters. I have no idea whether Tim has got something going for himself. I’m tense. Tony (James) hasn’t been around for a while. He’s not left the music business. As far as I know he develops ideas for new TV shows. At the festival shows this summer Andreas, Tim, and I stood at the front. In the second row we had two girls who played bass and took care of the computer.

BRAVO: What are you doing next? Andrew: I absolutely want to make a new record.

BRAVO: In the style of “Vision Thing,” your latest release? Andrew: Not necessarily. First we’ll see what Andreas and Tim will do. I’ll make what I like. But of course the songs will have melodies. Melody is essential. A groove alone or just with fancy sounds – that’s not enough for me. My ideal is that all three elements come together.

BRAVO: Has Andreas truly left? Andrew: I already think that he’s long gone with his new projects, at least in thought.

BRAVO: Is he a friend of yours? Do you feel like you’ve been left in the dust? Andrew: Not a very close friend. Andreas is much younger, born and raised totally different than me. We can work well together musically. But worlds lay between us. Culture shock! I hired Andreas because he’s a technical ace. At the beginning I really wasn’t interested in how philosophical he was about it. Thought that I could teach him to become a true Sister. But that’s harder than you think.

BRAVO: Why? What does your Sisters- and life-philosophy look like? Andrew: That, you can really only imply. I have two mottos: Entertainment or Death, and Truth, Justice, and a Damn Good Time. I’m radical. I want someone to be completely and utterly devoted to their cause. And the people just never do that. We never sit in the tour bus together and ask each other, what do you think about this or that topic. You sense for yourself whether you fit with someone or not. And you hear that also eventually in the music. Anyway, I also got off the bus and drove with the crew, because I just couldn’t listen to the endless shitty disco music and stupid jokes anymore.

BRAVO: What’s it like with the crew? Andrew: Continual party. But a different, difficult party. And I’ve known the boys for twelve years already, if I’ve added it up right.

BRAVO: Do you guys drink and smoke? Andrew: There’ll be partying. I love that about the tour. The only thing that bothers me terribly are the concerts every evening.

BRAVO: Do you suffer from stage fright? Andrew: Yeah, I always find performances embarrassing and brutishly stressful. I always have extra fog on the stage so that I can hide myself. Regardless, a gig is a royal pain.

BRAVO: Is it only the beginning that’s bad for you or the whole concert? Andrew: The whole concert is a horror. It’s like a rollercoaster. Sometimes you somehow have fun, but the terror always sets in again. And I’d like in the future to not willingly expose myself to such terror.

BRAVO: Will the Sisters not go live again, then? Andrew: I wouldn’t say that for sure. But I would love the most to only hide in the studio and make records. That’s my thing, I’m good at that. Naturally there’s also pleasant phenomena on tour, the parties, the girls etc. But that’s all just minor stuff. Giving interviews, taking photos, I find all that unimportant. There are other people who live precisely for these minor things and leave the music for others to make, who are better at it. That’s legitimate, just not really my thing.

BRAVO: Do you have a method, then, to get by during the concert? Andrew: Yes, before and during the show there’ll be hard partying. If it was really bad I’ll also party afterwards.

BRAVO: Was the sampler “Some Girls Wander By Mistake” a makeshift solution because you hadn’t managed in time to newly organize the Sisters? Andrew: No, it’s my personal way of coping with the past. All my earliest recordings are in there. Embarrassing stuff, so bad, that I have simply have to shame myself for it. These things were only available as tapes and old single records, for which the fans had to pay ridiculous prices for on the black market. I find, if they really want to listen to that crap, then they shouldn’t do it for overly expensive prices. Besides I have the feeling that by owning up to my past, it’ll defuse the bomb in my cellar.

BRAVO: Are you looking to hire a drummer? Andrew: No, why? There’s no reason to.

BRAVO: Do you have something against them? Andrew: Well, I’ll say it like this: In principle I really have nothing against drummers, it’s only that once you get to know them, they’re each and all jerks.

BRAVO: Musically speaking? Andrew: No, unfortunately they’re schmucks in every respect. They’re bitchy and a little off. They make noise, they must always beat around on their drum set, talk about stupid things and never shut up. They always need too much junk and always forget something and steal like ravens – just inhuman, not worth mentioning. And musically they really don’t bring anything. If you’ve never had a drummer, you’re not missing much.

BRAVO: And are you rather an easy partner in a band? Andrew: You mean musically? BRAVO: Yes, musically and personally… Andrew: I don’t see any reason why it should be difficult to work with me. I know precisely what I want, I’m totally clear. There’s no doubt about my ideas.

BRAVO: And will these ideas of yours make it through to the end? Andrew: Nah, maybe not. But I do my best. Musically I work on a very instinctive level. And I think my instincts have yet only rarely led me in the wrong direction.

BRAVO: How you do compose? Andrew: With a computer. I can’t play the piano. But I can quickly input anything I want In a sequencer program. I really don’t have to hear a piece in order to know how it sounds. It’s enough if I can see the arrangement on the screen. The ideas come to me mostly in the bar. Then I have to, though extreme concentration and timeliness, get home before the song in my head flies off again. How cool is it to work with a computer, I learned how in 1987 with the recordings on the Sisters album “Floodland.” The piece was actually the whole solo album. My partner at the time, Patricia Morrison, often had creative blocks. She didn’t provide song ideas, nor could I move her to take her bass in hand. On “Floodland” there’s a solo piano piece called “Neverland.” I programmed that from the first to last note on the computer, without even touching a piano key.

BRAVO: Can you play the guitar? Andrew: Only in the studio. Since in the first place I can only play while sitting, and second I can’t sing and play at the same time.

BRAVO: Why did you even add yourself to a band again? (Note: Warum hast du dir überhaupt wieder eine Band zugelegt?; I’m not sure if I’m missing something but I can’t get this to sound right) Andrew: The piece that I tinkered on with Andreas sounds simple afterwards. Moreover he said to me, if I had a band and could go on tours, I could budget better. That turned out to be absolute nonsense. With the world tour, which cost me a whole year, I’ve paid it out of pocket.

BRAVO: Are you in trouble? Andrew: Not really, but I’m also not far away from it. It’s annoying that I sold quite a few records, but don’t stand anywhere better financially than in the beginning. In the future I’ll pass out the records by myself and rid myself of the services of managers.

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[heavenbarnes]

feels so good to be us

Fezco (Euphoria) x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: mentions of drug use, mentions of guns, implied violence (all canon-typical), swearing, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex (this is fiction, yours isn’t, wrap it), dirty talk, light degradation, light choking, rough sex, light slapping, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 4.5k 

no secret that i fell in love w the guy whilst watching the show, so we’ll just see how this goes

She blew into town one day, seemingly out of nowhere, but not without purpose. Having reasons to be there was one thing, having reasons to stay was a whole other. Lacking in the latter, there was a lot to be grateful for in that one night.

The party that cracked on in a reasonable house, she was told by her friends that’d it’d be a good one. What she wasn’t told was that this was a party that was teeming with teenagers, horny ones in spandex and rhinestones.

A long way from home and everything was different.

Lucky enough, she poured herself a cup and hunted for a spot that was more around her age. Last thing she needed was to be caught up with a hoard of 17 year-olds looking to make trouble.

Whoever owned this house also came equipped with cash, judging by the indoor pool she stepped into, eyes up and trailing along the carefully carved architrave. Eyes far too transfixed to notice the young man on the lounger.

“You came looking for me?”

The voice made her head snap towards his direction, rolled smoke resting between his lips and steadily fingering a roll of cash. Narrowing her eyes at him in hesitation, she traced her finger around the rim of her cup.

“I don’t think so?”

He took his eyes from his counting and let them cast over her, that’s probably the first thing to pique her interest. Those kind of eyes you could fall into, pretty eyelashes too that almost made her want to smile.

She knew that he knew she was staring, but he hadn’t said anything about it, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You not from around here, huh?”

Straightening up and stepping forward a bit, she got closer so she didn’t have to shout across the room.

“No sir, I drove in this morning from out East.”

He nodded more to himself than he did her, tucking the money away in his hoodie pocket before leaning back on the cushion of the lounger. He took the cigarette between his fingers and tapped off some of the ash, eyes still nonchalantly drifting over her.

“Called it, I would’a remembered you otherwise.”

In trying not to let the corners of her mouth turn into a smile, it transformed into more of a pout, bordering on a frown. There was something about this guy, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“You would’ve?”

“Yeah, cause you wearing clothes,” He answered, making any expression on her face dry out. “You seen those other girls?”

Looking down her front, she had to admit that her belted trousers and high-necked tank was considerably more than what any of the high-schoolers were wearing. Shrugging her shoulders with a nod that spoke of “fair enough”, she managed to draw a chuckle out of the guy.

“That and you cute.” The inflection was so cool she almost missed it, but that wasn’t to say it was lost on her.

Scuffing her sneakers against the poolside tile, he shifted forward along his seat and watched intently at the way she no longer fought the grin on her face. Didn’t know the guy from Adam, but he was already tweaking some kind of feeling in her.

“Who you here with?”

She lifted her head and gestured back towards where the noise of the party was drifting through the door. “My friends Ocasio and Seraphine, made me come to make friends but they didn’t say they’d be teenagers.”

He nodded knowingly, muttering something about knowing them too. “They all so young, why I’m only here for business.”

So the inkling in the back of her mind that he was a drug dealer was correct, making his first comment make a lot more sense. In an attempt not to seem like a total fucking loser, she shifted the conversation.

“They said I should look for some guy, said that I’d probably like him.”

The man lifted a brow, before throwing his gaze over her shoulder in his turn to admire the architecture. 

“Yeah? They give you a name, not a lot of people I don’t know.”

She thought on it for a moment, she knew it reminded her of That 70′s Show, and that is sounded remarkably fake at the time.

“Fezco, I think? If that’s even a real name?”

His shoulders bounced as he chuckled a little, eyes moving back to her own. He had one of those stares where it was intense, but there was nothing in you that wanted to look away.

“Nice to meet you too, mamas,” He lent back again and propped his foot up on the seat. “Do I get your name?”

In attempting to avoid looking like a fucking loser, she’d managed it anyways. Her cheeks burnt as she nodded with a nervous laugh, smiling out of necessity before offering him her name.

He made some remark about her still being cute, before they were cut off by a couple of young people tripping down the stairs and narrowly avoiding the pool. They made a line for Fezco, hoping to make a purchase off of him.

She couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, in the move of things she started to step back to where she came. An obvious cast of disappointment fell over her as she began to pull back from it all.

“Mamas,” That voice stopped her in her tracks. “Just lemme do this, I ain’t done ‘whichu yet.”

Just like that, she’d found a reason to stay. From that point on, you didn’t see her without Fezco by her side, with a hand on her lower back.

They were polar opposites, but MC. Kat said those attract so that could be said for why they’d done so well together. She was warm, kind, and so gentle it’d make your heart do fucking flips.

She was the softest thing that Fez had ever got his hands on, and he’d be damned if he was ever going to let it go. He was open with her, showed her all the bad things that he did and he’d done, and she chose to love him anyway.

If you asked Fezco, she felt like home, she was safe to come back to after a long day of doing things he wasn’t proud of. No matter how many times he made shitty choice after shitty choice, she knew the heart that rested in him was inherently better than anything.

Nothing made that heart fuller than seeing her own coming through, you want to talk big hearts? You start with her. She was the very definition of love, patient and kind, and it wasn’t uncommon for Fez to pinch himself in wonder of how he got so lucky.

The days she sat beside his grandma, holding her up as he brought the sponge along her back. Never a complaint, she’d just smile at Fezco, at the gentleness of his movements. The smile that said “I’d never want to be anywhere else.”

And if his boys were on their way around to fetch payment, nothing had to be said. She’d quietly tuck away in the bedroom, laying in silence as she daydreamed of a life where Fez was totally happy. In her visions they live in the countryside, he never has to look over his shoulder and he is forgiven.

She was always the delicate to his rough around the edges, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know exactly what was happening. You couldn’t mistake her kindness for stupidity.

“Mans, I don’t think you know what you getting into.” Fezco’s voice never shifted from that calm tone.

Nate Jacob’s shit eating grin made the hairs on the back of Fez’ neck stand up, the kid using his height to try and forge an ounce of intimidation. Unlucky for him, the man in front of him wasn’t a 17 year old cheerleader with daddy issues, he couldn’t scare him.

Nate would still give it his best shot.

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing with me, I will fucking ruin you.” His bark through gritted teeth drifted up the hallway.

“You came to my house, ‘tryna start shit with me,” Fez never backed down, nearly chest to chest. “I never gave a fuck about you.”

The sound that came from Nate was a scoff, the disrespect was evident as he looked down on the other man. “So you’ve forgotten how you threatened my life?”

As he lifted his hand up towards Fez’ throat, he wasn’t able to clock her on his right quick enough.

She calmly padded down the hallway, shorts and her boyfriend’s hoodie draped across her body as she approached the scene before her. Left hand coming to lift the hem of the sweater and right coming to grip the glock stashed in her waistband.

By the time Nate Jacobs even knew she was there, he could already hear the safety coming off. His hand stilled as his eyes drifted over to her.

“Take another step, playboy.” Eyes staring down the slide and right at the guy in her sights. “Pick up your nuts, and get out of my house.”

Nate looked back to Fez, meeting an almost unfazed expression. His eyes came over to her and the barrel aimed between his eyes.

“The cops coming here didn’t teach you a lesson? You want them coming back here looking for guns too?”

Her laugh rolled around the room, drifting between the three of them as her eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, go ahead and call the cops again,” Her grip on the pistol never faltered. “I’m sure Fezco’s boys would love to hear about the little bitch that had the pigs sniffing around their supply.”

There was no missing the way Nate’s jaw clenched at the sentiment, the thought ticking over in his head that he might’ve finally met his match. The match that he’d tried to chat up in the convenience store, right in front of Fez with his own girl in the car.

“Everyone knows your name, Jacobs,” Fez wasn’t the only one he couldn’t scare. “Would hate for it to be dropped around the wrong people.”

The quarterback brought his arm down from her boyfriend’s neck, turning to face her with the gun only following his movements. Fezco stepped off him, making his way over to his girl.

He stood behind her, chest to her back as his hands rested against her waist. Lips moments from her neck as his eyes trained back on the teenager trying to raise hell in his own living room.

“Is that a threat?” The sour expression on Nate’s face was nothing short of unattractive. She didn’t know a lot about Maddie Perez, but she knew the girl could do better.

“No, it’s a fucking warning,” In an instant the gun was turned on it’s side. “I won’t say it again, get out of my house, before I fucking kill you.”

It didn’t take much more before Nate was dragging his knuckles out of the house, door slamming behind him. At that sound, she had the safety back down and was placing the gun in Fez’ hands.

He chuckled, turning her towards him with that same grip on her hips. His hands came back to put the gun in the band of his drawers, before he was shifting to cup her face. Fezco could feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks.

“Do I even ‘gotta tell you how fine you look waving my piece round like that?”

She matched his laugh, heart still beating wildly in her chest. Shaking her head, her lips came to Fezco’s, feeling the plush of his lips moving in time with hers. “I will definitely leave that up to you.”

“But you looked so good handling it, mamas.”

Brushing off his comment, she gripped his hand and lead him up to the bedroom, muttering something about him looking even better.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Fez stood in front of her, looking down at the woman who’d kill for him. He knew he’d found his absolute other half, there was no doubt about that.

He lifted the glock to her face, trailing the muzzle along her cheek before she turned her head gently and gave it a sweet kiss. He shook his head, leaning down to tuck it under their mattress.

Kneeling down before her, parting her knees so he could nestle in there, his face was so close to her own that she could feel the heat in his breath.

“You mean everything, baby, I fucking love you.”

That was what it was all about, the perfect balance that existed between them. Whilst Fezco might’ve been the guts, and she was the glory, there was no doubt that they’d always be what each other needed.

The first time in a while that Fez had felt was able to be vulnerable, was the moment he sunk into her arms after a grim night. She didn’t ask any questions, just wrapped him up in her and reassured him that she felt nothing but adoration for him.

On his part, he’d found paradise in a girl that was sweeter than an angel, but was always down to let him fuck her like a whore.

She wasn’t really down for a Halloween party, but she was always down to dress pretty and be on the arm of her man in the cleanest suit. Platform heels and a flowery mini dress, it was the godfather and the hippie, sat outside by the pool as the smoke from Fez’ blunt cast a cloud around them.

Thoughts drifted back to the moment they met, looking an awful lot like this.

Teenagers dipped in and out of the house to buy off her boyfriend, she just sat back with her legs up in his lap, feeling his fingers rubbing against her calf every now and then.

She said hello to the girls as they drifted past, but nothing felt better than when it was just the both of them, enjoying each other’s company as those under the influence stumbled around them.

Fezco let his hand drift slightly higher up her shin, calloused fingers coming to trace along the curve of her knee. She watched the movements of his touch, not ignoring the way her skin prickled underneath the graze of his nails.

Taking the blunt from his mouth, he turned to look at her fondly, hazy smile when he found her already looking back at him.

“This your song, mamas,” He referred to the Jack Harlow joint that was coming through the speakers. “You ‘gone dance for me like you do at home?”

She smirked, lifting her legs out of his lap and stepping out in front of him. “Depends if you’ve got the money to throw.”

Slowly spinning around for him, her hips swayed in a motion that he followed intently, catching onto the way her dress lifted with each movement.

“You trippin’ if you think ‘imma pay for what’s mine.”

Stopping the swing of her hips, she moved in closer to where Fezco sat with his legs spread wide. Moving between those legs, she bent over over and braced a hand on each of his knees.

“What are you tryna’ do, big man?”

Fez lent forward in his seat, lips coming to gently press to her own before he spoke in a hushed tone, better to keep his private moves private from the kids swirling around the both of them.

“I’m tryna’ blow your fucking back out.”

One thing could be said for Fezco, the man could keep his word. The minute he got her into the bedroom, large hands splayed across her hips and gripped tight enough to leave a mark.

Lips ran up the column of her throat, the graze of teeth left in the wake of his movements. Heady moans slipped off her tongue and filled the small room, coaxing Fez to move a little quicker.

His girl was getting impatient and he was never one to keep her waiting.

Turning her in his hands, he still had a mean grip on her waist as he moved her knees to perch on the edge of the bed. One large hand spread in the center of her shoulder blades as he pushed her chest down onto the mattress.

“Be a good girl and arch your back for me.”

Stomach dropping down and hips rolling back, she shook her ass for him as Fezco shifted up the hem of her dress, revealing the pretty lace she wore just for him. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading them further apart till she got even lower.

One hand came back to slap the cheek of her ass, a sorry moan ripping from her chest as he massaged over the spot. Feeling the way his thumb traveled down the line of her underwear, grazing over where she was wettest for him.

Hooking around the band of the thin panties, Fez slipped them down her legs, sucking in a breath seeing how wet she’d been for him this whole time. She shook her hips, presenting herself to him like a meal he’d been waiting to be served.

“What got you so fuckin’ needy? Or you just always begging for it?” His voice rumbled through his chest, hitting her straight between the thighs.

“It’s always you, I just need you to fuck me.”

Two thick fingers dragged up her slit as she rolled her hips back for him, eager to catch anything that felt like pleasure. This teasing was nearly killing her, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to make her work for it.

“You ‘sposed to be a good girl but you lost your manners.”

Whining out, not caring how pathetic it must’ve sounded to him, she shook her ass again. Doing whatever she could to draw him and make him give it to her like she needed.

“Please, Fezco, I fucking need you.”

The sound of his belt coming loose was like music to her ears as his thumb gently dipped into her wetness. So close to getting what she wanted, he was never good at keeping anything from her. Especially not when she looked this pretty.

She felt him run the blunt head of his cock through her wetness, resting at her entrance for a moment. Tiny cries and whimpers still fell steadily from her pouted lips, Fezco sliding his hand down her back until his fingers fixed around the back of her neck.

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy,” With one thrust he filled her straight up. “I never felt anything like you, baby.”

Her cheek pressed against the mattress with his grip, filthy moans drifting through the air as she felt Fezco wrecking her. His other hand still gripped tight at her hip, pulling her back onto him with every thrust.

It was never better than when it was this nasty, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as he fucked her dumb, the only thing on her mind was his name as she sang it back to him. 

He loved the sound of her crying out for him, pussy clenching impossibly tight around him. Fez knew every spot within her, exactly what to do to make her come apart under his hands.

“You so fuckin’ tight, mamas,” He gritted his teeth as his hand slid from her neck to grip her shoulder. “Tryna’ make me buss’ quick.”

A filthy giggle rolled straight off her tongue, before it turned right back into another cry as Fezco hit that spot just right. The hand on her hip slipped under and before she knew it, her eyes were rolling back as his fingers moved quick against her clit.

He nearly ripped a scream from her, moving his hand back to slap her pussy, before rubbing that same spot. He was going to be the death of her one day, the way he always knew exactly what he was doing.

“Baby- I’m ‘gonna- I’m ‘gonna,” Her words dropped off as she moaned for him under the pressure of it all.

“You good, ‘lemme hear it.”

Clenching like a vice around him, her whole body tensed up as the white hot feeling of her orgasm rolled over her. There was no doubt the neighbors would know about it, the way he never let up on her, had her crying out off the top of her lungs.

Fezco dipped his hand under her throat, fingers lightly fixing around it as he pulled her up to kneel. Falling back against his chest as he kept fucking her through it, her hand came back to grip his thigh.

She knew he was near his end, his hips were stuttering and the way he was groaning in her ear, she knew she had him good. Turning her head, her nose brushed against his face so her lips were moments from his skin.

“Come in me, please, baby.”

That was all it took, his arm flying around her waist as he gripped her hard to him. Hips stilling deep inside her as he filled her up, a vulgar cry from her as she felt him hot and running in her. Sliding his hand down her chest, he crossed his arms against her, nuzzling down into her neck.

“Maybe you are a good girl, huh?”

There was no doubt that she wasn’t just good, she was the best. Who else was going to sit patiently with their feet in Fezco’s lap as he counted his money and chewed through a pack of cigarettes.

Couldn’t find another girl that’d stand by his side at the town carnival, looking just as sweet as the cotton candy she was placing on her tongue as locals came asking around for their friend Molly.

Hot summer days outside the convenience store, popsicle between her lips as her sundress flutters gently in the breeze. Fezco ready to round up anyone that stared just a little too long.

Maybe it was all that candy that went past her lips, but there was never anyone who acted, or tasted that sweet.

Hearing the door shut, her mouth naturally curved into a smile. He was home, meaning he was safe, meaning she was safe and content. Fezco rounded the couch to where she sat, one arm braced behind her on the cushion as he lent down to kiss her.

Hands naturally coming to cup his chin, she felt the scratch of his beard in her palms as his mouth moved gently against her own. His shoulders dipped with a sigh, one that told her he was just as happy to be home as she was to have him.

“You seem so tired,” She cooed as she separated their lips. “Let me take care of you.”

Her hand trailed down the front of his sweater, coming to rest on his belt. Fezco pressed her hand down, against his crotch, bringing their lips back together. As she moved her other hand to start undoing his belt, he squeezed her hands to stop them.

Placing a hand on either side of her thighs, he dropped to kneel in front of her, before wrapping his hands around her knees and parting them. Fez lifted each of her legs and draped them over his shoulders.

Rough hands pushed the bottom of his hoodie, that was currently covering her, up her body and exposing her scantily clad lower half. Shallow breaths came from her as he dragged her panties down her legs, shifting her hips closer to the edge of the couch.

“This the only place I wanna’ be right now, angel.”

Her breath came across as choppy as she relaxed back into the couch, feeling big hands grip the the skin of her thighs. Fez’ head moved between her legs, pressing a kiss straight to her slit.

Hands coming to hold his head, thumbs massaging against the skin as her hips rolled forward toward his mouth. Darting his tongue out, he drew it up and along her until it came into contact with her clit.

Drawing his tongue around the nub, he felt her legs tense up against his shoulders. Fezco’s hands gently rubbed at her legs, feeling her relax once again into him.

The soft little whimpers that only she could make fueled him like nothing else, dragging his tongue quicker in an attempt to draw any sounds out of her. Her hips bucked up with the sensation of his tongue, pulling his face in closer.

“God, Fezco, you always make me feel so good.”

Humming in response, the sensation moved through her from between her thighs and deep into her. The feeling of the tip of his tongue against her clit made her toes curl up, feet running along the length of his back.

Fez wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking the sensitive nerves and making her call out his name. Her chest rose, arching her back off the couch as her thighs tensed around his head.

He never let up, just continued the assault on her clit as she writhed beneath his grasp. Fez couldn’t get enough of this feeling, having her wrapped around him and completely falling apart in his hands.

She couldn’t believe how lucky she got, having a man that walked straight through the doors and got on his knees for her. There was never a moment where Fez didn’t have her feeling like she was in the clouds.

Her whole body burnt hot as his tongue dipped into her, before dragging back up. Eyes falling shut and fingernails running down the back of her head, every time he moaned at the feeling it hit her straight where she needed it. 

“You’re ‘gonna make me come, please don’t stop.”

Fezco’s eyes flickered up to her, watching the way her whole body moved for him and her head kept falling back in pleasure. To have her reacting so strongly to him, he hoped she couldn’t see the way his cheeks were starting to burn.

“Go ‘head baby, come for me.”

The high-pitch of her whine pierced the air as her hips stuttered against his mouth. She felt her body relax, the feeling of pleasure consuming her entirely as Fez let her ride his face out of her high.

As she came back down to Earth, he came back up to her, hand wiping down his beard and watching the glow of her face. Lazy smile across her face as she reached out for him, going back to his belt.

“You going to let me take care of you now?”

One day they’d roll out of this town together, find their peace and spend their time looking forward without a care. Until then they found peace in each other, holding one another close.

More than anything, they’d found hope in each other? That this wouldn’t be forever, that you could find forgiveness in whatever you’d done.

Whenever there was a doubt, she just echoed those words back to him with a smile, the ones that she’d never forgotten.

“I ain’t done ‘whichu yet.”

[idy-ll-ique]

a manny and a pedi

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

warnings: lil bit of violence

requested: by @maximeevansblog

Its almost mine birthday so, a one with Steve, it is the readers birtday and steve is taking the reader to the hair and nail salon, and that night he has a suprise party for the reader and he is nervous that she wont like his gift but she loves his gift

word count: ~1.3k

summary: it was supposed to be "y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?" it was supposed to be romantic. why, then, did it become "that's my fiancée, you fucking asshole!" "your... your what?"

author's note: hiya peeps! okay firstly, happy birthday @maximeevansblog ! hope you have a wonderful birthday! also, im sorry if i changed your prompt a tiny bit, i hope you still like it. enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Hey lover boy, what—"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Barnes!" Steve exclaimed, startled. Bucky laughed and clapped him on the back once. "What are you doing here, are you spying?" he teased his best friend, peeking past him to look into the room outside which he found Steve standing. Y/N was inside the room, talking to a guy while holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

"Y/N?! Your own girlfriend, Rogers?" Bucky admonished harshly in a whisper, pulling Steve away from the door. "It's not— I trust her completely, honest! It's the guy she's talking to, Manny. I swear to God he's trying to steal her from me—"

"Nobody is stealing me, Rogers, Manny's just a friend! No ulterior motives, he has already promised like a thousand times," Steve heard behind him and whirled around to see Y/N standing there with a smirk, an eyebrow raised. "You taking snooping lessons from Barnes now?" he muttered, "I know babe, I just—"

"Just nothing, Stevie, be happy! It's my birthday!" she laughed and gave him a tight hug, burrowing into his arms. To be honest, Y/N knew about Manny's intentions and Steve was right to worry; he flirted with her all the time, even when she insisted she was dating the ex-Captain America. But she knew better than to worry Steve.

He soothingly rubbed her back, swatting Bucky's hand away when he tried to run his fingers through her hair. "Stop it, that's my girlfriend," he pouted and both Bucky and Y/N burst out laughing. "She's like a sister; jeez, Rogers, tone it down a little bit," Bucky sighed and waved at the couple, walking away.

Steve and Y/N decided to go back to their room. They had been in a relationship for around 4 years now, and they weren't planning on stopping, ever. The only time Y/N would become Steve's ex-girlfriend was when she became his wife. Which he hoped she'd become soon, since he had a special birthday planned for her.

First, he was going to take her to a hair salon, then a manicure and pedicure, and finally, a picnic under the stars. There, he was finally going to pop the question: Y/N, will you marry me? After his retirement, that was all he wanted. A stable life; a wife, kids, maybe some pets. He was even ready to be a trophy husband, as Y/N was still in the Avengers Initiative.

"Steve? Steve!" He snapped out of his thoughts and gave Y/N a sheepish smile. "Sorry, pumpkin, lost in thoughts. So, uh, the flowers look nice," he stammered, looking everywhere but at the flowers which Y/N was putting in a vase. "Oh hush Rogers, you don't have to pretend to like them for me, I get it. I was just like that with you, you know?"

It was true, in the beginning of their relationship Y/N was what Steve was now. Jealous, overprotective, obsessed… somewhere along the line the roles were reversed. "I know, honey, I'm sorry… they're a birthday gift, I should be happy for you." He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"It's fine. So, I've received everyone's gift but yours, where is it?" she grinned coyly, reaching up to cup his cheek. Steve smirked against her skin and spun her around, bringing them back chest to chest. "In my pants," he whispered seductively. A few seconds passed and both of them burst out laughing.

"I swear to God, Stevie, if that's your only gift I'm gonna be really disappointed." Steve pouted and leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss. "First of all, ouch," he began, "And second, no that's not the only gift. I have a really fun day planned for us, you up for it?" Y/N's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly, jumping into his arms. "Aw, Steve, I love you so much!"

"I love you too, princess. Now for the first gift—"

"Ste— oh…"

---

"I. Look. Freaking. Amazing!"

Steve smiled softly as Y/N admired herself in the mirror. They had just returned from the mani-pedi session, and Y/N was feeling the most refreshed she had in years. She had also gotten a fantastic new hairstyle, complete with a different hair colour. Y/N was feeling like a new person, all thanks to Steve. She turned to him with a huge smile.

"Words cannot express how much I love you," she began, giving him a tight hug, "But numbers can. 1 million out of 10!" Steve laughed at her excitement, gently playing with her hair as he held her close. "But the best part awaits: the picnic! We still have a few hours to go, maybe I can go some for training?"

"Sure, and I'm going to take some pictures and post them to all my social media sites! Oh my God, this is fantastic—" Steve laughed at Y/N's squeals and left the room, feeling giddier and happier than he was in the morning. You see, Steve was kind of nervous the whole day. First, it was because of Manny, second, he was worried she wouldn't like his gifts and third, will she say yes?

Two out of the three concerns were gone. It was the pesky last one that ran through his mind the whole time he was in the gym. After an hour, Steve decided to go back to their room to relax for a while under the Air Conditioner; he didn't want to be a smelly, sweaty mess on the most important night of his life.

As he was walking towards their room, though, Steve happened to bump into Y/N. And… Manny. Manny took one step forward, Y/N took a step back. One step forward, one step back as Y/N held her hands out in front of her, protecting herself. Without even bothering to know the full story, Steve rushed over and punched Manny straight on the nose.

He fell back with a groan as Y/N gasped, covering her mouth. "That's my fiancée, you fucking asshole! Have some respect for other people's relationships, she said no, no means no!" he yelled, so loud that a few others came over to check on them. Bucky, Sam, Peter, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Bruce and Natasha, all stood a few feet away, watching with wide eyes.

Y/N's head snapped towards Steve when he called her his fiancée. "Your… your what?" she whispered, and Steve finally realized what he had blurted out. Shit. "I… I was going to ask you tonight at the picnic— it was supposed to be romantic, damn it Manny, you ruined—" His speech was cut short as Y/N immediately took him in her arms, kissing him deeply.

"Yes, Steve, I will marry you," she mumbled with a small, teary smile that Steve mimicked as he brought her in for another kiss. They only stopped when they heard the massive applause coming from the others. "Congratulations, you guys, this is brilliant news! Who's the best man?" Sam hollered.

Steve hugged Y/N closer, wiping his tears off with a chuckle. "Well, I was thinking—"

"I'll be honored," Sam grinned, scowling when Bucky smacked him across the head. "He was going to ask me," Bucky sneered and Steve rolled his eyes. "If you keep bickering like that, I'll ask Bruce," he snarked and Bruce laughed as both Bucky and Sam quieted instantly. "Where's the fucking ring, Rogers, there's no proposal without a ring!"

"The ring is in the bedroom, I was training and that's no place for a precious jewel," Steve answered and Y/N smiled into his arms, burrowing her face further into his chest.

"Yes, the hair salon was great. The mani and pedi— not that Manny, Steve— was also great. But this, by far, was the best birthday present I got today," she whispered to him. "What about the sex? Am I becoming an old man now—" Y/N pushed Steve with a disgusted look on her face as everyone else gagged and groaned. "Rogers, it was a sweet moment!"

"Sorry, sorry, couldn't help myself, it just came— there it is again!"

"Blergh, fuck you, man!"

"I deserved it."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you liked it!

[navalcriminalimagines]

Birthday girl

I can't believe I did that, but here we are. This fits the "Multiple partners/gangbang" square from the Summer Bingo. With our favorite boys; Mike, Rafael, Sonny & Mike.

Words count: 3,9k

Warnings: Gangbang, p in v, creampie, spanking (slightly)

Sorry if there's any typos...

@thatesqcrush

You had a lot of hopes for your 30th birthday. Not just for the celebration itself but also in general. You thought that by now, you would be in a serious relationship, maybe with a kid or two, or at least planning on having one. You had many things you wanted to do before you were 30, but now that you think about it, you didn’t do much of those things. You’re actually far from it.

It just hurts to see people around you having their life together. Your best friend is married to a lovely man, she has a two year old boy and is pregnant with a second and she owns her business. Your sister - older than you - is traveling all around the world with her husband and their dog. And everytime you meet with your mother, it’s like she has to put pressure where it hurts. Every single time.

The only thing you can’t complain about is your job, and the people you work with. Being a detective at SVU is hard, it’s challenging, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. And you have the most amazing squad with you. Also, the most handsome men you ever met. Seriously. Mike, Sonny, Rafael, Nick. How could you not like your job when you see those faces 24/7?

You had expectations for your celebration party. You invited the squad to a beach house that you rented. They became your family, they are the ones you want to celebrate with. But little by little, it was falling apart. First, Amanda had to cancel since her sister is in town, and everyone knows Kim is a handful. Then, it was Liv turn. The day before, Noah got sick, so she decided to stay at home with him. That’s fair, Noah’s health first. And last but not least, your best friend and her husband canceled too. “No one to take care of the kid,” apparently. Is that what it is to have kids? Not having fun anymore? Cause if that’s it, maybe you don’t want one.

So, in the end, it’s just you and the boys. Not that you mind that thought at all.

You left early in the morning with Sonny. He offered to help you prepare the house, and go grocery shopping. “How’s the birthday girl?” he asked, gently as always.

“Kinda upset that everyone canceled. But I won’t let this ruin my day!”

“You’ll have fun anyway. We planned a few things with the guys,” he teased.

You spent the entire day annoying Sonny so he would talk. But he didn’t say a damn thing. Whatever they have prepared, you have no clue. It does stress you out a little but one thing is sure; you can trust them with your life.

Everything was ready when Mike, Nick and Rafael arrived. When Sonny opened the door to them, their arms were full. You saw booze, food, and gifts. Way too many gifts for one person. “What the hell is all of that?” you exclaimed when they dropped everything on the floor, in the living area.

“Everything we need to celebrate your 30th birthday. You will remember this weekend,” Mike said with a huge grin on his face. He walked up to you and hugged you softly. “Happy birthday Y/N,” he kissed your forehead.

Nick and Rafael did the same as Mike. Then, they quickly put their stuff in the bedrooms, before joining you and Sonny on the terrace, facing the ocean. The weather wasn’t the best, but you couldn’t care less.

“One rule for this weekend; not shop talk,” Nick warned and everyone agreed with it.

The evening started pretty smoothly. You were having drinks, eating the apéritif you and Sonny prepared earlier and chatting about nothing and everything. At some point, Rafael came back with a bottle of champagne and poured everyone a glass. “To our amazing Y/N,” he said, holding his glass in the air. “You probably have no idea what you mean to all of us and that’s actually what makes you even more lovable. We care about you more than you know. Happy birthday, querida,” he smiled and toast with you.

You looked at Rafael with puppy eyes. He and the three others know you’re not used to being praised like this, even though you deserve any less.

“This is nice! Mike, your turn,”

The sergeant obliged. He stood up and cleared his throat, “Everyone knows that me joining SVU was my dad’s idea, but honestly, I can’t thank him enough for making me. Cause now you’re in my life and girl, you won’t get rid of me. I can’t imagine my life without you, Y/N,” he paused, “and without those idiots either, but that’s not their birthdays,”

“You said it anyway,” Nick teased Mike.

“Shut up, Nick! Let him finish,” you elbowed Nick.

“Well, I was done actually. Happy birthday, honey,” he bent over to kiss your cheek and then toasted with you.

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. “Nick, now you can talk,” you were excited about this. The past weeks before your birthday hadn’t been easy, you overthink a lot about your life. You actually cried yourself to sleep the night before, but none of them know. Their words make you feel much better. You’re lucky to have them.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said before standing up, “We didn’t start on the right foot, you and me, probably because you never chewed your words with me and I hated it. But you were right on most of the things you ever told me. You’re - without a shadow of a doubt - the best friend I ever had. I can’t wait for us to fight like cats and dogs at the nursery home. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño,” he smiled at you and extended his glass so you could toast together, “Also, you’re hot as hell,”

It was an understatement to be honest, but Nick added this comment because he saw the tears forming in your eyes and he refused to see you cry on your birthday, because of something he said. Fortunately, it worked and you laughed instead of crying. “He’s right,” Rafael added with a wink. Of course, none of them missed how your cheeks turned bright red, even if you tried to play it cool.

“I guess it’s my turn now,” Sonny spoke and stood up. But he stayed silent for a moment, “What they said,” he simply said before sitting again.

Mike, Nick and Rafael immediately started to playfully boo him, “You suck man!” Nick exclaimed.

“You usually can’t shut up and now, that’s all you have to say?” Rafael teased him.

“Y/N should have the right to punish you,” Mike added.

“Oh yes, please! Can I punish you?” you eagerly asked.

“Oh honey,” Rafael grabbed your attention, “you don’t ask someone if you can punish them. You just do it,”

“I know, Rafi. But he’s a good catholic boy, remember? We can’t have him running out of the house, praying for our souls,”

“Y/N. You know Sonny is worse then all of us reunited,” Rafael said this so casually, he didn’t realize how it sounded.

“Dominick Carisi, you’re such a liar!” Mike shouted, “you told me you and Raf didn’t hook up!”

“Yeah well, about that? I lied,”

Sonny and Rafael exchanged sweet looks, while you were silently drinking your glass of champagne.. “Are you two dating or something?” Nick asked.

Rafael was about to say something, but Mike stood up in one quick motion and shouted even louder, “Oh my god!” The four of you looked at him, “I think what you should be asking, Nick, is if the three of them are a thing!”

One thing you hate about Mike is how he can read you like an open book. It was hard to hide from him, the night you had with Sonny and Rafael a few months ago. Now, there was no point to lie.

“I can’t believe you three hook up and didn’t say a damn thing,” Nick said.

“To be honest, I’m more offended about not being invited,” Mike added.

That’s how the night took a very different turn.

*****

“I think all the attention should be on the birthday girl,” Rafael said as he was unbuttoning his shirt. You and Sonny were kissing on one side of the couch while Mike and Nick were making out on the other side.

“Raf is right. To be fair, we have an entire weekend in this house,” Mike added.

In a matter of seconds, you were standing in the middle of the master bedroom, with the four men around you. “Mike and Nick need to know the safe word.” Rafael commented, and Sonny took his tongue out of your month to let you speak.

“Armadillo,” you said.

You can’t even begin to describe how you feel about all of this. Those four men just for you? All of their attention on you? That thought only could make cum on the spot. You had to remember the ground rules you had with Sonny and Rafael a few months ago, and the first one is not to overthink. You all know you can trust one another. You’re more safe with those four guys than with one single random guy.

Once the safe word was known to everyone, Sonny remained kissing you. You immediately granted access to his tongue, it was sloppy but passionate. Meanwhile, you felt a pair of hands taking off your top and another one taking care of your pants. “Matching underwear,” Mike commented, as he was the one staring, “You hoped for this, didn’t you?” You smiled against Sonny. You didn’t hope for a gangbang, but yes, you did hope to get lucky. But this was better than anything you hoped for.

“Of course, she did,” you heard Nick’s voice coming from behind you. He gently unhook your bra, freeing your tits and he didn’t waste a second before playing with them. Your nipples were already hard, craving for attention. “She knew she could have any of us,”

“Oh Nick, that’s worse than that. She knew she could have the four of us,” Rafael added, as one of his hands slided in your panties, feeling how hot and wet you were. “Guys, she is dripping,” he let the others know, and he gently started to tease your clit with his thumb.

As Sonny kept kissing you, Nick kept playing with your tits, and Rafael kept teasing your drenched entrance, Mike got undressed. You saw him from the corner of your eyes, and your attention quickly fell on his rock hard erection. He smiled when he noticed where you were looking and started to stroke himself. You locked eyes with him while tentatively trying to touch one of the guy's cock. Your hand landed on Sonny’s crotch and he groaned at the sensation, even through the fabric of his jeans. But Rafael used his free hand to grab your wrist. “Such a needy cock slut,” he said, right next to your ear.

“Maybe Sonny should replace his tongue with his cock,” Nick offered and he felt you nodding. So Sonny stopped kissing you, he briefly took a look at your swollen lips, and your naked body being taken care of by Rafael and Nick.

“Well, Mike, get closer,” Sonny said as he undressed himself, “She loves having two cocks in her mouth. Am I right, Y/N?”

Everything that was happening was too much, you struggled to find your words, so you nodded. But it wasn’t enough for them. “You want to hear you say it,” Mike said after he finally got closer to you.

“I--I want your cocks--” you moaned as Rafael finally entered your core with one finger, “in my month,” you moaned even more when Nick pinched both of your nipples, just enough to make it hurt, “All of them,” you finally added.

To make sure Rafael and Nick could still work on your body, Mike and Sonny stood up on the edge of the bed. Your face was right at their crotch. You took one cock in each hand, gently stroking them, “I think Mike should be first. I already know how your mouth feels,” you agreed and focused on Mike’s cock, but with your other hand still stroking Sonny’s. You softly licked the head, tasting the precum coming out, before taking him in your mouth. Mike let out a huge groan at the feeling, “Man, when was the last time you had a blowjob?” Nick joked.

“Way too long,” he managed to say.

You have to admit, it’s hard to give a good blowjob to a man, while two others are worshipping your body. But Rafael decided to withdraw his hand from your panties and quickly after, you felt a cold breeze as Nick’s hands and body drift away from you. “Don’t forget about Sonny, babygirl,” you heard from the other side of the room.

Your jaw is going to be sore as fuck in the morning as you opened your mouth as much as you could, to take both Sonny’s and Mike’s cocks in. Obviously, they can’t both fit in but it is mostly about playing with the heads and your tongue.

You jolted when you felt a very warm body against your back. You recognized Rafael’s smell. He was fully naked. He held your hips strongly, sliding his hard cock in your panties and stroking it against your ass. You felt his hot breath in your neck before he planted a few wet kisses there.

Your face was a mess. It was a mix of saliva and precum from both men. Your pussy was a mess too. You were so wet, you could feel it on your thighs. You kept sucking Sonny and Mike for a short moment before they made you stop. Mike got down from the bed and kissed you deeply, enjoying the mixture that was there.

Someone finally took your panties off, you don’t know who and you couldn’t care less. You were desperate to be fucked.

*****

The first to get inside you was Nick. You were lying on the bed, a complete mess already, and Nick got on top of you. He gently kissed you, teased your entrance for a short moment before sinking inside your pussy in a slow motion. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He started to thrust you, slow and deep at first.

The sounds you were making were such a turn on to the four men. As Nick was fucking you good, you had no idea where Mike, Sonny and Rafael were, until you felt someone climbing on the bed. When you opened your eyes, you saw Rafael’s face above you and his cock was a few inches from your mouth. “Open that pretty mouth for me,” he said and you obliged. As Nick was fucking your pussy, Rafael was facefucking you. And this was a lot to handle. It didn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm coming up. Your cries were muffled by Rafael’s thick cock as you came, and it brought him an overwhelming sensation that made him groan hard. “Such a good girl, creaming my cock like this,” Nick said. He wasn’t far from coming either. He buried his face in your neck, and he felt your nails crashing on his skull. It took a few more thrusts before he loaded his hot cum inside you, crying out your name.

He stayed on top of you for a moment before pulling out, at the same time Rafael stopped facefucking you and you cried at the emptiness.

“Someone doesn’t like to feel empty?” It was Sonny who talked. He was sitting next to you and he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, taking Nick’s cum back where it belonged. Your body arched at the feeling and you moaned deeply. “So worked up already. But we’re not done with you,”

“You better not,” you laughed.

“Oh, she’s teasing!” Mike exclaimed. “Babygirl, when we're done with you, you won’t be able to sit for weeks. Everyone at the precinct will wonder what happened during the weekend,” he kissed you while Sonny added a third finger inside your core. You felt a second orgams building inside your belly.

“You better not come on Sonny’s fingers,” Rafael warned you, “You’re only allowed to come on our cocks,” you found him in the room and locked eyes with him.

You knew from his expression what he was waiting for, “Yes, sir,” you agreed.

“That’s our good girl,”

Then it was Sonny’s. The man has a soft spot for a good doggy style, so he ordered you to get on all fours and you obeyed. He stroked his cock between your ass cheeks for a moment before sliding inside you so easily. “God, you take us so well, baby,” he said as he started to thrust. He was faster than Nick, and you know from experience that Sonny has incredible stamina. He can rock inside you hard and fast for a long moment.

“You feel so good inside me,” you moaned, “Fuck, Sonny! Yes!”

“That’s right, take that cock, doll,” he said, slamming harder.

As you grabbed the sheets into your fists, you felt someone crawling under you. It was Nick. He laid down and brought your mouth to his in an eager kiss. Sonny kept fucking you, his hands were strongly holding your hips, so you understood it was someone else that spank you. Mike or Rafael, you didn’t know - although, you had an idea; Rafael does love to spank you - and you cried inside Nick’s mouth. Then you felt someone grabbing your arms to lock them in your back. Nick held you close against him, stroking your hair as your second orgasm hit you hard.

Feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, and hearing you cursing non sense, sent Sonny over the edge. He almost collapsed on you as he came deep inside you.

You felt the emptiness when Sonny took his cock out of you but it was quickly filled by someone’s fingers. You were just a pile of lambs on Nick, but you jolted when one of them curled two fingers inside your pussy. “You love that, don’t you? Nick’s and Sonny’s cum mixing inside you,” You don’t know if that’s Rafael that is fingering you but he’s the one talking. You were still catching your breath when the fingers were replaced by a cock teasing your entrance.

“Do you want to keep going, babygirl? We can st--”

“I didn’t say the word, did I, Mike?” you shot.

“Right. Then it’s my turn to fill that pussy,” he didn’t give you the time to answer, he shoved his cock inside your cunt.

“Oh fuck! Mike, yes!”” you cried.

Nick stayed under you as Mike fucked you hard. Mike’s short nails scratched your back as he went in and out of you. He withdrew completely before sinking back and bottoming down. He did that a few times, enjoying your noises every time he hit your sweet spot. “Damn, that pussy is so perfect,” he growled.

“It was made for us,” Sonny said.

On your left, you saw Rafael standing there, stroking his cock as he watched Mike fucking you. You extended your hand to replace his and he let you. “You can’t get enough,” he teased you.

“Never,” you grinned.

Mike grabbed your hair in his fist, bringing your back to his chest. That new angle almost sent you over the edge again. “Holy shit, this feels amazing,” you breathed out. You didn’t notice the look Rafael and Sonny exchanged. You sloppily kept stroking Rafael, while Sonny’s hand found its way to your clit. Mike had to hold you close to him as a third orgasm arrived.

Nick was still laying on the bed, an arm under his head. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s like my very own porn movie,”

“Get ready to take a new part in it,” Sonny winked at him.

“Working on it,” he said, stroking his semi hard cock.

Sonny chuckled before burying his face in your chest. He sucked on your nipples, and kept playing with your clit. “Jesus, fuck! I--I’m--coming,” you managed to say as your third orgasm hit. You held onto Sonny’s shoulder for dear life, Mike was slamming so hard and fast inside you, chasing his own orgasm. He bit your shoulder as he emptied himself deep inside you, adding his semence to Sonny’s and Nick’s.

You collapsed in Sonny’s arms and he gently laid you on the bed, next to Nick. Mike was catching his breath on the edge of the bed. “Water,” you managed to say.

Not that it mattered, but Nick seems to be the best for the aftercare. He gently stroked your hair, and planted sweet kisses all over your face. Sonny came back with water for everyone. All of this is more than amazing, this can’t be compared to anything you ever experienced before but you gladly enjoyed the water break.

As you were sitting on the bed, Rafael grabbed your face to kiss you. It was soft, almost loving. Your hands traveled his hairy chest as you granted access to his tongue. You fell on your back, taking him with you. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Never better. Fuck me, Raf,”

On the other side of the bed, Nick chuckled. “Three cocks, three orgasms and she is still asking for it. You’re such a pretty slut, Y/N, aren't you?”

“I’m your slut. To the four of you,” you smiled at him.

Rafael teased your entrance with his cock as he was kissing and nipping your neck. Your pussy was a wet and sticky mess. The other men fucked you open, Rafael slided inside you so easily. To be honest, he wasn’t far from coming already after everything he witnessed and you wrapped him so perfectly, it was overwhelming.

You moaned loudly in his ear, your nails digging in his skull. As he thrusted into you, he couldn’t help but to slap your thigh, since he can’t reach your ass for a proper spank. But you could reach his, so you returned the favor. It took him by surprise, so did the growl he let out. “Someone likes to be spank,” Sonny commented, before duplicating your action on Rafael’s ass.

Another spank, but this time from Mike. And one from Nick. You loved having all the attention from the guys, but you have to admit that this brings something else to you. Hopefully this will be repeated before you go back to New York, but this time, this will be an orgy, instead of a gangbang.

You bit Rafael’s bottom lip, as he thrusted fast and hard inside you. “Give it to me, Raf. I need you to cum inside me, just like them,” he crashed his lips on yours, as a hand traveled between the two of you to play with your clit. You were oversensitive, and exhausted, you weren’t sure you could have a fourth orgasm before it hit you. You wrapped your arms around Rafael’s neck, “That’s right, babygirl, let it go. Cum on my cock,” he said in your ear, huskily.

That was exactly what you needed to cum one more time. Rafael’s thrusts became sloppy as he chased his relief. Finally, he added his liquid to the mixture and collapsed on you.

*****

“I have to admit, I’m so glad everyone else canceled,” you confessed, laying like a sea star on the bed. Obviously, the four men agreed with you.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” they all said at the same time.

Best fucking birthday ever.

[fijiangecko]

The End of It All

Vampire!Katsuki Bakugou x Witch!Reader

WC: 6k+

Warnings: Cussing

Angst - breakups and makeups

A/N: I wrote this over two years ago and just found it. If I decide to edit it I’ll post that one on my AO3, or if people ask me to post it here I can <3

~~~~~~

The idea of a calamity had never even crossed their minds until a couple of days ago. Everything seemed to be harmonious between the humans and the supernaturals, but never in a thousand years could they guess just how wrong they were. In a matter of days, war had broken loose between the few humans who knew of the other world, and the extremists of the supernatural that wanted only bloodshed. The Negotiator was notified immediately, and brought a group of friends onto the scene. It only spiraled from there.

Mina and Uraraka sobbed into one another as it dawned on them that very soon everything they loved could be eviscerated, while Kaminari and Kirishima attempted to soothe them as the night went on. Midoriya and Iida ran around searching for books that could possibly lead to a solution, but there was no manual on how to fix the destabilization between the supernatural world and the human one. Todoroki sits in a chair by him lonesome, contemplating if he should leave, while Katsuki has the same thought on the opposite side of the room as he leans against the doorframe.

“Do you think we should try (Y/N) again? She might pick up this time,” Iida flips through a tome as he speaks, eyes glancing at Midoriya.

“I don’t think we should. Last I heard from her she was going to visit the harpies, and if her phone went off during that meeting then we could be royally screwed. They could have a solution, so I think it’s better if we just have faith and-” “Have faith?! That’s your shitty advice?!” Katsuki growls from across the room, a deep scowl decorating his features. “We all know damn well that (Y/N) could have ditched us and left the world for dead! She’s a fucking witch and doesn’t give a shit what happens to the rest of us as long as it doesn’t fucking bother her!” His fangs started to grow as he spoke. During his little outburst he had walked over to the table and slammed his hands down, putting more emphasis on the cuss words than anything. “She. Doesn’t. Give. A. Shit. About. Us.”

“You shouldn’t say that about her, Bakugou. We know you have a past with her, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to forget about the rest of the world. She’s not that petty.” Iida is calm as he speaks, making sure not to make eye contact with the vampire, as it could set him off even further.

“You see her as a friend, and I see her as a lover. She’s a completely different person, I can promise you that.” A low growl had escaped Katsuki’s lips after he spoke, but his ear twitched as he sensed movement outside. Looking out the window, he saw no branches move, but a bright light shone through it.

Todoroki gets up and inspects the outside of the estate, careful to not move the curtains too much. He didn’t want any uninvited guests knowing what room they were in. As he stared outside the glass, he could see an alchemy circle burned into the grass with your figure lying in the middle of it. Your body is in a fetal position, as if trying to protect something. Upon seeing this, Todoroki bolts out of the library without saying a word and goes out into the cold night. Katsuki runs after him to see what was going on with the rest of the party in tow.

The stream of people watched as Todoroki made no hesitation to pick you up bridal style from the ground and carry you back to the house. In your hands is an old book; its sides were ripped apart and there was a lock preventing it from being opened. The bind had decorative gold inlays, but no title. As of now, Todoroki did not care for the book, but the girl he carried in his arms.

“She’s breathing,” he looked to Uraraka, “and will most likely need medical attention.” With nothing left to be said, he walks briskly into the house and finds the nearest couch. Uraraka follows him and starts to check on you and perform a series of healing spells.

Kirishima, Mina and Kaminari walk back inside and sit near the other three, but make no move towards them.

“Is there anything we can do?” Mina’s quiet voice pierces the thick coat of silence around them.

“Right now I don’t need anything, but stay put just in case there is an emergency,” Ochako’s eyesight don’t leave your figure once. The party of four sits behind nod silently and watch as she works..

Outside, Iida and Midoriya are trying to figure out what the alchemy circle means. Not everyday does someone use such powerful magic to teleport, let alone a witch who prefers not to use alchemy at all. They carefully examined the etchings in the ground, the symbols older than anything they’ve had the chance to work with. Katsuki stood a couple of feet away, also trying to figure out where the fuck (Y/N) teleported from.

“Well this symbol means ‘ancient’ and this one over here means ‘creature’, but there’s one in between…” Midoriya pulls out his notebook and starts to sketch the symbols down.

“This is definitely from a different plane of existence, but I’ve never seen it. Is this from her personal dimension?” Iida spoke.

“No, it’s not. Her sigil phrase would be ‘nisi rogatus non transient’ and her keyphrase is ‘fiducia’. Plus there aren’t enough swirls in the alchemic circle to fit her personal taste,” the blonde grumbled. His eyes fixed over the old text, but this language was way before he turned into a creature of the night.

“Did (Y/N) use alchemy way back? I haven’t seen her use it in decades,” Iida ponders out loud.

“Doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t you be fucking figuring out what this shit means?” The two nerds nod and walk quickly back into the library where they begin a whole new search. The vampire slowly approached the living area where his once lover was lying on the couch with a fairy over her form. A glow erupts from Ochako’s hands as she tries to wake you up. Again, Katsuki leans against the door frame, eyes carefully watching what was happening.

He couldn’t help but feel concerned; he never truly got over you, no matter how poorly he acted. Remembering everything you had, everything you lost and the times he wished he had spent with you only caused his cold heart to clench in pain. What if I had been there when she asked? Would things be different? Does she still care? His mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. This was, afterall, the first time he had seen you in almost a century after one of the worst breakups to ever exist. 

Long story short, he was more focused on hunting rather than your relationship, so you decided to give a dangerous alchemic spell a shot after having no one to talk sense into you. Bakugou doesn’t know what kind of spell you were trying to cast, but he does know that it caused some sort of damage to your magical force. He wasn’t there during the ritual, but showed up at your hut months after the disaster. You had looked sick, as if death’s grip was starting to drag you down into hell, and before letting him speak you told him to leave, and never come back. After hours of screaming and bickering, he left. Not once did either of you try to speak to the other, but you both knew you were in the wrong. Katsuki wasn’t there for you, but you blamed him for your dangerous actions, which was in no way his fault. 

Nothing brought him joy after that; not the hunt, not the warmth of another. Nothing. For almost a century he felt empty. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to embrace you in his arms once again. Take you away from everyone and keep you to himself, but he knew that it simply wasn’t going to happen. He knew he had fucked up and is now trying to find a way to fix it. Not in a century had he been this close to you, and it was slowly taking away his life force. For all he knows, you’re in a coma caused by the harpies and have no way to save the world - or you found a way to save the world and sacrificed yourself. Either way, someone has hell to pay.

“Bakugou!” Ochako breaks his train of thought, her eyes screaming concern. “I need ice, her ribs are broken.” Standing up straight, he swiftly walks to the kitchen and retrieves the ice, taking a plastic bag and some paper towels.

“Thank you,” the round faced girl was sweating at this point, tired from healing but knowing that she couldn’t stop anytime soon.

“Guys! We found out what (Y/N) was doing!” Midoriya races into the lounge, holding several books within his arms. “She was trying to make contact with the Great Ones!” He flipped open some of the books, showing different languages and sigils.

“Why the fuck would she do that?! Wasn’t she going to see the harpies?” No one needed to look to understand who was speaking.

“I contacted the harpies, and they said she did speak to them, but only for a short time. They didn’t have anything that could help, so she left in a hurry.” The green haired male put his books down on the nearest surface and flipped through a particular book. “They did say that she bought some mandrake liver, which is odd considering it’s very expensive and very hard to come by, but I guess if she made contact with the Great Ones it makes sense. No one has been able to talk to them in years, not after they cut themselves out of the supernatural. If (Y/N) actually talked to them, then she is the first person in a millenium to ever see or speak to them. It’s a miracle she’s even alive.”

“Yeah, they almost fucking killed me.” You start to rise from the couch, rubbing your temples as you do so. “Think I could get a glass of water, my throat is fucking killing me.”

“You’re up! And so quickly!” Izuku stared in amazement at the girl who not only escaped death, but talked to some of the oldest beings in the universe.

“Yay, lucky me.. Can I just get some fucking water? Don’t mean to be rude, but I can feel my broken ribs and my dry ass throat so a little help would be appreciated.” Dry as ever, you spoke to no one in particular as you lean back into the couch and press the ice bag into the ribs that are broken. “Could someone grab me some rat tails, lavender powder and milk from the toad? Should fix these ribs real quick…”

“On it,” Mina hops up from her seat and runs off to gather what you asked.

“How are you feeling? Besides the ribs and headache.” Ochako reaches for your hand, taking it into her own.

“Pretty good, actually. Great Ones offered some knowledge, albeit for a price.” Peeking an eye open, you gaze at your peers. 

“Did you find the answer?”

“What ‘price’?” The negotiator and the vampire spoke at the same time, both asking valid questions but concerned about different matters.

“Cool your jets, besties,” fangs bared, Katuski growled at the thought of being “besties” with a fucking nerd, “I need to heal up before I start spilling the details.” Just then, Mina runs back into the room, all three ingredients in hand along with a mortar and pestle. 

“I got the stuff! What do I do now?”

“Now, you hand it all over and watch a witch work her magic.” Your greedy hands swipe the contents of a healing elixir and begin to mash everything together. Tediously, your fingers throw components into the mortar, then pressing them together with the pestle makes a liquid in which you drink in one big gulp. The group watches as your ribs emanate a sickly light, making the room glow in a mysterious manner. After about five seconds, it stopped and you stood up to stretch.

“Much better, now how about we go into the library so we can examine this,” you wave the torn book, “and figure out how to save the world.” Moving forward, you give them no time to answer. It gave them no choice but to follow you.

“Would you at least answer my damn question?” Katsuki remains in the doorframe, unmoving from his comfy position..

“How about you move out of my fucking way, and go to the library like I said? Maybe you’ll get your answer there, huh?” You shoulder check your way out of the lounge and into the library.

After everyone takes their places in various spots around the library, you begin to speak.

“I want to apologize for being so late, after I said I was only going to the harpies. Turns out, they don’t have much more information than mine and Midoriya’s libraries combined. Right as I was about to leave, Tokoyami said there might be one more group I should go see. He pulled me into his private room and gave me the liver of a mandrake as well as a page from his personal grimoire. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it was the alchemic way to reach the Great Ones. We talked for a short time after it about how to approach them and what would happen if they did or did not decide to help. Knowing we’re getting short on time, I did the ritual right there in his room, and low and behold I was taken to a dimension far outside our normal planes of existence. It was cold, dark and dank with a stench that rivaled the odors of giants. My senses were being attacked in the most foul of ways, but that was the least of my concerns as I was met with the eyes of not one, but three of the Greats.” You shudder at the memory. “When they spoke it was deafening. I felt like I was going mad, or at the very least I was losing all sense of control. They knew why I was there, and decided that it would be more beneficial to help me, as what is going on now also affects them.” You cast your gaze downward, whispering the next sentence. “They agreed to tell me what to do only if they were given a sacrifice-”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Bakugou roared from the other end of the room. “YOU TOLD THEM YOU WOULD SACRIFICE SOMEONE?!”

“Kacchan-”

“YOU DON’T GET TO SPEAK, DEKU. SHE IS GOING TO SACRIFICE SOMEONE! SHE DECIDED TO TRADE ONE OF US OFF FOR THE ‘GREATER GOOD’! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU ASK A GOOD FOR NOTHING WITCH FOR HELP! I TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE TO ASK HER FOR HELP!”

“I NEVER SAID IT WAS GONNA BE ONE OF YOU.” The commotion stops. All eyes are now on you. “I never fucking said it was going to be one of you, I didn’t even finish what I was saying…” Your eyes look down at the shaking in your hands. 

Todoroki reaches forward and takes your hands in his own, stopping the tremble that has overcome you. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath in, “Like I was saying, they asked for a sacrifice of a magical being, but one of great power so the balance in the cosmos would be right. I tried to ask them what the requirements were for ‘great power’, but I received no answer. Instead, this book,” you put it down on the table, “appeared in my hands. Next thing I knew, I was on the couch…”

“So you don’t know how to unlock the latch on the front?” The green haired boy slides the book to himself, examining it with a sense of importance.

“No, but I have a feeling I’m the only one that’s going to be able to open it.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, I’m the first person in forever to even see one of the Greats, let alone live from an encounter with them. If I’m not able to open it, then no one can.”

“Okay, well are there any keys that you have on you now? Maybe it’s the same one as your house key or lab key?” You shrugged and pulled out a set of keys from your pocket. Immediately you noticed one that hadn’t been there previously.

“Or the one that just happened to appear…” Inserting the key, and twisting it releases the metal strap on the bind of the book. It makes a soft clicking noise as it opens. Greedily, you opened up the pages to see what they held, only to find them blank. “What the fuck?” Aggressively, you flip through the whole thing until you find one page where a plethora of information was held.

“Is that it?” Iida was peaking over your shoulder. In fact, the rest of the party had gathered around the table to see what was going on. Well, everyone except the blonde haired, red eyed vampire.

“It has to be. This is the only marked page.”

“Well, it seems to be in celestial. Can you decipher it?” You cock your eyebrow and turn to Iida.

“Is that a question?”

“Hey, less flirting, more reading,” Kaminari spoke.

“That wasn’t flirting, but not like you would know.” He jolts back at the sudden attack, feigning a hurt look. Small chuckles could be heard around the room, but they died down as everyone anticipated your analysis.

“It’s a ritual with both alchemic and abjuration magic,” your eyes continue down the page, trying to make sense of all the scribbles, “but it looks like there’s only one ingredient.”

“Let me guess, a sacrifice.” Red eyes bore deep into your figure as Katsuki spoke.

“...yeah.”

“And where the fuck are you going to find some ‘great magical being’?” His teeth are showing as he scowls once more. It may have been years since he’s seen you, but he knows what you’re thinking.

The knuckles on your hands start to turn white from the frustration that was building in your chest. You weren’t intending on telling everyone how you were going to let yourself be sacrificed in the name of Great Ones. You wanted to keep it a secret from them, but Katsuki could see right through you.

“I don’t know.”

“FUCKING LIAR!” He crosses the room with lightning speed and wraps his hands around your neck, crushing you into a nearby bookcase. Your vision is white for a split second, but returns to see a face with nothing but disgust across its features. Gasping for air, you attempt to pry his hands off of you, but it wasn’t worth trying as you knew the kind of strength Katsuki possesses. “I know what you’re planning to do! You want to kill yourself because some old ass supernaturals want you to, but I’m not gonna let that fucking happen.” He slams you into the bookcase once more after seeing your eyes start to drift off. “Do you hear me?!”

“Bakugou, get your hands off her now!” Iida, Todoroki, Kaminari, Kirishima and Midoriya run over to the scene and start to restrain Katsuki. They struggle to pull him back, but after a few seconds of letting you go, your whole body drops to the floor and your lungs start to gasp for oxygen. While you are coughing, Mina and Uraraka latch onto your sides and help you up. Now sitting down, you cough trying to catch your breath.

“What the hell were you thinking dude?! You didn’t even let (Y/N) fucking speak?!” Kirishima’s speech was a low growl, his eyes turning from the normal black color into a more yellow, dog-like eye.

“I’m not going to let her fucking die because she thinks she is self righteous. She’s not more important than any of us, and if she thinks so I’ll kill her myself.”

“How do you know that?! How do you know that she wants to sacrifice herself?! How do you know that she thinks she’s better?!” Kiri stops, waiting for an answer. When none presents itself, he continues his rant. “You don’t know what is going in her head! So stop assuming you know stuff that we don’t!”

“Kiri, stop before you make a fool of yourself.” Gently, you put your hand on the shoulder of the raging werewolf. His eyes fade into the black abyss they once were. All eyes were now on you, “Katsuki’s right. I was going to sacrifice myself…” several gasps were audible in the thick silence, “but not because I think I’m better than anyone here. We all are powerful in our own regard, but I’ve been alive for twelve hundred years. If anyone of us is going down, it’s going to be me.” Scoffing, Katsuki barges out of the room, unable to deal with the level of bullshit he just heard. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe he was powerful, or anyone else in the room (he wouldn’t say it outloud), but he couldn’t believe that you were willing to give up on yourself to save the world. Did you not see how important you are? Whether you knew it or not, he cared about you and he didn’t plan on letting you die anytime soon.

The tension built itself around the room as the still airwaves remained unchanged. Not even breathing could be heard. Standing up from the table, you put the chair back into place and made a grab for the book, but someone stopped you. 

“No,” green eyes bore into your own, “you’re not taking it. We’re locking it up. There has to be a different solution.”

“There isn’t! We’ve talked to everyone we possibly could have and no one else thought of anything! For fucks sake Midoriya, I had to talk to some ancient beings to get a hold of this spell and almost died because of it! I’m taking what’s mine!” With both hands, you yank it from his grasp.

“I said no (Y/N). We’ll find another way. There has to be another way-”

“There’s not! What is so hard to understand! The clock is ticking and it’s only a matter of time before it all turns to shit, might as well fix it now and get it over with!”

“(Y/N), just give me the grimoire. Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be. No one here wants you to die, and we’re not going to let you! Just pass it over.” Conflicted, your white knuckles loosen on the rough leather and place it down on the table. Without looking at anyone, you make your way to a spare room and sit on a bed, thinking about what else there was to do.

Hours passed as you thought about the end of it all. There is no other way for this to end. The fucking Old Ones said that this way the only way possible, so it has to be right? We exhausted all other resources: the scripts from Alexandria, my personal collection, Izuku’s personal collection and the harpies. None of us had anything. Your foot was tapping against the floor anxiously. If I could just get the pages from the book and get back to my place then it could all be over. None of them would have to worry anymore. It’s been a couple of hours… maybe they’re asleep. If I take it now and make a run for it, I’d have at least a couple hour head start. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to stop me…

With a gameplan in mind, you stealthily make your way out of the room, creeping around as silently as possible. Passing a few other rooms, the snores of several companions reassure your suspicion. Now was the time to strike. Trying your damnedest not to make the floor creak, you tiptoe through the house to the library. You’re assuming it’s still there, but they could’ve removed it. Too busy focusing on trying to make a sound, you didn’t realize the pair of blood red eyes that closely follow.

Upon reaching the library, your eyes land on the old leather cover that lies exactly where you last remember. Swiftly taking it from its place and reaching for its key, you took the latch off and ripped the single page from its binding. As you did so, a knocking noise was heard from the entrance, but looking at it didn’t give you an answer. Everything was where you left it, but the uneasy feeling of eyes on you causes a thought to cross your mind. Am I being followed? Shoving the spell into your pocket, you glanced around one more time to make sure no one was there. 

“O custos revelare,” voice barely above a whisper and clutching the necklace of the triple goddess, the knowledge of Katsuki’s watchful eyes on you entered your consciousness. Great, just what I needed. How the fuck am I supposed to leave now? Maybe if I trapped him somewhere that he can’t be heard, or if I place a silencing spell? No, he’ll still be able to get someone’s attention. Best shot I got is to lure him out of earshot from the others and place a trapping spell, but that requires time… Fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do?!

Quickly trying to recover from the stream of thoughts, you make your way to the attic. This should be far enough from the others. If he screams up here they shouldn’t hear him, especially with all the fabric. Now how do I get the circle in place? ...goddamnit why the hell can’t my brain think of something? Abjuration? No, that’s later. Conjuration? No. Divination? No. Evocation? No. Necromancy? What the hell, no! Transmutation is a no go as well. That leaves alchemy, enchantments and illusions. Alchemy takes too long, so that’s out of the question, and Katsuki can easily overpower my enchantments. So illusions it is.

Katsuki watches as you stumble your way up a couple flights of stairs, trying so hard not to alarm anyone of your presence. He couldn’t help but feel amused at your little act. You just look so cute acting like a rogue trying to steal their first jewels. On the other hand, he couldn’t believe that after the outburst he had and Deku’s own freakout you still were going through with your plan. Do you not care about him? Do you seriously not realize just how important you are? Of course he’s gonna stop you; the minute you stormed off he knew there was a plan being formulated.

Shattering glass littered the stairwell as the nearest window blew inward. Immediately, Katsuki checks for intruders and looks down the stairwell to see that the other windows have been broken in as well. Peering up, he doesn’t see your figure any more and begins to panic. With his enhanced speed he runs downstairs and starts to sniff out anything suspicious.

Leaving the crystals in their place to keep the illusion going as long as possible, you could care less about making much noise. Bolting up to the attic, you shut the door behind you and took out a pocket knife, working on a trap, or abjuration, spell. The intricate carvings were taking longer than you thought, and the panic of being caught was causing you to slip up.

“Shit! Fuck!” There’s no time left! Once again grabbing the necklace of the goddess, you start reciting a simple fire spell and start to burn the lines into the wood floor, being careful not to burn the house down.

“Adolebitque imperium.” A small flame danced around the floor, as if following a line of gasoline. It wasn’t even a flame, but looked like the end of a stick of incense. The small embers made their way around the room, carving out sigils and words. Trapping a vampire was tough enough, but with Katsuki’s strength and will it was going to be even worse.

Back downstairs, Katsuki stalks the main floor, careful not to alarm something that could be in the house. His nose isn’t picking up on anything out of the ordinary, but he got the feeling that it was all a ruse. Looking around more only confirms his suspicion as he noticed no other windows were broken, and when he got back to the stairs those windows were put back.

“That sneaky little-” his feet pound on the ground as he makes his way to your location. “I can’t believe she- what a little- UGH!” He fells dumb. He knows your magic, but he couldn’t even figure it out on first glance - not like he used too, that is.

Reaching the top of the stairs and closing the door, he tries the doorknob, but to no avail. 

“(Y/N) open the door.” No response. He waits a few seconds until he tries again. “I swear to fucking God (Y/N), open the goddamn door or I will break it down.” Pressing an ear to the door, he listened to double check he was in the right area. After hearing some shuffling on the other side, his fists pound against the door. “I can fucking hear you, you know!” When no response came, again, he grabbed the door knob and snapped it off like it was a candy cane. “I’m coming in so don’t fucking attack me!”

You stand by an opened window, wind softly blowing through your hair and the moonlight highlighting your face in all the right ways. If only someone had a camera, this shot could make “Time” magazine. Katsuki’s breath was taken away at the scene; you looked so serene and just as beautiful as the day he met you. Although his heart wasn’t supposed to be beating, he felt as though it might leap out of his chest and run into your arms. You turn slowly, to face him with the ripped pages gently folded between your fingers.

“Hand it over. We both know I’m not letting this happen.” He inches closer in the room, about a foot away from the carvings on the floor. You just need to provoke him further, but the look in his eyes was killing you. They weren’t like anything you’d ever seen come out of Katsuki; even in the most intimate of moments. They screamed desperation but remain firm.

“It’s the only way, and you know it.” Eye contact hasn’t broken once since he bust the door open, but it only intensified as you speak.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s the only way. You are not dying for this, for these people! We both know what kind of shit the world puts us through and you want to put your life on the line for them. For those BASTARDS!” Screaming, he moves another few inches forward, eyes pleading for you to give in. “WHAT HAS THE WORLD EVER DONE FOR YOU?! BESIDES PUT YOU DOWN AND BEAT YOU TO THE CURB?!”

“It showed me you. Didn’t it?” The question startles him. You were the calm to his storm, the yin to his yang and yet… he didn’t want to admit that the world actually did him good.

“No. I gave myself to you. I wanted to be with you. I loved you. I still love you. Can’t you see this is fucking killing me?! Can’t you see that I just want to be with you?! CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I WANT YOU BACK?! THAT I WANT TO WAKE UP TO YOU WITH ME EVERYDAY?! WHY THE FUCK CAN’T YOU-” He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes with rage, and that you had made your way across the room to him. In the middle of his rant, you placed your soft hand on his cheek, caressing his face. Instinctually, he presses his cheek further into your touch, opening his eyes to meet yours. It felt like he had just had a sip of water after a centuries-long drought; this was something he didn’t acknowledge that he needed so badly, but now that it was happening he only wanted more.

“That day that you left, I was broken. For years I was only half the person I once was, and it was because I didn’t have you. I thought that you hated me, and never wanted to see me again…” 

“I could never hate you,” he grabbed your wrist, “not after everything we’ve been through. Not after our sleepless nights of talking, the years of moving around and the fact that you’re the only person I’ve ever been myself around.” He sighs, the whole ordeal becoming emotionally taxing. Not once did he ever open himself up to anyone; not after you. It was hard enough for you to crack him, but once you two were through, he built up walls of steel. “I never stopped loving you. You are the only one for me. You’re the only person willing to put up with my bullshit and able to control my temper. Even if you are a damn witch, you’re my damn witch.”

Tears start to haze both of your visions, but you give in, letting them cascade down your cheek. Heart clenched, ready to burst, you enveloped yourself in his scent, embracing him like your life depended on it. He quickly returns the gesture and places his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like this for a moment before gently rocking back and forth. Slowly, you inch him closer to the abjuration spell.

Goddess, what have I done to deserve this? Why do I have to be the one fucking person he loves but also the one person that can save everyone from certain doom? Why am I just getting him back now, right before the end? Crying harder, you push yourself further into his chest. He didn’t take this as “out of the normal” because he thought you were still crying over him; that’s not saying you weren’t, but other thoughts were on your mind. Your body still moves closer to the circle, pulling Katsuki with you. What the fuck (Y/N). You could’ve just placed the circle and left, but no. You had to stick around and make everything 1000 times harder.

The sound of wood burning turns Katsuki’s attention to the ground, where he sees the sigils recarve themselves into the floor. He was flabbergasted, the breath knocked right out of him.

“(Y/N)...?” His voice was weak as he spoke, as if pleading for this to be a dream and not the hell he was about to go through.

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was another way but there isn’t and I just-” He releases your hug, his body going rigid as he starts to piece it together.

“You tricked me… after everything I said and did, you trapped me. You’re gonna fucking kill yourself and you trapped me here so I can’t stop you.”

“There’s no other way. The Greats said that it had to be a powerful magic user, and we both know Izuku, Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka don’t make the cut. The harpies don’t have anyone as powerful as me either and it doesn’t look like we’ll be finding anyone powerful within the next couple of days. I can end this now. The panic, the worry; it could all be over with tonight.” You step out of the circle, grabbing the instructions from your pocket and holding them to your chest.

“You decided that instead of staying with me, you’d rather die. Am I hearing this correctly? YOU WOULD RATHER NOT EXIST THAN BE WITH ME?!” He ran up to you, but the invisible barrier holds him from reaching your body.

“Don’t. Don’t make this about you. This is about more than just us and it is definitely about more than what we had forever ago. I’m fucking sorry neither of us got our acts together in time, but the balance of nature needs to be set anew. If I had known that you still loved me, that you still cared for me, then yeah, this whole situation might’ve turned out differently. But the fact that it took us almost 1000 years to get our shit together and talk to each other says a little something. Maybe we’re both too headstrong to be in a relationship. Hell, that’s how the last one ended! So don’t you dare make this about you, because there are so many other people that I love and want to look out for than just you. The world is counting on me because if I don’t do this, then the world as we know it won’t be in existence within the next few days.” You turn to the window, taking a deep breath and slowing your rapid heart rate.

As you approach the window, you mutter “revertetur in terram suam” and the forest around the house transforms into the inside of your bedroom. Once more, you took a deep breath to ease the pain of leaving everyone behind.

“Tell them I love them, and I did it for the best.” You walk over to Katsuki and rip off your triple goddess necklace, offering it to him. “I know you’re not religious, but it’s a piece of me. So you don’t forget.” Reluctantly, he reaches out and takes it, examining it with a furrowed brow.

“I would never fucking forget…” it was barely audible, but it made your heart flutter.

“I love you, Katsuki. Even if it seems like I’m betraying you, I want you to know that I hope you find someone who loves you and can crack that barrier over your heart.” Walking over to the portal, you utter one last sentence, “Please take care of yourself,” and then you’re gone.

[hockeyboysimagines]

Ashes and Wine

Warnings:Drinking, mentions of parties/alcohol, language, angst.

I’m so sorry this has taken so long. But I hope you enjoy this chapter.💕

This gif has nothing to do with this chapter. But look at this moron🤣🤣 I love him.

Leighton’s head was splitting when she woke up the next morning. She was vaguely aware that she was in her bedroom but she wasn’t quite sure how she got there and she still had all her clothing on. She sat up slowly, and looked around. The rest of the apartment was quiet, and he curtains were closed. Her shoes were by the bed, and the picture on her dresser was moved.

Then it hit her.

Her memory was foggy but she could see a hazy visual of Mat carrying her into the apartment. She had almost fallen and then almost kissed him.

Oh great.

She huffed and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t often drink, and when she did never that much. But being in Mat’s presence, and seeing the ring on Kaitlin’s finger had rattled her so much, she just got a little out of hand. It was stupid. She had said no. She had drank her weight in vodka. And she needed Tylenol and a drink. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen island eating cereal.

“Morning.” She watched as Leighton disappeared behind the fridge door looking for water.

“Stop staring at me Ginny.”

“The last time I saw you that trashed was at Brad Smith’s party senior year. You were so drunk…that was the night you-“ she said giggling.

“Okay okay. I remember.”

Ginny chuckled “Mat brought you home last night.” She said casually, chewing a spoonful of cereal.

“So?”

“So. Did something happen?”

“ No nothing happened. He’s engaged to…whatever her name is.”

“All I’m saying is I saw that look. It’s the same look he used to give you four years ago.”

“Look I am hungover and I am not in a good mood. He’s engaged and he brought me home last night because he just wants to be friends-“

The doorbell rang just them interrupting her speech. Ginny frowned and slid off her stool. When she opened it, Beau of all people was standing on the other side of the door holding a carrier with three large coffees in it.

“Morning boozy.” He said giving her a smile as he breezed past Ginny and set them on the island.

“Oh my god I think I’m in love with you.” Leighton took hers gratefully and sipped it, feeling better instantly.

“So….” He asked leaning on the counter “Did something happen last night?”

Ginny chuckled and shook her head blowing on her coffee through the hole.

“You guys are the worst. Nothing happened.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to.”

She rolled her eyes “Can you two leave me alone.”

“No.” They said in unison.

********

“So how was the rest of your night last night?” Kaitlin asked over breakfast. Mat shrugged.

“It was fine. Leighton and Beau got along pretty well. She had a little too much to drink though.”

“Was she okay?” Kaitlin looked genuinely concerned.

“I think so. She’s just going through some stuff right now is all, with the move and adjusting.”

“You should help her Mat. I’m sure she would really appreciate it. There’s that team party thing on Friday, I’m leaving that morning for a few days. You should take her.”

If Mat hadn’t just set down his fork he would have dropped it. Kaitlin must really feel secure about their relationship if she was giving him an invitation to go hang out with his ex girlfriend. Was this a test? He felt he was in dangerous territory and no matter how he answered it wouldn’t be right.

“Oh Kaitlin. I don’t know.”

“We’ll think about it. I’m okay with it.”

They ate breakfast in relative silence until Kaitlin left him to shower and pack for her trip. Mat sat down in front of the tv, and absently flicked through the channels, not really watching what was on it. His mind started to rewind.

Music was blaring through Katie’s Miller’s house. While the rest of the guys on the team were yelling and carrying on about winning, mat and Leighton were out talking quietly. The ride to the house had been short, too short to have real conversation and he had been dying to get her alone since then. She looked so damn pretty leaning forward against the railing of the deck.

“You played good tonight.” She said smiling “Or at least I’m pretty sure you did. Right?” He laughed. It was kind of endearing and actually nice that she didn’t know anything about the sport. Sometimes he felt a tremendous amount of pressure to perform because of the promise of making it to the nhl. He didn’t have to be Mat Barzal NHL hopeful with her. He could just be Mat.

Before he could answer the party goers behind them started chanting and they turned to see Cody and some other guys assisting Ginny in doing a keg stand. Leighton rolled her eyes.

“She’s a real piece of work eh?”

“Eh? What is that a Canadian thing?” She teased. Mat blushed.

“I guess.”

“It’s cute. I like it.”

I like you. He thought to himself.

“So how did you and Ginny meet?”

“I sit next to her in English class. We were partners for a project.”

“I’m surprised someone else didn’t try to fight you for it. Boys break their necks just to talk to her.”

“So I’ve noticed. I don’t know….she’s cool, but I’m a little more interested in someone else.”

She quirked an eyebrow “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

Feeling bold, both from the beer and from the high of victory, he smiled at her and shrugged “ There’s this cute little blonde she hangs out with that caught my eye in Math class. In fact. I’m pretty sure that I’m failing because I spend so much time looking at her.”

Leighton let out a small laugh and turned to him, hair spilling over her shoulders. She turned her head to the side and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Gosh they were long, and her eyes were so big and caught the light every time she blinked.

“I’m sure she probably thinks your pretty cute too.” She said quietly bringing him back down to earth.

“That’s really funny, because I’ve been thinking about kissing her.”

“Okay I’m ready to leave.” Mat jumped as Kaitlin set her suitcase down on the hardwood. She was smiling at him as she pulled her coat on and shook out her hair. He stood to kiss her and say goodbye. There was a cab waiting to take her to the airport.

“I love you.” She said wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you too. Have a safe trip.”

“Mmmm. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“Never.” He said running his hands up her back “just gonna hang with Tito probably.”

He didn’t miss the look of distaste that crossed her face and it annoyed him a little bit. Kaitlin had this idea that Beau would break them up or something and he wasn’t really sure why.

“We’ll have fun at your team thing. Are you going to ask Leighton to come?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before she kissed him one last time and walked out the door to the cab. He pulled his phone out, opening his contact list up and scrolling to Leighton’s phone number. He debated for several seconds before closing her contact and then opening it again.

Hey. It’s Mat. There’s a thing on Friday and Kaitlin is out of town. She suggested I ask you. I thought maybe we could do dinner or something beforehand? I’d really like to catch up.

She responded soon enough for him to be hopeful, but long enough for him to sweating out her response.

Sure. That sounds nice. What time?

*******

“So it’s a date?” Beau said nudging her several times. Ginny was sitting on her other side and let out a small chuckle. Beau had insisted on taking them to lunch, waiting around while they both showered and got ready. Leighton had a feeling that he not only wanted some gossip, but he was trying to gauge how much charm it would take to win Ginny over.

“It’s not a date. Just a dinner between old friends.” Leighton said sipping her water.

“Old friends who used to bang.”

Leighton nearly choked on her water and felt her cheeks get red. Sending Ginny a glare she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her fork.

She was looking forward to spending some time with him. Sober. But she was also painfully aware that it was strictly dinner between friends. Even though she wasn’t around, he did still have a fiancé. Even though Beau reminded her “She’s awful.” It didn’t change that she existed.

That didn’t stop her from pulling out all the stops though. She spent some extra time on her hair and makeup, and pulled on her favorite black sweater and dark jeans and boots.

Ginny was out somewhere, but had also been invited and would meet her there later. She hurried out of her apartment, and by the time she made it to the front of her building Mat was waiting there, leaning against his car. He looked up, and blinked at her for several seconds before he smiled.

“Hi. You look nice. Ready?”

She felt like she was going to throw up as he opened her door and guided her into the car with his hand on her lower back. While he drove them to wherever they were going, she really looked at him. He was so different yet the same. Same eyes and smile, but his hair was longer and the years in the NHL had given him extra muscle.

“Stop staring at me.” He said, giving her the side eye, but he was smiling.

She chuckled and looked out the window at the buildings “ So where are we going?”

“To dinner.”

“Okay but where?”

“In a restaurant? Where else would we be going?”

She rolled her eyes “Your so annoying.”

“You haven’t seen me in four years and your telling me I’m annoying? That’s hurts L.”

She felt a tiny pang at the nickname he used to call her, and he must have too because his smile faded a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Uhm anyway…So where is Kaitlin tonight?”

“Uhm. She’s on a work trip in Florida or something. She said I should ask you to come to this thing. If I didn’t Beau would have thrown a tantrum.”

She smiled “I like Beau. He’s funny.”

Mat knew she meant as a friend but he felt a tiny twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be the one making her laugh, not Beau.

“I’m really glad you guys get along. He and Kaitlin don’t always.”

Leighton pursed her lips “Yeah I’ve noticed. What’s that about?”

Mat shrugged “Honestly, I’m really not sure. They’ve just never gotten along. It’s not easy, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ve never had to deal with it before.”

In high school, his friends and teammates loved Leighton, and loved them together. It had been easy and when Beau and Kaitlin ended up on bad terms, Mat didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry Mat. That must be tough.”

“It is. But enough about that.” He said parking the car and turning to her smiling “Lets go. I want to catch up with you tonight, and not talk about that.”

*********

“Did you break up with Kaitlin. My man!” Mat turned as Jordan slapped him jovially on the shoulder, big smile on his face.

“Did I what?no.”

His smile faded and he frowned, looking confused “Well then who’s that?” Mat sighed. Leighton had been friendly and charming to all his teammates she had met so far. Her big smile and soft eyes drew people in like a magnet.

“That’s Leighton.” A collective gasp went up around the table. Most of his teammates knew about Leighton in some form.

“Leighton as in the girl you asked to marry-“

“Yes Marty let’s just not go there.”

“Does Kaitlin know she’s here?”

Mat opened his mouth to answer, but Beau spoke first “Who cares?”

Jordan and Marty laughed, both shaking their heads.

“We’ll I have to say Barz this is one I like. I’m so happy you moved on from Kaitlin.” Sydney had now joined them, smiling widely at him, missing Marty shaking his head at her trying to catch her attention. Beau started laughing and Jordan was smirking as he watched Sydney furrow her eyebrows and look between them.

“What’s so funny?”

“He didn’t dump Kaitlin. That’s his ex girlfriend.” Marty mumbled in her ear. Her eyes widened and she chuckled awkwardly and gave him an apologetic look.

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“Do you guys really dislike her that much.” He looked around the table. They wouldn’t meet his eyes but they all shrugged.

“It’s not that she just isn’t- what we would expect.” Sydney said choosing her words carefully “This one.” She said jerking her head in Leighton’s direction “Is more someone I could see you with.”

“Plus she has a smoking hot friend.” Beau added in. Ginny had just arrived, greeting Leighton at the bar and ordering a drink. Sydney rolled her eyes.

Matt spent the rest of the evening not really listening to what anyone was saying. He could t believe how much his team and their wives and girlfriends disliked Kaitlin. The more he thought about things the more he realized he had been missing all the signs. Kaitlin rarely came to games and when she did she always brought a work friend and didn’t sit with the other girls. She never went to any WAG gatherings or out with them for dinner or drinks. And here was Leighton, someone who had been absent for 4 years, fitting seamlessly into the mix, laughing and joking with them over drinks. It didn’t add up and it was frustrating. It was even more frustrating when he found her leaned over the bar top talking with the bartender.

Tall, black hair, well built. She definitely had a type.

He cleared his throat as he approached, causing her to turn to him. It was almost 1 am, and he was mad and tired.

“ Hey, it’s getting late. Are you ready?” She turned and smiled at him but shook her head.

“Actually.” She glanced at the bartender “ I think I’m gonna stay.” The bartender was giving him a smug look. He had watched him give Leighton one too many once overs and flirty smiles, and he wanted nothing more than to punch the guy in the face for doing it, which didn’t make any sense.

She was his ex girlfriend. He had moved on, why couldn’t she? She was too good, too special to be thinking about going home with a bartender with bad tattoos and no real value for her. He couldn’t tell her not to, but he could try.

Mat reached for her hand pulling her to him “ He’s not good enough for you.” He whispered and turned walking through the crowd and put into the night air. Leighton stood mouth open watching him leave.

“So anyway I get off in-“ the bartender said leaning forward but Leighton had walked away from him, following Mat outside. Who did he think he was? He couldn’t say that to her. He was engaged, and here he was trying to make her feel bad about flirting with a guy she wasn’t even going to call again.

He was on his phone ordering an Uber when he heard the door bang open.

“Hey!” He spun to find Leighton standing on the steps hands balled into fists at her sides. She looked angry, her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed.

“Don’t say things like that to me!”

“Leighton I-“

“He’s not good enough for you? I don’t need you inside my head anymore. It’s not up to you to decide that for me. You have fiancé, you moved on. Why can’t I ?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant -“

“No! I don’t care how you meant it. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to kaitlin either!” She gave him one last glare before she stormed back inside.

He let his head fall back and huffed out a breath. He knew he was being stupid, and unfair to everyone including himself. He slipped into his Uber mind going a million miles a minute.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

********

“I’m ready to leave.” Ginny turned and found Leighton flushed and angry behind her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just ready to leave.”

“Okay.” Without a seconds hesitation she tossed her drink back, and paid her tab following Leighton out the front of the bar. As soon as the door shut Leighton exploded. She was talking so fast and so angrily Ginny could barely understand what she was saying but got the gist of it.

“And then he said ‘He’s not good enough for you’. What the hell does that even mean? He can’t say that to me!”

“Oh you two. I wish you could just both realize you still love each other and fix this whole mess.”

“I don’t love him.” Leighton said scoffing and folding her arms as they walked and argued.

“Oh my god, shut up L. Be honest about this for once in your life.”

“I’m done taking about this.” She snapped. They walked the rest of the way in silence each slamming their bedroom doors. They threw themselves into bed, stewing for a few moments before pulling out their phones. They both had multiple notifications, tagged posts and follow requests from various teammates and wives. Leighton liked them all, even making plans for shopping with a few and she and Ginny had been invited to dinner with others. She sighed and rolled over, tossing her phone aside, before she spoke out loud to the darkness.

“I hate you Mat Barzal.”

********

1,339 miles away Kaitlin washed her face and go ready for bed in her hotel room. She settled in and pulled her phone out as she turned the tv on and flicked the lamp off. She scrolled through Instagram and immediately noticed several groupings of photos from some of the other wags. She scrolled through a feeling of dread coming over her.

Leighton and Ginny were both in many of the photos, smiling and toasting with drinks like they had known them forever. They looked so natural, like it was where they belonged. All the wags had already followed both of them, commenting back and forth and arranging to get together. She got more annoyed as she scrolled but when she scrolled to the last picture she got angry.

Mat and Leighton were standing smiling at each other, a candid photo taken by Lauren Eberle. He was looking at Leighton like Kaitlin had always wanted him to look at her. She closed the app, and put the phone down, blinking away angry tears.

Things were going to change when she got back to Long Island.

[sleepnotfoundyet]

Royal-AU Knight-Dream & King-George

Hiraeth  by Anonymous

hiraeth (ˈhɪəraɪθ) a nostalgic longing for a place which can never be revisited, a homesickness for a home that never was. the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past. -- “The crown,” George reaffirms, “It suits you.”

“...George?” Dream swallows past the lump in his throat, words dying on his tongue.

“Yes,” George grins, “Your highness?” -- knight!dream and king!george -- Regret, retaliation, and the realisation of what you've done.

Reflections by  darlingsdream

In which Dream is assigned as Prince George's new personal guard and finds that it is surprisingly easy to fall for the royal with the spunky attitude but incredibly hard to keep his secrets from him.

“You’ve been out there, right?” George motions beside him toward the mountains. “Beyond the kingdom gates?”

“A handful of times,” he answers truthfully— well, truthfully enough.

“You think it’s scary out there?” He motions towards the edge of the balcony extravagantly as Dream processes the question.

There were a few ways Dream could answer that, he decides. Those walls were the only thing that has kept him safe from what was out beyond them, something he was eternally grateful for. Venturing outside of those walls was a death trap for him for a multitude of reasons, reasons that George certainly did not need to know. Ever.

“Yeah,” Dream settles with, turning to take one last glance of the mountains beyond the gates. “Absolutely terrifying.” --- Inspired by Reflections by The Neighborhood

Kisses and Promises by  itsricecakes

Clay would do absolutely anything for George, no matter how much the King was upset by it.

Try by  Not4typicalwriter

"No, your majesty," Dream finally continued after a moment of silence. "No one will ever be good enough for you. No one will ever be perfect for you. But whoever that person is, they had better damn well try."

--

The day in which King George has a line of suitors come and try to win him over.

The palace staff tries to help their king filter out the bad people,

But no one is a harsher judge that the king's own knight, Dream.

Emeralds for Trade by  prelovedsinner

"You never left your fucking land until a fragile prince with a pretty face walked into the picture," he snarled, charging forward.

---

"We're not so different, you and I," the king began, lifting the bone mask from his face and glaring down with piercing green eyes that marked his enemy's last breaths.

He tossed it to the ground, before pressing his foot down on the trembling man's chest. Ignoring the pleading and clawing, he raised his sword above his head, body taut, using all his strength when he snapped back down like a rubber band.

"I've got a bit of an ego myself."

--- (After meeting at a ball, Dream has taken a liking to Prince George and the way he blushes so pretty. But Dream's a bit of a cocky bastard and George doesn't like that.)

ace of hearts by  meridies

On his eighteenth birthday, as crown prince of his kingdom, Dream is expected to attend three nights of a masquerade party, by the end of which he must choose his suitor. Little does he know that his best friend George is also attending the ball, but under a mask of his own.

21 days by  Not4typicalwriter

"Well everything is technically yours, Georgie," Dream stated. "Everything your eyes can see will someday be yours." Dream stood up dramatically. "This tree! This river! This- this rabbit!" George giggled at his friend's antics. "You are one year closer to the day this kingdom will be at your fingertips."

"And the first rule I will make is that you always have to be at the palace to celebrate my birthday with me," George said.

"Promise?" Dream tilted his head mischievously.

~

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," George chanted.

--

Dream had disappeared for a week, unbeknownst to even his Prince, only to come stumbling home, half-dead and injured, being carried by a stranger exactly 21 days before Prince George's 21st birthday.

Those 21 days leading up to the birthday were eventful, to say the least,

And George hated more than anything that he couldn't talk to his knight about it

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.

[when-they-write-stuff]

SterekWeek2020: Day Six (Blue Moon)

~

“First of all,” Stiles said, pointing his fork at the red-haired banshee across from him. “The chances of Derek ever falling in love with me are like, once in a blue moon. Second of all, it’s just a quick college party to convince my college friends that I’m not single and lonely!”

“But you are single and lonely,” Lydia said, slicing delicately into her chicken as she ignored the fork in her face. “And there’s no way Derek is going to say yes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m fairly sure,” Lydia said, finally glancing up. “And I’m sorry I can’t go, Stiles. I have a meeting with a professor who decided my paper wasn’t worth an A, and he’s going to regret that decision immensely.”

“On a Friday night?” Stiles frowned. “What, are you using dinner as a cover for an interrogation or something?”

“That’s precisely what it is.”

Stiles blinked, then rolled his eyes. “You can be terrifying sometimes.”

“That is the point.”

“Come on, Lyds,” Stiles said, jabbing his fork into his food, metal screeching against the plate. That earned a few glances from the other people in the relatively-cheap restaurant Stiles had picked out for his and Lydia’s reunion, but he didn’t really care. He was desperate here. “If Derek says no, then I have to go alone. And then my roommate will try to set me up with his douchey best friend and that guy gives me the creeps.”

“Then just say no.”

“And risk pissing my roommate off? Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

Lydia sighed, setting down her utensils and reaching across the table, catching Stiles’s hand and giving a small squeeze. He hated how reassuring that was. “Why don’t you actually ask Derek before you freak out? It’s been a while since he’s visited anyway.”

“I’m not even that far away,” Stiles grumbled. He’d like to say he wasn’t hurt that Derek never came by Stanford to check-in, but that would be a total lie. 

Even the betas visited more often, though it was usually just to complain about their lives or steal his clothes. But still, they came. Scott came. Stiles’s dad and Lydia came.

But Derek had only been by like, twice in the last semester. Sometimes, Stiles wondered if he was the man’s least favorite pack member.

Okay, he didn’t have to wonder.

Sighing, he poked at his food again, appetite long since gone. He’d ask Scott to go with him if the boy wasn’t basically his brother and a terrible actor. And Stiles had already decided he’d never ask the betas, because he didn’t need that kind of blackmail.

But Stiles had gone throughout his entire first year of college staying far away from everyone else. At first, it had been a supernatural thing. He had trust issues, okay? But then it was just the hassle of getting out there and yeah, Stiles ended up having one or two hookups along the way, but that’s all they were. Hookups.

And now the friends he had made were starting to get pushy. So, Lydia had been Stiles’s first choice, and Derek was his saving grace.

Dammit if that wasn’t a sentence he’d never thought he’d have to say out loud.

-

On a scale from one to ten about scared for his well being, asking Derek Hale to fake date him for a night was right up there at an eleven.

Stiles had long since come to terms with the fact that his hopeless pining was just that. Hopeless pining. He could totally look at Derek without getting butterflies now, but that’s just because he had accepted his fate.

This was crossing a line that Stiles had told himself he would never cross. And damn, if he wasn’t silently panicking.

Derek, on the other hand, just looked bored. “What did you want, Stiles?”

For a long moment, Stiles stayed silent. He’d practiced this in the mirror at least a dozen times, trying to imagine the different ways that Derek could-- would-- say no. And it really wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It wasn’t like Stiles was baring his soul to the werewolf or anything. He was just asking for a small favor.

A small, totally platonic favor. 

“Stiles.”

“O- oh,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. “Right. I need something from you.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles winced. He was already going off script and this was so not going to end well. 

“Not like that,” he said, then winced again. “Actually, it’s exactly like that. See, I might have told a few friends that I was seeing someone to get them off my back about dating. But now I’m expected to have a date for some upcoming party.”

Derek’s face remained completely blank. Stiles hated him a little bit for that.

“Lydia can’t come, though.”

“Okay.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, burying his face in his hands. Why Derek? Why did his saving grace have to be Derek? “Yeah, okay. And I need you to come instead, dude.”

The words were said into his hands and for a long moment, the only sound was the rest of the cafe around them. Stiles kept his face hidden until he felt like it was safe, peering through his fingers at the werewolf to see that Derek’s expression hadn’t really changed much.

A long moment passed before Derek grunted. “No.”

“N-no?”

“No,” Derek said, taking a long, finishing drink of his coffee and setting it back on the table. The man started to stand and Stiles panicked, jumping to his feet so fast, the table nearly toppled over. 

“Dude, hold up, you can’t just say no and leave!”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek said, still looking unbothered. He slipped a ten out of his wallet and set it on the table, covering both of their drinks before turning away, heading toward the door.

Stiles was almost too shocked to chase after the man.

“Derek, Derek, wait!”

He caught the man on the sidewalk and Derek sighed, turning around with a tight expression. Like Stiles was being the annoying stubborn one here. “I’m not pretending to be your date, Stiles.”

“It’s just for one night!”

“Why don’t you get an actual one?”

“Because I—” Stiles blinked, then glared. “Because I don’t want one, asshole. I just want to avoid a terrible situation with my roommate’s best friend.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles did his best not to flush red at that, ducking his head. 

“Look, it’s one night. It’s not like you ever to come by Stanford to hang out or anything anyway. No one will even know it’s a lie. Just think of it like a miniature reunion that might involve straight-up lying to my friends one or two times!”

“And these people are really your friends?”

“I mean,” Stiles said, glancing back up. “They’re normal, you know? They’re not pack, of course, but it’s kind of nice sometimes. To be around normal people.”

Derek’s jaw tightened at that and for a moment, Stiles was worried he’d offended the man. But after a long-suffering second of silence, Derek stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “Fine, one night. But I’m never doing anything like this again.”

Stiles grinned, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes, dude! Thank you!”

Derek just looked completely done with everything. Holding himself back from doing something stupid like hugging the man, Stiles patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“I’ll be in touch then, Sourwolf. The party is this weekend, so I’m expecting both the leather jacket and Camaro. I get to arrive in style!”

“You’ll take what you get, Stiles.”

“Right, right,” Stiles said, waving a hand through the air. “See you Friday, dude!”

He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t really expected one. Turning away before Derek could change his mind, Stiles hurried back down the street. And he could’ve sworn he felt the man’s gaze burning into his back.

Stiles’s heart was still slamming against his chest when he turned the corner. Because he couldn’t believe that had actually gone well. Derek Hale was his fake date in less than three days.

Stiles hated himself a little bit for how excited he was.

-

His roommate left for the party first, still talking up his friend who was ‘excited to see how things went tonight’ to which Stiles put on his best smile and just nodded. 

There were a few things about Derek literally being the scariest person Stiles had ever met that might work to his favor. Well, maybe not the scariest person, but Derek could most certainly look terrifying when he wanted to. And Stiles was going to use that to his advantage tonight.

He’d texted Derek a few times over the week, but the man had never texted him back except for one reply that was a simple ‘OK’ to all the messages that Stiles had sent earlier. 

And that totally wasn’t infuriating.

Look, Stiles knew this wasn’t an actual date. And he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking this could ever go somewhere; his life wasn’t a movie. Yeah, Stiles had been crushing on Derek since he was a sixteen-year-old hyperactive teenager, but he also knew Derek would never feel the same. 

Because Derek Hale was… well, Derek Hale. And Stiles was Stiles.

A lot of things had changed over the years and a lot of things hadn’t. And the things between them would never be anything different.

Stiles still hesitated a moment too long in his dorm room when Derek texted ‘here’. He totally didn’t almost have a panic attack, but things would have been so much easier if it was Lydia coming with him tonight instead of Derek.

Dammit. 

Derek was leaning against the passenger side of the Camaro when Stiles got outside, hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. And Stiles hated himself for the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man— because could he never wear jeans that actually fit? And Derek Hale in a v-neck should be a literal crime.

The man did not have any rights to be such a sexy… sex god. Fuck.

Stiles tried to calm himself down as he approached the Camaro. He was aware enough of the other people in the parking lot eyeing where Derek stood, cursing at the pang of jealousy he felt at that. Because he was totally over Derek Hale, remember?

Butterflies weren’t a thing when he looked at the werewolf anymore.

“Okay, dude,” Stiles said, pausing in front of the car. “So you came through. Leather jacket, Camaro, and everything. Should I be pleased or worried?”

“You should be thankful,” Derek said, opening the door. Stiles raised an eyebrow and the man rolled his eyes, leaving it open as he moved back around the car to the driver’s side. “I’m the fake date, right? Might as well have some manners.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done to Derek Hale?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, eyes turning a little red. Stiles swallowed hard and ducked down into the passenger’s seat.

Fucking Derek Hale.

Stiles had made a plan, though. He wasn’t staying at this party any longer than necessary and he was totally using Derek to scare off anyone that dared try to make a move. Because Stiles was doing this for a reason, okay? He missed his privacy. He also— almost— missed the days when he suspected everyone of being some kind of supernatural threat, sicing the betas on anyone he found suspicious.

He always came up empty-handed.

Maybe you just miss Beacon Hills, Scott had told him at one point. And Stiles had proceeded to laugh his ass off for the rest of the day.

Because missing Beacon Hills? Him? There was a threat nearly every other week back home, and Stiles totally didn’t miss running for his life through the preserve more often than not. No, he didn’t miss any of that at all.

Because there was his dad, yeah. But the Sheriff still came to visit when he could— and so did the pack. So honestly, Stiles absolutely had nothing to miss.

Nothing at all.

 “Stiles?”

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He didn’t even realize they’d arrived until the faint sound of music reached his ears and then he silently cursed himself for zoning, meeting Derek's curious gaze.

“Right,” Stiles said, forcing a grin. “We’ll be in and out, I promise.”

“You don’t want to spend time with your friends?”

“Uh, do you?”

He could’ve sworn the man turned a little red at that. But it was probably just his imagination. Derek mumbled something intelligible and climbed out of the car, and Stiles hesitated for only a moment longer before following. 

He’d been to enough college parties so far that he wasn’t terribly overwhelmed right away. Granted, this was the first one before the next semester, so there were a lot more people than he was used to, but Stiles didn’t have anything against crowds. Or, anything too much. It wasn’t like he stuck next to Derek’s side as his social anxiety slowly kicked in or whatever.

Except then, as if the man could read his mind, one arm wrapped around Stiles’s waist. Startling, Stiles shot Derek a confused look and the man only smirked a little before turning his gaze back to the rest of the party.

Stiles hated his treacherous heart skipping yet another beat.

“Okay,” Derek said. “Introduce me.”

Once more, Stiles gave him an open-mouthed look. Derek raised an expectant eyebrow, nodding to the rest of the room, and Stiles took a moment to regain his bearings. Then, shaking his head, he started toward the nearest familiar face.

The girl’s eyes snapped when they were less than a few feet away. Or, well, her eyes snapped to Derek, widening for a moment before fixing on Stiles. “Stiles, hey!”

Stiles grinned, fully aware of Derek’s arm still around his waist. He was tempted to glance over and gauge the man’s expression but forced his eyes to stay forward, trying to remain as relaxed as possible.

“Meg, this is Derek. Derek, this is Meg.”

This time, he did glance over. And the smile on Derek’s face was terrifyingly normal. “It’s nice to meet you, Meg.”

Meg’s smile was wide as she stayed focused on Derek’s face for a moment too long. But Stiles supposed he really couldn’t blame her as he continued to stare too, wondering when the hell Derek Hale had such a disarming smile?

Searching his brain, Stiles tried to remember the last time he’d seen Derek smile. And it left him feeling a little empty when he realized he couldn’t.

“Stiles?”

Blinking a few times, Stiles came snapping back to reality. The smile on Derek’s face had faded a little and he looked more intrigued than anything else now. 

Stiles was pretty sure he blushed as he forced himself to look away. “Sorry,” he said, looking back at Meg. “Derek is a… friend of mine.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Just a friend?”

“Uh—”

“New boyfriend,” Derek said, before Stiles could mess everything up. Though he might still have, jolting a little bit and giving Derek a bewildered stare.

The man returned his look with an easy smirk. Shaking his head, Stiles tore his gaze away. “Yeah,” he said, words sticking a little. “Boyfriend.”

He didn’t even know how to begin approaching any of this. But Meg just nodded, still smiling, and Stiles stayed stuck in his head for a moment longer before they were moving along again, toward yet another voice calling his name.

Derek smiled the entire time. Through every friend, every stranger. The man made polite small talk and only removed his arm from around Stiles’s waist to shake a hand or readjust, always pulling Stiles right back in seconds later.

There were a few times Stiles looked down into his drink and wondered faintly if it was spiked— and all of this was just some kind of massive hallucination.

He didn’t know how to deal with what was happening.

See, when he’d imagined tonight, staying up for hours panicking, he’d imagined it being awkward as hell. Sometimes, he worried Derek might rip his throat out if he said the wrong thing. In front of everyone would be how Stiles Stilinski went.

But it was all so normal. All so painfully normal that Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Yo, Stiles!”

He startled so hard, Derek glanced over in concern. But Stiles didn’t have a chance to say anything before his roommate was moving across the room, cup in hand with another guy at his side— one with an athletic build and the type of expression that reminded Stiles a little too much of Jackson.

He shuddered at that thought. “Hey, Vincent.”

“This is Brad,” Vincent said, nudging his friend in the ribs. Brad grinned and raised his cup, eyes raking up and down where Stiles stood. His skin crawled a little bit at that and, arm still circled around his waist, he was surprised to feel Derek’s grip tighten. 

“Uh, yeah, right. Nice to meet you, Brad.”

“And this is?” Brad said, jerking his head toward Derek. When Stiles glanced over, Derek’s eyes were hard and his lips were pressed tightly together. And there was that type of murderous expression that Stiles had dragged the werewolf here for in the first place. 

“This is Derek,” Stiles said, when it was clear Derek wasn’t going to say anything. Which was another first for the night.

Vincent looked a bit uncomfortable, offering a small nod. Brad almost looked nervous too, but he kept his chin up, that cocky smile slowly making its way back onto his face as the seconds ticked past.

“So, Stiles,” he said, turning his shoulder toward Derek. That’s when Stiles heard the first sound of a growl. “What are you doing after this?”

“Uh,” Stiles hesitated for a second. “I think we might just head back to the dorm.”

“We?”

“Derek and I.”

Brad’s smile tightened a fraction. He glanced back at Derek for only a second before scoffing. “Seriously?”

Stiles blinked. But before he could say a word, Vincent stepped in.

“There’s another party going on just down the street that we were going to check out,” he said, glancing sideways at his friend. Brad shrugged. “Then we’re gonna hit the bar on 18th street. You should come.”

Derek’s grip was tight enough that it was starting to hurt now. Stiles shifted, nudging the man in the side with his elbow. He could still swear he could hear the slightest growl coming from Derek’s throat— which wouldn’t prove to be good for anyone.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. Because that wasn’t the plan. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere after the party except back to his dorm. “I think we might call it a night soon.”

“Lame,” Brad muttered, low enough that Stiles barely caught it. But Derek definitely growled this time and Brad looked at him in surprise. Then the boy’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

Stiles’s heart stopped and he whipped sideways, meeting Derek’s gaze. And yep, that was a hint of red in Derek’s usually grey-green eyes. Vincent started to follow his friend’s gaze too but before he could, Stiles stepped between them, taking both of Derek’s hands.

“Dude,” he hissed, alarm rising in his throat. “What are you doing?”

Derek just clenched his jaw, lowering his eyes to the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, Stiles chuckled nervously and situated himself so he was still standing as Derek’s only barrier.

“We’re just gonna go now. Bad, uh, dinner earlier.”

“What?”

“See you later, Vinc.”

Before either Stiles’s roommate or his douche of a best friend could say anything, Stiles steered Derek away. The party had worn down some and he was able to make it to the front door without incident, ducking past a few people crowded around it and pulling Derek out into the night.

The moment they were across the lawn and close enough to the Camaro, Stiles spun right back around.

“Derek, what the hell was that about?”

Derek pulled his hands away, folding his arms over his chest and shooting a venomous glance toward the frat house. “I did what you asked of me, didn’t I? Brad won’t be asking you out anywhere if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, staring. “You nearly went Alpha on his ass.”

“Would that have been a bad thing?”

“Would that have been a— yes, Sourwolf, that would have been a very bad thing!”

Derek just grunted, not looking convinced. And the entire one-eighty was so sudden, Stiles’s head was spinning. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay, well that party is over.”

“You didn’t seem to be having much fun anyway,” Derek said. Stiles blinked at him.

“What?”

“You were anxious and bored the entire time,” Derek said. “A combination which I didn’t know was possible until tonight.”

“I was— I was not.”

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles frowned.

“Whatever. I just wanted to get it over with.”

“Which is why you brought me along,” Derek said. For a moment, the entire ‘Alpha’ bravado actually seemed to drop and he looked a little bothered. “To scare off your supposed friends and make sure they never invited you anywhere ever again, right?”

“Woah, woah, wait. My supposed friends?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles’s frown turned to a glare as anger crashed over him.

“That’s nowhere near true.”

“You said it yourself,” Derek said hotly. “They’re not pack. They’re normal. But that’s not what you want, is it, Stiles?”

“Why the hell isn’t that something I would want?”

“Because you’re not normal!”

Stiles drew back, a pang shooting through him at the sight of Derek’s red eyes and furious expression. For a moment, he just looked at Derek, Derek looked back, and then the man growled, turning his face away until his eyes were back to normal again.

“I did what you asked, Stiles. Should I drive you back to your dorm now?”

Stiles stood there for another second, throat tight. Then, without a word, he turned toward the Camaro. Because he really didn’t trust himself with words at the moment.

Derek took a little while longer to follow. There was no opening of the passenger side door when he stalked over, unlocking the car and climbing into the driver’s seat before slamming it closed.

There was no talking either, when the man slid the keys into the ignition. Stiles clicked his seatbelt in and glared out the window, listening to the faint sound of music where the frat house seemed to glow neon blue from the lights inside. 

And damn, if he hadn’t imagined this night going a lot of different ways.

But somehow, it had still gone off the rails.

-

When they pulled up in front of his dorm, the parking lot was empty and the one street light barely cast enough light for Stiles to see ten feet in front of him.

He climbed silently out of the Camaro, surprised to see Derek do the same. The man looked at him over the top of the car and Stiles swallowed hard, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away.

“Stiles.”

He froze, cursing himself silently. Stiles could hear the man’s footsteps on the asphalt as Derek moved around the car, finally lifting his eyes to meet grey-green again. 

“Look, Derek, I know tonight went worse than expected, but—”

“Did you like what happened back there?”

Stiles blinked, clamping his mouth shut again. Derek’s face turned a little red and he dropped his gaze.

“I mean, do you like how normal things here usually are?”

Oh.

Stiles stayed quiet, thinking Derek’s words over for a moment. In truth, something about it had been unsettling. Not the party, not the crowd. Derek, maybe. Stiles thought he’d love to see the man smile more and engage in conversation that easily somewhere else. Anywhere else.

But only if it were real. It had to be real.

“Is all of this what you want?” Derek asked, voice barely a whisper. Stiles sighed.

“No,” he said. Derek glanced up, looking startled, and he shrugged. “Or… not like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow. Stiles swallowed hard.

“It’s nice sometimes, you know? I know who these people are, Derek. They’re not supernatural. They’re not going to rip my throat out one day or get killed by a bunch of psycho hunters who think they’d be better as trophies than people.”

Derek winced. Stiles scoffed.

“No,” he said. “They’re not pack. But I’ve spent enough of my life lying about everything that all of this doesn’t seem like much of an issue anymore.”

“So am I a part of the lie now too, then?”

Stiles met the man’s gaze carefully. He wasn’t sure if it was the dim light of the street lamp or the fact that he’d drunk a little too much at the party, but Derek looked downright vulnerable. And this time, it actually seemed real. “I don’t want you to be.”

There was a flicker of red in the werewolf’s eyes. Stiles shook his head.

“I mean, we can totally pretend this whole fake dating thing never happened and go back to our previous arrangement or whatever, but—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence.

Because suddenly, Derek was kissing him.

Stiles’s brain logged offline for a moment. There was the strangest noise and then he realized it had come from him, Derek’s hand cupping the back of his neck as the man kissed him hard and deep, something about the cool night air and the fact that Stiles was not dreaming making the entire world pause around him for a long moment.

Up close, Derek smelled like leather and pine. There was no alcohol on his breath, though Stiles was pretty sure the taste of college beer had to be on his. Which was a strange thought, he figured, closing his eyes as Derek carded a hand through his hair and then finally, finally, he surged forward to kiss the man back.

Maybe a little more hard and hungry. Maybe a little more wanting and hoping that this was real. That this wasn’t part of another lie.

This couldn’t be part of another lie.

Derek growled at the back of his throat, the sound sending shivers down Stiles’s spine. And it was all wolf and one-hundred percent possessive. Nothing normal, nothing ordinary about it.

And dammit, if Stiles had been dreaming about this since he was an idiot teenager ogling werewolf abs when he thought no one was looking.

What had he told Lydia? The chance of Derek ever falling for him was once in a blue moon. Stiles was pretty sure the moon was not blue-- so did this count as falling? He blinked when Derek broke the kiss, drawing away, and there were sparks of red in the man’s eyes that faded ever so slowly.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Derek watched him almost nervously, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual.

Stiles blinked again. Once, twice. He was pretty sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Stiles?”

“That was real,” Stiles said, finally taking a breath. The man’s eyebrows drew together and he actually looked a little amused.

“It was.”

“Derek Hale just kissed me, even though the moon was not blue.”

Grey-green eyes flicked upward and then Derek gave him a strange look. But Stiles was still trying to process, touching his lips experimentally and then squinting at the werewolf, reaching out to touch the man’s cheek. 

And yeah, that was Derek Hale’s beard. Stiles breathed out a quiet ‘fuck’ and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Are you done?”

“One more time,” Stiles said, moving forward. Before Derek could react, he was kissing the man again, one hundred percent online this time as Derek stiffened in surprise, then growled, kissing him hard back. Stiles couldn’t tell which was more hungry this time.

It wasn’t normal. Nothing about this was normal.

But Stiles figured if anything was going to be out of the ordinary, it would be who he was not single and lonely with. There was something about Derek Hale happening once in a blue moon and dammit, if Stiles wasn’t going to latch on and never let go.

Once in a blue moon, he thought. But this moon wasn’t blue.

And maybe that made it so much better.

[nikethestatue]

Just Breathe

Of Fawns and Shadows

Chapter 7 I know it’s been 3 weeks, but this is almost 60 pages and 23,000 words!

Summary:

The twins teach Elain something about the brothers, and Illyrian males

Elain flexes her magical muscle

We learn much more about Azrie’s background and his mother

Some Prythian history is explained 

Elain pleasures Azriel in a variety of ways that he enjoys

Heavy NSFW elements 

This is a long chapter, but also is a set up for many things that will happen in the future, hints are dropping like bombs!

Tell me what you think. I love reading comments and reactions.

Just Breathe

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

Pabo Neruda

 Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. 

Yesterday, after the four of them woke up after their impromptu nap, Azriel took her back to the orphanage and stupidly, she almost cried. They stood at the gates, swathed in his shadows to keep the two of them from prying eyes. 

He stroked her hair, then her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones, as he murmured endearments to her. 

“Do you want me to come to the River House for dinner tonight?” he asked, hoping to placate her before she unraveled in front of him. But she shook her head stubbornly and pressed her lips to the inside of his palm. 

“They are leaving tomorrow,” he reminded her, and then leaned in and gently kissed her neck. “And you should wear a scarf,” he chuckled.

“I think that I left it at the House,” she looked around, suddenly feeling lost. 

She was returning to the real world, at least for tonight, and it’s not where she wanted to be. She didn’t want to live her regular boring life. She wasn’t interested in going back home after her time with the children, then possibly meeting with city planners, while Feyre and Rhys smiled at her politely, their expressions telling--they were indulging the strange sister who had her singular interests. In exchange for their tolerance, she cooked and baked, and looked after their estate, now that Feyre was busy with their boy. How did she, Elain, become the odd, spinster sister? She didn’t know. 

Up until two days ago, she was utterly miserable. Every day, she’d wake up hating her life, the monotony of it all, while cursing herself for being so selfish and ungrateful. She was living a comfortable, well-tended life where she lacked nothing, where she had people who cared for her, where she could make herself useful, and where she wasn’t burdened by societal expectations. Despite all that, inside, she was hollow. Only her children brought a spark of joy into her life, her children, and the shy, pointless glimpses at Azriel, whenever she managed to lay her eyes on him. Her damn bond pushed and pressured, though over the past few years she’s become accustomed to it, to its tug, its phantom presence which floated inside of her. 

She held Azriel’s hand in hers, unwilling to let go. He kept stroking her face, his thumb on her lips, under her eyes, over her chin and nose.

“Don’t be sad, emani,” he begged. “I hate leaving you like this.”

She wasn’t going to lie to him and say that she was just fine. She wasn’t. 

She wanted her life with him, where it was the two of them and happiness. Was she envious of Cassian and Nesta? Of their wild, passionate, maddening devotion to each other? Perhaps. But she didn’t want what they had. She wanted her own.

“Ahh, I want to come in,” muttered Azriel, looking longingly at the crazily-painted building.

She chuckled sadly, “If you do, they won’t let you go.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be let go.”

He looked down at her, into her sad eyes the colour of amber and then leaned to kiss her hair.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised.

She kissed his hand and then he watched her walk inside the gates.

Something empty and cold settled inside his stomach.

It was late when Elain was walking home. She opted to eat dinner with the children, and then they all had story time and finally, she helped with nighttime rituals of bathing, dressing, tucking and hugging. 

Lex floated next to her, its presence suddenly a comfort to her. She never thought about, never considered that she was unsafe here, in Velaris, but when she turned around, she noticed a trail of shadows. To an untrained eye, they were just that--shadows that spread over walls of the buildings, the cobblestones beneath, stretching and moving the way all shadows did. But now, they were her friends. Her protectors. They were not just an empty, thoughtless, natural entity, but a mysterious sentient thing that cared for her, because its master cared for her. 

“Lex, what do you like?” she asked, surprising herself. She wasn’t intent on having a conversation with a shadow.

“I like stars,” said Lex simply. 

“Stars? That’s beautiful, Lex. But why?”

“Because that’s where I am from. Stardust. The song of the wind and stars created us. Here, we were born at dusk. There were so many of us once before, free to roam and live at dusk, amidst the oncoming darkness and the fading light. Now, there are very few left,”

“Where did the shadows go?” 

“Dusk left and the shadows left with it. Only a few remain now. The master and those who serve him.”

“Are you talking about Azriel?” she was confused. Lex was prone to wax lyrical and talk too much, or too little. 

“Yes, lord Azriel. My master. The last master of all shadows.”

“Hmm,”

“So I am here, with you and my master. Until maybe we return to the dusk with my master. Maybe with you too.”

Elain had no idea what Lex was rambling about, so she let it drop.

With the shadows slithering behind her, she felt safe, protected even, so she walked slower than usual, taking in the evening sights and sounds. Envious again. Envious of all this life around her. Life that bubbled and spilled on the sidewalks; laughing Fae stumbling from bars and public houses, distinguished couples out on their evening walk, lovers holding each other’s gazes and bodies, not seeing and not caring about anyone else. But she...she was invisible. Not because of the shadows, but because that’s what she’d become. Elain the Beautiful. Kingslayer. She now trudged quietly and lonesomely down the streets, wondering when in the world she became a shadow herself? A shadow of her former self, an invisible entity that no one paid attention to? 

The human Elain did not want this sort of life--she enjoyed the balls and the outings, she enjoyed attention and beautiful things, lovely gowns, male company and compliments. And the Fae Elain wasn’t sure if that changed very much--he still liked parties and balls, and nice dresses and dancing. She didn’t want to be quiet and lonesome and obscure. She wanted to glow and sparkle and love and live with adventures and travels.

She felt a beast of wonder prowling under her skin. A beast that wanted to unleash and see the world turned, and reforged. She felt the beast, but feared it--it was her new Fae self, this untamed wild thing that the Cauldron gifted her. She didn’t know what it was, and why it was there, but it beckoned and seduced her with its presence and the thoughts that she had. 

By the time she got home, Feyre and Rhys already retired for the night and she walked to her suite. She sat down on her bed, looking around. 

“Go to sleep, Lex,” she said.

“I am not tired.”

“Then do whatever you want,” she plopped down on the bed, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Why are you sad?” inquired Lex.

“You are the shadow, you tell me,” she muttered, annoyed.

“You are in love with the master.”

“Very astute observation,” she said tartly. 

“Master is not rude like you,” noted Lex. 

She threatened, “I am going to ask the master for a different shadow.”

“No you won’t. I am going to sleep.”

For something that shouldn’t have had emotions, Lex sure seemed like he was angry. 

There was a knock on the door just as soon as Elain changed and put on her robe. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to talk to Feyre, but she hid her grimace and said ‘come in”.

To her great relief, it wasn’t her sister who stood at the door, but the grinning wraiths. What’s more, Cerridwen held a bottle of brandy and a glass, while Nuala held two glasses, which she raised as a peace offering and an invitation.

Elain burst out laughing.

“You seemed in a right mood tonight,” grumbled Cerridwen, as she pushed past Elain and made her way to the small sitting room. 

“So we came to cheer you up!” Nuala followed her sister.

...Thirty minutes later, the three of them were deep into the bottle, buzzed and laughing.

“Aww,” Elain rubbed her temples. “I am not used to drinking every night! I got drunk yesterday,”

They snickered and Nuala winked, “we know!”

Elain blushed, remembering that one of them had been to Azriel’s house to deliver her clothes and toiletries. They knew where she spent the night.

“So,” Cerridwen, stretched out on the sofa, was sipping her drink slowly. Among the three of them, she was an expert at holding her liquor. “Did all that pining between the two of you amount to anything?” she inquired bluntly.

Elain blushed and mumbled about being given a shadow.

Cerridwen rolled her dark eyes and shook her head, “Honey, that’s not what I wanted to hear. Is he any good? As good as they say he is?”

Confused, Elain nodded, “he is good. He is very nice.”

Cerridwen bubbled her lips, shaking her head. Nuala smiled into her glass and said, “Elain, what my sister is so rudely trying to ascertain is whether you’ve made love. I am going to go with a ‘no’, but,”

“No!” exclaimed Elain, blushing profusely.

The three of them had discussed males, and bedding them, without going into explicit details, but this was different. While Cerridwen preferred women, but also enjoyed discussing males and their ‘shortcomings’, Nuala was, used to be, Azriel’s lover. 

“Elain, I don’t care,” assured her Nuala, seeing the panicked discomfort on Elain’s face. She waved her hand, “it’s in the past. Whatever happened,”

“So you can go and jump his bones!” encouraged Cerridwen, raising her glass in a salute.

Still hot, from embarrassment and alcohol, Elain murmured, “it’s not like that...We haven’t,”

“Well, why not?” shrugged Cerridwen. “With those wings of his, he ought to know what he is doing,”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “His wings? what do the wings have to do with anything?”

The twins exchanged meaningful glances, and Nuala laid her head on Elain’s lap, saying, “El, there is still much that you don’t know…”

Elain recalled all the offhand comments that her sisters, Mor, and even Amren had made about wings over the years. The knowing glances and the smirks.

“Is it something sexual?” she sighed at last.

“Of course it’s something sexual!” cried Cerridwen with a laugh. “Have you touched his wings?”

“Why would I touch his wings?”

“Just try it,” encouraged Cerridwen, “see how he reacts!”

“Don’t,” Nuala shook her head, and then pointed an admonishing finger to her sister, “you stop that!”

“Why?!” laughed Cerridwen.

“Elain,” Nuala stroked Elain’s hand, “don’t listen to her. And don’t touch an Illyrian’s wings without permission. They are...sensitive,”

“I thought because it hurts them,” started Elain.

“Oh no. It certainly doesn’t hurt them.”

Elain shrugged. “So, that’s the big deal? Their wings are sensitive to touch?”

“Nu, tell her!” pleaded Cerridwen.

Elain looked down at the sprawled Nuala with expectation.

“It’s the size, honey,” finally blurted Cerridwen, choking on her laughter, “the bigger the wings, the bigger,”

“The cock,” concluded Nuala.

“What?” Elain snapped, blushing deeply. Feyre’s comment from earlier today came back to haunt her. “You two are just teasing me,” she folded her arms on her chest, “it’s not true! You are just saying this because you know that I haven’t been with a Fae male,”

“And what a fine Fae male you’ll get to be with,” Cerridwen whistled and Nuala smiled.

“Well, I am sure that Cassian is,” she began, but Nuala interrupted, shaking her head,

“Oh no. Cassian wants to be the biggest,”

“But our shadowsinger got him beat by a margin,” said Cerridwen meaningfully. “A measurable margin.”

“And Rhysand?” Elain blurted, immediately regretting her outburst. Oh gods. Now she was going to be walking around and eyeing the males’ wings! 

“The High Lord,” said Nuala, “possesses a High Fae endowment.”

Elain waited, knowing that they weren’t done. So Nuala added, “The Illyrians are naturally,”

“Better equipped,” supplied Cerridwen. “Why do you think that the High Fae hate them so much?”

“And some Illyrians exceed even Illyrian expectations, like a certain shad-,”

Elain buried her face in her hands, yelling ‘stop it, stop it, stop it!”

The sisters were laughing at her. “Don't tell me this!” she exclaimed. “I have to face him! What am I supposed to think about now?”

“Probably his cock,” offered Cerridwen unhelpfully.

“Ugh, I hate you both!” she moaned.

Nuala slid her arm around her and butted her shoulder, “Well, take consolation in that he knows what he is doing!”

“Well, I would hope that at 500 years old, he’d know what he is doing,” groaned Elain.

Cerridwen gave her a look. “Hmmm. Don’t bet on it. Males don’t always learn...”

“539,” said Nuala casually.

Elain glanced at her. “What?”

“He is 539 years old. He will be turning 540 soon.”

“When is soon?

“Imbolc,” said Cerridwen. “He and Cassian celebrate it together.”

Elain sat up, asking, “They were born on the same day?”

“Azriel was born on Imbolc.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Elain admitted.

“A holiday to celebrate the Mother. It’s halfway between Solstice and Spring Equinox. It’s a lovely little holiday, without much fanfare...Anyway, he will be 540. Cassian will be 539.”

“But they were born on the same day??”

Cerridwen, despite the alcohol, became serious, almost wistful.

“Well...No one knows when Cassian was born. He was taken from his mother so young and the records were lost, if there was ever even a record of his birth. So, from what we’ve gathered, when they were boys, they’d celebrate together, since Cassian was also born in the winter. After they survived and won the Blood Rite, Azriel offered Cassian his birth day--so they’d always share it together. So ever since they were boys, they’ve celebrated their birth day on Imbolc.”

So, Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. Her head was heavy with the aftermath of the drinking, though she paced herself last night, and wasn’t suffering, unlike yesterday. She knew there wouldn’t be a tonic prepared thoughtfully for her and waiting on the sink counter, so she exercised self-control and let the twins drink. She even promised to make breakfast today, for Cerridwen begged her, knowing that there would be a price to pay for their late night shenanigans. 

Sleeping alone, without Azriel, even after only two nights together, was strange. At least three times during the night, she caught herself reaching for him, for the feel of his hard, warm body in bed with her, only to find cool sheets. It unsettled her. Was she being needy and so dependent on him too quickly? Or was it something else? Was it the Mother, or the Cauldron telling her that she was correct to seek him out--to search for him in her sleep, and when she was awake, and that it was right to need him and want him? 

The house was still quiet, the servants moving silently about the wide corridors, dusting and wiping and watering pants, and curtsying in front of Elain, which was not something she wanted them to do, but they insisted. She snuck into the nursery.

“Good morning, my baby boy,” she cooed at Nyx, who was sitting in his crib, playing with Brute, waiting to be picked up. He knew his aunt was the first one who usually got him roused in the morning, and the moment she entered, he was up, holding onto the slats of the crib, his little wings fluttering excitedly. 

It took Elain a bit of time to learn how to hold him properly, and the wings, their delicate soft bones, their thin, silky membrane scared her and made her terribly nervous. 

By the time Nyx was about to be born, Azriel ‘allowed’ himself back in the house. The relationship between him and Rhys was still strained and oftentimes tense, aggression simmering beneath their skin, that Fae male call for dominance still very much present when they were together. But Azriel, for the sake of other relationships, for the love of the Inner Circle, kept his rage in check, as he always tended to do. But there was happiness, there was a new and beautiful life that came about after so much strife and sorrow and danger that it would be petty and dishonest not to celebrate it. So Nyx was responsible for patching things up between the adults, at least on the surface. 

That day, after the brutal birth and Nesta’s sacrifice, Feyre finally fell asleep, with Rhys by her side. Nesta was recovering, and Cassian was freaking out, worrying about everybody. He and Mor were running around, arranging for things and taking care of formalities, but Elain was left to oversee Nyx. That’s how they bonded, Nyx and his aunt, who loved him from the moment he emerged into the world. But she was scared to pick him up, unsure of what to do with the wings, and how to position him in the crook of her arm.

“Like that,” said Azriel softly, emerging from the shadows, watching her try to pick the baby up. His scarred hands gingerly cradled Nyx, and then he laid him into Elain’s waiting arms. “Make sure that the wings drape over your arm, like this,” and he showed her. Nyx settled at once, quiet and content. “Perfect,” Azriel almost smiled. “You are a natural with an Illyrian babe.”

Those words haunted Elain to this day.

“Lana!” Nyx yelled, lifting his arms in the air. She picked him up, and he threw his short arms around her in their morning greeting. She changed him, dressed him and then, following his command ‘Boot!’ grabbed Brute and went downstairs.

But she soon became aware that she wasn’t the only one awake. 

Passing by Rhysand’s office, she heard familiar voices--the three males. Colour flooded her cheeks as she quickly scurried by the door, hoping that they wouldn't hear her and she could avoid them. After last night’s conversation about the wings and the wingspans and all those other things, she really had no desire to face them. Had no desire to stand before them and sneak peeks at their wings and compare.

However, as soon as she put Nyx down in the kitchen, a dark shadow tapped on the reeses of her mind and she allowed him in. ‘Elain, please join us in the study,’ said Rhysand. Before she could even respond, he added, ‘His nanny is coming.” Unsurprisingly, Nyx’s nanny appeared in the kitchen the next moment. Elain greeted her with a forced smile and then walked to the office. She smoothed her skirt before entering, without knocking. 

The three males were standing around the desk, all had their arms folded on their chests. What in the seven hells did she walk into? Cassian looked at her, his eyebrow arched and then smiled his spectacular smile and somehow, immediately, eased her worries.

“‘Morning baby girl!” He greeted her, and then went to hug and kiss her cheek, when Rhys cleared his throat. A formal conversation then. No room for informalities. Elain therefore, reached on her tiptoes and kissed Cassian’s cheek. “Good morning, Cass!” she said cheerfully, and then with great pretend indifference she inclined her head towards Azriel. “Az.” He was in full uniform, which jolted her somehow, for she was used to seeing him in normal, civilian clothes lately. Him in uniform always made her a little uneasy.

“What are you doing here, petal?” asked Cassian.

“I asked Elain to join us,” explained Rhys. Perhaps for her sake, he went behind the desk and sat down. Crowded by three enormous Illyrians, she looked like a tiny flower in a dark forest. Azriel and Cassian were the same height and she only reached under Azriel’s armpit with the top of her head. Rhys was only just a tad shorter than the two. Or maybe he sat down to assert dominance and remind everyone who was the High Lord. Either way, Elain did not care. She and Rhys played these little power games all the time. She, for example, wore blue exclusively since Solstice. Every shade, every hue, but always blue. Just so he’d be reminded whom she loved. Gone were the pink and pale gowns of her human life, now replaced by her Fae wardrobe, which spoke volumes about where her allegiance lay. 

Cassian and Azriel exchanged somewhat confused glances, but did not say anything, waiting for Rhys to explain.

“You are aware that Feyre and I are leaving for Winter Court later today.”

She nodded.

“Mor is coming along.”

He tapped his fingers on the shiny mahogany surface and then stated,

“You are the only remaining person with...power,” 

Both males whipped their heads at him, then at her.

“What do you mean ‘power’?” asked Cassian.

Shadows wafted around Azriel, his face inscrutable, but his posture tense. 

“Elain is the only one who still possesses Cauldron-given powers. Nesta’s have been considerably diminished, and Amren doesn’t have anything of significance left. Unless one of you wishes to escort us to Winter, and leave Mor here, Elain is the only remaining Fae with extraordinary powers. Hence, I’d like to ask you,” he looked at Elain, “to consider protecting Velaris should the need arise.”

“Rhys,” began Azriel, but Elain interrupted him and nodded, “Of course. I’ll do whatever needs to be done, though I hope we have no need for it.”

Cassian glared at her, “What kind of powers you got, El?”

“And how do you know that she has powers?” challenged Azriel, his face darkening, hazel eyes boring into Rhys.

“We had a conversation,” said Rhys calmly, “and Elain chose to...showcase her powers.”

“Showcase them?” repeated Azriel. “Wonder what sort of conversation the two of you were having?”

“That’s between my sister-in-law and myself,” began Rhysand, but Cassian stepped in and said, “cut the horseshit, everyone. What is going on? How do you know that she has powers? She never demonstrated them,”

“He pressured her,” Azriel gritted out. His siphons came to life, flickering and filling with their cobalt life, and in response, Rhys’s power woke up, slithering around him and then extending into the rest of the office like a dark beast. Azriel took a step towards Elain. She, in turn, remained unfazed by the display, her icy Archeron flame blazing in her brown eyes.

“I did not pressure her,” corrected Rhysand, “I simply made a request as her High Lord and she did not take kindly to it,”

“I reminded Rhysand that he is not my High Lord,” Elain chimed in coolly.

“It seems that I am,”

Azriel raised his hand and ordered, “Back off, Rhys.”

“You shouldn’t force her to reveal her power, Rhys,” Cassian said, all amusement and humour gone from his voice. “Especially alone--it’s unchecked. Do you recall what happened with Nesta?”

Rhysand shrugged, “I wasn’t asking Elain to scry.”

“Rhysand,” Azriel’s voice was grave and so cold, it sent an actual chill down Elain’s spine. “You want to ask something of me, go ahead. Hells, if you want to order me and pull rank,”

“I don’t pull rank,”

“You pull rank all the fucking time,” growled Azriel. “But I swore an oath to you and I will serve you to the best of my abilities. She,” he jerked his chin in Elain’s direction, “is off limits.”

“Not when it concerns the stability and safety of my court,” parried Rhysand.

Elain glanced at him with disdain and almost wrung her fingers, before stopping and simply dropping her arms at her sides. Somehow, the movement centered her. 

“I have never jeopardized the stability of your court,” she almost snarled, but stood still and tall. “If I may be so bold, but I remind you that without me, you wouldn’t have won the war. I was the one who found the Suriel for Feyre, which resulted in turning the tide of the war. I stabbed the King of Hybern. Because of my vision, my mate located Vassa and forged alliances with the humans,”

At the word ‘mate’ Azriel flinched. It did not escape Cassian’s attention.

“And,” she stopped abruptly, pursing her lips. “I’ve said enough,”

“What else did you do?” asked Cassian, turning fully to her, his eyes narrowing.

Elain felt herself bursting with strange, tingling energy. The males’ wings twitched, almost flaring, as they all glared at each other and it felt stifling in the room, despite its vast size.

“Nothing, Cassian,” she snapped at him. “Think!”

Power rumbled. The air filled the scent of jasmine. Siphons flared, just as shadows swarmed. Elain barely felt Lex’s cool touch against her hand, as it tried to calm her and bring her back. Lex did not lunge to protect her, only fluttered about, serving as a diffuser. Azriel’s shadows went wild, concealing him almost entirely. He remained steady, but she noticed his thumb stroking the hilt of Truth-Teller.

“Aright!” Cassian stepped forth, arms raised, “alright. That’s enough. From you, Cauldron Princess,”

At that, Azriel snarled and Elain rolled her eyes. 

“And you, Your Darkness,” Cassian glared at Rhys. “Settle the fuck down everybody. You want to take it outside and have a go at it,”

“No,” snarled Azriel. “You wait with Elain outside. And I will have a talk with my High Lord.”

Cassian chewed his lip, but made to take Elain’s hand, following Azriel’s order. Yet, she did not budge.

“I am not a girl to be ordered around,” she shrugged Cassian’s hand off her shoulder. “I am a woman, and you’ll all treat me with the same deference that you afford your mates. As I promised,” she looked at Rhys, “I will protect and defend Velaris and its people to the best of my abilities, if I am called upon to do so. You,” she turned to Azriel, her gaze unflinching, “are not asked to fight my battles for me. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and standing by them. And yes, I know that my power is untapped and largely undiscovered, but I don’t need to be provoked into displaying it. I am not a wild beast to be poked and prodded in order for me to unleash. Now,” she glanced at the clock, “I am late for my children. Have a nice trip.”

“I’ll fly you,” offered Cassian softly, gently stroking her shoulder.

“Thank you, but no need. I’d rather walk.”

Without a second look at both Rhys and Azriel, she turned around and left the room.

Azriel’s face remained impassive and he made no move to follow her, but Cassian saw it--Elain’s cold indifference would torment his brother for the rest of the day. Elain’s rejection, however small, her denial of Azriel’s protection, her calling Lucien her ‘mate’ would grate on Azriel’s psyche with relentless self-flagellation. They all had their demons to fight, but Azriel, perhaps, had the most. 

Elain grabbed her jacket, so riled up that she couldn’t get her arms into the sleeves. A sleepy Feyre appeared at the top of the stairs, but before she could ask, Elain walked out the door and into the cold. She shivered. Her body felt hot, still brimming with that energy, the anger and whatever else floated inside of her. Unlike Nesta, she didn’t hate her power, for it gave her a measure of self-control, or protection, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to use it just yet. Sooner or later, she’d have to learn.

“You’ve upset the master,” announced Lex. It trailed her faithfully, sort of latched onto her shoulder.

“I am not discussing this with you,” she snarled.

“The General is also upset,”

“Alright, wonderful, everyone is upset with me. Great. You happy?”

“Not particularly.”

“Mind your own business.”

But Elain was upset. She didn’t mean to lash out at Azriel. She didn’t mean to call Lucien her ‘mate’. But, like all Fae males, Azriel was over-protective and became aggressive when she was challenged, instinctively standing up for her, as she was his female. But she did have powers and she could handle Rhys herself, and didn’t need Azriel’s involvement. Especially if it created bad blood between him and Rhys--Mother above there was already plenty of it.

She walked quickly, cooling off with every step, her emotions running high, and 

feeling both sad and cold, as she huddled in her jacket. She forgot her scarf. She’d upset Azriel. She sort of fought with Rhys. She was hungry. She didn’t feed Nyx, leaving him behind with the nanny. So far, this was a fantastic morning!

The children greeted her happily, hugs and kisses, and for a moment, she forgot everything, lost in the sense of familiarity and joy, the loud tales of their petty squabbles, the who did what, what they had for breakfast, and much more. She forgot everything, until Temal bounded and wrapped her around the legs in his usual fashion.

“Good morning, love,” she smiled at him, trying to smooth his thick, black hair. He looked at her with his perpetually eager enthusiasm and quickly asked, “Lain! Where is Az? You know, Lain, I read so much myself and I have to show him, because I have to read with him. And then we go fly. Where is Az?” he kept looking around, holding her hand, chewing his lip, his eyes darting about the hallway. He was used to having Elain come with Az every morning now, and Azriel’s absence perplexed him.

He tugged on her hand and demanded impatiently, “Where is Az, Lain?”

“Good morning to you too,” she said softly. “Let’s all go outside for our morning,”

“Where is Az?” he asked again, concern-lacing his voice now, his eyes dimming.

He kept looking around.

“Is he coming?” he asked impatiently, still hopeful.

But Elain’s slight hesitation was all that Temal needed to murmur sorrowfully,

 “He don’t want to come no more?”

“No, he does,” Elain began, but he interrupted her, angrily, throwing her hand off his shoulder,

“No he doesn't! He doesn’t want to fly no more. He doesn’t like us,” his eyes were instantly brimming with tears.

Now other children were overhearing them and their faces were showing the same disappointment as Temal’s, though there was something like devastation written on his.

“Go get your jacket,” she told him, and he let go of her entirely, head hanging low, shuffling to the coat racks. 

Other children came over to her, asking the same question, looking concerned and upset. Elain felt terrible, hating how this made them feel, being abandoned and feeling unimportant, again. She didn’t know what to say to them. How to explain.

“Azriel will come back,” she assured them, but he wasn’t here, and her assurances fell on deaf ears.

Slowly, the children shuffled outside, the mood subdued. It was quiet, as they meandered along the courtyard, some of them climbing and others getting on the swings, swinging halfheartedly.

Temal went all the way to the back of the yard, towards the wall, and absently dragged a stick in the dirt, drawing something in the mud. Elain left him be for the time being, as she sat with the younger children around the table for their lesson. But attention wasn't on her. Every time a shadow passed by the door, all heads turned that way, necks craning, and then--a wave of disappointment. While Elain helped the little ones with their tasks, Lex informed her “your boy is very upset.”

“I know, Lex,” she sighed.

“He thinks that the master’s abandoned him.”

Elain did not respond.

Lex offered, “do you want me to go and play with him?”

“No, I’ll go and talk to him,” she got up and walked over to Temal.

“Temal,” she called out to him, but he wouldn’t face her and just mumbled, “I don’t wanna talk, Lain.”

“Why not?” she asked gently. 

“I don’t want to,” he shrugged, digging deeper into the mud with his stick.

“Is it about Azriel?”

Silence.

“Tem-,”

He turned to her, his face stained with tears.

“Why he don’t come, Lain? Why?”

Temal, like all Illyrians, was not much of a crier. Whether hurt, in a fight, or upset, he never cried, and simply walked away and dusted himself off. This much emotion was completely foreign to him, yet tears ran down his sharp cheekbones. 

“I don’t know why he leave me, Lain,” he sniffled. “Everybody leave me…” he added. “My ma--I don't know her. Maybe she was good, but she leave me,”

“Your mother did not leave you, Temal,” 

“She did,” he argued. “But you know, I am happy with my mali. We have a good life, and then my mali go away and he...He go to Vallahalla, and I never see him again. He leave me too,”

She paled, not knowing what to say. 

“Your mama and mali loved you though,” she said softly, “so much,”

He wiped his tears with his palm and said, “why they leave then? They don’t love me,”

“My mama and mali also left me,” she told him, “but I know that they loved me,”

“I like Az and I think he like me too, but now he doesn’t even come,” Temal shrugged. “And I think that Sunni is sad too, because she likes him, and she don’t even talk.”

“Temal,” Elain said firmly, “Azriel never goes back on his world. If he said he will come, then he will,”

She sounded so confident that Temal looked up at her, at last. 

And then, his face broke into a thousand smiles or pure joy and awe. Sprinting past Elain, he rushed to the other side of the yard. She was smiling, even without looking, sensing the commotion. 

“Well, hello Illyrians!” bellowed Cassian, “and the rest of you, future warriors! Are you ready to train?”

A deafening scream of ‘yes!’ was the response.

Elain turned around. The two gigantic Illyrians swaggered through the doors, and stood, arms folded, observing the mass of children before them.

The children stared. Stared in awe. Stared at the Commander General. In front of them, in the flesh. Even these orphans knew who he was, recognised him immediately, and now gawked, unable to tear their eyes from him, from his colossal, towering presence. 

“Elain here said that some of you want to learn how to fight?” he asked breezily.

Eyes lit up and waves of eager nods rippled across the gathered children.

“Well then,” he decided, “I guess you got yourself a teacher. Az and I are going to be teaching you how to fly and how to fight. Is that good?”

Oh, it was good.

And then Elain snorted a laugh, when Sanaai came upfront, ignoring Cassian completely, as she raised her arms in silent command before Azriel. He picked her up and she immediately found her place against his chest. 

Cassian began commandeering at once, while Azriel quietly made his way to Elain.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she looked at him and then there was an uncomfortable pause. Then he reached into his jacket and withdrew her scarf that she’d left behind in the house, when she was so eager to escape. Wordlessly, he draped it over her neck and then wrapped it around carefully, watching her the entire time. She shuddered from the warmth. From his thumb brushing against her jaw.

“Az!” Temal wrapped around Azriel’s legs, “you came!”

“Of course I came,” said Azriel, surveying the boy’s face. “Were you crying?”

“No!” Temal flushed. “I don’t cry. But I happy. You came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” assured him Azriel. “Now run and get in the formation.”

Once Temal was gone, Azriel looked at Elain and asked her seriously. “Why was he crying?”

She brushed her fingers against his own and said, “He thought that you would not be coming.”

Sanaai shifted in his arm and looked up at him, indicating that she, perhaps, thought the same.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ve never doubted you. In anything.”

Elain stopped at the Palace of Bone and Salt after she’d left the orphanage.

Feyre informed her that everyone was in Winter, that it was beautiful and there were ice castles and sleds and ice rinks everywhere, and that Nyx took well to his first winnowing and was now ogling polar bears and eating a cinnamon and cranberry scone. 

It all sounded very nice, but Elain secretly winced--she hated winter. She didn’t like the cold, and no amount of mulled wine, snowmen, pine decorations or spice cakes could ever change her mind. Winter always harkened back to the days of their poverty, the freezing cold in the hovel, the dark, dreary evening, endless, endless nights spent in silence or bickering. 

No, Elain loved the light, the sun, the warmth of spring and summer. She loved the scent of flowers, the regeneration of earth, the waking of all life. She dreamt of visiting a beach one day, especially after Feyre had described Adriata to her. So polar bears and roasted chestnuts could stay forever in Winter Court for all she cared.

“What are you going to buy?” asked Lex, flitting and gliding nosily the produce stands.

“Ingredients for dinner obviously.”

“What are you going to make?”

“Shouldn’t you know? Isn’t it your job?”

“No, I don’t know. But once you select something, then I will know.”

Dealing with Lex was often akin to talking to Temal, yet Elain enjoyed it. She came to depend on her gossipy, opinionated shadow in the past few days and somehow, having it near her brought her a sense of camaraderie, almost a friendship. She began understanding how Azriel felt with his shadows, how they took him out of his unbearable loneliness once he learned their language, and how something similar was happening to her right now. Because she’s been lonely, so lonely and hopeless, and solitary, and if it weren’t for the twins, she didn't know what she’d do. Perhaps, the male who’s been just as lonely most of his life knew how to recognise the signs, knew how to read her and her emotions and saw inside. He was always the only one who saw. When nothing made sense in her life, he was able to offer a semblance of peace, or normalcy. Even something as simple as treating her respectfully and kindly, without looking at her with confused concern was sometimes enough to bring her out of her emotional stupor.

Elain’s made her decision as soon as Feyre told her about the trip to Winter Court.

So, as she loaded her basket with chicken, rosemary, lemons, bread, apples and pears, her resolve only grew. Once she paid, she told Lex ‘take me home’. 

“You don’t know where your home is?”

She sighed and clarified, “Your master’s home’.

“Oh good, let’s go,” Lex perked up at once. “Master will be happy if you are there. He always wants you to be there, you know.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know if Azriel, in fact, wanted her there. Yes, he gave her the key, but was it appropriate for her to just barge in and make herself comfortable? She didn’t know. Elain was a polite and proper person, with good manners, who always behaved appropriately in all situations. She wasn’t the snarling Nesta, or, at times, incomprehensible Feyre. She was Elain, who’d let the three Fae males into her house, who cleared it for them to conduct their business and who convinced Nesta to host the queens. She even managed to charm the Cauldron--whatever that meant. She could do many things, but this step was something entirely different. She was taking it for herself. 

She vaguely recalled where the building was located, but Lex led her along the streets with confidence, yakking away the way only it could, while she barely paid attention, growing more and more nervous the closer they came. And then, at last, behind a little square, she eyed the building decorated with etched jasmine and moonflowers. She stopped and looked up. It was a long way up to the….she counted...twelfth floor. This must have been one of the tallest buildings in Velaris. 

“Let’s go,” urged her Lex.

Elain swallowed and then crossed the little square and opened the door into the building’s foyer. There was a wide, winding marble staircase. She sighed, bracing herself for the climb. With her basket it was going to be a trek. 

When she climbed to the fourth floor, Elain stopped, panting. Was she out of shape? Probably. Perhaps Cassian was right, and she needed to come to her senses and do some exercises, but she was never going to tell that to him. Admitting any kind of defeat to Cassian meant a lifetime of taunts.

“Are you going to go all the way up on your own two feet?” asked Lex casually. 

She was huffing, and waved him off, muttering, “whose feet am I going to be going on?”

“I can just take you there,” Lex suggested.

She looked at its dark form, floating playfully around her. When it was just the two of them, Lex did whatever it wanted and didn’t stay true to the laws of physics, so it bobbed and bounced however it wished.

“You can?”

“Yeah,”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier and made me,”

“You didn’t ask,” it reminded her.

“I really hate you sometimes,” she groaned, while it enveloped her in its dark mist and the next moment, they were upstairs, standing by the door.

“Thanks,” she said. “Why didn’t you just take me inside the apartment?”

“I can’t,” Lex admitted. “Only you and the master can enter. No one else, without your permission. Even us.”

“Oh,” Elain didn’t know if she was surprised, flattered or proud, or maybe all of the above, as she opened the door and entered.

Azriel and she only exchanged a few words today, after the children’s training, when they were all moaning and groaning from their aches and pains. Elain pulled Cassian and Az aside and warned them to be gentler and more careful, and that this wasn’t an actual Illyrian training camp. Cassian tried to argue, but she gave him a brief ‘Archeron stare’ and that was the end of the conversation. Luckily, the two did bring two bags full of balms and salves with them, for all the scratches and tender muscles. They had stopped at the apothecary and that is why they were late coming in the morning. 

Azriel only said that he’d see her ‘later’, and that he was going to work. No indication of when and where he’d see her, and considering that he was in uniform, with at least four siphons, ‘work’ didn’t sound like a relaxing endeavour. But she didn’t ask, and only smiled and hid her worry inside. 

So she hung her jacket, removed her boots and her scarf that Azriel always insisted on, because she ‘could get a cold’ without it, according to him. She wasn’t even sure if Fae got colds, but his obsessive protectiveness was still adorably endearing. 

“Lex, can Nuala or Cerridwen understand you?” she asked as she walked to the back of the spacious apartment and stopped in the bedroom. 

“Yes. Why?”

“Can you go and ask them to bring me my clothes?”

“No.”

She whipped her head and stared at the dark stain in the corner of the room. “Why not?” she demanded. 

“Because I am not permitted to leave you,” Lex explained. 

“Even if I order you?”

“You can order me to do other things, but I can’t leave you.”

She gave an exasperated snort, but Lex announced in his usual, non-chalant way “If you need clothes, they are already here.” It flew to the closet and Elain followed, and when she opened the door to the impressively enormous wardrobe, there they were--a rack hung with some of her dresses and skirts, and inside a glass lined cabinet, there were personal items, stockings and hose and tights and underthings. Everything was arranged simply and precisely, in a way that implied that she was expected, wanted and belonged here. It somehow made her belly soft and warm, like a cluster of butterflies skidded over her skin, though she ordered herself to think rationally. This was hardly different from when Nesta moved into the House of Wind and began living with Cassian and Azriel. It was probably just as,

Oh, gods, who was she kidding?

Of course it was different!

Nesta didn’t move into Cassian’s room. 

Cauldron, was she really about to live with a man? well, a male? Just...live with him? Sleep with him in the same bed? She had no idea what she was doing! She’d never lived with a man...and, and, surely he had expectations. What were her own expectations? She certainly, well, she certainly desired him. Wanted him. But beyond her mild fantasies, she didn’t even know what she wanted precisely. A part of her yearned to live that wild, unbridled passion that she saw with her sisters, but her sisters were more experienced by the time they’d met their mates and then there was the damn mate bond. Theirs, surely, worked very differently from hers. Yet all that screaming, and panting, and moaning -- she truly had no idea where it came from with them. Whatever she felt with Greyson was reasonably pleasant, especially the second time around, but it certainly didn’t inspire any groaning or panting from her. She’d seen Cassian’s lacerated back, raked over with Nesta’s nails. What could inspire such passionate violence? Besides, she didn’t even have nails--hers were trimmed rather short, though she at least put varnish on them. 

And now she was here. Awkwardly taking off her skirt and cardigan, to change into something...well, he liked her in his shirt, so she searched to locate a stack of plain, informal shirts, which were all kind of the same and took one. Paired with leggings, to which she grew rather accustomed lately, taking after Feyre’s penchant for them, she figured that she looked decent. She’d never worn trousers or pants outside, or when she knew that there would be visitors, but alone with Nyx, or when it was just Feyre and Rhys and her, she didn’t care. Rhys cared even less. Three nights ago, she noticed Azriel’s utter shock, mixed with such obvious desire when he saw her in her tights, for the first time. She didn’t think that he even tried to hide it. So if that is what made him happy, then she was going to wear it.

She didn’t dwell in the bedroom for much longer, lest it made her too nervous and bombard her with unwanted thoughts.

Without Azriel’s perfectly distracting perfection to scramble her brain as it always happened when he was around, she took the time to look around, though she still didn’t allow herself to touch anything. Back in the kitchen--her domain--she began unloading her purchases on the sleek marble counter, and then spotted a familiar item on one of the side tables--a Symphonia. She turned it on and as she began preparing dinner, the music selection came as a surprise to her, an interesting insight into Azriel’s mind. 

The Symphonia wasn’t filled with waltzes and minuets of Nesta’s preference, but with lots of dance music--not something she’d expect from the quiet, solemn Azriel. There was folk music, and fast, melodious songs, as well as music from what Elain assumed were other courts. Curiously, she definitely heard songs and dances of Human Lands, some of which she used to sing as a girl, as well as Illyrian melodies--haunting and glorious. Lex, as it turned out, liked music as well, as it informed her ‘I like stars and music and flowers!’ Lex, apparently, was a romantic and a dancer to boot, because the faster the musical numbers, the more Lex bounced around the kitchen. “You dance well!” Elain complimented it, as Lex swooshed and bobbed and floated, wrapping itself around Elain’s hips, as she ground and writhed against the counter, waving her knife and her tasting spoons in the air. It was probably a good thing that Lex was a shadow.

‘Master doesn’t dance like you!’ Lex half-complained, half-praised.

“We’ll get him to dance with us,” promised Elain.

Behind them, a male cleared his throat and Elain and Lex halted their dancing abruptly.

Azriel was standing, propped against the wall, arms folded on his chest, a smile on his lips.

Elain flushed. Happy.

“Glad to hear that the two of you are conspiring against me,” he chuckled.

“You are home,” she whispered.

“You are home as well,” he said, peeling away from the wall. He extended his hand and she came over to him and took it, and he pulled her to him. Elain slipped into his embrace and he murmured into her hair ‘dance with me?” His jacket was still cold from the flight and she shivered when she wrapped her arms around his torso. He pushed her head into his chest and they swayed to the music, he leading her into a slow, languid spin across the room. The melody switched to something slower and more sensual just in time, and he smiled against her head that smelled so delicately of jasmine. Perhaps the gods were smiling upon him today, after all.

“Are you tired?” she asked, her voice muffled by the press of her face into his chest.

She held him so tightly, so desperately, it was as if he’d just returned from war, and not a day of work. Granted, he had to make a quick trip to the human lands and back, but she didn't even know that. 

“No, love,” he said, “not tired at all. Especially not when you are here.”

It did not escape him that Elain had called this place ‘home’.

“I am just glad to see you here,” he admitted, and then finally pulled her face away from his chest and gently grasped her chin in his scarred fingers, making her look up.

“Is it alright?” she asked, unsure. “That I am here?”

“Is there any other place you’d rather be?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling with a teasing delight. “Is this not the place where you belong?”

“With you,” she gasped, reaching up and stroking his cheek in her warm hand that smelled of apples. “Only with you.”

He kissed the inside of her palm and concurred, “only with me.”

“I only want to be with you,” she nodded. Whatever happened between them in the morning seemed to have been forgotten. Azriel didn’t forget, but he was going to bring it up later.

He slung his arm around her shoulders, knowing that she would not be happy if he released her. 

Gods, he was leashed! This golden pink girl with her chocolate-brown eyes wrapped him and wrung him and remade him into something utterly new. With her, he was a man reforged. A sharp, brutal edge that  always lived inside of him, that cut deep and unflinching, was somehow dulled by her, as if she managed to tame the cruelest parts of him, at least when they were together.

“So, what smells so fantastically?” 

Her soft small hand was stroking his back continuously, and Azriel wondered if it was to remind him that she was with him, and that she was his. Or, perhaps, to reassure herself that he was with her. 

“Chicken!” she announced, burying her face in his arm, smelling the delectable scent of him, mixed with cold air and wind. He began unbuttoning his jacket, as they made their way into the kitchen but she swept his fingers aside and took over the task. She wouldn’t release him, and Azriel...well, he never wanted to be released. She was soft and warm under his arm, fitting into him with some inexplicable, magical precision, as if she was wrestled out of his body once and now they were put together again. He, who detested human touch with such vicious dislike, he, who did not enjoy the feel of anyone’s hands on him, often not even in the bedroom, he couldn’t get enough. 

She pulled his jacket off at last, while he stroked her petal-tender cheek with the backs of his fingers, “Chicken?”

She nodded, and then kissed his cheek. “It’s the best chicken you’ll eat!” she promised.

“I bet,”

“No, it’s so good, you’ll want to marry me!”

He laughed, amused by her excitement and this self-praise that was unlike her, “Well, I’ll still marry you, regardless of the merits of this chicken,”

Elain’s eyes shot up and she looked at him, biting her lower lip. 

It was the second time in just as many days that he said that he’d marry her. The words fell from his lips with ease and confidence. As if he really wanted to do just that. As it was inevitable. He looked down at her, reading her question, the hopeful expectation in her eyes. 

He gently pressed his thumb to her lower lip and pulled it down from under her teeth.

“Just say the words,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

She snorted and said, “I am not marrying a man who hasn’t even kissed me yet!”

Azriel laughed and nodded his agreement. “I wouldn’t either,” he said, taking her hand and leading them to the bedroom. 

She plopped on the bed, tucking her legs under and watched him chuck off his layers. The shadows swarmed and picked everything up, with each item disappearing in the dark smoke. 

“They are useful,” she noted, somewhat amazed at what she was observing.

“They are indeed,” he nodded, and then asked, “how’s Lex? Is it,”

“I am good!” interjected Lex.

“Really. And was I asking you or Elain?” 

“I am good,” repeated Lex, with even more conviction. “You can ask her, but I am very good and nice too.”

“Nice and good,” hummed Azriel, while Elain was trying to stifle her laugh.

“So, is Lex nice and good?” Azriel asked at last.

She could almost sense the shadow’s nervousness and therefore, said, 

“Lex has its moments.”

Hiding his smirk, Azriel proposed, “You want another one?” 

“No!” Lex whirled right in front of them, jumping back and forth between the two. “Elain likes me!” it insisted. “Elain, tell the master that you want only me.”

She sighed and nodded, “Yes, Lex, I only want you. We are good friends.”

Placated and smug, Lex calmed down and rested on Elain’s lap.

Azriel was laughing softly.

“So how did this wearing of my shirts come about?” he inquired, watching her watch him. He undressed slower than usual, for her benefit. But secretly, he couldn’t get enough of those huge innocent eyes looking him up and down, glaring at every bit of revealed skin, raking him with a hungry gaze. Her lower lip was clamped between her teeth again, and it drove him insane...to be watched like this, with those brown eyes so filled with desire and that plump, pink lip. Perhaps he should just pull that lip with his teeth, kiss it, lick it, bite it...marry that plump lip and its owner, everything be damned.

Elain shrugged, “It wasn’t anything romantic, if that’s what you are hoping for,”

“Oh, you wound me,” he clutched at his chest dramatically. “And here I thought that you were so starved for my scent that you hunted down my shirt,”

“Pfff,” she rolled her eyes, “dream on, batboy!”

Azriel couldn’t remember when he laughed so hard. Her pure, absolutely delectable dismissal of him was just precious. And ‘batboy’?

Once he finally stopped hollering, and she snickering, Elain said, “Nyx puked on my dress one time, so as I was carrying him, while he was screaming, and we were both covered in vomit,”

“Yes, that is not a romantic story,” he agreed.

“I saw your shirt on the chair, and grabbed it, and since it’s long enough to basically be a dress, I just changed into it and that’s how it came about. Also,” she ran her fingers over the sleeve, “you have very nice shirts,”

“Yeah?”

“Soft and well-made. Such fine material, even for this simple shirt.”

“Small pleasures,” he shrugged, now completely undressed, save for his black undershorts. His wings fluttered loosely behind his back, relaxed. 

Elain cocked her head, watching him.

“I’ll go wash up,” he said, though didn’t move, enjoying her unblinking, intense scrutiny. “Care to join?” It didn’t hurt to offer. One day, she might just surprise him.

“I would,” she whispered, her throat bobbing at the sight of him, “but my chicken says otherwise.”

“Ahh, well, the chicken,” he nodded. “It needs more tending to than Nyx.”

Once Elain returned to the kitchen, she let out a long, ragged breath. Watching Azriel--an almost naked Azriel--was the best, and the worst experience. He was almost criminally handsome, and when he extended his casual invitations to her to join him she fought the urge with every fibre of her being. She had to still her breathing, recalling every detail of his bronze body; the dangerous cut of all his muscles, that powerful chest, arms so thick with muscle and sinew that back in the human lands someone would call them ‘tree trunks’. The tapered waist, and that vee that slid smoothly away from his narrow hips...gods...And that gorgeous nonchalance of his entire bearing--who ever thought that Azriel was bashful and demure? But perhaps, it was just for her. All of it was just for her. His relaxed easy confidence was reserved only for the person that he felt utterly comfortable with, which was her. He never hid from her, never pulled his hands away, never shied away from his scars in front of her. 

She really needed to pull herself together, yet a dull, but pleasant ache blossomed inside of her and she shifted and pressed her legs together, as she attempted to busy herself at the stove. But when Azriel was around, all rational thought left her and all she wanted to do was sit and stare at him like a fool. How could she have thought that Greyson was the epitome of manliness? She chuckled to herself, slightly shaking her head at the preposterous thought. Greyson. A boy. A boy full of hot air and exaggerated self-importance. What a fool she’s been. What a fool.

She gasped with surprise when strong, warm hands squeezed her hips. Azriel’s walk was so soft, he was almost entirely soundless. Even her new, acute Fae hearing couldn’t pick up his movement. He turned her around slowly and she found him on his knees in front of her, his face pressed into her stomach. 

“I am sorry,” he whispered, kissing her belly through the fabric of the shirt. His hair was damp, and he was wearing his usual black and gray, a short-sleeved shirt that revealed all of his musculature, as well as the black ink of his tattoos, and soft slacks that he usually favoured at home. 

His hands stroked her sides, her ribs and then landed back on her hips, stroking and squeezing, until he looked up at her and cupped her bottom, not in any sort of playful manner, but intimately, tightly. 

“Sorry for what?” she gulped, as she caressed his face with her thin, calloused fingers.

“For earlier today,” he explained, kissing her stomach again, his lips finding skin beneath the shirt and brushing over her navel. Those large, brazen hands kneaded her behind, unrestrained, cupping and massaging, and Elain’s breath hitched in her throat, as she felt her breasts grow heavy and aching. “It’s very difficult for me to stay calm when I feel like you are being placed in an uncomfortable situation and Rhys,”

She pressed her finger to his lips and said, “I can deal with Rhys,”

“He has no right to force you to reveal your powers or use them,” Azriel insisted, looking her over with a serious, displeased expression. “And you should’ve told me that he,”

“When we initially had that conversation,” she recalled, “I was angry with you anyway,”

“Which I hate,” he interrupted, his look stern.

“That’s in the past.” She shrugged. “It didn’t last long, I’ll have you know. I don't think that I am capable of staying angry with you for a long time,”

“That’s a relief at least,”

 “But he forbade me from seeing you,”

His handsome face darkened even further at her words, but she added, 

“And that made me very...let’s just say that I was much angrier with him than I was with you. I understood then what had happened. That you didn't stop seeing me on your own volition and that the order came from him. I couldn’t control my temper,”

He smiled softly at her and teased, “you have a temper?”

She chuckled and nodded, “I do have a temper. But when I lost it, I revealed my hand,”

He kissed her knuckles. 

“Not that I was hiding it, but the power, it rumbled. It resurfaced and it faced his power. And both--fought.”

“Who won?” he inquired, genuinely curious. His arms were banded around her, hands still on her behind, still stroking and squeezing, and she grew hotter and more heavy-lidded by the minute. 

“We didn’t challenge each other to a fight,” she snorted. “But my power felt strong. Like it could respond to him. It didn’t like the challenge, if I am being honest.”

“Hmmm,”

“What?” she took his face between her hands and made him look at her. “And why are you still kneeling?”

He grinned and kissed the inside of her palm, “I like it here. You feel nice in my arms.”

He pulled down the waistband of her tights, just until it reached her hip bone and kissed her there. Then he pulled the other side, and kissed her other hip bone. She swayed on her feet and he held her up, those strong hands holding her bottom, supporting her. 

“Feels good?” he teased, winking at her and she let out a soft moan, as he trailed kisses down her bare belly, burrowing under the shirt.

“No!” she moaned at last. “It feels terrible...because I want more,”

“I can give more,” he offered with a twinkle in his eyes.

This was nothing but light kisses. Not sensual, open mouthed kisses. No. Just soft little pecks and nips on her skin. Both of them were completely dressed. Yet Elain felt as if she was melting in his arms, as if his lips were branding her skin and his closeness slithered over her flesh in a silken caress and an invitation.

“Az,” she gasped.

“Yes, love?” he sounded innocent. As if he wasn't driving her veritably insane with his every touch, as if she wasn’t yearning to have him spread her right here, on this cold tiled floor and plunge into her, quickly and roughly.

He tsked and shook his head, flicking her nose playfully, “what are you thinking about?”

“How I am annoyed with you right now,” she gritted her teeth and he laughed in response. 

“I rather like keeping you a little on edge,” he confessed and then finally rose to his feet. He leaned over her, his hand gently squeezing her throat. His warm breath caressed her ear and he whispered, “I should love to hear some of your naughty thoughts,”

Elain flushed, shifting against him, breath uneven and heavy. 

“Will I?” he pressed, his thumb stroking her neck slowly, his face at her ear.

“Will you what?” she managed.

“Hear them?”

She swallowed. 

He did not release. His thumb swept against her tender skin, and he remained stooped over her, waiting. 

Gods...he expected an answer.

“I…” she babbled, not knowing what to tell him. Yet she wanted to tell him everything. Every, undoubtedly, juvenile, uninteresting fantasy that she had. 

He kissed her ear and waited, patiently. 

“Yes,” she breathed at last. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said simply and then kissed her ear again, the new, elongated tip, to which she was still unaccustomed. 

“Will you?” she asked suddenly. She didn’t expect to ask this, but here it was. He watched her intently, and she clarified, “Will you tell me? of your...needs?”

He gave her his usual amused look and then, “Yes”.

Simple. No arguments.

“You will?” she stuttered.

“Do you not want me to?” He sat at the table, and crossed his long legs in front of him, feet bare.

She flushed a deep, lovely pink--Cauldron damn him, but he loved making her blush--and then murmured, 

“I do. But,” she swallowed, “I am very nervous. Is that alright for me to admit?”

In one long, graceful swoop, he tugged her to him, and made her stand between his legs.

“You know you should never worry, right?” he asked, squeezing her hips in his hand. “Never. I will never,”

“I am not worried about that,” she waved him off. “Never you.”

“Then what?” his brow furrowed.

She licked her lip and her blush deepened, “I don’t know anything,”

He waited for her to speak her mind, without interrupting.

Centuries of conducting interrogations taught him patience, taught him when to push, and when to pull back. Eventually, everyone broke. And it didn’t always involve pain. In fact, using Truth-teller or any other methods of ‘enhanced interrogation’ was the last resort, typically utilized in most stubborn, or desperate cases. Azriel did not resort to torturing anyone unless he absolutely saw no other option. Not due to any sort of kindness or mercy--it was not his job to be merciful or emotional--but because allowing someone to simply speak and unburden yielded better, more truthful results. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

His thumbs only brushed against her hips, soothing and encouraging, his hands still holding her tightly.

“Do what, baby?” he asked at last.

“You,” she sighed. “This...I want this,” her voice fell even lower, “more than anything. I want us--you and me and everything that comes with it. But,” she shook her head in frustration.

“But you are inexperienced,” he offered.

“Utterly,” she confirmed. A deep blush flooded her cheeks, “It’s embarrassing, but I’ve never even seen a naked man,”

His brow lifted just a tad in surprise.

“But…” he stumbled, “aren’t you...are you a maid?”

“No,” she muttered, “I am not. But I didn’t see it. We...we weren’t naked.”

Azriel whooshed a breath and swore softly. “You mean to tell me that that fool had you to himself and didn’t even manage to get you naked?”

She smiled shyly.

“I know that I am awkward and probably too proper, and you are gloriously beautiful and desired by everyone. So, I would understand,” and her voice broke at this, “if you don’t want to take this further. I would...I don’t want to burden you with my inexperience. My complexes, which I am sure that I have,”

“Shhhh,” he bubbled his lips and shook his head in admonishment, “shhh. No. No. You,” he looked her up and down, slowly, measured, “are everything I’d ever wanted. Beautiful beyond words, yes, but so much more than that. If it was only your beauty that enticed me so, that would be one thing, but all of you makes me...crave. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything before. Elain, you are magnificent and exquisite in every possible way. Loving you is no burden,”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, as she stroked and stroked his face nervously,

“I worry...that I won’t be enough,”

She almost-

Almost.

Almost wrung her fingers, but he tracked the movement and she just dropped her hands onto his shoulders.

Azriel was absolutely fine with the idea of doing whatever Elain was partial to. He was perfectly aware that she was an innocent, not that he’d compare her to his own experiences, which would be laughable, but even in human terms, she was barely touched. It didn’t stop him from imagining how he’d love to teach her in the ways of love and pleasure, slowly, patiently, but thoroughly. Until she came into her own. And he understood her hesitation, the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that he tasted in her scent. Which would simply not do. But the gods knew--Azriel was a patient male.

He pressed his cheek to her hand and gently stroked the sides of her torso.

“Will you trust me?” 

She nodded.

“You will always be more than enough. Just remember--take whatever you want from me, take away bread and water, take my peace, just never take yourself away from me. And,” he paused for a moment, as if hesitating, but she stroked the back of his neck and he whispered, “don’t...please, don’t call him your mate. Even if he is.”

She made a move, to step back, but he held her tightly, his hands almost spanning the width of her hips, and looked at her. 

“I can handle your anger,” he assured her. “And I can attempt to be less,”

“Territorial?”

“Hmmm.”

“Domineering?”

“Hmmm.”

“Over-protective?”

“Hmmm.”

He chewed his lip and then said, “No. None of those things will happen, I was just joking.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, for he was completely serious, and deep down, she knew that he wasn't going to change. If this was the path she was taking, she needed to accept him the way that he was, and that she was always going to be his primary concern.

“I don’t know why it slipped out,” she admitted, and bowed to kiss his head, laying her cheek on top of his skull, in his soft, thick hair. “I am sorry,” she begged.

He was quiet.

She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his solid, thick shoulders, pushing his face into her chest. 

“I never think of him that way,” she continued. “I think I wanted to snap at Rhys. Stand my ground to him, but it came out so wrong,”

“But it’s true,” Azriel sighed.

“I don’t think so,” she argued. 

“It is. I’ve come to accept it. That you will never be fully mine,”

“That’s not true,” she interrupted him and then tipped his chin up, looking down at him with her luminous amber eyes. “I will  never be his. Yours, it's a different story. I will always be yours. In every way.”

She cupped his face and added, her voice urgent, “The thing is that, I’ve always wanted to be yours. I think from the time I ever laid my eyes on you. It seemed like an impossibility back then, but you were breathtaking… Nesta was smitten with Cassian. And I was smitten with you, and now I am free to declare it.”

She kissed his forehead and added, “And I am sorry. I know I hurt you, unintentionally, but I know it was the wrong thing to say. You are right, I don't ever want us to fight.”

He smiled, relieved. This morning’s tension sat in the pit of his stomach, even after he’d seen her again, during training. Even after they were done, he was still thinking about it, about her calling Lucien her ‘mate’, and about her ignoring him. When he and the too-excited Cassian left the orphanage and Cassian was in the throes of planning entire training sessions for the children, Azriel still couldn't concentrate, turning the morning’s events over and over in his head. Only when Cassian interrupted his brooding contemplation with a ridiculous question, did he manage to snap out of it. 

“So, is he yours?” asked Cassian. 

“Is what mine?” 

Cassian sized him up and then jerked his chin, “The boy. Temal. Is he yours?”

Azriel couldn't help, but roll his eyes. “Are you insane? What are you even talking about?” Cassian shrugged. 

“You can’t deny that the resemblance is uncanny.” 

“He is an Illyrian,” Azriel snapped. “I am an Illyrian. He had parents.”

“Alright. If you say so. Elain sure is doting on him like he is yours.”

“She just likes him,”

“She doesn’t like anyone else like that,” observed Cassian. And then, added, “It’s alright. I get it. But it would be funny if he was yours.”

“I don’t fuck Illyrian females,” reminded him Azriel. “We, don’t fuck Illyrian females.”

“True,” Cassian  nodded and smiled. “But I’ll be damned! Does she love you or what….She even got a youngling who looks like you.”

“Fuck off.”

Azriel got up and kissed her head, while he began setting the table, and she busied herself with her famed chicken. It was the first time ever he was having dinner with someone here, in his house, and for some reason, it made him both uneasy and so excited, it felt like when he was a youngin, with his first kiss. 

The chicken, Elain’s presence in the kitchen, his shadows resting, except for the ever-present Lex--this was home. Never before, ever, did he feel at home. Even here, in this house of his, which he loved, he always felt a visitor. Now, there was something grounding him, making him stop and savour the moment, live in the now, enjoy every scent, and touch and sound. Even the clinking of dishes. 

“Can you please sit down,” she ordered him. 

“But I want to help,”

“You are here to relax and...adore me,” she shrugged and he grinned. 

“I do adore you,” Azriel sat down compliantly and propped his chin, watching her intently, his one siphon slumbering on his wrist. His lovely, darling girl. He truly was a fool for her, but he didn’t care. He smiled to himself, thinking what an obedient, good hound he was now. 

She finally arranged the dishes on platters and delivered them to the table. 

“Oh,” he inhaled the delicious blend of spices, of lemon and herbs and Elain watched his eyes close with delight. A whiff of something familiar and dear washed over him. Home. Childhood. But not his childhood and not his home. This--this is how he imagined home, with these smells and with this female. 

“So,” she sat down and began to serve him, “I know you don’t like Illyria,”

“But this is Illyrian food,” he said quickly, recognising the dishes. 

“Butuzuli,” she said, her accent pretty and precise when she pronounced the Illyrian word. A glorious concoction of crispy, golden rice studded with pistachios, Illyrian spices and dried apricots. 

“How did you know?” he wondered, amazed. The look of the dish was exactly the same as if it came from the cook in his father’s keep. 

“Shashlama,” she gave him a heaping pile of roasted eggplant that was smothered in parsley sauce. Then, he began carving the gorgeous, brown-skinned chicken and the smell of lemon and rosemary was intoxicating. 

“I’ve been learning,” she said, pleased by his reaction to the food. 

“From who? How?”

He tucked into the rice and the vegetables and barely stifled a moan. This was divine.

“Alright, I am going for the chicken!” he warned and Elain giggled, watching him.

The meat was perfumed with garlic, the woodsy scent of rosemary, the fruity, tangy addition of lemon and it truly was the best chicken Azriel’s ever tasted. He was normally a polite, elegant eater, with good manners, who was able to pace himself, but tonight, he wanted to gobble everything down like Cassian.

“Baby, this is…” he could barely string coherent words together. “May I curse?”

She burst out laughing, almost choking on the wine that he’d poured, but nodded.

“This is fucking delicious!” he groaned. 

“Good chicken?” she was laughing merrily.

“Magnificent chicken!” he looked at her and then winked, “I might very well have to marry you after all,”

“Told you!”

As they settled comfortably over their plates, the Symphonia still playing something softly in the background, Azriel asked,

“So you’ve been learning to cook?”

“I know how to cook,” she tore a piece of flatbread, and popped it in her mouth, 

“Well, I know,”

“but I’ve been reading up and learning about Illyrian cuisine. The cook in the orphanage is Illyrian, so she’s been offering me recipes and showing techniques,”

“But this is not just Illyrian,” he noted, “this is,”

“Bagratian?” 

“Yes.”

She smiled at him.

“Well, here is what I figured--I have a brother, and a brother-in-law, who are Illyrian, and my child and the man who is my whole world are both Illyrians from Bagratia, and my children will be Illyrians with Bagratian blood, so how could I not learn of their culture? Their food? The language? Histories?”

He put his utensils down and stared at her, “You know that I am from Bagarat?”

She shrugged, “I guess I do. Does that surprise you?”

“You surprise me every day,” he bit his lip, awed. “But...Did Cassian tell you?”

She placed more rice on his plate, since it was something that disappeared almost immediately, and said, “No. But Temal looks like you,”

So she knew. And noticed.

“I read up on the Iron Eagle camp,” she continued her explanation, “where he is from, and then learned that it was in the province of Bagratia, and then Rhys confirmed that you are indeed from there. Are you impressed with my investigative initiatives?”

Very few people knew of Azriel’s background, of where he came from, which House, what province, and it struck a different note in him that Elain was interested, and that she took the time and effort to learn about his roots. Illyrian history and traditions, even its geography were not easy to come by. Illyria was a world of its own, with little written lore or documents, therefore, it couldn't have been just a simple book that she picked up to read up on Illyria. She must have gone to the Library for additional research. 

“I truly am,” he nodded, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. 

“The cook’s husband is from Bagratia, so she learned about the foods once she married him. She explained that Bagratia is different from the rest of Illyria--more open, with more trade, hence the varied and spiced cuisine, and different customs as well.”

“Culturally, it’s much more diverse than the rest of Illyria,” he suppressed something dark inside of him at the memories, willing himself to separate his own history from the actual place. 

Elain paused for a long time, watching his darkening expression, the recollection of whatever was plaguing him. 

“Will you tell me?” she finally braved the question.

He didn’t require an explanation of what she was asking.

“Tell me the good things,” she offered.

He scowled and shrugged, “very few good things to tell, if I am being honest.”

She waited, allowing him to make the final decision.

“Bagratia,” he said at last, his voice even lower and more gravelly than usual, “is the one province in Illyria that could be considered ‘wealthy’. There is even a capital city--Bagarat. Most of the Illyrian Lords come from there and the breeding of Illyrians for Killing Power originated there,”

“Why?”

“Well, a smart and cunning Illyrian lord, millennia ago, spun a crafty tale,”

He chuckled and helped himself to more eggplant. 

“Honestly, this is so good,” he muttered, as if the food was a welcome distraction from the tale he was telling. 

Elain smiled and then, to his utter delight, she stretched her legs out and placed them on his lap, as per his previous request. She said nothing, as she relaxed against the back of the Illyrian chair, which was probably less than comfortable for her, and played with her food.

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” she said sincerely. 

He gently stroked her calves and perhaps it gave him some internal stability, but he continued,

“That lord, he spun a wild, but believable tale of Enalius being from Bagratia. You know who Enalius was?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve read about him...Cassian gave me a book,”

“Cassian gave you a book?”

“It surprises you?” she chuckled.

“A little. What book?”

“The Histories of Illyria. He said that if I learn Illyrian, he’ll give me the original, written in Illyrian.”

“That’s Cassian,” Azriel sighed. “Always trying to drum up support for his favourite cause.”

Now fully satiated, Azriel allowed his wings to droop around him, as he stretched his legs out and absently played with Elain’s bare feet. 

“So naturally, an entire profitable industry was created out of the lore of Enalius, and suddenly there were all these markers, conveniently found around Bagratia.” He snorted, waving his hand and announcing, “This is the cave where Enalius spent the night before the battle! This is the stone upon which Enalius sharpened his sword! This embankment was where Enalius and his followers feasted on roasted goats!”

Elain laughed at his performative demonstration. 

“But, eventually, it led to the honing of power that Illyrians became famous for. Unsurprisingly, Bagratian lords tried to usurp most of it, and breed it into their lines. That’s how the siphons came about--the breeding pool was too limited, too narrow and the power couldn't be controlled anymore. The siphons managed to direct the power output through magic, though it took a while to perfect the system and the usage. When an Illyrian male comes of age, fully comes into his power, there is a period of trial and error with the siphons--too few, and you can destroy everything around you, break the siphons, unleash the power incorrectly and sloppily. Too many siphons, and they put a damper on your strength and might, essentially tying your hands.”

“And you have seven…” it wasn’t a question, but Elain stared at his brown, scarred arm with its leather band around the wrist and the dully glimmering cobalt stone. 

“Yeah,” he glanced at the siphon. “Seven.”

He smiled, recalling, “I kept breaking them, because they couldn’t contain the power. I received two right away, because the Commanders saw that one would never be enough, but I broke them. They added another, and another, and I broke all four. Finally, landed on five. It lasted for a bit, but the five broke during a battle in the first War, which really wasn't ideal,” he said mildly. Elain couldn’t even imagine. No siphons meant no shields, no protection, no ability to heal, and no actual power, beyond the physical prowess. 

“So you fought?”

“Hand to hand combat…” he nodded, “for over four hours. Took me ten days to recover the use of my arms afterwards.”

He stretched his arms in front of him, flexing his fingers. Elain was probably the only person in the world, except for Cassian, in front of whom Azriel felt secure enough to do that.

“So, you were born in Bagratia,” Elain began, but he interrupted, shaking his head, 

“Not only born. I am half Bagratian,”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“You are an Illyrian,”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “For all intents and purposes, I am. I winged, dark-skinned Illyrian. But to Illyrians themselves, I am not only a bastard-born, but also a half-breed. Cassian, for example, is fully Illyrian. Devlon, whom you've met, too. Emerie. Me--I am a little different.”

“So what does it mean?”

Azriel drew his scarred thumb over the rim of his wine glass and then said, his gaze flitting absently about the open space of the apartment,

“My mother, she is unusually beautiful,”

Elain looked at him, as if a mystery was solved—the mystery of his own unbelievable handsomeness. Because Azriel was just that beautiful. Rhysand might have preened and claimed the title of the ‘Most Handsome High Lord’, but Azriel was indisputably the more classically, elegantly handsome one.

“In Bagratia, besides its claim to Enalius and a high concentration of power and Illyrian wealth, there are a number of other people that have settled there over the centuries. Some just comprise small settlements, but others have entire subcultures, because their numbers are quite large. My mother—she came from such a people—they call themselves Hiberions—who claim to have escaped a great cataclysm, back millennia ago. No one really knows where they came from, as they had no written record, but whatever did happen, it caused this nation to disperse around what is now the Night Court. Some settled in and around the coast, but many ended up in Illyria. 

There are speculations that Hiberions were invited by an ancient High Lord to the Night Court, and offered sanctuary. Hiberions themselves claim a different story, and say that they were the original founders of the Night Court, and that they allowed others to settle on the land, but over time, they were weakened due to internal struggles and were pushed out of the seat of power. Kier, Mor’s father, claims that he is a descendant of the Hiberions, and that Hewn City was their original capital,”

Elain’s eyes flew wide open, but Azriel shrugged with his usual nonchalance.

“What?” she murmured. “Is it true?”

He scratched his chin and said, “Hard to say. I haven’t investigated it very closely. But rumour has it that the ability to wield shadows and that shadowsingers as a phenomenon originated from the Hiberions. Because they might have been the inhabitants of the Dusk Court,”

“What is Dusk Court?”

“A Court that perished, they say. A great Court, but….it doesn’t exist anymore. Don’t you find it strange that there is a Night, Day and Dawn, but no Dusk?”

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted truthfully. “But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

He drew his palm over her foot, and she squirmed a little, giggling.

“So, your mother?” she reminded him, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

“My mother is a Hiberion. Well, mixed—Illyrian and Hiberion,” he tugged on his lip for a moment and then said, “if you think that Illyrians are horrible and treat their own like shit, then you should only see how they treat those who aren’t pureblooded Illyrians. Less than nothing. Therefore, Hiberions who live in Illyria usually keep the most menial jobs, and live in great poverty, with almost no rights at all.”

Elain bit her lips, but did not say anything, wanting him to continue.

“The one thing that Hiberions have is that they can breed with Illyrians, and that they are, generally speaking, very good looking. Hence the women are prized and valued, and typically can obtain employment in a Lord’s keep. Unfortunately, their beauty is usually their downfall as well—they attract unwanted attention.”

Elain swallowed, understanding perfectly well what he was implying.

“Is that what happened to your mother?”

He nodded.

“My father was a Bagratian Lord, wealthy, with a training camp located on his lands. That always brought him steady income. He was married to a female—an arranged marriage—and they had two sons.

“My mother was engaged to be married to a hunter, also a Bagratian, who traded in pelts. She worked in the training camp, and that’s where she’d met Rhys’s mother. Because my mother was a half-breed, she had wings, but they were lame, and did not develop as quickly as normal wings do. Therefore, flying was always very difficult for her, and that’s how she avoided being clipped. They didn’t bother with her, seeing that she couldn’t fly away anyway. 

The hunter, he was wounded the winter before they were set to get married, and couldn’t support himself or her, while also needing a healer, at least for a period of time. So they decided that she would seek employment at the Keep…my father’s Keep, just for that winter, until the hunter recovered. She was hired as a maid, and all was well for a while, but that was until my father saw her and became smitten at once.”

Azriel cleared his throat and considered for a moment, before continuing,

“I don’t know if ‘smitten’ is the right word. Infatuated? Obsessed? Enthralled? I don’t know…But whatever it was, he pursued her relentlessly, spurned even further by the fact that she had no interest in him and was in love with the hunter. 

“But my father was a Lord and she was a poor half-breed in his employ, with nothing to her name and no protection. The hunter tried to come and take her away, but my father hid her and wouldn’t release her.”

“He forced her?” Elain sounded broken, her face paling. 

He nodded.

“Surely. Perhaps he wasn’t violent, but it was not her intention or desire to be with him. The wife might not have cared, for it was common enough occurrence for a lord to keep women available for sexual pleasure, but then my mother became pregnant.”

“With you?”

“No.”

Elain sensed that he was about to tell her something horrible, and she didn’t want to hear it, yet she knew that she had to. That this was something that he probably didn’t share with anyone. He was trusting her with his family lore, broken and terrible as it was, filled with pain and suffering, but she felt a sense of kinship, as it was an honour to hear his story. 

“The wife beat that babe out of my mother.”

Elain sucked in her breath as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. He tracked the movement, but didn’t comment.

“Hiberions aren’t like the Fae,” he explained. “They are Fae, but like Illyrians, they are a separate race. So certain common traits of the Fae don’t apply to them—females get pregnant easily, or at least at the same rate as humans.

“So, within months, my mother was pregnant again—this time with me. The wife threatened my mother again, but the Lord overheard and broke the wife’s arm in a fit of rage. So, she, more or less, left my mother alone after that.”

He stopped speaking and looked out the floor-length window in front of which they were sitting.

“And then?” Elain asked softly.

“And then it became a different story…mine.”

Which meant that he didn’t feel like discussing himself or his childhood. She understood and did not push.

But she did ask,

“What happened to the hunter?”

“I found him,” Azriel said, still looking out the window, his jowls working hard.

“And?”

“And he was still alone, waiting for my mother. He knew that somehow, he’d get her back, and one day, she’d return to him and they’d be together. It was after the War and I had my seven siphons by then. Rhys, who was very gravely injured, and almost lost his wings in the war, had recovered, and so we went together, back to my father’s Keep. Cassian and Rhys and myself, and the hunter.”

“Your mother was alive?”

“She was. We let the hunter take her away…”

Elain didn’t need details about what had happened afterwards. 

Nesta had mentioned what the three brothers did to Cassian’s village and the males who had destroyed his mother’s life. How they laid waste to the entire settlement, barely sparing the females and children. She imagined that something very similar took place at Azriel’s father’s Keep. 

So, she bypassed the question and the details.

“And your mother?” she asked instead.

“She and her husband, the hunter, live together to this day.”

Elain’s face sparkled with genuine happiness, and somehow, that made all the difference. 

Azriel wasn’t sure if he should share his background, and even as they started to discuss Bagratia, he didn’t think that he’d veer off so deeply and completely into his family history. Now, he felt like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was lightness, even despite the topic of the conversation and all the memories that it brought up. Perhaps, it was Elain’s gentle, contemplative acceptance, or the sorrow written on her soft, flower-like face, or this happiness that she was displaying right now that made his tale tolerable and worthwhile. She reached and grabbed his hand and asked, “Your mother lives?”

“She does. And it pleases me that she is happy. She deserves it.”

Elain threaded her fingers with his and then, quietly, inquired, “Will I be able to meet her? Not now, of course, but,”

“I think she’d love to meet you as well. I think she’d love to meet you anytime. You have similar qualities, even similar interests,”

“Like what?”

“She is an accomplished baker—actually, that’s what she does. She has a pastry shop in the town where they live. It’s very popular,”

“Is that where you got your sweet tooth?” she joked.

“Probably. Even if I’d never eat anything sweet until I was an adult.”

“Why?”

“My childhood did not allow for sweets,” he answered blandly, not wanting to return to that place in his head.

Instead, Elain asked, “what else?”

“She likes flowers, like you. They have a lovely garden.”

He smirked then, and made a wide gesture with his hand,

“And speaking of flowers...I see we have all these weeds now in the house,”

“Weeds?” she shrieked indignantly, while he nodded and laughed. 

“Weeds?”

“Yeah, weeds...I’ve never had flowers in this house,”

“That’s weird but also untrue,” she cut him off.

“Is it?” he was laughing.

“I saw two jasmine plants--in the bedroom and in your study. Are they weeds that you allow?”

He got up so swiftly, she barely registered it with her own eyes. And then he was on his knees in front of her, cupping her face between his rough palms. She slid towards him, wrapping her legs loosely around his torso, just under the wings. She smiled at him, and nudged her face to kiss the inside of his palm.

“What?”

He looked at her long and hard, as if trying to drink in her loveliness, memorise every line of her face.

“I must have jasmine,” he said at last, leaning in and kissing her cheek. Then the other cheek. Then her temple. And then tenderly, slowly, each eye. 

“Az,” she breathed, wrapping her hands over his thick, strong wrists. His thumbs brushed along her face, and he said, “you are my jasmine, my beautiful flower. The scent is you. The day I returned from the human lands, from your estate, after meeting you for the first time, I had to go to Hewn City and perform some unpleasant tasks.”

Elain guessed, but did not question what those tasks might have been.

“And then I went and bought a jasmine plant, because all I wanted to do was think about you.”

Her breath halted and she stared at him.

He sighed apologetically, “I didn’t have anything of you, so I figured that maybe I could have your scent,”

“I smell of jasmine?”

“You don’t know?” he seemed surprised.

She shook her head.

“Jasmine and honey. You are a cross between a flower and a pastry,” he smiled and kissed her face again. “My favourite scent. So whenever I slept here, I’d always wake up to your scent and it made for a good day…”

He reached behind her and then scooped her in his arms.

“I am proud of myself, because I managed to keep these plants alive this whole time!”

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he rose to his feet.

“What about dessert? And the dishes?” she protested unconvincingly.

He nuzzled at her neck and growled, “You are my dessert.”

She shivered with pleasure, and he added, “and dishes...that’s what I have the shadows for. They’ll take care of it. Lex,” he barked. “Make yourself useful and clear the table.”

“I don’t know how,” Lex immediately protested. 

“Then learn,” Azriel suggested, as Elain laughed into his neck.

“I don’t want to. Don’t you have others to do the dishes?” Lex argued.

“How about doing what I tell you?” Azriel proposed.

Lex floated to the table, apparently surveyed it and then declared,

“I am tired.”

“That’s the shadow you gave me?” Elain whispered into his ear. “A shadow that is lazy and that gets tired?”

“I can hear you, Elain,” Lex pointed out.

“If you are so tired, go to sleep,” she told it.

“I don’t want to. I am not so tired.”

“Lex is only so tired when it comes to clearing the dishes,” Azriel huffed and released a cloud of his own, less problematic and temperamental, shadows. “You can do whatever you want, but don’t bother us until the morning.”

Elain stroked and scratched the back of his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, as he carried her slowly to the bedroom, his face buried in her hair.

“Did you like dinner?” she asked, sighing softly and happily.

“It was perfect. Perfect. But, one request, if I may?”

She looked up and smiled, “you may?”

“Raisins in the rice...lots of raisins,” he requested.

“A little side of rice with a mountain of raisins?” she laughed and nodded. “Raisins it is.”

He kissed her cheek and she pouted, “But I really wanted you to have my dessert!”

“Breakfast? Dessert pastry for breakfast?” he offered, giving her a conciliatory kiss.

“I suppose.”

They finally made it to the bedroom, and Azriel closed the door behind them with his foot.

There was a sleek, comfortable leather chair in the bedroom that stood by the wall of windows, and Azriel headed straight for it, sprawling easily, his wings splaying against the wide back. He did not release her, but sat her on top of him, so she straddled his hips. His large, warm hands immediately migrated to her lush bottom, perhaps his favourite feature of hers, at least so far. He was hoping that he could explore many, many more parts of her, slowly and thoroughly, and soon.

She looked at him, her face soft and rosy, that delicious blush of her spreading slowly over her cheeks. Gods, he thought that he’d never get enough of that blush, would never want to stop making her blush like that, because of how his proximity made her feel.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and he tugged on the silk ribbon that tied her long, thick braid. 

“You haven’t called me ‘baby’ today,” she reminded him, her voice warm and husky, and the sound of it made him shift beneath her. 

“No?” 

She shook her head, his tongue slowly brushing her lower lip, before she clamped it in her teeth, watching him from under her lashes. Slowly he released the thick golden strands of her hair from the plait and it fell like a silky curtain around her shoulders and her face.

His finger lightly pulled at the collar of his shirt that she was wearing and he leaned and kissed her collarbone.

“Well, that’s my fault then,” he breathed against her neck, and kissed the other collarbone, before he unbuttoned the top button. “Will my baby forgive me?” he then kissed between the collarbones and proceeded to unbutton another button.

“I don’t know,” she gasped, “what will you do?”

“As penance?” he smiled, watching her pulse quicken, and the vein under her pale skin fill with blood.

“Let’s hear it,” she welcomed coyly.

He smiled, amused and secretly entertained. It was adorable when she took a little bit of charge, and decided to be in control. He liked it. She was quiet and unobtrusive, but she knew when to stand up and be heard and when to step back. She wasn’t as shy and retiring as everyone assumed she was, but that was probably because very few actually paid attention and learned about who she was. She did. He paid attention to everything.

“I undress you?” he proposed simply.

She squirmed just a bit, but then gave a single nod.

He found the buttons for the back slats of the shirt and then asked casually, as he worked them with his fingers,

“Tell me what you want, my darling girl.”

His voice was soft, but there was something imperative in his tone, which left little room for debate. 

“I-I...what do you mean?” she stammered.

He was cool and steady, as he pulled the shirt off her shoulders and repeated, “Just tell me what you want?”

“You?”

He smiled,

“Are you unsure?”

“No! I am very sure. I just don't know what you are asking,”

“I think that you do,” he said evenly. 

“What do you want?” she then asked in turn.

He sighed and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. She gasped, but he pulled away before she could even react.

“You, emani,” he said simply. “I want you, just as well. But I also think that I want more…I think that I want everything. Everything you can give me, anything you are willing to share with me. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I think that I want to be greedy this time around. For the first time in my life, I want a woman, a female,”

“A woman,” she murmured.

“A woman,” he agreed easily, “to give me all of her.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes bright and almost entirely green in the dim light of the bedroom. “Body--yes,” he looked down at her, and almost groaned, “gods yes, I want this body. But so much more. I don't want to sound like a feral Fae male,”

At that, Elain smiled softly, wordlessly giving him permission to be just that.

His hands grabbed her hips, grounding her on his thighs and he said, “But I don’t care. I want you to be mine. I want to know every day, every moment that you are mine and that you feel something for me. Because I want to be yours. I don’t give a fuck about your bond, the lack of our own,”

“We don’t need a bond,”

“We don’t,” he nodded, “because you are mine and I'm yours.”

“And that’s more than enough for me. Also, you are already quite feral, so I don’t think I need any more ferocity.”

At that, Azriel laughed openly and she giggled, liking when her jokes made him laugh. Then, more seriously, he added, “I think that after 500 years, I am ready for something new. This nomadic existence is nice, but honestly, I think that I am tired of wanting...of hoping. I have you--if you’d have me--and I am ready to,”

“Oh, no, am I making my shadowsinger settle?” she mused.

“I think the shadowsinger doesn’t mind settling at all. When I built this apartment,” and he jerked his chin, “it was the first thing that was my own. I’d always shack up in the House of Wind, or at Rhys’s, and it was fine. I felt busy, and I didn’t feel like….” he stumbled. “Like I deserved good things. Any things, really. But then Rhys was Under the Mountain, and we protected the city, kept everything running, and I started thinking that there had to be a reason for all of this sadness and when I looked at the people who lived, who had families and some semblance of happiness, who found joy in the very day, I thought that maybe I should try to strive for the same. It took me another half a century to meet you,” he chuckled tensely, and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “But here we are. And honestly,” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “coming home tonight, and finding you here,”

For the first time, perhaps ever, Elain watched him being emotional about something. Or at least as emotional as he ever got. 

“It was the best feeling,” he concluded at last. This was also probably the most Azriel’s said in his entire life--tonight, when he told her of his mother, when he was making this confession to her right now, was the most verbose that Azriel’s ever allowed himself to be. 

“I like being here. With you,” she said simply and sweetly. And then she leaned in and kissed his eyes softly. “Cooking for us. Being in this house…”

Azriel knew that Elain’s nature was domestic, nurturing, and she was happiest when she had control over her life, over her domicile, over her surroundings. He wasn't the only one who needed control in his life--in their desire for planning and order, they matched very well. The upheavals of the past decade certainly pushed her to crave a sense of stability and ownership, and he accepted that. Liked it, since that’s what he was lacking in his own past.

For her, he’d wrestle and wrangle the peace and tranquility that they both craved. 

“Now...will you undress me already?” she ordered impatiently and he grinned. 

“It’s your turn,” he reminded her, “I’ve said more words in the last fifteen minutes than I’ve in the past century.”

As he slipped his shirt down her torso, baring her pale skin, so in contrast with the dark bronze of his own, she said quietly, barely looking at him, 

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

He did not press, waiting for her to speak. His heart lurched with secret satisfaction at her words, but he tried to keep his excitement muted.

“Not in everything,” she continued, her head inclined towards her chest, watching her breasts, covered with a lacy wrap.

The Fae, as she quickly learned, did not wear corsets. And thank the Mother for that. Their clothes were practical. No petticoats, no unnecessary shifts, no hooped skirts, no scarfs or flounces to cover the bodice. No issues with females wearing trousers or pants either. The Night Court fashions were on a more scandalous side, so much so that Elain and Nesta often bucked at some of the dresses that were presented to them. Feyre and Mor favoured scraps of translucent fabric and some strategically placed belts and straps and that’s about all. Elain still wore dresses, but none required half an hour of cinching and tying to get into them. Undergarments were simple as well, elegant and well-made, for the Fae took pride and care in their immortal bodies and their underthings. She grew to love the uncomplicated breast wraps, that supported everything quite well, but allowed for easy movement and only needed a satin tie or a few pearl buttons to stay put. 

“But I don’t want to even pretend like I know anything,” she lay her hands on her lap, to prevent herself from squeezing her fingers. “And I…” she licked her luscious lip, “I think that you would enjoy telling me what to do.”

Her gaze fell on his mouth, the sensuous line of it.

“I would.”

His throat bobbed just a bit, excitement coursing through his veins. 

“So you’ll have to tell me,” she decided. “And I will listen.”

“You’ve been listening to me already,” Azriel noted, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, as he stroked the nape lightly. “I’ve noticed you are not wringing your fingers anymore.”

“I don’t,” she nodded. “Thank you for that. I didn’t think much of it when you told me, but now I understand. Surprisingly, it centers me. My mind doesn’t race when I do it.”

“A concentration technique,” he smiled. 

“But also a test, I think. To see if I would listen?” she cocked her head at him.

He didn’t want to lie, so he nodded.

Softly, she wondered, “Is that what you like?”

“Control? Yes.”

“Pain?” she blinked nervously.

“No. Not pain. I certainly prefer pleasure to pain, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t indulged in both. With you,” he ran his thumb over her mouth, “I think pleasure is the way to go.”

She kissed the pad of this thumb, its rough skin and decided, “I trust you. I think that I would like to listen to you and do what you tell me.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons with his available hand and tossed the shirt on the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he said, “open up” and Elain, a little unsure, parted her lips. “Lick.”

She made to reach for his wrist, but he only moved his head and guided her, “Mouth only.”

She acquiesced, and slowly pulled the thumb inside her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, watching him watch her with a content, pleased expression on his granite-hewn, perfect face. 

“Lick,” he said again, without any further prompting. She licked. She dragged her tongue up and down his thumb, secretly marveling at the fact that his hand was the first thing that he allowed her to touch so intimately. Despite the intricate network of thick, mottled scars that covered his hands, snaked up all the way to his forearm on his left arm and reached his bicep on his right, his hands were beautiful, like the rest of him. The fingers were long and strong, with well-cared for nails, and the palm itself wide and large and powerful, his fist frighteningly enormous. 

Elain licked, as thoroughly as she could, finding that it made her pant a little, squirm atop of him, and she didn’t understand why. She hoped that he was enjoying it, because she certainly was. 

“My good girl,” he stroked her hair, dragging his other hand over her head, and at the name, she felt her nipples strain against the silk and lace of her wrap, “suck now…”

Barely giving her time to pause, he fed two fingers in her mouth, index and middle, and she gulped on air, sucking them inside. “Nice and slow,” he coached softly, rubbing them against her soft, wet tongue, “show me, how much you like it.”

She liked it. Even if the fingers took up most of her mouth, there was something sensual and primal, having his hand in her mouth. It was daringly intimate, and while she dreamed of kisses and caresses, somehow, with this one gesture, he brought her into a different realm. It was a place where she yearned to step into, and explore the possibilities that she hadn’t even imagined yet. 

She sucked, slowly, as instructed, acquainting herself with the feel and the taste, watching him prod her mouth rhythmically, in and out, while she met the shallow thrusts with her tongue and lips.

“Good,” he approved, and she loved the praise on his lips, and how he watched her, her face, the workings of her tongue, and the even, languorous bobbing of her breasts within the confines of the wrap. She propped herself on his shoulders, as his arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed her behind. He increased the speed ever so slightly, reaching almost all the way to her throat, and she dripped on her chin, but as she attempted to wipe the saliva, he shook his head and she stopped. 

“Messy is good,” he whispered into her ear, leaning closer, so that her breasts slid and bounced against his chest, and the brush of her nipples over the silk became almost painful. A wave of heat rolled over her entire body, and for the first time in her life, she felt an ache. An ache deep inside of her, a ravenous hunger, which remained unsatisfied.

“Keep sucking,” he muttered into her cheek, his lips pressed to it tightly, as he lightly bit the hollowed spot, the teeth scraping over her skin. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, probably more strongly than she anticipated, perhaps even hurting him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop, but gods, the ache inside of her was horrible.

Azriel felt the powerful drip of her arousal against his thigh, as she writhed against him, warm and wet and panting in his arms. He loved watching her become this excited, offering him her mouth, giving him pleasure, her swift little tongue working tirelessly and hurriedly over his fingers. His sweet, beautiful girl. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep himself in check right now, though he definitely considered taking this a bit further...perhaps undressing her more. But then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remain so composed if she was naked. Perhaps tomorrow. 

He allowed her to suck for a bit longer, until, without warning, pulled his fingers out of her mouth.

She was taken aback at the loss, and stared at him, looking alarmed.

“Baby, was that good?” he smiled at her, and seeing that he wasn’t upset, she nodded eagerly.

“I can suck more, if you’d like,” she offered.

He wiped her wet chin and then brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. The gesture caused her to bloom with a delectable blush that he loved so much. 

“Did you...did you like it?” she almost whispered, and he teased her,

“Why are you whispering?”

She chuckled, wiping her chin.

“But yes, I absolutely loved it,” he said, relaxing back in the chair. “You did so well.”

She smoothed her hair and then straightened out, a small smile on her full lips, and watched him easily, but assuredly slide his palm between her legs.

She was warm and damp, and he brushed a knuckle along the seam of her sex, soliciting a little yelp of surprise and enjoyment from her. 

“I am wet,” she blurted, and then stopped, eyes wide.

“You are,” he said simply, approval lacing his voice. “Have you not been wet before?”

He cupped her, holding his palm against her leaking core, but did not press further. He wanted her to open up to him, and somewhat surprisingly, she did,

“I don’t think I have. Not like this.”

It pleased him to hear that he’d made her this wet, but a question gnawed on him nevertheless,

“But when you gave him your maidenhead, you must have,”

“Not like this,” she said shyly, shaking her head. 

“It hurt then?”

She nodded.

Annoyance rippled over his face, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Usually, he was not this expressive of his feelings, whatever they were, but with her, it was different. He cupped her cheek and then pulled her to him, so she sprawled on his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

“It’s a shame that he didn’t make the experience better…”

“They say it always hurts,”

“It doesn’t have to,” he argued. “It has to be pleasurable.”

“I guess I was expecting it,” she shrugged. “It was...alright.”

“Alright should never be the experience, especially not the first one,” he sniped, but didn’t push.

She ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the thick, hard mass of his pectorals beneath the thin knit fabric of his shirt. Azriel stroked her bare back, walking his fingers along the spine.

Suddenly, she murmured, “I want to shout.” 

He waited, wondering when she meant. 

She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, but remained tucked into his chest.

“I want to shout,” she repeated at last. “From pleasure. I’ve heard them...Nesta and Feyre. They scream.”

“And you haven't?” even though he posed it as a question, it was more of a statement. It did not particularly surprise him that she hadn’t had a climax, but internally, he felt a twinge of sadness. Yet, there was also a hopeful feeling of anticipation fluttering in his chest--for he’d be the one to provide her with her pleasure. He’d be the one who’d make her ‘shout’. 

A plan was already forming in his head. Even when it came to sexual matters, Azriel preferred to plan ahead, have a path to follow, but then again, most of his encounters were pre-arranged in some way, so it was easier to accomplish. With Elain though--his Elain was special. She was his heart’s desire, and for her he felt many things, including passion. Passion was not something he dabbled in frequently, since he was not one to be quickly overcome by it, and never did he lose himself or his senses in a female. Sure, there was an occasional tumble against the wall with a panting, willing, nameless female, but it was an itch to be scratched, and nothing more. 

“No,” she ground briefly against his hand, pushing into him. “But I want to. I think it would be nice to let go...to feel that free. So unburdened.”

She fell quiet and then, after a lengthy silence added, “With you. I want it to be with you only.”

“I should hope so,” he smiled. “Now, I would like to take you to bed and sleep in your arms. The entire night. Because I am fucking tired!”

Elain laughed and sat up, before jumping off him and tugging him off the chair.

“I want you to sleep in my arms as well!”

Elain loved getting ready for bed alongside him. 

Needless to say that she’d never done that before. Even back in their hovel, she tried to carve a few minutes to herself, in privacy, even with her sisters banging on the privy door. But she never felt uncomfortable with Azriel, and even now as she washed her face, combed through her tangled hair, brushed her teeth, she watched him do the same next to her, and it felt inexplicably normal. 

“I’ll finish undressing you,” he warned, before she headed into the closet. She paused, and sensing her hesitation, he added lightly, “You know, I can undress a female without baring her.”

“Is that a shadowsinging ability?” she joked, picking out a nightgown from the stack that one of the twins had delivered.

“No,” he called out from the bathing room. “It’s a male’s ability.”

When she emerged, he was standing by the bed, reading some document which he somehow fished out of somewhere. He was naked, save for his black undershorts, which contoured everything with egregious explicitness. Elain glanced down his torso. Those well-defined hip muscles, as well as the ridged abdomen were nothing but a mouthwatering temptation. But then she snagged another look,

And he caught it.

A smirk appeared on his lips and he said,

“You can look, you know.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she declared primly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You are right, not at all,” he jerked his head to have her come to him. He sat down on the bed and she approached, stopping in front of him.

“This will be my job, from now on,” his voice was heavy with promise, “to undress you. Every night.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “What if I want to undress you?”

“Then you should.”

He easily rolled her tights down her thighs and legs, until she stepped out of them and stood in front of him, almost nude, in only her silk underwear. 

Elain was more supple, more voluptuous than her sisters. Nesta was rail thin, with surprisingly large breasts, a ramrod straight back and long, skinny legs. Feyre was both feminine and boyish at once, pretty, lithe, but unremarkable, at least to Azriel. 

Elain, his Elain, was a delicious pastry incarnate. She was correct, he did have a sweet tooth. And she satisfied all his aesthetic cravings, and possessed all the qualities that he enjoyed. Contrary to what others thought, Elain was not small or petite--she was as tall as Feyre, and both were just a tad shorter than Nesta. But compared to an Illyian, these girls were small and delicate. 

He couldn’t stop himself, and placed his hands on her hips, drawing a scrutinising gaze over her luscious body. Then, he placed a soft kiss on her belly, before rubbing his cheek over her soft, full breast. She stroked the back of his neck, down his spine and sighed with enjoyment.

“I have a proposal,” he looked up at her, and then drew a naughty finger along the cleft of her cleavage. She rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed at the reaction. “Don’t trust me?”

She did. And she was always intrigued by his ‘proposals’.

“Every night this week,” he began, punctuating his words with mellow, light kisses up and down her chest and the valley between her breasts, “you’ll show me a new piece of yourself...What do you think?”

“Naked?” she breathed.

“Yes, baby, naked.”

He pressed his lips to her nipple, suddenly biting it through the silk of her wrap. Her nipples were thick and plump and he easily caught one between his teeth, considering how overstimulated she already was. She hissed softly, when he bit. He bit. Not particularly painfully, but he bit and tugged the nipple with his teeth, watching her the entire time.

She gasped a mewling ‘oy’, and he released, but only slightly.

“A little bit every night, until nothing is left. Until you are bared to me in all your loveliness.”

“Yes,” she groaned, as he nibbled and tugged on her nipple. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

“Is this what you want to wear,” he went to take the nightgown from her hands, but she dropped it on the floor and said, “I don’t want to wear anything. Just this.”

He scooted back and pulled the covers and the blankets for her.

“I won’t argue. Come here.”

She slid in bed beside him and he moved on his stomach, which was his preferred sleeping position. His wings draped over the two of them, and he pulled her closer.

She kissed his shoulder, and settled under his arm. 

His breath evened out, and she thought that he fell asleep, until

“No one’s made dinner for me before,” he murmured. 

She stroked his forearm and then kissed his shoulder again.

He was warm and solid next to her, a veritable wall of muscle and she never felt more comfortable and content in her life. He slipped his heavy, large leg between hers, and her thighs wrapped around him instinctively.

“No one?”

He tucked his face atop of her head and kissed her face.

“No.”

“I will cook for you,” she offered, “and we’ll cook together. And you’ll cook for me. Because no one’s cooked for me either.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

Elain smiled and then asked,

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Gulchatai.”

“Now I feel like I know something about you...something personal. It’s nice.”

“Elain, wake up!”

A cool whiff of air bounced up and down her face, and Elain swiped Lex away, only to have it come back momentarily. “Wake up!”

“Leave her alone,” she heard Azriel’s hiss. “Right now.”

“Why can’t she wake up?” complained Lex. “I am bored!”

“She doesn’t exist to entertain you.”

“I am awake, I am awake,” she moaned. “Stop sitting on my face.”

Eyes still half closed, she made her way to the bathing room, took care of her needs and appearance, and splashed her face with cold water. 

She glanced at herself in the large mirror. She couldn't say what it was, but she looked different. Confident? Perhaps. But more like ripe. Ripe for the taking.

As always, Azriel was propped against the headboard, swarmed with shadows, wearing his glasses and reading pages of reports.

“Come here, baby,” he called, “morning kisses.”

She smiled and bounded towards the bed, immediately giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“My gorgeous girl,” his hand swiped over her bare stomach, then her naked thigh. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you,” she kissed him again. He wrapped his arm around her and pushed her head into his chest. 

“Morning news?” she smiled, watching the swirling mass of dark shadows around him. He nodded.

“Lex, do you have any news for me?” she then inquired.

“I don’t know anything!” 

“How come everyone else knows something and you don’t know anything?”

A pause, and then Lex sat on her chest and asked, “what do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the children,” she proposed.

Azriel was listening to them absently, smiling.

Shadows, just like horses or puppies, had to be trained and cultivated. Elain was learning that lesson right now. 

“Temal’s got into a fight,” reported Lex. Elain rolled her eyes. “Is he hurt?”

“No. But he was put on time-out.”

“What about the other boy?”

“He has two back eyes. Temal has one. And then Kira ate a big slice of cake before dinner.”

Then Lex rattled off her schedule for today, and asked, “You like this news?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Aziel was stuck dealing with some issue, already sending his shadows on some investigative mission when Elain threw on his shirt from yesterday--the first thing she found--and padded to the kitchen. Lex, as alway, was now yapping nonstop, giving her unnecessary gossip about the Fae that she barely even heard of. But as it was the case everywhere, there were famous Fae, scandalous Fae, notorious Fae. There was Anselma, a very popular singer, who was married, but her husband has been seen with another singer, Gunda, who was also sporting a pregnant belly. Whose babe do you think it is? pressed Lex busily. 

“Well, I don’t know!” Elain shrugged, as she began preparing coffee. She didn’t bother with tea, because she actually grew to like coffee quite a lot. Azriel had the best, finest variety, all the way from Day Court, where the soil produced the best coffee crops.

“How can you not care?” exclaimed Lex, “everyone is talking about it! It’s news.”

“I think the babe is Coast’s,” she humoured the shadow, even if she didn’t care.

“I think so too!” Lex agreed immediately.

Elain set the table, when Azriel entered quickly, shaking his head, looking at the clock.

He, nevertheless, slowed down, and came behind her, sliding his hand under her shirt and pulling her to him.

“I am sorry I am not helping,” he murmured, kissing her neck tenderly. 

“It’s fine,” she smiled.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

“Or would you like to go out?”

She pointed to the table and said, “How could I forget--you are supposed to be courting me.”

“I am courting you,” he reminded her and poured them both coffee.

“Human courting is all about balls and being seen in society, and picnics and Tea,”

“Do you want to go on a picnic?” he teased. “It’s late autumn? But, if you insist,”

She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “I like this courting more.”

“Oh thank the gods.”

He dug into the pear tart that she’d baked yesterday, and groaned with delight and pleasure, as he polished off the first slice and then moved on to the second right away.

“This is glorious,” he grumbled and Elain smiled a soft, secret smile, watching him enjoy himself.

“Why didn’t we eat this last night?”

“You took me to bed!” she exclaimed, indignant.

“You should’ve insisted.”

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“I feel like it kind of is,”

She threatened, “I will take it away!”

“Fine, try,” he challenged. “But don’t think that I won’t fight you for it! Just because you are a girl and I like you. And I’ll win.”

She bubbled her lips and parried, incredulous, “I have Cauldron powers! You are just some little Illyrian soldier…”

He burst out laughing and then grabbed her hand and kissed it. “We’ll have to have a discussion about your powers later. But, baby, there is nothing little in this Illyrian soldier.”

She immediately glanced at his wings that were peaking behind him. 

“Now he is Cassian,” she muttered.

He laughed, but then tipped her chin and tsked, “no, no, no. You won't weasel out of this that easily. You’ve been eyeing my wings since last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You’ve never paid them that much attention before.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Hmmm.”

“You are the one saying that you are huge!” she threw.

“I never said any such thing,” he took a slow sip and raised his brow at her. “But tell me...you and the twins have been gossiping about the wings?”

“No,” she lied.

“Hmmm.”

“Stop humming!”

“What did Cerridwen say?” he inquired. Cauldron damn him. Was there something he didn’t know?

“She said absolutely nothing. Other than that you are...well-endowed.”

Elain blushed at his amused smirk.

He looked her over, lazily, seemingly forgetting that he was in a hurry.

“The tart was delectable,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Then, he tugged on his lower lip and mused, almost to himself.

“But I am still hungry.”

“I can make you eggs,” she proposed.”Toast,”

He ran his finger along her arm and murmured, “I have something else in mind. A Bagratian breakfast.”

But if Elain expected him to move and prepare this breakfast, he didn’t shift from his chair.

He thought and then moved his plate and patted the spot that the plate vacated.

“Come here, baby. My beautiful sweetheart,” he urged her off her chair, until she sat, a little stiffly on the table in front of him. “Let’s spread your legs a little, so we are both comfortable,” and he parted her thighs, while pushing himself closer to her, settling between her legs. 

“May I have my breakfast?” he asked her, kissing her cheek softly, watching her sink and melt against him. 

“Yes,” she gasped.

“This breakfast,” he whispered against her skin, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on her neck, as he undid the few buttons in the back of the knit shirt, “is very, very popular…”

Elain could barely breathe, let alone pay attention to his explanation. Not when he tugged the shirt down her body, not when his scent washed over her, and not...oh, gods…

Azriel didn’t take his intense gaze off her when he pulled on the silk string of her breast wrap and it parted easily for him. Elain stopped breathing, pink and gorgeously hot in front of him, her hair a halo of dark gold around her, her knuckles white, as she gripped the edge of the table. He smiled and kissed her neck again. 

“Why are you so tense?”

“I...I don’t know,” she panted softly, her breasts rising and falling, just barely covered by the silk. “I, Az...oh...I just want you so badly,” she admitted nervously. 

“Good.”

And then he flipped the flaps of the wrap off her breasts, baring her completely for himself.

“Why are you so beautiful?” he muttered wholeheartedly, looking at the lovely pink nipples that swell before his eyes, at the soft, generous roundness of her breasts. 

Her back arched just a bit, as she displayed herself fully for him, no longer shy, once he laid his eyes on her and took her in with such unabashed hunger in his eyes.

“Taste,” she breathed and at once, he was a male unleashed. He brought her breast to his lips and bit her fat pink nipple, like he did last night. But there was no silk barrier between them today, and she felt his hot breath and the sharp clamp of his teeth over the nipple, as he pulled it deep in his mouth.

She almost tumbled on top of him, but he held her still, threading his fingers with hers, pressing her hands into the table. 

“Oh gods,” she moaned, “Az...gods…”

“You are so delicious,” he vowed, working his tongue over the nipple, wrapping it over the little knob, licking and licking with relentless determination. Elain squirmed and panted next to him, but he kept her hands firmly in his grasp, not allowing her to touch him. Her arousal hit him like a wave of pure ambrosia, the scent indescribable, her whole body melding into him. He wished he could adjust himself within his pants, but that would mean releasing her hands and he didn’t want to do that. So he bit the soft flesh of her breast again, sucking on the tender skin and watching tiny purple marks bloom along the trail of his teeth, until he returned to the nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. She buckled and cried out, babbling something, and grasping his fingers painfully, while he sucked harshly, feeling the nipple grow and firm up in his mouth, lapping on it with ravenous determination.

“Fuck, Elain, baby,” he grunted, licking the underside of her breast, before covering the whole globe with kisses.The kisses were not soft or gentle, but candidly lustful, his mouth possessive, claiming, marking her. “Feels good, my sweet?”

“Az, my love, I need to…” she whined, almost in tears of frustration, especially as he pulled on her nipple with his teeth again, offering her the sweet, lacerating pain that she was craving so much. “Let me touch you,” she begged.

“Right now, it’s for me,” he declined. “If you're touching me, I can’t concentrate on you. Or what I want from you. And your tits are magnificent!”

“Suck more,” she begged, “please…”

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, and then ordered, “don’t touch,” when he released the grip of one of her hands. Obediently, she pushed her hand under her thigh, so as not to be tempted. He cupped her other breast, squeezing it tightly, quickly learning that gentleness was not something Elain needed. In all his previous fantasies, his assumption was that she’d like a sweet, tender approach. And truth be told, he didn’t expect to unleash on her quite so ferociously right now, surprising even himself. But she took it all, and she wanted more. So when he dug his scarred, strong fingers into her supple flesh, and when he brought the two glorious globes together, to suck her swollen tight nipples at once, he knew that she wanted him to do just that. 

He loved breasts. He especially loved Elain’s breasts. But as he worked his mouth on her, sucking both of her lovely nipples, he also loved her response. She almost fell back on the table, and he caught her just in time, before her head landed on the hard surface. He cupped the back of her head, and stretched over her, kissing each swelling breast, and dragging his tongue thoroughly over each nipple, while she leaked and trembled under him.

“Good?”

“Oh good,” she admitted breathlessly. “Why didn’t you do this to me before?”

A smile touched his lips and he tongued her nipples leisurely, watching her, as he reminded her, “This is a forbidden romance, my love.”

“Oh yeah...I forgot,”

“I think that our High Lord doesn’t want me to do anything to you.”

He winked at her and she grimaced. She was ridiculously wet between her legs, but she no longer cared. Actually, she lost all inhibitions and all sense of propriety. She didn’t care about anything, other than his beautiful, demanding mouth on her breasts, his tongue working magic on her nipples. 

Before she could do anything, he pulled her up, so she sat back up in front of him.

“I haven't forgotten my breakfast,” he winked at her again, and then, unexpectedly, dipped his fingers in the butter jar, and smeared a generous layer of fatty, creamy sludge over her breast, his thumb teasing her aching nipple inexorably. 

“Oh,” she gushed, as he settled on the chair, between her legs, and held the breast in one palm, while concocting something enticing.

“The Bagarat Breakfast Bun,” he explained casually, as if he wasn’t sprinkling her buttered tit with a dash of cinnamon, and then a pinch of sugar. “Who needs pastries, right?” he pondered, and then gobbled her whole breast up, swallowing a good part of it, licking off the sugary spiced butter with his tongue, scraping his teeth over the skin, the nipple.

Elain almost fainted. Her vision darkened and were it not for the support of his massive arm, she surely would have fallen over.

“Sit still, baby, and let me enjoy,” he commanded with pretend sternness, as he treated her other breast with the same care and also added a dash of cream, which leaked obscenely into his mouth off her nipple.

“Oh, I think I like this version more,” he concluded, dribbling more cream over her breast and sucking it off her nipple, along with the butter.

“It’s a lot of fat, this early in the morning,” she protested, “you will have a heart attack!”

“I am immortal,” he reminded her. Then, he ordered, “hold your titties for me, please. So I can enjoy them in peace.”

She smirked, but cupped both of her breasts and presented them to him, as he dipped her nipples in even more cream and sucked hungrily. 

“My love,” she cooed to him, after she dipped her nipple into the cream herself and sprinkled it with sugar, “I think that I like your Bagarat pastry.”

“Bun,” he pinched her behind, “Bagarat Bun.”

He sucked a little more.

The little jar of cream was empty.

“Tomorrow, we’ll share it,” he promised, but did not elaborate.

She nodded. She’d agree to anything right now. 

“By the end of the week, you’ll be feeding me yourself,” he added and then softly kissed her lips, securing his promise with his mouth. 

He straightened and got up, brushing his thumb over her lips and popping it inside, for her to suck. She sucked, willingly, eagerly, watching him.

“And you will be naked,” he concluded, running his hand over her head. 

She nodded. 

“Would you like that, my good girl?”

She nodded again. 

She looked ravaged and he loved it. Swollen tits, dripping with sugar and cream, and coated in the remnants of butter, her hair a mess, her mouth wrapped around his thumb, sucking noisily. 

The idea of his cock in that glorious mouth, sucking just as noisily made his unbearably hard. He was already hard as granite, his cock aching and demanding, but when she sucked his fingers, it released a beast within him.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and bent to kiss her.

“Thank you, my love,” she murmured, her brown eyes looking at him with complete adoration.

“It was a perfect breakfast, Lainey,” Azriel smiled. “Thank you. I’ve got to go, but I will see you later?”

“Of course. But I have a request for you to mull over,” she jumped off the table, not bothering to cover up.

“I am listening.”

“I’d like for you to teach me how to handle a dagger.”

[simpingforsoftboys]

Too Little Too Late

ft. IwaOi

G/N reader

TW: Neglect, manipulation, toxicity in general, swearing

Read this first

tysm for the request anon! It’s about time Y/n stood up for themselves don’t you think? That’s the thing about relationships like these. It’s so hard to get out of them once you’re in deep- even if you can see every single red flag clear as day.

Also I’ve decided that since these are lengthy- there will be separate parts for Kuroken, SakuAtsu, and OsaSuna in the future.

 This one is something I actually turned into a two shot: part one and part two. So same plot line, just goes more in depth on the “break up” part.

This was it, you were finally going to do it. After two decades of following your soon to be ex boyfriends around, it was time for you to step out of their shadow- into the limelight of independency. Still, you felt like a coward- leaving them while neither were even in the country. It was petty perhaps, but deep down within your heart- the vindictive, evil, and cruel part of you whispered that this was what they deserved. You were nearly finished packing- two suitcases stuffed to the max with your clothing and any small, expensive purchase you bought for yourself. Now all you needed to do was shove anything else that could fit into your duffel bag. 

This wasn’t a new idea. Leaving them that is. In fact, you’d been thinking about it for years already. Honestly, you doubted you’d have even begun noticing just how unbalanced your current dynamic with your two “lovers” was, until a stranger- turned friend had pointed it out. 

His name had been Miya Atsumu- he had gone to Tokyo University just like you and was the starting setter for their volleyball team. He was flirty at first, acting like a stereotypical frat boy. Despite telling him you had not one- but two partners- he hadn’t left you alone at that fateful party. 

“Wait... yer datin’ that newbie setter from Argentina? AND Iwaizumi... the one who’s boutta transfer over to that American university?” Atsumu questioned incredulously, nearly doing a spit take, he leans over your figure and places his red solo cup down on the counter behind you. 

“Yeah... I know it’s not a normal relationship-” You begin, already used to defending you and your lovers. 

“Nah, that’s not what I’m sayin’ darlin.” The blonde replies, his words make him seem as though he’s hitting on you but somehow there’s an undertone of genuine concern. “Neither of em have even spared ya a glance since ya got here! Seems like they’re the ones in love- not the three of ya.”

You had frowned at his words, shaking them off easily. The three of you were in love, besides, no stranger could have deduced that at first glance- if anything he was just trying to meddle in your happy relationship... so why did his words continue to plague you that night, and for many nights after that? 

Looking back on it now, you should have listened to Atsumu sooner. 

You had countless discussions with Hajime and Toru after the night of the party. They had seemed genuinely sorry and made an effort to be more inclusive. However, they slowly fell back into old habits- time and time again- as if they had forgotten the promises they had made. 

There would be no more discussions, no more nights staying up, waiting for them to come back home from their date. 

There would be no more of the three of you- just Hajime and Toru. 

That thought prevented you from picking up the framed photo on your bedside- the one of you three. It had been taken at a children’s festival that the three of you had taken Takeru too. It was probably the last photo where you had been so blinded by your love for them that you completely glossed over the fact that the only people they were looking at were each other. 

“Y/n... what are you doing?” A raspy voice called from the bedroom’s doorway, startling you from your memories. Body shaking, you turned around to face the owner of the voice. “We came home early to surprise you... only to find you packing your bags?” 

The same two people that you didn’t want to see stood before you. Both toted suitcases and smelt like the airport. You couldn’t find it within yourself to look them in the eyes, fearing that if you did you’d lose your strength, turn around, and begin unpacking.

“Y/n... prince(ss), what’s going on? Talk to us.” Toru whispered, speaking to you as if you were a cornered animal. That analogy wasn’t wrong per say but it did nothing to help you calm your nerves. 

You knew it shouldn’t have but for some reason his tone had made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah babe, let’s put the bags down and take a seat... we can talk about this right after me and Toru shower.” Hajime agreed, his poor choice of words stirring anger within your soul- intense and smoldering like Zeus’s lightning bolts.

“No!” You cry, tears of pent up anger, hurt, and every other negative repressed emotion, begins to well up in your eyes. “I’m going to say this one last time- then I’m going to leave. We won’t talk. I’m not going to... to wait until you finish showering. I’m sick and tired of this- this absolute fucking BULLSHIT!” 

They stare at you wide eyed, not quite knowing how to respond. You don’t even give them the chance to think about how to do so- instead you opt to continue your rant. 

“I love you two so damn much. So, so much- to the point that it hurts me.” Your gaze flickered between the two of them. “Loving you... it breaks my heart. I can’t do it anymore Toru, Hajime. I wanted too- God knows I do. But I can’t keep doing this-”

Toru lets his carry on drop to the floor and races over, attempting to embrace you in a hug. Every bone, every fiber, literally every part of you is begging you to stay trapped in his arms. He’s warm and he’s here. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

Too little too late.

You shove him off, biting back sobs. Hajime hurries behind him, catching the taller male as he falls. 

“Y/n calm down what’s going on? What did we do?” Olive green eyes flit over to meet yours, they’re just as lovely as they have always been. But you notice that they’re also cold, like jade bracelets and old watered down matcha tea. 

“It’s what you didn’t do Haji.” You say and they can see the heart ache on your face. “I love you but you don’t love me- not as much as I love you at least.” Both of them look like they want to argue but you shake your head- effectively silencing them. The picture on the night stand stares back at you tauntingly- ignorance was indeed bliss it seems. Grasping it lightly you place it on the ground and kicked it gently, letting it slide over to where Toru and Hajime are still seated on the ground. The brunette takes it in his hands and examines it. 

“This was when we took Takeru to the children’s festival!” 

“Yeah... we were so happy then... where did that go wrong Y/n? When did you stop smiling like this?” Hajime whispers. 

“I stopped smiling like that when I realized the truth- about us.” They watch as you take a deep breath, composing yourself. “It took me a long while, but I’ve been coming to terms with it.” A choked gasp escapes your lips, leading you to quickly spill the rest of your well kept insecurities. “This... this thing we have going on- it’s a toxic, endless cycle. There’s no us- it’s just Hajime and Toru plus Y/n.”

Toru’s expression morphs from empathetic to down right murderous. He’s offended that you would dare imply something like that. Deep down, you’re sure he knows you’re actually right, and he’s just acting like that to save his pride. A pang of shame hits you- when had you begun thinking mean thoughts like that?

“How could you say that?” He spits, tone devoid of sweetness, now replaced with lethal venom. “Everything we do is for you. We give you money, this nice home, space, time- our love. And you have the fucking gall to say we’re ostracizing you from our relationship? What the hell are you thinking Y/n?” 

You’ve never seen him this angry- not in all the years you’ve known the setter. It sorta terrifies you. Hajime doesn’t bother to reprimand Toru for his tone like usual, instead he looks like he agrees with him. 

“He’s right Y/n, everything we do is for you. Are you mad because we didn’t take you to a wedding? Guess what- that’s just business. Stop being so damn jealous for no reason. You can’t be selfish in our sort of relationship. Didn’t you know that in the first place?” 

They don’t- won’t see things from your point of view. Honestly, what were you even expecting.

“When have I EVER been selfish? I cook, clean, and practically orbit around the two of you. I’m not mad just because of a FUCKING WEDDING! I’m upset- and hurt because you can’t ever see from my eyes. Don’t think I haven’t seen the differences between the looks you give me verses each other. The date nights you forget to include me in- the stolen kisses in the morning you give each other without even thinking about me. Even when I try to initiate something I’m ‘too clingy’ or you’re ‘too busy.’ FUCK THAT. I deserve better. So I think I deserve to be selfish just this once- because this is something I need to do for me. Not for you.” 

They’re stunned, unable to speak. So they say nothing at all, watching you zip up your duffel bag and single handedly take all your baggage out into the living room by yourself. Neither of them say anything when there’s a knock on the door and they can hear your best friend enter their home and help you take your stuff down to their car. 

There’s nothing they can do. So they go to bed without showering, thinking about the things you said and reflecting. You made it quite clear to them. It’s over- the three of you.

[urlocalbunny]

My request is... Boys making reader cry. It could be in an argument, by accident... As you want! 💗💗

Aaron:

You and him were arguing because you had a few disagreements over the last few days where he took more days than normal to come back home after full moon.

"I mean, where have you been this whole time?! This isn't fair at all. I was worried sick about you and you're still here trying to sound right."

The thing is, it got very cold over the days and he was practically freezing, so he stopped by some places he knew to camp while coming back home at night. He got pretty upset when he found out you and him would fight.

"Well, maybe if you stopped to listen for five minutes, you would understand that it's snowing like crazy and I went too far, that's something I have no control over and it happens time to time. I can handle myself, y/n. I'm sorry if it's not the same for you. I know I'm too much already."

You felt guilty when the silence showed the window slamming against the frame. Snow poured inside but nobody bothered to close it. He was, indeed, having a hard time coming back home. You immediately started crying because you were so worried about when he would be back, that you forgot about how he would come back. In fact, he should still be on the road. He hurried home for you.

As soon as Aaron sees the tears threatening to spill, his voice also cracks. "No... What have I done... My beloved, please don't cry. I'm so sorry. I did my best and the fact that you seemed to be angry with me frustrated me, but please... Don't cry. What can I do to make it feel better?"

You hold him tight, apologizing and explaining how worried you were and how you didn't even care about the snow outside. He let a single tear fall into your cheekbone, as you hugged and apologized to each other.

Raphael:

The fight of the day was when Raphael had one of his days where he would think about Mag again. You felt insecure while you watched the scenes unfold, and how much he still felt attached to the woman he once loved.

Raphael barges in the room, making you stop the keys on the piano and watch him, but his face didn't look so happy. He leaned against the door frame in such a weird way that it looked ominous.

You both started an argument because apparently, Raphael could feel your self-loathing over the whole situation and he seemed angry because you interfered with whatever it was that he felt. He was trying to get a point across that you didn't quite understand, until Raphael groaned and looked at you dead in the eyes as if he could see you and said it.

"Y/n. You will never be like Mag. Get this through your head once and for all!" Now, what Raphael was trying to say was that you didn't have to worry because you had another space in his heart that Mag wouldn't take away from you even if she was alive and tried, but you was so drunk in your own insecurities, that the remaining thought was the exact opposite.

When your sobs filled the room, Raphael dreaded the very first day he thought about Mag after meeting you. He ran towards you, cradling you and explaining he loves you now, and Mag was a part of his past life. But that's another story and he misses the life around that time and her company rather than her romantically.

You slowly feel the parts you didn't understand making some sense. "You are not understanding what I mean." "You are special to me, but it is different." "Mag is not here anymore, you are. I just miss her and need some time." "You are here in front of me, what are you scared of?"

You sighed in shame because you had made a mistake when it came to his healing, but Raphael didn't budge as you held each other close in the small bench.

Beliath:

Again, Beliath didn't spend the night at home and you were starting to get pissed. It's not that you cared about his parties, but damn, you were supposed to at least kiss and hug for a while, right?

"We're night creatures, Beliath. Night. It means we're only awake at night. Can't you spare some time for me? This is starting to get ridiculous." "Well, why don't you come with me instead?! You're saying this, but you're also barely making an effort too!" "So at least you're admitting you're lacking?!" "Don't be silly."

You sniffle, then attempt to strom off, but that's not on Beliath's plans. He blocks the door and you yell something he doesn't comprehend because of the sobbing. You are still young as a vampire and pushing him off proves itself hard while trembling in anger.

He sighs and rubs his face while his voice softens. "I'm an asshole, right? I just don't know what to do now that things changed. I thought you didn't need me anymore and I wasn't there for you... The truth is that I miss you every day. Not being able to sense you is... It's weird. I'm so sorry, baby. I've made you cry..."

You look at him, surprise in your eyes as you feel more tears prickling your eyes. You touch his face as he frowns and his sorrow surfaces. "I told you before... I don't know what to do with this and now that I'm feeling things for myself, I... I feel like you'll hate me."

"Beliath. I've seen you with purple eyes, all white and with weird ass veins in your body, clutching your stomach and being a drama queen. You're my man now." You look at each other for a while.

"You sure know how to cheer a man up." "..." "Don't you dare laugh at me." "I'm not g-HAHA-"

He hugs you to muffle the sound, sighing as a smile graces his face.

Vladimir:

Vladimir really didn't mean to be this negative on you and he didn't realize how much his whirlwind of emotions could resonate on you. He just wasn't sure of how much you loved him.

The argument started for a stupid reason. It was just a bunch of chores that he got into and he got a little weak from hunger. He didt realize he skipped a bite and you went to check on him after feeling rather weird.

The thing is, you tried to make sure he wouldn't skip meals anymore and it turned into an argument because he can't seem to understand that sometimes, he isn't being judged. People just genuinely love him.

After a while of slamming doors and arguing, Vladimir rubbed his face and sighed.

"I think you could understand that I'm over three hundred years old, y/n. I'm not stupid!" He sat down in the bed, glowering at you.

"Good God, Vladimir, that's not what I mean!" You sniffled, grabbing onto your pants and squeezing them. "Can't you just see I'm trying to take care of you?! I'm your partner, for fuck's sake. I honestly don't get you and I'm not capable enough to get through to you, a-and you're so over your own head that it gets hard for me to help you. Am I- am I even doing this right?"

He simply shuts you up with a kiss that knocks your breath out of your lungs and makes your head spin sweetly when you open your eyes. He's looking right at you, palms drying your tears and running on top of your face and neck.

"... I am sorry for doing this to you. Confusing you. It is being hard for me too, so please, just- please wait a little longer. I should not have worried you. You are more than what I could have asked for, my love."

Ethan:

Not understanding your man is something you had to get used to at first with Ethan. He didn't want to be understood and you had to deal with it for a while now.

The thing is, you never really knew when Ethan could strike with his good mood either. Sometimes it would be a little scary given your rough beginning. So when Ethan suddenly popped out of your door and caged you in his arms, you were a little scared.

He let a big, long sigh out, resting his chin against you for comfort. He seemed to be panting and that was all you needed to know that he was probably having a hard time keeping it together.

"It's going to rain. Don't leave me alone. Please." You didn't realize it, but you'd started sobbing. That was the first time you felt like Ethan really needed you. He cupped your face, a worried frown gracing his features.

"Babe, are you alright?" "It's just that I... I thought you'd never ask me to stay with you." This answer doesn't make Ethan happy. He closes the door, heading towards the bed and sitting with you, scoffing. His eyes scan your face as he dries your eyes.

Guilt crawls up his whole body, eating away at the little sanity he's saving. His arms tighten around you as tears stream down his face. He feels safe, sorrowful, small but at the same time, your protector.

He wasn't open to this things before. But, as the rain falls against the walls, he realizes it doesn't matter as long as it's good for you and him.

Ivan:

Being a chalice was stressful. Especially when you were a young vampire's chalice and significant other. Sometimes, Ivan didn't quite measure how he expressed his anger, and a hungry youngling was equally disastrous.

While Aaron and Vlad did their absolute best to handle the situation with you, it was hard for them to mingle into your affairs when you were romantically involved.

That's why Ivan was baring his fangs at you as you spoke to him as if he was a five year old to try and get him to move his ass off the bed and do something about his life.

That wasn't really nice of you considering he was having a really hard time with his maturing right now, you could confess, but he was really getting stressed out. You wanted to stop and admit you were wrong, but the pride swelling inside of you stopped you.

Although you felt your emotions as a human girl, Ivan was not a human anymore, when he finally snapped at you and calmly told you to stop trying to control him and changing him to your benefit, your next best reaction was to sit and cry.

"Why do you always have to be like this?!" You yelled, sobbing uncontrollably and fisting your pants angrily. "I can never win, right?! Ever since I tried to get my life together it seems... It seems like I'm supposed to be dead. But guess what? I am!"

Ivan stood there, quiet. You kicked and screamed, ashamed for throwing a tantrum, but you never really had the opportunity before in your life. He sat down beside you, holding your hand and giving it a squeeze.

"I understand you, love." He said, as he dries your tears. That was enough for you to apologize and make amends. Tomorrow was a new day.

[resident-of-storybrooke]

Nothing Good Happens After 2AM (Ch 4)

Rating: M (finally earning that for this chapter)

Words: 2900

Read: ao3, ff.net CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

Summary: Emma took Killian home for the holidays as a fake date. Things seemed to be going well…until it didn’t. What happens when two fools in love didn’t confess their love over the holidays like they planned and have to go back home to reality? This. This is what happened…(A twist on fake dating during the holidays)

AN: Well....shit lol here we finally are! I wish I had a good reason for the year and a half delay. Honestly, I got one not so great review and it shook me a bit and I was already iffy about writing. But thank you to so many incredible souls being so encouraging and supporting me to get back into writing. Thank you to @kmomof4​ who read all four chapters and edited them (make sure to check them out). I really hope you enjoy this last part as I’m so happy to finally have this out for you all. A very late and final contribution to @csjanuaryjoy

tagging some of the fam squad (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @zaharadessert​ @stahlop​ @ultraluckycatnd @blowmiakisscolin​ @peggyswan​ @jrob64​ @klynn-stormz​​ @tiganasummertree​ @batana54​ @pirateprincessofpizza​​

ALL THE LOVE

Ruby made her way back up to the party, excited to see how the rest of the night would play out after her phone call to Emma. As she made her way back into Killian’s apartment she saw the Nolans as they gestured rather animatedly. Then Ruby rounded the corner and looked in to see who they were yelling at. 

Shit. 

It was Killian. 

And from the looks of it they were letting Killian have it. And he was just standing there taking it.  

What the hell did he get into in the last five minutes to warrant this? Ruby was both concerned, but mostly entertained because the sweet sunshine Charmings never yelled. She strolled into the kitchen with a grin, figuring she would enjoy the show. That was until the furious couple saw her - apparently she was their new target. 

“Ruby Elizabeth Lucas! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Ruby was confused to say the least. How the hell was she involved in... whatever this was? 

“Um...I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Bullshit, Ruby!” She was completely taken back, Mary Margaret never swore. “You just told me that Emma thought Killian was dating Elsa. And last time I checked Killian and Emma have been together for the last three months. So please, explain yourself. Now.”

“I feel like it’s not really my place,” she said, darting her eyes toward Killian, but she could tell no one was buying it. “Listen, Snow White and Prince Charming, your poor sister felt pressured to bring a date home for the holidays. She and Killian decided to go to Ruth’s and tell y’all they were dating so you’d back the hell off. And it worked and everything was fine. Then Elsa showed up and spooked Emma because she thought she lost her chance with him. Because shocker,” she looked fiercely at Killian and had to restrain herself from smacking him upside the head, “they’re both in love with each other and are being absolutely idotic and not telling the other the truth.” She turned back toward the stunned silent Charmings, “And you two are not helping the cause!”

Killian looked up in complete shock, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hair. The Nolans stood gaping at her, obviously not expecting her brutal honesty. 

“Listen,” Ruby took a deep breath. “Cut them some slack. You two were acting like Emma was going to turn into some crazy old spinster if she didn’t find a date soon. Also, you two act as though you are a literal fairytale couple.” She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to live up to your kind of love.”

As David stood in shock, Mary Margaret finally spoke up. “We went too far, didn’t we?” That’s when she turned to Killian. “We’re sorry, Killian. We shouldn’t have ever put you in this situation. We love you, we love Emma, and that wasn’t fair...I hope you can forgive our behavior this evening.”

Just as Killian was about to speak up, the door opened revealing an out of breath Emma Swan.

Emma was confused by the odd looks she was receiving as her welcome. She should be used to their bizarre behavior at this point, but this felt different. 

As she made her way over to the group her nerves set back in. She was here to tell Killian the truth. She was going to finally confess her love for her best friend. On his birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

“Right, well, this has been fun. Perhaps we should give these two some alone time.” Ruby elbowed the couple so Emma and Killian could have a moment.

As Emma walked towards Killian she finally took in her surroundings and realized how packed the apartment was. “I wish there were less people here…”

“Why, Swan? I love large parties, they’re so intimate. At small parties-”

“-there isn’t any privacy. I like it when you quote things to me.” Looking at him, she realized how close they were. She wasn’t even aware of her own movement toward him. Then she looked into his blue eyes. She missed them. 

She missed him. 

They stood there, taking each other in. It’d been weeks since they’d been together, really together. Neither one knew how to start. 

“Emma, you came.”

She wished in that moment she had something poetic to respond with, but that wouldn’t be Emma. “That’s what she said.”

The two instantly burst into laughter, the tension dying with every laugh. 

“I missed you, Swan.” Killian reached his hand out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, Emma leaned into his touch. 

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I ran…I wish I had a good excuse, but I don’t. I wanted to tell you so many times how I felt. I was going to tell you. On New Year's Eve. I was finally going to tell you. I had this whole plan. It was a good plan. And then Ruby fucking decided to be Chef Julia Child and give me food posioning. And then...I saw how happy you looked with Elsa and I thought, I thought, I’d lost my chance with you.” Emma finally found the courage to look up when she finished.

Killian’s eyes were full of unshed tears. When Emma opened her mouth to try and say something to break the tension Killian wrapped his arms around her. Emma finally took a breath. A breath she had been holding for weeks. He didn’t hate her. 

“Emma, my love, I promise nothing happened with Elsa. She was Liam’s fiance. She’s an old friend and nothing more. You though...you’re so much more than that. I’ve been a coward. I’ve hidden behind our friendship, behind the lie we told your family, and I will not do that any longer. I’ve had three words on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, I swear, and I will not waste another minute without you hearing them.”

Emma extracted herself from his grasp. “Before you do, I have something for you.” 

Killian lets out a sigh, “Really? Right now?”

Without another word Emma pulled the small red box from her clutch and handed it to Killian. He looked at her with curious eyes. “It’s your birthday, open the damn thing, Jones.”

“So demanding. Now what do we have here? It's a-” 

He stopped.  

Mistletoe. 

It was the most infuriating object that haunted his dreams - well, besides Emma. That trip to her home, the infernal garnish was everywhere. 

There was that kiss.

God, that kiss. He relieved it daily, prayed that it wasn’t the last kiss he’d ever share with Emma. Up until this moment he was convinced that would be the case.

“Well, Swan, this is quite the gift. I don’t know exactly what to say.” He scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick they were both well aware of. 

“I, um, do you wanna see if it works?” Killian’s eyes shot up to Emma.

“Well, love, seems only right I try it out with you since you were the one that gave me such a generous gift. Shall we...”

Emma cut him off with a bruising kiss, it caught him a little off guard, but it only took a moment for him to catch up. Killian didn’t give a damn that there was a party going on around them. He finally had Emma in his arms. Emma’s hands wandered to the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. Killian’s hands roamed down her sides before anchoring on her hips, holding her tightly against him. He cursed the fact that Emma was wearing a dress, even if she did look bloody gorgeous in the tight red piece. He couldn’t wait to have that blasted thing on his floor.

They finally broke for air, still clinging to one another, foreheads touching. Killian was ready to dive back in when he looked up and remembered they weren’t alone. Mary Margaret was crying, Ruby was cheering, and David looked slightly annoyed but Killian saw the small smile he was trying but failing to hide. 

“Come on, love. I think it’s time we faced the vultures. And I’d like you to meet Elsa, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty good idea, Captain.” Emma reached down and grabbed Killian’s hand before they walked over. 

Maybe the trope board wasn't wrong after all. 

CSCSCSCSCSCSCSCS

As the party went on, Killian and Emma were inseparable; the two constantly touching the other. At one point, while talking to Mary Margaret and David, Emma laid her head on Killian's shoulder, something she'd done a million times, but this time Killian placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

The two were in their own happy bubble. They pretended to be engaged with those around them, but they couldn't ignore but feel the sparks ignited with each touch.  

"So, Emma? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I feel as though that was my fault." Emma was confused on how Elsa seemed to be privy to their issue, but then she saw Mary Margaret across the room and assumed her friend had filled her in.

"Please, don't be. I was...scared I lost my chance with Killian."

"Oh, honey. I don't think you could ever lose this one." Killian squeezed Emma closer to prove her point. 

Turns out Elsa was hilarious and had wonderfully embarrassing stories about Killian. Emma had a feeling the two were going to be good friends after tonight. 

The party eventually wound down a little after one, slowly the various couples left. That's when Emma realized she was alone with Killian. 

Finally. 

Suddenly, Emma felt her nerves grow. They'd declared their love and haven't left the others' side since, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. She absentmindedly threw out some empty cups as she tried to plan her next move.

"Love," Killian called for her from the living room, "can you come here?" Emma slowly made her way into the room as Killian stretched out his arms to embrace her. 

"Emma, I...I know that tonight has been a lot. Our relationship has always been a lot. And I know the future is uncertain, but there's one thing I want you to be certain of - I will always be by your side. For as long as you'll let me, my love."

She didn't even know a tear had slipped until Killian pulled back to wipe it. 

"I haven't always made things easy. I get spooked easily, but I'm tired of running. I want to be with you, Killian. I love you."

"And I you, my beautiful Swan." 

The kiss started off slowly, different than the one earlier, but no less passionate. Emma brought her hands around Killian's neck, playing with the nape of his hair. As Killian kissed down her neck, Emma didn't recognize the noises that escaped her mouth.

As their kisses continued, Emma was surprised when Killian's legs hit the couch and he fell down. She hadn’t been aware that they moved. Emma said she was tired of running, and she was ready to show him. So she straddled his legs and hovered over him for just a moment.

They felt like teenagers again, making out on a couch like this. She could feel him harden beneath her, driving her wild. But, it wasn't enough, she needed more. Emma started unbuttoning his shirt, the bastard already had the top three undone. Without a second thought, she began to rake her fingers through the coarse black hair. 

"I've been dying to do this since we first met. So soft," she murmured. Killian found a spot behind her ear that made her mewl. Emma brought her lips to his ear, "I've always wondered how it'd feel against my breasts." 

With that, Killian pulled back. "My love, are you sure? We can wait. Because once I have you, I'm never going to let you go." Emma nodded slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she could barely see a trace of blue. His pupils were blown. 

Before Emma could stand, Killian wrapped his arms around her to carry her to his bedroom. He only ran into the wall twice as Emma was no doubt leaving marks on his neck. Killian gently placed her in the middle of the bed. 

"I always swore that if we got here, I would worship every inch of you."

"Killian, please, worship later. I need you now."

"Just a taste. Patience, darling." Killian was beyond thankful at that moment Emma had opted for a dress as he quickly removed her thong.  

Before she could speak, he brought his mouth to her sex. "You're already drenched for me. You..fuck...you taste delicious."

Emma couldn't speak, he was overwhelming in every sense of the word. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, not that she needed to guide him; he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Killian replaced his mouth with two fingers. "That's it, Emma. You look so beautiful like this. I want you to come for me, darling. Come and then I'll give you what you really want."

His voice was deeper, accent thicker. Emma had a feeling she could finish from his voice alone, but right now, it was his fingers and mouth that were going to do the trick. 

Emma lost all control of her limbs as he sent her over the edge. He didn't let up though, he continued slowly licking as she came back down. As her breathing returned to normal, Killian kissed up her body. 

"Worship later, Killian,” she moaned again. “Please. I need you. Now."

"So demanding, Swan,” he observed, taking his pants and boxer briefs off. “I think I like this side of you, all in a commanding voice, chills really." 

He climbed back on top of her, but instead of responding, Emma hooked her legs around Killian and flipped him, so he laid on his back. He looked up in awe, he had never been so turned on than in this moment. 

Emma decided she was tired of waiting, but before she could sink down Killian stopped her. "Give me a moment, let me grab something, I -"

"I'm clean, and I'm on the pill. I...I don't want anything between us."

"Gods, Emma. If you're sure? I'm good too, I haven't been with anyone since...since we met." 

Emma dove down to meet his lips as she sank down onto him. Killian swallowed her gasp as she adjusted to his size. Of course, he lived up to every innuendo, and Emma couldn't be happier for that than in this moment. 

For first times, they were both surprised with how easy it was to fall into rhythm with the other. There were only a few slightly awkward moments, but that didn't stop them from enjoying this moment. Emma's hips met Killian's with each thrust, quickly driving the other wild. 

"So fucking glorious, Emma. You're so tight like this. Ride my cock, such a good girl. I want to feel you come around me this time. You're stunning when you come. That's...fuck... that's it Emma, take what you need, darling."

Before Emma could even respond, Killian decided it was her turn to be flipped on her back. "Now, if I remember correctly, you wanted to know how it feels with me on top."

"That's, ugh, that's not exactly what I said. But I'm not complaining."

Emma felt that familiar sensation growing in her stomach as Killian's pace intensified. "Killian, I'm close. Together, I wanna -"

"Aye, love, together."

Killian felt her tighten around him as she moaned out in ecstasy, pulling him right after her. He gave her a searing kiss as he spilled himself inside of her. Killian fell on top of her, too exhausted to worry about crushing her for a moment. 

"Killian? As much as I love how, uh, close we are now, do you think you can move? I can't breathe, and I need to clean up."

"Oi, you're gonna give a man a complex!" Killian slowly rolled off her, in awe of the glow Emma radiated at the moment. Emma couldn't help but giggle as he was being an annoying ass, but mostly he was still...Killian. 

They were still them. Except they just had mind-blowing sex. 

She could get used to this new addition to their relationship. 

"Stay here, love. Let me." Killian was back in a moment and helped clean Emma. When he finished, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just like before. 

"What is it, Swan?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy. It's just so surprising."

"Aye, love, me too. But this doesn't change anything. I've loved you for years now, and we'll go at whatever pace we both see fit, but I'm in this for the long haul."

"As am I, Captain."

The two laid in bed, cuddled close, and shared lazy kisses. When Emma looked at the clock, she saw it was nearly three in the morning. A few weeks ago, Emma had thought nothing good happened after two am; it turns out she was wrong. 

"Swan? Can you tell me what the bloody hell a trope board is?"

[cloud9in]

Encounter (Mc x Veronica)

Summary: Veronica goes out for drinks one night and finds herself in a situation where she needs saving. Good thing Bea exists right?

This fic was highly inspired by my boo @fundamentalromantic. Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you enjoy it.

Word count: 2,300

Warnings: Violence, implied sex, but 80% banter 

Tags: @samanthadalton @satrinadia @clowneryme @thedaft1 @alccaddsccup @penda-bear (tagged some people who I thought would like to read)

 A day before moving into Belvoire, Veronica decided she should get a feel of the area. New York was far different from the usual quietness of her small hometown in California. But on the bright side, the vlogger would get a ton of content for her Youtube channel in the buzzing city where people never sleep. The first few days of exploring involved bar hopping and recruiting Chloe to help her film in Soho and Chinatown for beauty week. Poppy took part in Veronica’s tour as well, and on Thursday the girls decided to check out the newest night club that opened up.

 Veronica stepped out of the car in a sparkly thigh-length dress with a slit, and black Louboutin heels. It definitely caught the attention of people standing outside the club, a few guys even attempting to approach her in their drunken state. Chloe basked in the attention, flirting with a blonde-haired guy who was clearly overdressed (in her eyes). Poppy dragged Chloe with her and the three girls walked swiftly past the long line of people and up to the bouncer. It didn’t take much effort to have him open the door for them, being as they were the three hottest people on the block, but Veronica also did have a killer reputation at just about any place she stepped foot in.

 An hour into partying and Veronica held her phone up as her livestream watched them all do a round of colorful tequila shots. The vlogger definitely felt the warm buzz of booze swimming through her veins as her muscles started to relax. New York was the place to be right now and more eventful than all of the years she lived in Cali. Veronica was excited to continue her career and studies in a place like this, but her peaceful thoughts are quickly cut off when someone approaches her, the smell of cheap alcohol invading her senses.

 “What’s a tigress like you doing in a raunchy place like this baby?” Veronica rolled her eyes at the hideous effort of flirting by a man who reeked of “just got divorced and into younger women”. His friends (who were probably part of the same club) seemed to laugh around him, encouraging the unwanted behavior. She shook her head and turned away from him in her chair. Don’t let some idiots ruin your night V, have some fun.

 She immediately stiffened when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, the wet feeling of his alcohol soaked beard grazing against her cheek. Veronica  jerked up abruptly, shoving the man away from her and placing her arms up in defense. “Get the fuck off of me.” 

 At this point people started to stare at them, Poppy and Chloe already standing by the Zeta’s side with anger. Veronica had left her phone on the table but the stream kept going, capturing the voices of patrons in the bar getting increasingly louder. The bearded man watched her with a predatory look on his face, well aware of the crowd that was forming around them. He grunted and turned away after realizing he probably couldn’t take on three women at once, atleast not in the way he imagined. Chloe scoffs loudly, crossing her arms, “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re scared of us. Pathetic piece of garbage.” 

 Yeah....bad idea Chlo.

 When he whipped around to face them, Veronica finally noticed just how large his muscles were, and how they were straining against his shirt. Oh shit. 

 “What did you say to me bitch?”

 Veronica shot a nasty glare at Chloe before facing the stranger once again, her arms slightly trembling. “Look, let's just forget all of this and move on with our night. Don't mind my friend...she’s just..” Veronica leans closer, mocking a whisper, “it’s that time of the month.” The guys laughed at her comment and she silently breathed a sigh of relief, hoping this would make them back off. The last thing Veronica needed was to get her ass handed to her on live, with thousands of people watching. Poppy stood there eyeing the men, her hand already on the tip of her phone, ready to speed dial her dad, or the cops...or her therapist if things went awry. 

 Chloe sneered at Veronica, her awful balance making her stumble as she stepped closer to the men. She clearly had too much to drink. “Oh please, I’m not sorry for anything that comes out of my mouth, even if it includes vomit!” She points a finger in their direction, “give me your best you motherfuc- mmh!”

 Poppy clamps one hand straight onto the blonde’s mouth before she can spit out any more profanity. Her face a mixture of annoyance and fear as the men start to lose their smiles. Veronica can see the bearded man getting ready to lunge at her and her flight or fight instincts seemed to kick in at the last second. She dodged the hand that tried to grab her, but he caught her leg as he was spent sprawling down on the ground from something behind. She yelped and kicked free of his hold before catching the gaze of a woman who stood a few feet away from her. Their eye contact was immediately broken as the stranger glared down at the man, “hands off the lady.”

 Two men from the group with buzzcuts tried to grab hold of the brunette’s arms but she spins easily and kicks one right in between the legs, making him fall in pain. The other guy tried to knock her down from behind but she locked his arm in an odd and excruciating position, “do you really want to do this?” His persistence led her to pull on his elbow, eliciting a scream from the man until he surrendered and scurried away, along with the rest of their crew.

 The brunette swiftly kicks the bearded man in the abdomen after seeing him trying to get up, “stay down you asshole.” 

 She wipes a trickle of sweat from her forehead and huffs out, “I’ve wrestled pigs bigger than these guys, but damn that was a workout.” Unbeknownst to the woman, it was all caught on tape and would be everywhere, including Belvoire’s hottest gossip blog the T. But she doesn’t have to worry about that because she doesn’t go there, right?

 Veronica gapes at the girl who single handedly became her hero, in tight leather pants. The curly-haired woman noticed the speechless expression on her face and smirked. “Well if I were you guys, I’d leave this place before the cops miraculously show up.”

 “Somebody should call the police! These- these bimbos tried to kill us-”

 Chloe earns another hand on her mouth as Poppy starts to push her towards the exit, “Oh yeah the only bimbo here is YOU, go and sit in the car before you end up in a jail cell.” 

 Veronica turns away from the chaotic scene and notices that the brunette has gotten closer to her. She can feel her throat starting to heat up, and it was enough to take her mind off what just happened. The Zeta girl tries to take a step and immediately feels her heel slip sideways, but the woman captures her hands and steadies her before she can fall. “Woah- careful there. Maybe we should walk outside? This club is starting to get crowded.” 

 They step around the man sprawled out on the floor. Yeah someone will probably come get him, no worries. Veronica lets her lead the way until they both step out to the curb. The brunette helps her sit down on the edge of the sidewalk before taking a seat next to her. “You know, I can’t keep living life without knowing the name of my savior.” 

 The mystery girl barks out a laugh as she siddles closer to her. She holds out her hand, hoping that Veronica would grab it, “Bea, Bea Hughes. And you?”

 Veronica stares at her wide-eyed, a not so sarcastic gasp escaping her lips, “You-you don’t know who I am?”

 “...Should I?”

 Bea scrunches her eyebrows in confusion before snapping her fingers, “Oh wait! You’re a Kardashian..!” That earns her a hard smack to her leg but she can only laugh teasingly. 

 “I think that was the most disrespectful thing someone has ever said to me....You’re very lucky you’re cute. Oh and it's Veronica.”

 Bea bites her lip shyly, “You’re too beautiful to be one of them...Veronica. And you definitely look all real to me.”

 “Okay if you’re trying to seduce me, this is NOT the way to go Hughes.”

 They both bust out laughing and Veronica wraps her arm around Bea’s, letting herself sink into her side. “Thank you by the way...I mean, not like I couldn’t handle it myself.” She shrugs and looks down at their entangled arms, squeezing tighter, “I owe you one.”

 “You don’t owe me a damn thing Veronica. I’m just grateful I was there as well. This ain’t the first time those goons have harassed women in the area.”

 “Judging by that southern accent and fighting skills, I’m guessing you’re not from here?”

 Bea smiles down at Veronica, studying her bright hazel eyes and luscious lashes. “No I am not, but….if you want to know more about me, how about over a drink? If you want to.” 

 The Zeta girl laughs softly, nudging her, “Oh so you do know how to flirt Hughes. Let's do it! But um..it might be a little difficult to do that because my heel is broken.”

 Bea peers down at her stilettos which seemed to be way past 7 lives now and smiles to herself. In one swift motion she scoops Veronica up in her arms bridal style. The vlogger gasps in surprise before wrapping her arms around the brunette’s neck. “Our problem seems to have disappeared already. And you are incredibly light like a feather.” Bea teases the Zeta, lifting her in an up and down motion.

 “That’s because I’m 40% alcohol right now, but do keep me in your arms, perfectly convenient for me.”

 “You mean I get to carry a stunning woman in my arms free of charge? This must be heaven..”

 “Okay Ms. Flirt, keep walking I’ll direct you where to go.”

 Bea fought the urge to tease her about trying to be dominant but the voices of Poppy and Chloe caught their attention. She approached the car where Chloe sat…wailing hysterically..?

 “I don’t want to go to prison! Don’t let them take me Poppy please!” The blonde grabs Poppy’s dress and doesn’t let go, desperately looking around. When Bea finally stops in front of them, Poppy looks over at the two women and rolls her eyes, clearly fed up.

 “Poppy what the hell is happening with Chlo?!” Veronica breathes out, even though this is the last place she wants to be.

 “Chloe thinks I called the cops on her and she said she doesn't want to sleep on a concrete bed with two other women in a prison cell.”

 Bea raises an eyebrow as she watches the two Zeta girls stare at each other like they’re used to what was happening right now. Veronica gives Poppy a stern look, essentially telling her “leave me alone, I’m trying to get laid”, and the strawberry blonde catches on quickly. She turns away, sighing heavily, “Go, I’ll deal with this. But be at the house tomorrow, it's our first day back.”

 The Zeta grins and blows her a kiss, signaling for Bea to carry on down the sidewalk as she lays in her arms barefoot. Poppy watches them walk away and roll her eyes.

 “So, should I ask?”

 “I think you would appreciate it if I didn’t tell you.”

 The brunette laughs easily, crossing the now empty street. The more she walked the direction that Veronica guided her to, the more quieter it got. “Um… V. Where exactly are we going..?”

 “You’ll see. It’s a secret spot. Kind of like a speakeasy, except it’ll just be the two of us and we can do whatever we want.” Veronica flips her hair seductively, catching Bea’s gaze as she bites her lips and winks. The brunette can feel her heart starting to beat faster, her breath hitching in her throat. She barely can move her gaze off of Veronica’s hazel orbs, her cheeks reddening at the girl’s shameless comment. 

 Lucky for Bea (or maybe not), their night was just getting started, and Veronica would have her blushing again, but this time on her knees. 

 ***

 Veronica saunters confidently into the gates of Belvoire on move-in day, watching as others run around campus with luggages and bags. She sips on the iced latte in her land, eyes glued to her phone on the other hand. She eventually finds Chloe yelling at some assistant girl and immediately turns around, not wanting to deal with it. A woman with a suitcase and a grey Henley shirt approaches the blonde, reprimanding her for her rude behavior. The video of the fight last night appears on the T just as Veronica looks at her phone again. Bea’s leather jacket appears on-screen and knocks the man down. Veronica smirks as she watches the woman take on 3 men effortlessly. People around start to point at the brunette while looking at their phones, and Veronica doesn’t look up until two voices that appear to be arguing, get louder. She nearly drops the cup of coffee in her hands when she sees the same face that was between her legs the previous night. 

 And as Poppy approaches Bea, the brunette catches a glimpse of familiar hazel eyes and ombre colored hair and her eyes go wide. “...Veronica..?” Oh shit.