#but it turned out to probably be even longer

[sungbeams]

WIP DUMP

okay so this is lowkey inspired by @jayparked posting about her wips a bit ago (check them out here she's crazy talented and i can't wait to read them all) and since i've been struggling with writing recently i thought maybe sharing some of my wips could help. also biggest thanks to snail for helping me with the synopses for some of these and listening to me stress over the banners and everything

if you want to talk to me about any of them or wanna get tagged pls don't hesitate to send asks or comment on this post, i'd love to talk about them some more🥺❤️

MIDNIGHT IN MILAN — lhs

⟡ ┆ featuring. heeseung x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol AU (both heeseung and yn)

⟡ ┆ warnings. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, mild choking, creampie, fingering, tiniest hint of degradation (he calls her a slut like once), one singular spank, some hair pulling, not really any aftercare

⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 6k

they say love makes you do stupid things...surely fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom at the prada after party when your relationship isn't even public and neither of you can afford a dating scandal isn't that stupid, right?

(i'm well aware the hype around tipsy heeseung has already died down but i started writing this immediately after the pics dropped and then got hit by writers block so i'm dedicated to finish this)

!! more under the cut !!

HE HATES ME, HE HATES ME NOT — psh

⟡ ┆ featuring. sunghoon x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, enemies to lovers, coworker AU, miscommunication (ikik), lowkey past fuckboi sunghoon

⟡ ┆ warnings. hate sex, semi-public sex (in an archive room?), protected and unprotected sex (there's several smut scenes), choking, spanking, degradation, praise kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), handjob, fingering, manhandling, overstimulation, dacryphilia, spit kink

⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 20k

park sunghoon hates you, and you hate him. it hadn't always been like that, when you first joined the company he works at he was friendly, a real gentleman, but over time of working together he turns cold, sometimes even downright mean, and you cannot for the life of you figure out what caused the sudden change in his behavior. however, things between you change yet again when you 'accidentally' get locked in your offices archive room.

HOME IS WHEREVER YOU ARE — lhs

⟡ ┆ featuring. heeseung x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, college!au, friends to lovers

⟡ ┆ warnings. there's some talks of depression as well as unhealthy coping mechanism so be aware of that pls, protected sex (be proud of me okay), oral (f. and m. receiving), vanilla af, neither of them are virgins or inexperienced but they just having sex for the first time together after realizing they've been in love with each other for years :')

⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 14k

"distance makes the heart grow fonder." is no longer just a cliche saying. heeseung decided to follow his dreams, but doing so lead him to a different city, leaving you behind. no other friends, no hobbies to keep yourself busy, and no motivation to keep going, the only thing keeping you on some sort of routine is attending your college classes that your parents force you to go to. just when you're about to officially quit and give up, heeseung shows up out of nowhere and manages to pull you out of your slump, upturning your whole friendship in the process.

NATURAL REMEDY — pjs

⟡ ┆ featuring. jay x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, physical therapist!reader, patient!jay, probably hipaa violations idk just don't do this irl basically

⟡ ┆ warnings. unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), body worship (jay receiving bc he deserves someone to tell him or handsome he is), handjob, lots of oil, lowkey massage kink idek what to call this??

⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 5k

when jay hurts his knee while goofing around with his friends, his doctor recommends rest and physical therapy. lucky for him, your office is just around the corner, just that neither of you can make good on the ordered rest by doctor.

HEALTHY COMPETITION — lhs + sjy

⟡ ┆ featuring. heeseung x fem!reader x jake

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, college au, non-idol au, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates), no romance just fucking

⟡ ┆ warnings. basically no plot, threesome (duh), protected and unprotected sex, anal, double penetration, spanking, oral (m. and f. receiving), multiple rounds, manhandling, they make it a competition to see who can make her moan the loudest...

⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 9k

your roommates bickering should be nothing but white noise to you at this point, but when they both rope you into their little argument of who fucks better things take an interesting turn and a welcomed distraction from studying is provided.

SNEAKY LINK — sjy

⟡ ┆ featuring. jake x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, uni AU, frat boy jake (i'm sorry), friends with benefits but no one knows, alcohol consumption (they're not drunk and both consenting !!)

⟡ ┆ warnings. unprotected sex (it's a theme for me atp, don't do this irl pls), dry humping, fingering (it's jake come on now), kinda rushed sex ig, does it count as exhibitionism when they fuck in a spare bedroom idk, oral (f. receiving), breast play

⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 4k

frat parties usually weren't your thing, but when your best friend invites you (with the intention to be her wingwoman) you're not one to let her down. that is until you run into jake, whom you've been fooling around with without anyone knowing ...

© sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[bokettochild]

You ever think about how Sky's entire world got turned upside down like...days before what was essentially his highschool graduation ceremony? And, like, my dude got the Skyloft approximation of a full ride to college by winning that one race, but by the time he's saved the world, it doesn't matter at all- this thing that mattered so much just days ago- because not only has he learned more than most of the professors know, but also the school is basically going to be abandoned now

They're going to the surface, they're going to live there. Sky- finished his adventure and saved his best friend, and his reward was losing everything he'd ever known in life EXCEPT Zelda.

No one treats him the same; he's the hero now. He knows things they don't. He just got out of highschool and now his teachers are suddenly the ones coming to him to ask how the world works. He was going to be a knight and he is now, butt his experience is so drastically different from all the other knights around him.

He's this huge world now, this place he only is beginning to understand, and because he's the hero, because he's been here longer, he's the one everyone else comes to with questions. He's their leader now,w hen before he was a lazy teenager they always chastised with warmth, trying to teach him to grow up.

He's still a kid, still younger than the knights, the professors, but he's also the only person whos got much of an idea what's happening other than Zelda. That's got to be weird for everyone. People will come to him with things but they'll doubt him because he's still young, or they'll want to teach him something only to decide not to because he's the hero, he doesn't need their instruction.

Like, the game ends all bitter sweet, but let's be real: by leaving Skyloft, he loses his home, his plans for the future, any conception e previously had of the world, the other half of his soul (his best friend and companion!), his childhood, and probably any sense of freedom he had now that he's got the fate and security of his people on his shoulders now.

And then he somehow ends up meeting the chain. All capable people, who (like his professors, his teachers, his neighbors) know what's going on even if he doesn't, who can handle themselves, who can protect themselves, who knows more than him and are better (seemingly) at this hero gig than him, and Sky? He can finally relax. He's silly again. He's taking naps. He's able to zone out without consequences. he doesn't need to be in control and he's fine with that. He's happy with that. As long as all is well, he's content to just exist here, just for now.

But the moment that peace and security of being with other heroes is threatened? Yeah, that's when the god-killer comes out.

......

Anyways, yeah, I think Sky's more than just a big softie and sleepy-head. Man has issues he is avoiding with the power of ignoring them and sleeping, but on some moments (like Miss Her, or the Sunset arc) we see that he slips sometimes.

Long of the short: I have Sky brainrot these days :)

[brucedefender4eva]

Bruce walks into the kitchen one day at breakfast and sticks a golden star right on Dick’s forehead.

Silence overtakes all of his kids as they stare incredulously because what the actual fuck??

“B?” Dick questioned warily, going crossed eyed as he tried to stare at the star in his forehead.

“Congratulations Dickie, you have successfully made only five death threats to individuals this entire week.” Bruce said solemnly, patting Dick on the head before turning to face his other children.

“Unfortunately, I will not be giving out any more gold stars.” Bruce’s eyes gazed at his children, particularly staying on Jason and Damian for a second longer than anyone else’s.

“Wha-? What about me??” Duke protested, throwing down his fork, a small splatter of syrup splashing onto the new wood varnish.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Duke, I’m Batman.”

“Right.” Duke muttered, slumping back down in his chair. “Stupid pickpocketers, next time I’ll make sure they can’t squeal.”

“Father! I demand a recount!” Damian’s chair squeaked loudly as he shot up from it, his small face set in a stubborn frown so similar to Bruce’s. “Grayson made two death threats to thugs on patrol yesterday.”

“Fucking tattle tale!” Duck hissed, grabbing his forehead and scampering away from Bruce, just in case he tried to take away his good star.

Bruce nodded and looked thoughtful. “Hmm, seven death threats… I’ll allow it. However, seven has become the cap in order to get a gold star.”

“One for everyday of the week!” Jason grinned, his eyes zeroing in on a barely awake Tim. “And since I’m long past the threshold…” Bruce slapped him on the back of the head, making him curse.

Cass tugs on Bruce’s sleeve and points to herself, the silent question very loud. “No Cass, your whole existence is a threat but also Stephanie likes to talk.”

Cass clicks her tongue and sits back down, phone already in hand, probably texting Stephanie about her betrayal.

“Looks like Dick is winning.” Bruce stated, suppressing a smirk as all of his kids heads whipped around and stared at him. Of course they would take the bait, there were as competitive as he was.

Even Tim now looked mostly aware of what was happening.

“It’s a new week, good luck.” Bruce nodded, walking out of the dining room, a grin breaking out across his face as the room erupted with noise.

[sosa2imagines]

My queen!

Warnings- Fluff. Disclaimer- Here's the winner of my birthday treat poll.

The grand mahogany doors of Bucky’s office were closed, muffling the faint voices of his ongoing meeting. You leaned back in his chair, running your fingers over the polished wood of his desk.

Bucky's empire was always bustling with activity and the grand office was the heart of it all, a place that exuded power but was comforting at the same time. It had become your favourite spot in his empire, a place where you had found solace amongst the chaos.

You had come a long way since the day Bucky slipped a ring onto your finger. The man who could command armies and strike fear into the hearts of his enemies, made you feel like a queen. You had witnessed the world tremble at his feet, but when he looked at you, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Your confidence had grown in leaps and bounds since you had become his wife. You were no longer just Bucky's wife, you were the queen of his empire, standing by his side amidst the chaos.

The first time you bumped into him on the streets. It was as if fate had brought you two together, even though you had no idea who he truly was. You weren't even fazed by the imposing presence of his bodyguards, which was unusual. The second time you had come into contact with him was in a club, where you had boldly strolled into the middle of the meeting, not knowing that you had just interrupted something incredibly important.

Back then, something about you caught Bucky’s attention.

Despite discovering who Bucky truly was, you didn't show any signs of fear. In fact, you had even complimented his precious gun, demonstrating not only a lack of terror but also an air of confidence that was uncommon for women in his world.

From there, an unlikely friendship blossomed, eventually leading to a romantic relationship, and finally, to marriage. It wasn't an easy journey. Along the way, life had thrown countless challenges at you both. People assumed you were only with Bucky for his money and power, but in reality, you had no interest in any of it.

You were quietly flipping through a book on Bucky's desk when the office door suddenly swung open, breaking the peaceful silence. A man in a sharp suit, his face portraying a mix of arrogance and impatience, strode in without even bothering to knock.

His eyes landed on you, sitting in Bucky's chair, and his brows furrowed with disapproval. Without hesitation, he addressed you in a sharp tone, clearly annoyed. “What the hell are you doing here?” he barked, his voice laced with authority. “Get out of the boss's chair! Don't you know who I am?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a calm expression. Even if you didn't know who he was, his demeanour was clear enough. He was either a significant figure within Bucky's organization, or possibly a right-hand man or a high-ranking member. But one thing is for sure, he was clearly angry at you being in Bucky's chair, something he probably perceived as a mark of disrespect.

You spoke with a steady voice, holding your ground. “I don't know who you are,” you replied, “but talk nicely.”

Your calm demeanour contrasted with his impatience, and it was clear you wouldn't let him be disrespectful to you.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “A bold mouth for someone who’s clearly just here to warm his bed. Do you even understand what kind of business this is?” His words were dripping with disdain, and the condescending smirk on his face made your blood boil. Before you could respond, his tone turned vulgar. “Women like you should learn their place. What did he pay for you to…”

The atmosphere in the room grew ten times heavier when the office doors swung open once again. The man's words faded into silence, as Bucky stood there, his face a mask of cold fury. “Finish that sentence!” His voice, a low growl, sent shivers down your spine, though not out of fear.

His icy blue eyes locked onto the man, who now appeared as if he wanted to vanish into the floor, completely intimidated by Bucky's presence.

“Mr. Barnes…I” the man stammered, stepping back, his confidence completely shattered.

Bucky's voice dripped with a venomous tone. “She's my wife!” Bucky said, his words holding a deadly edge. “The queen of this empire. And you dare to insult her in my kingdom?”

The man's face turned pale, fear evident in his eyes. But Bucky didn't give him time to respond or apologize. In a split second, he crossed the room, slamming the man against the wall with such force that the paintings on the wall shook.

“Nobody,” Bucky hissed, his tone dangerously low, his voice dripping with anger. “Disrespects my wife and walks away unscathed.”

You leaned back in the chair, watching the scene unfold, a mix of satisfaction and concern welling up inside you. However, beneath it all, you still felt a sense of pride and admiration for Bucky.

In that moment, you saw a side of him that you both loved and respected, his fierce protectiveness over you.

The man fumbled over his words, trying to apologize, but it was far too late. Bucky's wrath was as swift as it was brutal. He delivered punch after punch until he had finally had enough. Turning to you, his expression softened immediately.

“Are you okay, doll?” he asked, his voice a complete contrast to the icy fury you'd heard moments before.

You smiled, standing up and walking over to him. “I was…” you replied. “But it's nice knowing I have my own personal avenger.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling you close and embracing you. “Always, doll. No one messes with my queen.”

You kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Remind me to sit in your chair more often.”

He gave you a wicked grin, replying, “Oh, you're not leaving it anytime soon. It suits you.”

Later that day, Bucky came home with a proud grin, surprising you by telling you that you were the new owner of a posh restaurant. You looked at him in confusion, unaware that there was a restaurant owned under your name. Bucky smiled, explaining that the man who had insulted you earlier owned that restaurant and now it belonged to you.

Before you could protest or ask questions, Bucky quickly kissed you, effectively silencing you. You knew better than to challenge him now, so instead you just relaxed into the kiss, enjoying the moment.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

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@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

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@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

[seosracha]

⸻ SAINT MATTHEW'S ACADEMY II (preview)

- "i haven't quite moved on from who you were before"

SYNOPSIS ⸻ heeseung at the start thought he wouldn't mind if you forgot him. but now with his best friend fighting for that sacred position in your heart, he can't help but try to make you remember.

PAIRING ⸻ lee heeseung x fem!reader x park sunghoon

GENRE ⸻ love triangle, exes to ??, friends to ??, private school au, angst, smut, fluff

TAGS ⸻ tba.

EST. WC ⸻ 20-25k

PREVIEW BELOW CUT ->

No more words, you said no more words after his confession. You stayed silent, and that pain flooded you today. The silence stayed with you.

Every night you’d spend on a phone call with him, laughing because no matter how hard you begged him he wouldn’t hang up first, was now filled with the darkness and tranquility of your room, the only sound being the cars that sped past your window or occasionally drunk people who’d loudly call out to taxi’s.

A tall figure towered over you, casting a dark shadow on your papers. An intense scent radiated off of them and you knew exactly who it was.

“Did Sunghoon come to school today?” Jay asked, just like he has every single day.

There was also Sunghoon. Another person you hadn't spoken to. Another person that just disappeared.

His presence in the situation felt so foggy, confusing. Your growing feelings for the boy also confused you.

Did Heeseung tell him to kiss you like that, touch you in those places?

You tried calling him, once, then twice and you’d call again a third time just in case the other two didn't go through. But he didn’t answer anymore. You didn't know if you wanted to speak to him so badly to find out what happened before the party or because you missed him.

Maybe it was both.

Jay chose to stick by Sunghoon almost immediately, which was appaling considering he knew Heeseung much longer. He claimed that Sunghoon just gave into his manly desires and Heeseung is wrong for punching him over nothing. ‘I’d do the same to her if I were him’- Jake forwarded a couple weeks back.

You were no longer mad at Jay, you’d no longer get annoyed at his snarky, degrading remarks. You just accepted the fact that he’ll never get better.

“No, he didn’t” you replied, turning around to face him “Just like he didn’t yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that one too” you added, a sarcastic smile on your face.

He dyed his hair, the blond locks no longer complimenting his sharp features. He looked much softer with the brown dye.

He sighed “Can I sit?” Jay eyed the seat next to you, and you looked at him amused.

“You want to sit next to a woman? Won’t my female aura disturb your studying?” you scoffed, a hint of sarcasm in your tone.

He rolled his eyes “Very funny” he looked over to Jake who has finally caught a whiff of him “Jakey, what you say?” he tilted his head.

The relationship between them used to be strong, but that’s probably because Jake pretended to be someone different, someone much ‘cooler’. Cooler as in a lame pig who liked to shove alcohol down innocent girls throats.

Oh you’d never let him forget that.

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care honestly” he replied, avoiding eye contact with him.

That’s how it was most day’s at school. Jake and Jay pretended to hate each other, not care, even though deep down, they still had so much left to say. Jay would come down to the study hall with an excuse of looking for Sunghoon, just so he wouldn’t be lonely.

[hgfictionwriter]

First Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You and Jessie meet at UCLA and have been together a couple of months, but still haven't been intimate. In fact, she's never been intimate with anyone. But when your roommate is out one night, she might finally experience her first time.

Warnings: G!P content. Dry humping Simulated intercourse. Premature ejaculation. Cunnilingus. Penetrative sex. Loss of virginity. Unprotected sex. Praise kink. Language.

A/N: In response to this request. Virgin Jessie - shy, nervous, but just oh so eager to please. Happy holidays!

Jessie gave your hand a small squeeze as you walked across campus together. A bashful smile crossed her face at the way you turned your head towards her with a hint of surprise before giving her a warm smile and laugh. You giggled softly as you leaned in for a quick peck on her cheek mid-step.

"You are too cute," you told her as you faced forward once more.

"I just had a good night with you," she said as she reflected on the sunset picnic you'd had together at a nearby park. She released a quiet sigh as you approached the juncture in the path that signaled the end of your evening together; her dorm one direction, yours the other.

You stood together, your arms now resting across the back of her shoulders in a comfortable embrace. Jessie felt her face growing hot before she'd even begun speaking.

"Uh, my roommate's home tonight. Love her, but, it kinda sucks. Don't get me wrong, I love our dates," she gestured between herself and you as her eyes were affixed to the cement below, "and exploring the city together, but it would be kind of nice sometimes to have our own space? You know?" She shook her head quickly with a nervous chuckle as she looked back up at you. "I'm probably not making any sense."

You leaned in a gave her a sweet, chaste kiss, calming her nerves immediately.

"Good news. My roommate is at a party tonight. She probably won't be home until late," you told her.

Jessie's face lit up before she quickly quelled her excitement. She automatically assumed that meant she'd come over, but she shouldn't assume.

You laughed, giving her another quick kiss.

"Want to come over?"

Or maybe she could assume.

"Yeah. Sure. That'd be great," Jessie replied, trying not to sound too eager.

Though you'd been together a couple of months now, between the nature of her schedule and the realities of your living situations, there really was very little time where it was you two alone and in private. A night like this was rare.

In your dorm, you sat down on your bed and patted the spot next to you, inviting Jessie to sit down instead of standing awkwardly several feet away like she was.

"What do you want to do?" You asked as you leaned back on your hands and looking far too tempting. Jessie sat stiffly rubbing her already-sweaty palms against her jeans. She cleared her throat, glancing at you over her shoulder before looking away despite her efforts.

"Um, anything," she said before forcing a smile and looking at you once more.

"You're my guest," you countered with a smirk as you sat back up and nudged her with your shoulder, "it's up to you."

Jessie laughed, feeling the tension of the moment - whether it was solely in her head or not - settling all throughout her body as she nudged your leg with hers. "No, it's not up to me."

"Mm, I think it is," you said easily as you shifted slightly towards her, your knee coming up onto the bed as you tucked your foot under you. You held her gaze and it felt so intense to her in the best way possible.

"I want to do whatever you want to do," she offered with a shrug, turning slightly towards you on the bed now as well.

You held her gaze a moment longer before finally exhaling with a soft huff and looking away, an affectionate smile lingered on your face.

"Well, we don't get much time alone, so...," you trailed off as you slowly leaned in, capturing Jessie's lips. She smiled into the kiss.

The kisses started of very chaste, but things shifted just so as Jessie allowed her hands to ever so slightly wander; a hand gently cupping the side of your neck, her thumb softly caressing your jawline and her other hand toying with the hem of your shirt. You reciprocated, a thumb caressing her collarbone and your other hand on her knee.

Your tongue began to explore her lips and mouth and Jessie remained steady. Even if things didn't progress much, she could feel herself starting to get hard within her jeans. If you noticed, you didn't let on.

Jessie wanted to explore so much more, but you didn't make a move, so she didn't either. It was only a matter of time until you pulled back with a soft smile and rest your head on her shoulder.

She sat tensely, very keenly aware that although jeans gave some concealment, you could probably still very much see the bulge in her pants.

"Want to watch a movie?" You asked, getting up off of the bed without waiting for an answer.

"Y-yeah," Jessie stammered, still trying to be present in the moment and will her erection away. She looked around quickly and saw a throw pillow at the edge of your bed and laid it across her lap.

You returned with your laptop and coaxed her to the wall so you could both lean back and watch the movie. She couldn't help but notice how you very politely didn't acknowledge the pillow across her lap.

She sat there awkwardly at first as the movie started, but soon put her arm around you and you cuddled in. You both initiated light caresses throughout and it did nothing to help her with her arousal. It was nearly painful now and she honestly had no clue what was going on in the film. All she could think about was every touch, every movement, and her mind was creating an entirely different movie inside of her head.

Outside of Jessie being on the receiving end of a few fleeting, but heated kisses throughout your relationship, things hadn't gotten much more serious physically. What happened tonight is about as far as you ever got.

Jessie didn't know what to expect, really. She'd never dated before. She was never around in high school, so building that kind of a connection would've been difficult to begin with. And God knows she was even shyer back then, so between how young she always looked compared to the other girls and how she fell apart around anyone she had a crush on, it was no surprise that she was never seen as more than a friend.

Now, in uni, she was still shy - there was no denying that - but between her growing role on the national team, her role here on the Bruins and just exploring this new phase of her life, her confidence had grown. So though her nerves were rattling as she talked to you the first few times in class, she got through. She made you smile, made you laugh, impressed you with her smarts, and was over the moon when you gave her your number.

As you planned out your first date, she sheepishly admitted she wasn't entirely sure what to plan - she'd never been on a real date before.

It was embarrassing to her, frankly. Being in her second year - no serious romantic experiences to speak of, no girlfriends, and certainly no sex. All of her friends had lost their virginity and were, how should she put it, very confident and experienced in that department by now. And one would think she would be too given her athletic status, but that just wasn't her.

You'd been a little shocked initially. Bashful now in your own right over your own experience and history. Jessie profusely interjected - telling you there was nothing for you to be embarrassed about or feel ashamed about. You're beautiful, you're charming, you're smart - of course you'd have past relationships and experience. She joked she'd just need you to be patient with her.

"We'll take it slow," you'd promised with a sweet and caring kiss.

But now, two months in. Jessie regretted her joke. You'd really taken it to heart and now she felt like it was entirely upon her to push things forward. She didn't know where you stood - if you wanted more already or not and she didn't know how to proceed. She'd dropped hints - like tonight - and you didn't reciprocate the way she wanted.

So she worried. And fretted. And ultimately never pushed further.

Time went by achingly slow as the movie continued. Jessie couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in place as her member throbbed with want. You weren't even really doing anything - nothing explicit, certainly, but she wanted you so bad even a feathery touch sent goosebumps flaring across her skin.

"You okay?" You asked.

"Yeah," she assured you with a tight smile.

"You can move if you aren't comfortable," you told her.

"Oh, no," she dismissed with a rapid shake of her head and another reassuring smile. "It's not that. I mean - I'm not uncomfortable. I-I like being with you."

You chuckled, a faint smirk on your face as you kissed her cheek sweetly. "I like being with you, too."

As the movie continued and you drew faint, teasing circles on her collarbone and the odd fleeting breath hit the sensitive skin of her neck, she clutched the pillow in her fists and clenched her jaw, nearly grinding her teeth together.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You asked.

Jessie found herself letting out a slow exhale, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen.

"Yep, I'm good," she said almost curtly though flashed you a quick smile after. You frowned.

"You don't seem comfortable. I can give you some space if that's it," you said.

Jessie couldn't help the bewildered, frustrated laugh that escaped her as she looked up at the ceiling.

"No - that's, that's really not it," she said, feeling now like she could explode out of her own skin with the tension that had mounted in her body. She scratched at the side of her head as she struggled to figure out what to do.

"I, um," she stammered. She shifted, feeling compelled to stand up and get away, but quickly realized she couldn't - not without the tent in her pants being fully on display once more.

"Babe, what's wrong?" You asked, now looking genuinely concerned.

Jessie buried her face in her hands with a shake of her head. She dropped them heavily onto the pillow and let her head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.

"I'm just...yes. A bit uncomfortable," she eventually admitted, feeling immense heat radiating off her face. She could only imagine how red she must be.

"Um, well, is there anything I can do?" You asked tentatively.

She laughed. "No. I um," her mind attempted to conjure up the best response but she landed with another, "no." She caught the perplexed frown you shot her.

"Well, you seem unsettled. If I'm making you uncomfortable I'm really sorry," you told her as you sat back a bit.

She sighed before letting her head roll to the side to give you a frown of her own while she did her damnedest to push down the embarrassment that flooded her system. "Come on, you know."

"I-what?" You asked with a deeper frown.

Jessie sighed once more and ran a hand roughly across the back of her neck as her gaze settled on the blankets of your bed.

"It's nothing bad," she eventually settled on saying, mustering a look to you before flitting away again. "Least I don't think so."

"Okay. Now I'm really confused," you said. You took a small breath. "I wish you'd tell me."

Her face felt hot as ever as she laughed lightly and looked up to the ceiling once more.

"I just find you very, very attractive. So. I'm struggling a bit right now."

"Oh." You said simply. She studied you, but your expression was unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Jessie breathed, shifting slightly as she scratched at her temple. "That's so awkward. And we said we'd go slow. And I don't want to pressure you-"

"Pressure me?" You asked, voice rising in confusion and swiftly ending Jessie's ramblings.

"Well, yeah," she stammered slightly while offering you a faint smile. "I know I asked you to be patient with me. But that also means I don't want to push you at all. I mean, just because I'm-I'm...," she inadvertently looked down at the pillow in her lap, "whatever, doesn't mean we have to-"

"You aren't pushing me at all," you told her calmly. A hint of a smirk played at the corner of your mouth. "I'm...waiting on you." You held your hand up quickly. "No rush! I'm happy to take our time. But. Whenever you're ready. I'm ready."

She shot you a somewhat bewildered look. "Seriously?" She blushed as you couldn't hold back a laugh. She frowned. "I just meant you haven't initiated anything!"

"Why would I?" You returned, folding your arms across your chest playfully. "I know it would be your first time, so I thought we were letting you set the pace."

She blew a raspberry, blushing at the action before shooting you another tempered glare. "Well I could've used some encouragement! I just thought you weren't interested in more yet. You didn't reciprocate any-" she gestured aimlessly for a second, "you know."

"I reciprocated," you said pointedly, though still smirking at her. "Whatever you did, I reciprocated. But I didn't push further. It's important to me that you be entirely comfortable. I didn't want you to feel like we had to do more until you were ready. Hence, letting you set the pace."

A groan escaped her throat and she let her head fall back against the wall with another thud. She closed her eyes in frustration and mild regret for a moment before opening them and looking at you with a sheepish smile.

"Well. I'm..."

"...what?"

She gave an exaggerated shrug and a fleeting glance. "Ready."

You nearly snorted. "That didn't exactly sound enthusiastic." You laughed once more. "I'm looking for enthusiastic consent."

"Oh my God," Jessie complained as she dropped her hands into the pillow heavily once more. "You're going to kill my 'enthusiasm' with criticisms like that."

You gasped dramatically and Jessie's gaze snapped over to you.

"Just what every girl wants to hear," you teased.

"No, wait, I'm sorry," she offered as she adjusted her spot on the bed, facing you more fully, still keeping the pillow firmly in place. You seemed to be joking, but she felt compelled to reassure you either way. "I was just kidding. You never have to worry about that. I, uh," she glanced away playing with the seam of the pillow distractedly, "often, you know, struggle to," she cleared her throat, "contain myself around you." She felt heat rising in her cheeks once more and she went on in a rush. "I don't mean that disrespectfully at all. I meant it as a compliment. But now I'm hearing it and-"

"Babe," you cut her off as you reached up to hold her face in your hands. She stopped as your eyes searched hers. "it's okay. I understand. I was just teasing you. And I don't feel at all like you're disrespecting me. In fact," you gave a slight tilt of your head, "you can consider me flattered."

Jessie digested your words and eventually gave a couple of slow nods.

"So," you started. You lowered your hands, one landing to rest on her lower thigh. "[y/roommate] is out. She won't be back for hours - if at all tonight, to be honest. Do you want to...?"

Jessie swallowed. After so many years and countless dreams, it seemed the moment might actually be here.

"I-If you want to."

You gave her a look and a single shake of your head. "Do you want to. It's not enough if I just want to."

She nodded, maintaining your gaze. "I do." She chuckled, unable to stop herself. "Most definitely."

You gave her a soft smile. "Okay." You leaned in and kissed her slow, similar to how you'd done several times before, but this time it felt different. Jessie barely stopped the moan that nearly bubbled up her throat.

"You don't need this, then," you said gently as you picked up the pillow by its corner and pulled it away from her. Habit almost made her grab it and hold it back, but instead she let you move it away.

This time, unlike any other time before, you didn't politely avert your gaze from her bulge; you stared unabashedly. She couldn't help but shift slightly under your gaze and she cleared her throat.

"Don't worry," you told her, "I like what I see already." Surprise washed over her as suddenly you lifted yourself up and swung a leg across her to straddled her thighs. "I can't wait to see more."

Jessie just stared up at you speechless, though thankfully her body at least know how to react and her hands came to rest on your hips.

"Is this okay?" You asked. It took her a second, her throat dry, before she nodded.

"Yeah." A crooked smile tugged at her lips. "I love it."

You captured her lips in a heated kiss, this time your hips slowly started to grind upon her. Her breath shuddered and her eyes flew open at the sensations that shot through her.

Holy shit.

She stared up at the ceiling, a slight panic coming over her at the realization that there was a very real chance of her blowing her load before you'd even taken her pants off. If you were deterred by how she paused, you didn't show it, instead you tilted your head and began to start kissing down the side of her neck.

She remained still under your touch, her eyes falling shut now. A couple of small whimpers escaped despite every effort to suppress them.

"If you want me to stop, please tell me. We can stop at any time," you told her as you continued to kiss her neck and rock your hips against the hard bulge in her jeans. "I'm serious."

Jessie opened her mouth several times, but nothing came out. She merely nodded to start, eventually saying, "I-I don't want you to stop."

"Then I won't," you said simply, a lilt in your voice as your hands began to wander down her chest.

"Oh God," she said, again, cursing the inability to control her reactions. Her hips began to now push back into yours and her hands pushed under your shirt, a small moan nearly escaping at the feel of your warm skin under her touch.

You moaned against her neck and her fingers instinctively dug into your skin. The sound of your moan immediately burned itself into her brain and she decided right then and there that she wanted to hear that sound again and again.

Her mouth hung open as she breathed heavily while you continued to patiently explore.

"You feel so good already," you told her as you rocked against her restrained member.

"Oh God," she said once more and eyes slammed shut as she tightened her grip on you, pushing against you to the point of holding you in place.

You paused and she forced her eyes back open to see you looking down at her in concern.

"I, um, no, it's- I just." She took a moment to breath. "I'm seriously going to - you know. I just need a second. I'm so sorry."

To her surprise, a wicked grin crossed your face and you kissed her hard.

"You have no idea how hot that is," you told her unequivocally.

"Really?" She said with a near glare and blatant skepticism. "Because I'm pretty sure that's what girls make fun of most of the time."

"Not me," you responded, unbothered. "The thought of you cumming just from me being on top of you like this? Gorgeous. That is so sexy."

Jessie was ready to offer a rebuttal when you shifted off of her, giving her some greater reprieve.

"We can save that for another time though," you said benevolently. "For now..."

Jessie unknowingly took a deep breath as you started undoing her jeans. She felt like she was in a dream or a daze as you began removing her clothes and yours.

She originally thought she'd be too shy to look at you in your fully naked glory, but she surprised herself with how she couldn't take her eyes off of you instead. Her gaze raked up and down your body and she couldn't resist caressing your skin.

The moans of approval you gave her as her hands wandered or she kissed your skin had her in an altered state. This must be what it felt like to be high.

Soon you were back where you started, holding yourself above her, but this time her bare cock standing tall, precum dripping over the head and down the shaft oh so eager to be inside of you. Your warm hand gently wrapped around her to hold her in place. She felt breathless.

"Are you sure?" You asked as you held yourself poised above her.

Her eyes were fixed on her cock in your hand and how hot and incredible it felt to just have her tip nestled at your entrance. She forced herself to look up at you.

"I'm sure," she told you.

You smiled gently at her and leaned in, kissing her softly. She'd barely leaned up into the kiss when suddenly the heat from your core that rest on the head of her cock began to envelope her. She broke off the kiss immediately, eyes closed and jaw slack as your wetness stretched tightly around her tip and you slowly sank down onto her.

It sounded ridiculous, but she felt like she was seeing stars even eyes closed. Her jaw dropped further as your core fluttered warm and wet around her length and you settled on top of her.

Holy fuck. She'd masturbated countless times before. Hell, she even used the fleshlight - once - one of her teammates got her as a gag gift. But fuck. Nothing compared to this. No wonder people liked sex so much.

Just when she felt she'd steadied herself, you began to lift yourself up on her hardness once more until it was just the tip stretching out your entrance once more.

"Is this okay?" She heard you ask. She couldn't formulate words, she merely nodded and inadvertently began to push you back down onto her waiting cock.

You may have chuckled, she couldn't be sure, but soon you were establishing a rhythm, steadily rising and falling on her length. She could barely open her eyes. She heard you moaning softly as you began to ride her.

"You feel so good inside of me," you said as you began to rock yourself against her faster.

It felt incredible. Too incredible.

Her throat seized up as she felt the familiar tightening between her legs come on way too fast and by the time she'd even recognized the feeling she was gripping your thighs, fingers turning white, as she shot rope after rope of cum inside of you.

"Oh f-fuck," she stammered as she subconsciously jerked up into you as her orgasm continued. She felt mortified as she realized what was happening, but she couldn't stop and she could do nothing more than helplessly rut into you, muffled whimpers escaping her as she tried to quiet herself.

As her body slowly relaxed in the wake of her sudden orgasm, she vaguely began to notice how you tenderly massaged her scalp, stroking her hair. She blinked in a haze as you laid soft kisses atop her head. Despite your affection, her stomach sank.

"I'm so, so sorry," she began, voice pleading as she looked up at you. "I-I don't know-"

"Shh, it's okay," you assured her as you caressed her face and tilted her chin to kiss her softly. "I'm not bothered at all." Still, Jessie shook her head adamantly.

"I'm so embarrassed. Oh my God-"

"Hey," you said, cutting her off and looking her in the eye. "It's okay." She watched in confusion as the faintest smirk crossed your lips. "Like I said. It's pretty hot. I take it as a compliment. And besides," you went on lightly, brushing her hair back with your hands once more as you wiggled your hips atop of her and she held back a moan, "there's still plenty more night ahead of us."

Jessie quashed the rebuttal forming in her mind and instead simply looked at you and gave a slow, adoring shake of her head.

"You're the best. And I'm lucky to be with you," she said instead.

Before she could let her nerves get the best of her again, she gently nudged your hips with her thumbs, coaxing you to get off.

"I want to do something for you," she said and it only took a split second for you to smirk at her again. "What good manners," you said with waggle of your eyebrows as you rose off of her, obliging her request.

Her eyes fell to the sheets below as a pool of cum spilled out of you as down her softening cock and onto the bed. She stared wide-eyed for a moment at the mess you two had made, her cock pulsing at the sight as the visual tickled some part deep inside her brain.

She refocused as you settled onto your back, your head on the pillow.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know that right?" You said as you looked down at her. Frankly, she was too distracted by the sight of your wet pussy, cum still leaking out, and it took her a moment to register your statement.

She frowned. "I'm so into this. You have no idea," she breathed as she placed a hand on the inside of your knee, your legs automatically parting at the gesture. Her pulse quickened in anticipation.

"You're beautiful," she told you as she began to lay a few kisses along the inside of your thighs. Your scent overtook her senses and she felt herself growing hard again.

"Hand me that other pillow," you told her and she did so. She watched as you lifted your hips and settled it under them. "I find this helps," you explained. Jessie simply nodded, taking a mental note.

She began kissing her way up your thighs, her arms hooked under your legs and fingers gently digging into the top of them. Her nose was nearly touching your lips when she paused briefly.

"Um, I won't be offended if you tell me I'm doing something wrong," she said. "Or if you tell me I'm doing something right. I want to make sure you feel as amazing as possible. I've read a lot, but still, you never know. And-"

She looked up your body at you to see you smiling - maybe even cheekily - down at her.

"What?" She asked slowly, feeling a blush coming on.

"Nothing bad," you promised. "That's the perfect approach. And you're observant. And a good listener. So I'm sure you'll do great. My only tip is - when I tell you 'don't stop' - I mean it. Keep doing what you're doing - don't switch it up or speed up. Just do exactly what you're doing."

Jessie nodded intently. "Okay. I will."

Settling back in, Jessie began kissing along the juncture between your thighs and your core. Again, your smell was intoxicating and her cock throbbed, wanting to feel you wrap tightly around her once more. But first, she wanted to focus on you.

She laid a tentative kiss on your lips. A second time, gently suckling your folds, the taste of your cum and hers hitting her tongue for the first time. She peeked her tongue out and gave a faint lick through your folds. Her ears perked up as your hips shifted before her.

She gave another curious lick, this time at your entrance, surprised at the sensation of your juices on her tongue. She continued to patiently explore, trying to capture every subtle change in your breathing, any slight movement of your body.

"Mm, right there, baby," you moaned in approval as she settled her mouth around your clit. She sucked and licked delicately for several moments, again noting every reaction you had.

"Like you really mean it," you instructed as you rolled your hips into her face. Whether it was your words or the action, it triggered something in her mind and she dove in. You let out a low moan, your hand raking through her hair as you tilted your head back into the pillow.

That was the affirmation she needed. She abandoned her inhibitions. She gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to her on the bed and loving the small cry you let out as she fully latched on and lapped you up. She moaned into you and felt a wave go through her at how you moaned in returned, your hand still gripping her hair.

"Holy shit, Jess. Yes - like that," you told her and any need she had to come up for air dissipated in favour of wanting more and more praise from you.

Your hips began to buck into her mouth, but she stayed with you and didn't let up. Her senses buzzed as your legs grew restless and she felt you digging them into the mattress.

She continued her eager exploration, seeing what seemed to get the most reaction out of you and in time as she sucked on your clit and flicked the tip of her tongue against it you let out a particularly wanton moan and held her head firmly in place.

"Yes - oh my God. Right there, don't stop," you panted.

She resisted the urge to quicken her pace and instead did exactly as you instructed. You noises ceased for a moment and she was about to wonder if she'd done something wrong when a crescendo of a cry came from your mouth and your thighs locked around her head. You began to spasm against her and she felt a rush of liquid run down her chin.

She continued to suck and lick despite the way your hips jerked and eventually your body grew limp. She remained attentive, not wanting to stop too early until she felt you gently push her head away with a breathy laugh.

"Okay, okay," you laughed. "Give me a second."

"Oh," she said as she lifted her head, looking at you curiously before laughing softly herself. "Sorry. I didn't know if you wanted me to stop."

"No, no," you dismissed as you pulled her up onto you, wrapping your arms around her as you let out a content sigh. "You did amazingly."

"You're sure?" She asked as she lifted her head to look you in the eye, only to see you laying there, head tucked into her shoulder eyes closed. "You can be honest. I want it to be good for you."

You chuckled against her, giving her a squeeze. "That was really good. Like...hard to believe it's your first time kind of good."

Jessie felt a few embers of pride flare up within her chest and she bit back a satisfied smile.

"Okay. If you say so. But, if you want something different at any point just say." She began to blush, but forced herself to say what was on her mind anyway. She said it jokingly, despite how true it was. "I want to make sure you're fully satisfied."

"Mm," you voiced as you kissed her shoulder. "If that's just a preview of what's to come, you have nothing to be worried about."

Again, that prideful feeling stirred in her chest, but this time it was shrouded in apprehension. There were still other aspects of this she had yet to impress you with.

"Speaking of," you said, a lilt in your voice as you leaned up and began to lay teasing kisses on her neck that sent goosebumps across her skin. Her jaw dropped as your warm hand wrapped around her stiff member. "Seems like you're ready for round two."

She allowed herself a short laugh. "Well, you were really fucking hot, so..."

"Well, you felt - and tasted - how hot you got me just then, so, I guess we're even," you said with a smile in your voice as your hand began to slowly stroke up and down her length.

Even this felt so good, though. In the recesses of her mind she was already trying to formulate ways for you two to get more alone time together - she wouldn't be able to wait weeks and weeks again for this.

As good as it felt, she felt more in control this time around. Having cum earlier seemed to have take the edge off - slightly anyhow.

She grit her teeth together as you continued to patiently jerk her off. She subtly rocked her hips into your hand and you moaned softly in approval in her ear.

"So, ready for round two?" You asked. Her breath hitched slightly as she pushed into your waiting fist.

"Whenever you are," she responded. "Seriously. We don't have to rush," she went on, mindful of your request to give you a short break. She chuckled. "We've waited this long."

"Was the wait worth it?" You asked as your thumb circled her tip and your tongue teased the shell of her ear. She shivered, fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck," she breathed as her eyes closed. "Way more incredible than anything I could've pictured. You're so perfect."

"We haven't even got to the good stuff yet," you teased, nibbling at her ear as you hooked one leg around the back of hers, running it up and down her leg.

It felt like energy was pulsing through her body and she had to smile in disbelief at it all. "You're incredible. I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," you said as you tilted your head to kiss her softly at first before deepening the kiss and eliciting a moan out of her as your rocked your hips against her, her length flat against her stomach and yours now.

"Now," you went on, whispering in her ear once more. "I want you inside of me." Jessie's breath hitched yet again.

Despite feeling more confident and at ease, the nerves she felt before started to come back.

“Do you want to be on top again?" She asked as her hands caressed your curves, appreciating your body as she awaited your response. She felt you shake your head against her.

“I want you on top. I can still call the shots while on my back," you said flirtatiously as you traced a single finger down her spine. She let out a breathy laugh, flustered by your reply.

"You're really sexy," she said in wonderment. "Did I tell you that already?"

"Not exactly," you said with a soft laugh as you grasped her hips and shifted both of you so she was poised at your entrance once more. You leaned up and kissed her. "I'll tell you what I like, but if you're feeling overwhelmed you can slow down or stop. Don't worry, okay? It's supposed to be fun. And it's about us connecting and being together."

Jessie nodded. "I know. And I hear you. But I also just want you to feel as good as you make me feel."

"Mm, you want me coming undone on your cock, do you?" You asked as you held her chin between your thumb and index finger.

"Shit," Jessie said as her eyes fluttered shut at your words alone. She smirked. "Come on, babe. You gotta give me a chance here."

It seemed to be the right thing to say because you beamed up at her and caressed her face.

"If I know you the way I think I know you, it won't be long until you know all the right things to do and say to have me falling apart at your every whim. So, I'm going to enjoy this while I can."

Jessie grinned above you. "While that sounds pretty fucking amazing, I really just love the idea of being the one to make you feel incredible. I hope I can do that for you."

"You're off to a good start already," you chuckled as you reached down to hold her cock steady at your entrance. You gave her a light tug and she allowed you to guide her forward, her tip nudging your entrance open. She couldn't help but let her head fall against your shoulder at how good it felt already.

Your other hand came to her ass and gently pushed her hips down, she moved with your pressure and she felt your heat envelope her as she slowly sunk inside.

"Fuck," she breathed at the sensation. Her fists clenched into the mattress next to you and it almost made her toes curl.

You chuckled good-naturedly as you ran a hand through her hair. "Feel good, baby?" Her head lolled against yours.

"Mm. You feel so fucking amazing. Holy shit," she said as your legs wrapped around her waist and she sunk even deeper into you. "Oh Jesus."

You moaned lightly arm wrapping around her shoulder while the other remained teasing her hair. "It feels good for me too. You're filling me up so full."

Her fingers curled tighter into a fist, the sound of the sheets straining in her grasp below her. "Christ," she said. She hadn't even completed a full stroke and she was nearly on the cusp again.

She didn't think she'd be into dirty talk, but from the way her cock twitched inside you at the mere words you whispered to her, she had to admit she learned something new about herself.

She felt short of breath, but you didn't rush her and she took a moment to reset before she felt composed enough to draw her hips back. She was slow and deliberate in the motion, admittedly not knowing exactly how much she could pull back so she pushed inside sooner rather than later.

She did this, slow and steady, a few times over, one hand of yours on her ass and the other now on her hip to guide her. The amount of concentration it took actually turned out to be a blessing because the edge that had seemed far too near a minute ago didn't feel so imminent now.

"Just like that," you said in her ear as she began to find her rhythm with less and less of your guidance.

She felt her confidence building just for it to be shaken as she drew back too far and felt herself pop out of you.

"Oh fuck," she said, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment right away. You massaged the back of her neck tenderly and reached down to grasp her cock which was now fully slick with your cum again.

"It's okay," you assured her as you lined her up at your entrance again.

Jessie quickly worked to dismiss her nerves; not wanting to get rattled by such a thing and just allowed herself to feel safe with you instead. She slowly pushed back inside of you, reassured by how you moaned softly in her ear as she filled you up once more.

Soon she re-established the earlier rhythm, this time knowing how far she could draw back before sinking back to the hilt inside of you.

"Is this okay?" She asked, voice shuddering ever so slightly with the movement of her thrusts. You nodded against her.

"It feels good," you told her and laid a hand on her ass again, pushing her hips a particular way. "Try rolling your hips like this." She didn't question it, just followed your lead and soon your head fell back against the pillow, mouth agape. "Oh fuck. Just like that."

She grinned, spurred on by your praise. It felt like bliss the way you began to cling to her and pant in her ear.

She was doing that. She was the one making you lose your breath, making you pant and moan, causing you to dig your fingers into her skin as your pleasure built. It was greater than anything she ever dreamed of and she wanted more.

She began to quicken the pace of her hips and by the way your moans heightened in pitch, you approved. She wrapped her arms under your back and held you close as she continued to rock on top of you.

"Shit, that's so good, Jess," you moaned as you clung onto her, nails digging into the back of her shoulders. She couldn't help but smile smugly though you couldn't see it.

"Yeah?"

The sounds of her thrusts in and out of you were wet and growing wetter. Her climax was close, but she was absolutely focused and determined to make you cum before her. She flexed her muscles pumping into you harder.

"Oh God," you said. "Fuck. I'm going to cum - don't stop, Jess."

Again, she followed your advice and remained as steady as she could, careful not to cum though knowing she was about to make you orgasm just about sent her over the edge.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and she bit her lower lip as she concentrated on staving off her climax. The way you whimpered in her ear and how your walls fluttered wet and hot all around her was driving her wild. She couldn't help the way the odd whimper or moan escaped her throat as well as she did her best to bring you to your high.

Finally, she felt you tighten around her in a way she hadn't experienced before. Her strokes stuttered as you began to convulse around her cock and she exploded inside of you for the second time tonight. She grunted, wincing at the overwhelming sensation as she emptied herself deep inside of you as you held her tightly.

"Oh shit," she breathed as she collapsed on top of you. Her body felt spent and exhausted in a way she'd never felt before. It was strange, but incredible.

"Oh my God," you panted beneath her as your grip on her grew slack and your limbs relaxed.

The room was filled with heavy breathing as you both came back to your senses and Jessie was the first to speak next. She lifted herself up onto her forearms to see you, though her softening cock remained inside of you.

"Was...that okay?" She asked, newly tentative, brows furrowing in worry. To her surprise, you laughed, kissing her shoulder in consolation.

"I'm sorry. Me moaning your name, whining and panting underneath you and cumming all over your cock isn't answer enough?"

Jessie blushed, ducking her head slightly. "Well I don't know," she muttered.

"It was way more than 'okay', Jess. You're a natural," you chuckled. Again, she blushed deeper.

"Well, I don't know to feel about that," she complained slightly. "I don't want to be a 'natural' - I just...I don't know. Want to make you feel good."

"You did. Absolutely. You fit perfectly with me. You listened. You knew exactly what I wanted and needed." You sighed contentedly, head falling into the pillow further. "Fuck. That was so good."

"You'd tell me if you didn't like something, right?" She asked.

You huffed lightly, but gave her an affectionate look nonetheless.

"I know there is a mess beneath us on these sheets. And it's mostly me. That you can't fake. I promise you."

The image in Jessie's mind made her cock pulse and she began to grow hard inside of you once more. She kissed you, pulling back with a crooked grin.

"Any interest in round three?"

[parkerluvsu]

day 20: lazy sex <3

you're dragging your feet across the floor, hauling your backpack on your shoulders. after your last final before break, your mind is absolutely empty, only looking forward to collapsing in bed. you rustle your keys out of your pocket, unlocking your door and practically falling into your room. what you don't notice, is that art is sitting at your desk, patiently waiting for you to get home, and his face lights up when he sees you, and then gets concerned when you immediately fall into your bed. "are you alright babe?" art asks you, coming to lean against the side of your bed. you groan, turning your head to the side on your pillow so that you can talk to him. "that bad, huh?" art smooths his hand over your head, sliding into bed next to you. you nod, snuggling closer to him. "just relax yeah? let me take care of you.. please?" art knows you'd do the same for him, and he wants to prove that he's good for you, always.

you nod, tucking your head into his neck and letting him strip off your pants, kicking them to the end of the bed. art runs his large hands up and down your legs. you wrap your arms around his back, pulling his (your) sweatshirt up off of his back. art shivers when you trail your nails down his lean back, distracting himself by pulling off your loose t-shirt. you're extra thankful that you didn't wear a bra today, partly because of your long day of exams, and also because you know art hates taking them off. art cups your breasts with his palms, pressing small kisses on the soft skin. arts lips return to your face, "turn around for me, please" he says softly and you oblige.

you turn around on the bed, letting art spoon you a little bit as he strips himself of his pants and briefs. you feel the warm, wet sensation of his dick brushing up against your back and you can't help but arch into the feeling. art smiles, gently lifting your leg up to place over his hip, giving himself easier entry into you. arts hands are wrapped tight around your stomach, fingers rubbing circles and patterns into your flushed skin. "ill go slow.. i promise" art nuzzles into your neck, lifting up his hips to push himself into you. you whine softly at the stretch and art coos at you, whispering apologies. art thrusts into you slowly, slower than he normally would, but he knows you want it soft today, so he adheres to your wishes, as always.

art is hardly even thrusting into you at this point, if someone walked in they would probably think the two of you are just embracing. you love the comforting warmth of art, his chest against your back and his balls pressed flush against you. art makes small humping movements with his hips, hitting deep inside you over and over again, the feeling almost more intense than regular sex. art can tell you're tired, and he wants to make you feel good as soon as possible, so he snakes his hand around your body and rubs small hurried circles around your clit. you moan his name softly, clutching his bicep with your hand.

you cum quickly thanks to arts ministrations, clenching faster and faster around him until the pressure on your clit is too much and you can't hold back any longer. art lets you take what you need from him, happily watching you move your hips on him to elongate your orgasm. once you come to your senses, you tap art on the arm to let him know he can pull out, and you realize he hasn't cum. "w-wait you didn't cum? i feel bad art.. i could give you a blow job or something.." you offer to art, turning back around to face him. art shakes his head, pulling a blanket over you and tucking you in. "no, no it's okay really.. i just wanted you to relax.. to feel better" he says. you smile and feel warmth cover your cheeks, hiding your face in arts neck.

god, he really is the best boyfriend you could ask for <3

[archivewriter1ont]

Bad Batch Incorrect Quotes

Rex: So, how's adjusting to your new squad going? Echo: Well, my net worth has certainly gone up. Rex: *confused* Uh, what? Echo: Yeah, you know. What you're worth when you're caught in a net. Rex: Rex: I'm sorry can you please explain that. Echo: We were running out of fuel on our last assignment so we landed in a Separatist port and Hunter put on a disguise and turned Tech in. We got six thousand credits for him. Rex: Six. Thousand? Echo: Yeah, turns out he's the lowest-value option at the moment, but Wrecker said he got turned in the last time. He's worth ten thousand, because he's blown up, like, a ton of important stuff, apparently. Hunter and Cross are probably in the eleven to twelve k range but they can't agree on who's worth more. Rex: Rex: You sold your brother!!!??? Crosshair: *offscreen* Are you even brothers if you haven't sold each other once? Tech: When we were cadets I sold Crosshair to Hunter for two credits. Crosshair: Those were imaginary credits, Tech. Tech: Which was the agreed-upon currency at the time. That transaction has never been voided, by the way. Legally, you still belong to Hunter. Hunter: Please, void it. I don't want him anymore. Here, take your two fake credits. Wrecker: Don't say that! Come here, Crosshair. I want you. Rex: *still on the comm* YOU SOLD YOUR BROTHER? Echo: We obviously got him back, Rex. Chill out. We fueled up in like ten minutes and went to retrieve him. He's fine. Rex: So you sold him and then you stole him BACK? Tech: Obviously. This squad would not survive without me for longer than the time it takes to refuel. That is why we usually sell Hunter or Wrecker. Additionally, they do not require extraction as they usually do that on their own.

Echo: I'm worth three thousand at the moment. But ten thousand is coming, wait and see! Rex: *frightened ori'vod noises*

[orangetintedglasses]

"Right... r-right, you're right..."

The hold was... nice. Comforting. But as much as he tried to relax in the familiar warmth and weight of Wolfwood's embrace, Vash could feel himself starting to tremble at the thought of continuing on and finding something waiting for them down there. Alive or not-- perfectly preserved or composed to bloated, weakened scraps of water-logged tissue --it was going to be bad. All of this, already, was so, so bad...

... but he couldn't succumb to this right now. He couldn't. They needed to keep moving, finish what they started-- and there was still so much to do before they could even call it finished. The list had only gotten longer with each and every new discovery they made here.

It feels like his heart is going a hundred miles an hour; stirring the dread that had settled in his veins with every moth-flutter beat. Vash takes another breath, closes his eyes, and tries to focus more on the feeling of Wolfwood's body against his.

"I-I... I really like your idea, the repurposing one, but--" talk. Talk, just get through it, focus, "--but you're right. They'll come back here eventually, storm the place and start again. Hurt more people if they're given the chance. B-but if we move the Plants, we cut them off. No power, no resources..."

And people in need, who would help the Plants in return, could have more-- a silver lining in the storm that could still cut the Eye's plans for this place off at the knees. That... was probably just about the best they could do in this situation.

And if that was all they could do, then it was what they would do.

Vash breathed out again and slowly pulled himself away from the undertaker; turning around to look at him straight on with what little sparkling resolve he had left, flickering behind his eyes like a candle's dying flame. Despite this, he took Wolfwood's hands in his own-- one more hit of comforting, sympathetic touch to share before they moved on--

"Thank you, Wolfwood." he said softly, gratefully, squeezing both the undertaker's hands in his, rolling his thumbs over his knuckles, "... let's finish things, yeah? And maybe leave them a little worse than when we found them for the people who have to clean up after us~."

Wolfwood chuckles at Vash's comment, but it's clear that he's exhausted from putting on a face that long. It almost—almost—got him back in his old mindset, the one where he couldn't care about others, the one where he was an object to be used, he was a killing machine that punished the Eye's castoffs. There was no room for emotion back then, and even when joining up with Vash the first time his humanity was simply a facade. He and Vash are similar that way.

Now he has to do something similar because he needs to be strong for Vash. None of this comes as a surprise to Wolfwood, he's aware of the evils the Eye of Michael is capable of, but to Vash this must be him witnessing the darkest slough of what humans can do to each other. That's just life.

"Hey, come here," Wolfwood reaches out to grasp Vash's wrist and drags him backwards into his arms. He holds Vash to his bloody, holey blazer and shirt and gives the man a warm hug. Normally, he'd let Vash settle things on his own, he'd allow Vash to take in the facts—to absorb the image of humanity and judge them as he sees fit, but with them like this it's... nice to have a little comfort. Just a little.

"I only take charge like that in situations where I think I know more than you about whatever it is," he mumbles into Vash's golden hair, "That, or I care about whatever it is that's on the line. This time I think it's you that I care about—you're already exhausted, and now this? I had to step up and be there. Otherwise, I'm happy to listen to what you tell me to do. Unless it's stupid."

He sighs, and it's as if a vice-grip detaches from his heart and lungs.

"Take just a second. It's gonna be a lot, but we'll get through it, alright?"

[countdykulaa]

﹟ ⠀ ⠀ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀ LUXURIOUS⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ spoilt! reader x sevika ⠀ ❫

you're spoiled rotten . you know it . your brother knows it, and sevika's poor wallet sure knows the fact . your mother gave you everything she could though you weren't by any means rich . you went to the best schools a lower middle class family could afford thanks to a scholarship, a fancy pair of shoes bought every couple years in contrast to your peers and even went overseas on your own a few times . this rather ordinary upbringing did little to deter the pit of greed rotting your teeth away with each request .

where your mom fell short your looks picked up . all you had to do was walk down the street on a friday night and all your drinks would be paid for . you don't know what it was about you or where the sudden shift came from , but everyone around you looked at you less like the invisible one , doomed to join the shadows and more like the one with stars dancing on their skin . it took a while getting used to it , but after a while peoples generosity turned less into a gift and more into a quiet expectation . all this to say sevika swears she found you like this .

she swears the entitlement in your eyes was shining big and bright under those fluorescent lights the minute she locked eyes with you at a club with your friends . you were probably half her age , still raw with a rebellious look . she knew the moment her eyes trailed down to the scandalous two piece you had on that you wouldn't give her the time of day if she didn't buy your whole table drinks . sevika knows your type and by the way you tilt your head and gaze at her , unabashed and curious , you know hers too .

what initially started as a drunken one night stand turned into something more but it was by no means an accident . sevika took the initiative , asking you on the date while the taste of your pussy was still lingering on her tongue . she needed to make sure you knew she was serious about wanting to be with you. take care of you the way she knew you expected. you responded with a nod of the head and smile of approval , dragging her in for what turned out to be a long two days.

dating you was nothing short of exhausting in the best way possible. you were nothing like most of the other brats she dated you were something else . you never asked for what you knew she wouldn't give you and that was what made you dangerous . you let her take the lead despite the snark comments that often leave your mouth . she'd guide you down the street with her hand on the small of your back , let you order for the both of thwm and chased off anyone so much as looking in your direction for too long.

you were a pillow princess most of time . loving the way she'd lay her giant hand on your back and thrust into you deep enough to make you speechless . fucked absolutely stupid .

she buys you the best gifts money can buy and stocks up on groceries because she knows how much you love to cook for her. flowers were always a constant presence even in her absence but now they're bigger … brighter , replaced every week instead of every other week . she doesn't just take you to get your nails done and braids platted every month, but also makes sure she waits the whole five hours , phone in hand as she watches the game . her reward is the food from her favourite place , paid by her of course. she took care of you in all the ways that mattered.

...

Your hands weakly wail about only to be scooped by her large hand. She places your hands bove the bedframe, the hard slam echoing throughout the house.

The longer she fucks you the more quiet you get . your eyes flutter shut . a growing intensity settling in your lower half.

“Oh.” you whimper out , voice high pitched and downright pathetic in sevika’s eyes.

...

half the times you toyed with her lips or ran your fingers over her clit was more you playing around than it was making her cum . you swirled your fingers around her bush , felt the wetness running down her thighs . even suck your middle finger on her clit at times . sometimes making her cum was another way to entertain yourself . you especially liked the way sevika would react when your long nails accidentally swiped on her lips . the quick thrust she'd give , etching towards the slight pain . those nights always ended with her blazed out , eyes wide and dazed as you rode her to no end . at times you'd see how many times you could beg her to fuck you while her harness hit her clit in a way that would send her hurtling into another orgasm back to back with minimal stop . she rarely complained , even when it hurt , even when she , the acclaimed brat tamer was on the verge of tears herself .

your definition of topping included shoving her down the couch , lifting your mini skirt up as you straddled her shoulders and riding her face until you got impatient and whiney and made her take over . you'd never outright say it , but she'd know whenever those long stilettos sunk into her hair and grip with a harshness that would elicit a hiss from her occupied lips . she'd sink her blunt nails into your thighs and dragging you up and down her face herself . she knows you , knows you won't give her cock or hardening clit the light of day until you've had your fill . you're spoilt and lazy and greedy and … sevika's pants feel tighter than ever as she gives some aborted thrusts into the air .

she swears she could come from this . from pleasing you . from watching the money leave her bank account the moment a satisfied smile graced your features . and cum she does , right in her pants . you pay it no mind nor the high pitched whines she shudders against your clit .

PLUTO SPEAKS : updated my taglist form so make sure to check it out

TAGLIST : @saycubed

[1d1195]

The Lottery III

Read The Lottery here | ~4k words

From me: takes place during her second year in town. It's Christmas time 🎄

Warnings: fluffy

Summary: It's truly embarrassing how smitten Harry is with her.

“Please, please, please!”

“No,” his voice was solid, flat, devoid of emotion. Impervious to her pleading it seemed.

She frowned and looked at him with a look that Harry assumed was supposed to be menacing. But it looked about as menacing as a baby bunny could be. “Harry Styles, people will think you’re The Grinch.”

“They already think that, Peach,” he rolled his eyes and moved to the next table check that the ketchup wasn’t completely depleted.

“Then I’ll think you’re The Grinch.”

That seemed to do something to his brain because he paused running around the diner. He looked at her with the same irritation that he always directed at her. The kind that made him annoyed because she wanted two different pancakes. Or that she didn’t wear the proper coat in the snow. Or that her tires needed to be replaced on her car, but she didn’t mind (refused to replace them) because she wasn’t driving very far these days and really, it wasn’t that big of a deal because it probably wasn’t going to snow in the remainder of that March.

Harry shook his head, remembering he was supposed to answer her. “Peach,” he sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll look ridiculous.” There was no one else in the diner. It was nearly five in the morning. Much too early to have this conversation and even earlier to be having an argument.

But Harry thought she looked so cute. Cold but bright-eyed. “Well, that’s why I came now to ask. No one will know it’s you. We’ll park your car at my house, and you’ll tell everyone you have an appointment in the city. You’ll look unrecognizable.”

He stared at her for another moment before he turned to the coffee pot that he was brewing to make it cold for her. She was hours too early so it wouldn’t be cold. Her last pitcher was used up yesterday. Which only made him grumpier that he didn’t have what she liked. On top of being asked to do her ridiculous task. The silence was deafening. She smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll order regular pancakes for a week,” she offered.

He rolled his eyes. Maybe because he knew that he would still make her stupid pancakes and two omelets if she asked. “If anyone finds out s’me, I’ll tell them y’drugged me, Peach.”

“That’s very reasonable. While I’m asking for things, is it possible, I could borrow your oven for cookies and your coffee burners for hot chocolate?” She batted those pretty eyelashes at him, and he wondered just how obvious it was to her that he would do anything she asked of him.

“Y’know... I don’t do the whole town celebration thing,” he reminded her turning back to the coffee pot because if he looked at her any longer, he was going to tell her everything and this was not the time nor the place. She also wasn’t someone he wanted to know all his dark secrets. She was the one person that didn’t look at him with pity and he wanted that to remain true for as long as he could manage.

She frowned. “Well, I do,” which made next to no sense because at the time of asking she had only lived through one town Christmas—kind of. She wasn’t part of the traditions at all but somehow inserted herself into helping as much as she could. “No one will know it’s you,” she reminded him. “And I know you want to help,” she shrugged casually. “Can our pancake deal start tomorrow I’m desperate for peaches and white chocolate chips,” she dropped into her seat.

He didn’t answer, but he assumed she knew he was putty in her hands. “Coffee’s not cold yet,” he grumbled pouring her a hot cup.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to make me cold coffee anyway,” she shrugged and reached over the counter for the sugar and cream only for Harry to smack it away as was their own little tradition. “Oh!” She squealed and hopped out of her seat rushing out the front door as if she saw a ghost.

Harry blinked and hurried after her in case there was some kind of issue or if she saw something troublesome that would get her killed or kidnapped. Not that anything of the sort ever happened in their little town. But leave it to her to find something dangerous. “What—”

Her head was tilted nearly at a sharp forty-five-degree angle looking at the moon, dipping lower in the sky. Some of the stars were still out, and the sky was just starting to turn the slightest light blue. “Isn’t she pretty?” She sighed dreamily. Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest. The same kind that did any time she had him look at the moon. The awe, the fascination, the unadulterated innocence on her face made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, Peach, s’lovely,” he agreed and waited twenty seconds to let her stare. “S’cold out,” he reminded her because she of course didn’t put her coat back on for this expedition. Gently, he placed his hand on her lower back. “C’mon,” he encouraged. “I gotta make y’some pancakes.”

Harry swore she continued looking over her shoulder as he ushered her inside which just made him fall a little harder for her.

*

The day of the town’s Christmas festival Harry did what she said. He talked about his appointment in the city (that he didn’t have) all morning. When nearly everyone he ever knew was in town, he drove his car to her house where no one would notice it was there. He dressed in a red suit, and she drove him over in her own car dressed in an elf ensemble. Had Harry known she had a part to play he may have agreed a little faster. She was adorable, the shoes curled into a swirl at the toes, she was decked in red and green from head to toe and sure Santa was a symbol of Christmas but she was the near embodiment of it as well.

The second she stepped out of the car after all the little ones shouted excitedly for Santa, she pulled up the rear carrying a bag of candy canes over her shoulder.

“Miss Peach! You’re an elf too!?” Someone called when they realized the bookstore owner was in tow with Santa himself.

“You know Santa?!”

She giggled as Harry threw his voice and laughed at the little ones in awe over the pretty girl. They were right to be in awe. She was lovely. Making this happen. Picking someone certifiably Grinch-like. Yet he did it anyway.

“Santa’s sleigh is being fixed a couple towns over, so I picked him up and he was so grateful he agreed to come say hi to everyone! One of the elves gave me a costume to borrow for the day,” she explained. “Santa is going to see if he can get everything you all want, if you’ve been good.”

So, Harry took his seat on a chair that was much too poofy and frilly. It was set among a huge sack of mini presents, a mailbox for letters, and she dumped her bag of candy canes into a bucket. There were cookies and hot chocolate at the table beside the setup, run by her employees, curtesy of Harry’s oven and coffee maker. She stood beside Harry the whole afternoon as so many little ones came to tell Santa what they wanted.

What was worse was it was fun. Harry actually enjoyed being Santa. The little ones were so funny, and she was adorable dressed in her little get up. “Miss Peach,” one little boy whispered toward the end of their little event. He waved her over several yards away from Santa’s chair.

Naturally, she hurried over, leaving Harry with a pair of nine-year-old girls who wanted a lot of makeup and dolls. She greeted his parents who smiled knowingly at the cute bookstore owner with a little baby in a stroller beside the boy who waved her over.

“Is that the real Santa?” He asked gulping.

She smiled. “I got him off the sleigh and everything.”

He looked down nervously. She knew him from her story hours and going to the bookstore to do crafts related to the book of the week. “I’m kind of scared of Santa, Miss Peach,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she pouted. “There’s nothing to be scared of,” she whispered. “He’s very nice and just wants to know what you want for Christmas.”

“Will you go with me?” He asked.

She nodded and held his hand. “Hey Santa, Caden here is a little nervous,” she told Harry. Behind the hat, wig, glasses, a white beard and a firm pillow tucked into his shirt, it was next to impossible to know it was Harry.

How anyone couldn’t tell those pretty green eyes belonged to someone other than Harry was ridiculous to her, but whatever. She was eternally grateful he was doing this for her. Honestly, she couldn’t fathom why he would do it for her, but she wasn’t going to question it long enough for him to back out.

There was a kind smile beneath the white beard and mustache. One that she had only seen a handful of times. When it appeared on his face in the diner it was nearly always hidden from view—but every once in a while, she would see his pink lips turn up in a genuine smile. Happy over a joke someone made. Or how a little one told Miss Peach they had a crush on her.

She wondered if Caden knew how lucky they were to witness such a soft, beautiful sight. “S’that so?” He chuckled.

Caden tucked himself behind her leg and she bent to scoop the six-year-old into her arms. “Santa is a good friend of mine, he just wants to make sure you get what you want,” she assured him. “Do you want me to tell him?” She asked stepping closer toward Harry. He hid his face against her shoulder. Gently, she stroked the back of his head. “I used to be scared of Santa too,” she whispered. “But we’re friends now, right Santa?” She asked glancing over. Harry nodded, waiting patiently. Letting her do her thing. “Here,” she walked to Harry, wedged herself between Harry’s legs and perched on his thigh, stretching her own legs out so she wasn’t putting her full weight on his body. She sat Caden on her lap facing her and Harry.

Poor Caden looked like he was about to have a breakdown.

Harry knew what Caden was feeling almost at the exact same time. Other than a touch on her back or smacking her hand away, Harry hardly ever touched her. Now, her whole pretty butt was on his thigh. Had he known this would have happened, he wouldn’t have argued with her at all. She was so casual about it, as if she sat herself in his lap all the time. How was this not a moment in time that caused for absolute shock for her? Was he breathing? It felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, encouragingly. “I’m right here, tell us about what you want Santa to bring,” she ran a hand across his cheek. “Do you want... a Lego set?” She asked. He glanced up shyly at Santa and nodded. Harry smiled behind his beard reassuringly. “And a skateboard?” She continued guessing what a little boy his age would want. He nodded again. “And... a unicorn stuffie?” She smirked.

He frowned and shook his head. Which made the two of them laugh. “My sister likes unicorns, not me,” he told them. Harry nodded.

“So, a skateboard for you and a unicorn for—” Without missing a beat, Harry watched her mouth the name of the younger sibling. “Lily.”

“You know Lily?” He asked, pure wonder in his eyes. Staring up at Harry like he was the most amazing person in the world. Harry did think he was the Grinch because his heart truly melted and it was all thanks to the pretty, peachie girl.

“Santa knows everything,” she whispered. “Can you say thank you?”

“Thank you... Santa?” Caden asked, hopping down from her lap and turning bravely toward him. She stepped away from his legs which made him feel cold and grumpy again. But he remembered to stay focused on Caden.

“Yes, lad?” Caden ushered him closer waving his hand toward him. Harry leaned down further so Caden could whisper in his ear.

“Can you help me get a present for Miss Peach?”

Harry looked at her as she gathered a candy cane, a cookie, a present, and a cup of hot chocolate for Caden to take. “Absolutely.”

*

When Santa left, Harry magically returned with his car and headed to the diner to check on things. “You missed all the fun Harry,” she sighed stepping behind the counter and heading for the coffee pots filled with hot water for her hot chocolate stand. “I brought Santa in and everything.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and stuck his arm out to stop her. “Did he tell you he was bring y’coal?” he rolled his eyes and turned her physically by her shoulders before she reached the coffee pots. “Get out,” he said.

“Miss Peach getting coal?” Edith laughed. “Harry, don’t be ridiculous.”

She smiled, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Can I please have more hot water for hot chocolate?” She asked.

He sighed, like it was a big to do. But he did it anyway. She was getting really good at reading his eyes. She could see the slight amusement. Or what she hoped was amusement. Maybe it was just more annoyance, but the light shining a little differently in his irises. “I’ll keep it coming,” he shrugged and handed her two of the coffee pots.

“You are like Santa himself,” she grinned and carefully walked out with the hot liquid. Someone held the door for her and Harry headed to the kitchen, smirking once he was behind the cover of the wall away from the rest of the diner.

*

Christmas morning in a small town was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was literally a Hallmark movie. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground. Against the lights it was the stuff of dreams. She walked through the quiet town, her second one in town but the first one she had ever spent away from her family.

“Peach?” Harry called. He was taking a bag out behind the diner to the trash. The door to the back was open to what she imagined was his apartment. She heard it was attached to the diner, but she had never seen beyond it.

She gave a wave and walked toward him. “Merry Christmas, Harry!” She chirped and dove in for a hug. Harry awkwardly wrapped his arms around her and despite his awkwardness, it felt like the best Christmas present he had ever received.

“Merry Christmas,” he hummed. “I thought y’were heading t’your family’s place for the holiday?”

“I did last year, but I thought I would try and start my own traditions. They’re going to be down this weekend actually.”

“Make sure y’bring them by,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “How about you? Any traditions?”

Traditions hadn’t been part of Harry’s vocabulary in ages. But Gemma was coming and that made him immensely happy. Well, as happy as someone as grumpy as he could be. “M’sister is coming around lunch time. I do a Christmas brunch, and a lot of people stop by.”

“Oh, that’s really lovely,” she grinned. “I’m sure you’re busy then and I don’t want to keep you. Have a happy—”

“You’re invited,” he practically blurted. She blinked, surprise coloring her pretty face.

But she recovered quickly and the smile on her mouth returned and made Harry think that even if he never touched her again, he could settle for a smile directed at her. “Really?” She asked. “I don’t want to mess with tradition.”

But that was far from the truth because she had already inserted herself into so many town projects and made the town so much better just by existing. Not to mention she got him to dress as Santa. Tradition flew out the window the moment she stepped foot in the diner.

“S’a whole town thing.”

“Well then, I really have to run because I cannot show up empty handed. Muffins or cupcakes?”

“Y’don’t have to—”

“I’ll make both unless you tell me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and her stubbornness. “Muffins, Peach. Thank you.”

“Christmas looks good on you, Santa,” she nodded. “You’ve got the best smile, Harry,” she waved and headed back the way she came.

*

Her mom always hosted parties and if she didn’t then it was a neighbor, Grandma, or aunt. She became a makeshift hostess and always tried to make herself useful. The second she walked into the diner she was greeted with cheers and Merry Christmases. Honestly, other than it being a holiday and the garland draped around the place, it was no different than walking into the diner any other day. She scurried to the counter where all the food was lining it, the warmers keeping the food hot, just waiting to be devoured. She could hear noise from the kitchen. Without thinking much longer, she stepped behind the counter, set her muffins toward the end of the line of food, and began gathering the plates and silverware to put at the beginning of the line.

The moment he heard clinking, he stepped from the kitchen. “What the he—”

“Oh hi,” she chirped over her shoulder. “Just making myself useful.”

“You’re not supposed to be behind the counter.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas and I’m helping.”

“I like her,” a woman stepped from behind the kitchen wall as well and smiled with a wave. “I’m Gemma,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Harry’s sister?”

“The one and only,” she had the same pretty smile that Harry did. She wondered who they inherited from. But the smile seemed much more natural on Gemma’s face than Harry’s.

“Peach,” he rubbed a hand over his face. “If y’get hurt, m’insurance doesn’t cover annoying pains in the butt.”

“What a nice thing to say on Christmas,” Gemma rolled her eyes. “How many times did you come back here when Mum told us not to?” Harry turned to the kitchen before he could answer.

She frowned. “I just wanted to help.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry is just a grump,” she shrugged. “Thank you for the help,” she grinned sweetly. “I’m going to bring Mr. Sour out again but please make yourself at home,” she assured.

People chatted with Gemma for most of the time they ate. She helped Harry carry food out from the kitchen even though he grunted at her in annoyance each time she picked something up. She ignored him making a plate for both herself, and Harry. “Harry come eat,” she held the plates of food in her hands. “Everyone is good for the moment, and you deserve it,” she told him.

He sighed as he always did. Like talking to her was getting a splinter taken out of his hand. He grabbed the plates from her and walked toward the side of the diner where there were two seats open. “Miss Peach, these muffins are delicious!”

She grinned. “Thank you, an old family recipe,” she said sweetly and plucked a piece of bacon from her plate. Harry headed back to the kitchen and she pouted but he returned quickly holding a cup of coffee for her, cooled and iced as always. “Thank you.” Harry sat across from her eating silently, but it was comfortable. Peaceful even. The chatter around them was comforting. “You do this every year?” She asked. He nodded. “It’s nice, Harry, thank you for inviting me,” she grinned. He didn’t look up from his food, but he nodded again, and she was certain the corners of his mouth twitched in an upwards direction.

Harry was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a dark green button down. It brought out the gold specks in his eyes and enhanced how green they were in general. It was her favorite look on him. Given he only seemed to have about six or so shirts in total. His hair was styled just so, so it wouldn’t fall in his face. “Let me get a picture of you and Gemma.”

“No,” he shook his head sipping his orange juice.

“Oh, come on, Harry. She’s your sister.”

He shook his head. “I don’t do pictures.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gemma, would you like a picture with Harry?” She called across the room.

“God, would I!” She hurried over and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. She kissed the side of his face and he rolled his eyes but the smile was a little harder to hide that time around. She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it out to get a picture of the siblings.

“Say Merry Christmas!”

Harry smiled, genuinely. Which made her utterly happy. Gemma kissed his cheek again. “I love you, little brother.”

He shook his head as she hurried back to her conversation across the room. Harry cleared his throat and reached into his pocket pulling out a small box, wrapped perfectly, and slid it across the table toward her.

Of course, her gifts for everyone in town that had made her feel so welcomed were at her house. She planned on giving them out at the diner the following morning. Let the day be about family. So she was unprepared and felt terrible that she had nothing for Harry.

But she was also so shocked she simply gaped. “Harry,” she managed. “I don’t—”

“S’not a big deal,” he shrugged. “Caden... he wanted t’make sure y’got a gift. I asked him t’help me pick it out. Told him Santa left a note here since he knows y’here a lot,” he explained. “S’really from Caden.” But it wasn’t. Not really. It was from Harry. The grumpy diner owner who made her pancakes, gave her a hard time because she was a nuisance. “Go on,” he encouraged. She pulled the paper off, revealing a small brown box.

“Your gift is at home,” she told him.

“Y’didn’t need t’get me anything,” he rolled his eyes.

“Of course I did, Harry—”

“Will y’jus’ open it, Peach? Y’making it a huge deal and honestly, s’hardly anything.”

She opened the lid and inside was a square piece of cardboard. A delicate chain draped along the middle of it, holding the small crescent moon charm at the center of a pair of matching earrings. “Harry,” she brushed her finger on the charm. “This is too much,” she frowned knowing that he probably spent way too much on someone who was a pain in his ass.

“Y’do a lot for this town,” he shrugged. “S’the least Caden could do.”

She tilted her head at him. “Thank you,” she plucked the necklace off the cardboard and quickly secured it around her neck. Her ears already had Christmas presents jingling and dangling from the lobes, but the necklace looked delicate and pretty against the top of her shirt. “I’ll bring your gift tomorrow.”

“Whatever helps y’sleep at night, Peach. Y’want more food?” He asked standing and grabbing her plate at the same time.

She played with the charm at the base of her throat and nodded. “Please," she wondered if Harry was aware of how much she truly liked him. How sweet he really was despite the front he put up in front of everyone else. But she supposed for today, since it was Christmas, she would let him play his grumpy self and enjoy the thoughtful gift he bought for her and the yummy food he made.

She hoped this tradition would stick around every year.

--

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[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

There's a present under the Christmas tree that wasn't there two hours ago. 

It makes Tommy stand stiff as a poker in the doorway of his own living room, his mind full of possible break-in scenarios. However, the typical signs are missing. No ripped-out drawers, no shattered glass; and what burglar would bring instead of taking something? The somewhat sad little tree, which Tommy didn't actually want to put up in the first place but then did because it's Christmas after all, seems to shine a little brighter thanks to the present. 

Carefully, he approaches the tree under whose green branches the box lies. Its red wrapping, decorated with little Christmas trees, is reflected in the equally red and shiny Christmas baubles. Of course, there’s only one way to how the present got under the tree, only one person who’d be able to do it. Buck still has a key to Tommy's house. He hasn't been in touch since the break-up, and Tommy has missed the perfect time where you presumably ask for the things that the other person still has in their possession. 

The little red box bears Evan’s signature so much, it hurts. It is not particularly carefully packaged, although you can see he's made an effort. Instead of just buying a box, he has wrapped whatever is in the parcel in wrapping paper. It’s wrinkled, the small trees on it are uneven. Tommy can almost see it: Evan sitting at his kitchen table, his tongue between his half-open lips, concentrated in a tangle of adhesive tape. A man with such skillful hands, yet he simply can’t coordinate them. Hands that save lives but fail when cutting paper. Opposites that are downright confusing - and yet so attractive. 

Tommy lets out a sigh that echoes off the walls of his room, as if his own house is mocking him for his self-inflicted loneliness. He holds the small gift in his hands and wonders whether he should really open it. What’s the intention behind it? Why give him a present? The truth is, Evan had gifted him with his mere presence, probably without even knowing it. Getting that back would be a far greater gift than whatever may be in this box. 

The only problem is that he believes he doesn't deserve either. 

Tommy carefully pulls on the adhesive strip, runs a finger beneath the paper and very gently removes it. There is a plain white box underneath. Maybe it was a spontaneous idea to wrap it, but then why go to all the trouble for an undertaking that Evan also knows he hardly has mastered? Tommy's thoughts are on a rollercoaster, a constant up and down, and every steep descent causes tingles in his guts. 

Tommy shakes the box. There’s a soft tinkling sound inside, metal scraping against the cardboard of the box. He turns the box over in his hands, looks at it from all sides, but he is only delaying the inevitable, and he knows it. Opening the lid feels like tearing off a band-aid. Inside is a folded note on a layer of tissue, as green as the little trees on the wrapping paper, but not as green as the branches of  Tommy’s Christmas tree. Green as hope, maybe. 

Tommy,

I still see a future. E. 

Tommy stares at the note, his eyes actually looking right through it, far away; back to a time perhaps when he was less afraid. His fingers carefully feel their way over the tissue in the box. There’s still time to put aside the message, the box, the hope. Maybe he's too much of a coward for that, too. Tommy reaches under the paper, lifts it out of the box and tosses it aside. It gently slides under the tree, almost exactly where the present was. A sign, or not; everything is a sign or it isn’t. 

There’s a key in the box.

That’s not the key to Tommy’s house. Even if it would have been a weird way to return it like this, his deceptive heart feared just that for a moment. But it's also not the key to Evans Loft, because Tommy didn't give it back either. Silly, that they both had clung to this symbols so much. So, it’s neither his key nor Evan’s, and it only takes a quickening heartbeat longer for Tommy to realize. It really is a symbol, this key. One that not only relies on Tommy's curiosity, but also trusts that he will rise to the occasion. 

Suddenly, his phone is in his hands.

This the key to your heart, Evan? 

Bating his breath, he’s waiting for an answer.  

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

Trigger warning; Blood, pain, injuries.

notes; Hello everyone! I'm super exited on how this story is going to turn (and let me be honest it's probably going to be long, at least longer than the Forger of starlight for those who read it). Still I hope that you are going to enjoy this chapter ! Don't hesitate to comment <3 See you soon !

Link; Part 3

---

The next morning’s light cast a pale glow through the clinic’s windows, the faint scent of antiseptics and dried herbs greeting you as you unlatched the doors. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to keep your mind on the tasks at hand rather than on the unsettling knowledge lodged behind your ribs. A mate—Azriel was your mate. Even thinking the word sent your pulse skittering.

One of the healers—a younger fae named Elira, with cropped auburn hair and warm brown eyes—stepped inside just as you finished propping the doors open. She paused, studying your face with a hint of concern. “Morning, Y/N. Are you all right? You look… tired,” she said gently, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders. The morning still carried a chill, and you realized you’d barely felt it through the fog in your head.

You mustered a weary smile. “I’m fine,” you lied, voice quiet. The words felt brittle, and you suspected Elira might sense the untruth. But you couldn’t burden her with the chaos pounding in your skull. “It was a long night. Emergencies.”

Elira nodded, sympathy softening her expression. “Did something serious happen?”

“Serious enough,” you answered vaguely. “I managed it, but… I’m still recovering.” You forced your shoulders to square, as though you could physically straighten your resolve. “Do we have the morning’s patient lists ready?”

Elira didn’t press further—perhaps sensing you weren’t ready to talk. She offered a tentative smile and said, “I’ll sort the files. You should rest, even if just for a few minutes.” There was kindness in her voice, a gentle understanding that you were carrying more than you cared to say.

Rest. The suggestion sounded laughable. There was no rest in sight, not with the secret you held, not with Azriel’s bandages and salves waiting for you at the House of Wind. But you nodded anyway, grateful for Elira’s compassion. “Thank you, but I need to tend to something first,” you managed, grateful that she didn’t look offended. Instead, she nodded and moved toward the record room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

For a moment, you lingered by the door, one hand still on the frame. The clinic hummed softly as healers arrived, exchanging greetings, setting up their stations. Usually, this hum would soothe you, give you purpose. Today, it only reminded you that you were somewhere you once felt safe—somewhere you now felt oddly displaced.

You inhaled, drawing in the scent of herbs and polished wood. It was time to go back. Time to face Azriel again, to apply the ointment and ensure his recovery progressed smoothly. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of dread and longing. How would you act in his presence now? Would he sense the shift in your energy, even unconscious as he was?

Stepping out into the crisp morning, you let the door close gently behind you. The sound of the city waking up drifted through the streets—vendors setting out their wares, the faint laughter of children, distant footfalls of those heading to their day’s work. You pulled your cloak tighter, the weight of your responsibilities and secrets pressing against your shoulders.

With determined strides, you set off toward the House of Wind, each step both too quick and not quick enough. You wanted to get this over with, to fulfill your duties, to reassure yourself that he was alive and healing—and yet every pace brought you closer to him, and to the golden bond you didn’t know how to handle.

In the rising daylight, Velaris shimmered with quiet beauty. Its peace mocked your turmoil, but you kept walking, forging ahead, praying the trembling in your chest would ease before you reached the High Lord’s halls and the wounded spymaster waiting within.

With quiet steps, you entered Azriel’s room at the House of Wind. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the space in pale gold. You had your supplies in hand—a jar of ointment and fresh bandages, carefully prepared in the clinic’s familiar hush. Your heart gave a nervous flutter at the thought of approaching him again, but duty called, and you pushed forward, easing the door open with a soft creak.

At first, you saw only Azriel’s still form, cocooned in blankets, his wings carefully arranged to avoid pressure on his healing injuries. His dark hair fell over his forehead, his lashes resting against his cheeks. He looked peaceful, his pain soothed by rest and the remedies you’d applied before dawn.

But then your gaze caught movement. Someone else was here—a young woman seated by his bedside, her head bowed slightly as if in prayer or silent plea. She had delicate features, long brown hair cascading around her shoulders. A gentle profile that, when she turned, revealed a face not unlike Feyre’s—similar bone structure, the same warm eyes, though softer in hue.

Your footsteps faltered. Your mind flashed with questions: Who was she? Why was she here? Azriel was asleep, unaware of your arrival. You swallowed hard, feeling the tension coil in your stomach. The golden thread of the bond still lingered in your mind, making the sight of this unknown woman’s hand resting lightly on Azriel’s arm feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

As you approached, the woman looked up, startled yet hopeful. You noticed the worry etched on her face, a sorrow and concern that spoke of care and affection. Without hesitation, she stood, moving gracefully toward you.

She offered a trembling smile, eyes bright with tears unshed. “You must be the healer,” she said, voice quiet and earnest. “I’m Elain. Elain Archeron.” Her gaze flickered to Azriel’s sleeping form, then back to you. “Feyre’s sister,” she added gently, as though knowing her connection might reassure you.

Elain reached for your arms in a gesture of gratitude and relief. Her touch was soft, tentative, but sincere. “Thank you,” she said, and her voice caught. “Thank you for saving him. I-I’ve only just heard what happened. If not for you, he might have…” She trailed off, unable or unwilling to complete the grim thought.

Your heart twisted at her obvious worry, and despite the turmoil inside you, you forced yourself to remain composed. She was worried for Azriel, nothing more. Any sting of jealousy or fear you felt was misplaced, you told yourself. You were here to help, to heal. That was all.

“I’m glad I could be there,” you managed, voice quiet. Your eyes drifted to Azriel’s face, the rise and fall of his chest steady and sure. “He’s stable now, and with proper care, he’ll recover.”

Elain’s grip tightened slightly on your arms, as if finding comfort in your words. “He means so much to all of us,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “We were afraid—” Another half-spoken fear cut short. She swallowed, releasing your arms and folding her hands together. “I won’t keep you from your work.”

You nodded, steeling yourself, and moved closer to the bedside. The world narrowed down to the tasks at hand: checking Azriel’s bandages, applying ointment, ensuring his wounds were clean and healing as intended. Behind you, Elain hovered, her presence a soft reminder that you were not the only one who cared about this man’s survival.

The ache in your chest remained, but you channeled it into precise, gentle care, grateful that Azriel slept on, oblivious for now to all the unspoken emotions filling the room.

As you carefully lifted Azriel’s wing to apply fresh ointment along the fragile membranes, the door opened. Looking up, you expected perhaps Feyre or Cassian, but it was Rhysand who stepped quietly inside. He halted at the sight of Elain, surprise flickering across his features. She stiffened, then dropped her gaze and slipped past him without a word, leaving the room as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her sudden departure hung in the silence, unanswered questions lingering in the space she vacated.

You remained focused on your work, smoothing the ointment gently and checking for any sign of infection. When you were done, you lowered Azriel’s wing back onto the soft padding you’d arranged. He stirred slightly, but remained in a healing sleep. The faint hiss of his steady breathing was the only sound until Rhysand approached, stopping a respectful distance away.

“How is he?” the High Lord asked, voice low. His violet eyes held concern and relief in equal measure—he clearly trusted you, but he needed reassurance. You wondered if it was strange for him to stand here, watching you care for one of his closest friends, after seeing how you worked miracles with moonlight just hours before.

You inclined your head, wiping your hands on a clean cloth. “His vitals are stable. The bleeding has ceased, the stitches and salves are holding up. He will heal, but it’s going to take time.” You glanced at the bandages, ensuring everything was in order. “For the next two or three weeks, he should be extremely careful. Any strain could reopen those wounds, especially where the wings are concerned. If he follows instructions, he should make a full recovery.”

Rhysand exhaled quietly, tension easing from his posture. “Thank you,” he said simply, yet the depth of gratitude in that single phrase was undeniable. He stepped closer, examining Azriel’s peaceful face, the neat wrappings. “I know you’ve done more than what could be expected.”

You offered a faint, professional smile. “He responded well to the treatments. I’ll check on him regularly. With proper rest and caution, he’ll be back on his feet soon.” You paused, hesitant, then added, “He might chafe at the restrictions. I trust you and the others can help ensure he doesn’t push himself too hard.”

A hint of wry amusement touched Rhysand’s lips. “Oh, that will be a battle,” he said, a spark of humor in his tone. “Azriel’s not exactly fond of lying in bed. But we’ll manage.”

As you turned away to rinse the cloth and reorganize your supplies, the High Lord lingered, watching over his friend. The hush in the room was gentler now, as if the worst of the night’s nightmares had passed. In the corridor outside, you heard distant murmurs—life carrying on in the House of Wind, even as Azriel slept through his healing pains.

In a few hours, you’d return with more salves, check the stitching again, monitor his temperature. The routine would help ground you, a steady path forward as you navigated your new role and the unsettling bond you’d discovered the night before. For now, Azriel’s safe and stable state was a small victory, one you both needed.

After you finished tending to Azriel and making certain he was resting comfortably, Rhysand gently guided you from the room. In silence, you followed him through the House of Wind, eventually arriving at his office. It was a spacious chamber lined with shelves full of books and maps, and a large window offered a breathtaking view of Velaris and the mountains beyond.

He gestured for you to sit in a chair opposite his desk and took his own seat with a measured elegance. You settled into the soft cushions, mind still churning with the events of the night before and the morning that followed. Rhysand allowed a brief moment of silence, his violet eyes studying you with calm interest. You appreciated the courtesy he afforded you—allowing you to compose yourself, if only for a breath.

“There is some business we need to discuss,” he began quietly, resting his forearms on the desk’s smooth surface. “Specifically, Illyria.”

Your heart sank a fraction, remembering the plight of the Illyrian females. The clipping of their wings, a barbaric tradition meant to keep them grounded, powerless, had long stained the culture of the mountain camps. Anyone who’d lived in the Night Court knew about it—knew the cruelty it entailed. It made your stomach knot, the injustice of it all. But Rhysand’s gaze was steady, his tone matter-of-fact. He didn’t need to explain the tradition or its brutality to you. You already knew.

He continued, “We’ve made strides in changing policies and punishing those who practice clipping, but traditions die hard. There’s a deep-seated reluctance in some of the camps to embrace new methods, to trust outside help. And while we can enforce laws, people need more than punishment—they need healing. Not just in body, but in mind and culture.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the layers to his request. Illyria was a complex knot of pride, pain, and ingrained habits. Simply banning clipping hadn’t eradicated it overnight. Change would require education, trust, and time. As a healer, you might wield some influence. Heal their wounds, show them better ways, and perhaps, over time, their hearts could soften.

“You’re aware of the situation,” Rhysand acknowledged, reading your thoughtful silence. “I know you’ve only recently returned and you have your hands full with Azriel’s recovery and the transition of your role. Still, I must ask: would you be willing, sometime in the coming week, to travel to Winghaven? Begin there. Examine their current medical facilities—or lack thereof—and train some of their healers. Introduce new methods. Show them what can be done, especially for those who’ve suffered under these old customs.”

You caught his eyes, the sincerity and gravity in them. This wasn’t a small favor. It was a step in a long journey of reform. “I know Winghaven,” you said quietly. “They have rudimentary healers, but nothing on par with Velaris. The conditions are… difficult.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Indeed. Start there, build rapport, and then move on to the other camps in the following weeks. A thorough evaluation, some training sessions, maybe even demonstrations of advanced healing techniques. Whatever you think might help them trust and adopt new methods.”

Your pulse fluttered, considering what this meant. You’d travel again, but within the Night Court’s borders this time, extending the reach of your healing and knowledge to places that desperately needed it. It was daunting, but also a chance to enact real change. Madja had chosen you not just to heal wounds, but to heal a culture’s mindset if possible. This could be the first step in doing just that.

“I can do it,” you answered softly, your voice firming as you spoke. “I’ll need a day or two to prepare. I should bring some portable tools, samples of herbs, and notes to leave behind. And I’ll finish stabilizing Azriel’s condition, make sure everything here is organized before I leave.”

A hint of relief, and perhaps admiration, touched Rhysand’s features. “Thank you,” he said. “I won’t pretend this will be easy. You may face skepticism, even hostility. But we’ve set certain laws in place—call on them if you must. Cassian, in particular, is familiar with Winghaven and can advise you on how to approach certain leaders.”

At the mention of Cassian, you nodded again, making a mental note to consult him. His insight could help navigate the subtle power dynamics and stubborn pride of Illyrian warriors.

You exhaled slowly, embracing the weight of your new mission. Healing was never just about wounds. It was about hearts, minds, and cultures. It was about offering better ways to live, even to those who resisted. You’d do what you could, and hopefully, over time, your efforts would take root.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make a difference,” you promised, voice steady despite the uncertainty that loomed ahead.

Rhysand’s smile was small but genuine, a touch of warmth breaking through the High Lord’s composed demeanor. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

The hush of the office fractured abruptly by muffled commotion from down the hall. Your conversation with Rhysand froze mid-sentence, both of you snapping your heads toward the door. There was a look in his violet eyes—concern and a steeled readiness—that mirrored your own. In a heartbeat, you rose from your chair, following him at a brisk pace down the corridor.

The sounds led you back to Azriel’s room. The door stood ajar, and you entered to find Elain near the bed, wringing her hands, her face stricken with alarm. Azriel lay on the mattress, his breathing ragged, his skin flushing and mottled as if reacting violently to something.

Elain’s voice quavered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she pleaded, voice trembling. “He seemed uncomfortable, in pain, and I just thought—my salve… I didn’t know—”

Your heart pounded with a hot surge of anger. This was exactly why you insisted on careful protocols and avoiding any unapproved treatments. “What were you thinking?” you snapped, too concerned to temper your tone. “Applying something else without knowing its properties? Mixing plants can cause severe reactions!” Your voice cracked through the tension in the room, startling her.

Elain’s lower lip trembled as she retreated a step. She looked horrified and remorseful, but you had no time for comforting her now. Azriel jerked under the covers, his wings twitching fitfully. You needed to move fast.

“Get out,” you ordered, pointing to the door. Your command was clipped, professional, but unyielding. Elain let out a small sob and stumbled back, leaving the room in a blur of skirts and regret.

Azriel’s breath came in short, pained pants, his eyes half-lidded. You tossed your head toward Rhysand. “I need you to hold him down,” you said urgently, dropping to your knees beside the bed and flinging open your medical kit. “If he thrashes, he’ll make it worse. I must flush this foreign salve from his system.”

Rhysand stepped forward without hesitation. His presence, calm and contained, would help keep Azriel still. With a nod, he took position near Azriel’s shoulders, pressing down firmly but gently, careful not to aggravate existing wounds. Az let out a ragged moan, wings scraping restlessly against the blankets.

Your hands moved quickly, selecting herbs and tools you’d never intended to use twice in one day. You measured doses with exacting care, mentally reviewing which compounds countered which toxins, which would draw out the harmful concoction Elain had unwittingly introduced. The scent of your preparations soon filled the air—bitter, pungent, but necessary.

Biting your lip, you applied a cleansing solution around the affected areas, your fingertips deft and gentle despite your racing pulse. Rhysand’s voice was quiet, murmuring something soothing to Azriel, trying to keep him calm. Your own heart ached to see him like this, so vulnerable and in pain, especially after what he had already endured. But you banished the ache and focused on your role as healer.

The minutes stretched thin. You worked methodically, using a special wash to neutralize the reaction, applying cool compresses to reduce inflammation. Outside the room, you could still sense Elain’s presence in the hall, her quiet weeping. You pushed that distraction aside, refusing to look anywhere but Azriel’s face and the wounds you tended.

“Stay with me, Azriel,” you whispered as you worked, your tone softer now, though he might not be lucid enough to understand. “I’ve got you.”

Behind you, Rhysand’s gaze bore into your back, silent trust and support emanating from him. He kept his hold steady, ensuring Azriel didn’t thrash off the mattress and disrupt the delicate mending you were attempting.

Slowly, the color in Azriel’s cheeks began to normalize, the flush fading as the compounds took hold. His breathing, labored and strained, began to even out, shallow gasps replaced by steadier inhalations. It would take time, more careful applications, but you could see the signs of the countermeasures working.

It wasn’t over yet, but you’d gained precious ground. You adjusted your grip on another vial, heart pounding with renewed determination. You wouldn’t let him slip away, not now, not after everything.

“Hold him just a moment longer,” you said to Rhysand, voice steady once more. “I’m almost done.”

Once you were certain Azriel’s condition had stabilized, you stepped out of the room, still breathing heavily from the tension of your work. You found Elain in the corridor, lingering where you’d left her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tear tracks staining her cheeks, her posture slumped with remorse. But right now, you were too furious, too rattled by the near catastrophe, to offer comfort.

You closed the distance between you and her in quick strides, the echo of your footsteps making her flinch. “What were you thinking?” you demanded, voice low and tight. “You are no healer, Elain. You had no right—no right—to apply anything without my approval.”

“I-I was just trying to help,” Elain stammered, voice quavering. Her hands twisted in her skirts, knuckles turning white. “He looked like he was in pain, and I had this salve that’s helped me before—”

“Stop,” you cut in sharply, and she recoiled as if struck. “This isn’t about your intentions. It’s about what could have happened. I’ve seen lives lost because someone thought they knew better than the professionals. A bad mix of herbs, a plant reacting poorly with other treatments—and a patient dies. You could have killed him.”

Tears welled again in her eyes, her breath coming in shaky gasps. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

You tightened your jaw, fighting to keep your emotions from spilling over into cruelty. “I don’t care who you are to him, or what you think you can do. Right now, Azriel is my patient. My priority is saving his life, not sparing your feelings. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again…” Your voice trailed off ominously, anger vibrating in your throat.

“Elain,” came a quiet voice from behind you. Rhysand’s hand settled gently on your shoulder, the subtle pressure a reminder that you’d made your point. You breathed in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm the fire in your blood.

Elain looked at Rhysand as if searching for reprieve, but found little. His face was composed, yet stern. “It’s best you return to the townhouse,” he said calmly. “We cannot afford any more risks to Azriel’s recovery. Until he’s better—fully better—I’m afraid you’re not allowed in the House of Wind.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, shoulders slumping further. With a trembling nod, Elain turned away, tears still glistening on her cheeks. She moved off down the corridor, footsteps fading into silence.

You let out a shaky breath, shoulders still tight with residual fury and fear. Rhysand’s hand remained on your shoulder a moment longer, a silent token of understanding. When he removed it, you stood there, heart pounding, your mind already shifting back to Azriel’s condition. He was stable for now, but you would have to keep a closer eye on him than ever.

No more unnecessary risks. No more interference. Not while his life hung in the balance and your responsibility, as his healer, demanded unwavering vigilance.

———

Back at the clinic, the familiar hum of voices and quiet steps on wooden floors welcomed you like a gentle embrace. You’d returned not long ago, having decided you wouldn’t check on Azriel again until the next day. He was stable, and after the emotional whirlwind of the morning, you needed to focus on your other duties, regain your footing in the place that felt most under your control.

The other healers had noticed your tension, though none had dared comment openly. But as dusk settled, while sorting through jars of herbs in the storage room, you found yourself beside Elira—the same young healer who had noticed your fatigue earlier. She had a careful way about her, kind but never intrusive, and you appreciated her steady presence.

She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, tightening the string around a bundle of dried leaves. “Everything all right?” she asked softly, as if testing the waters. “You seem… troubled.”

You exhaled slowly, considering how much to share. “There was an incident,” you admitted, voice low. “I had to step in this morning to save someone who was already on the mend.” You paused, picking through lavender stems. “Let’s just say someone interfered with the treatment, and it nearly cost him dearly.”

Elira’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds serious. Did they mean harm?”

You shook your head, remembering Elain’s tearful face. “No, I think she meant well. But intentions aren’t enough. She mixed treatments without understanding the consequences.” The words tasted bitter, like you were defending your anger yet again. You looked at Elira more directly. “I might have been harsh, but… there was a real risk.”

Elira nodded slowly, a knowing sympathy in her gaze. “It’s never easy when outsiders meddle. Most don’t realize how delicate the balance is, or how small a mistake can undo hours of careful work.”

You busied yourself with organizing a stack of bandages. “What’s harder is… I’m curious about who she was to him. The patient, I mean.” The admission made you feel exposed, but you pressed on. “I know she’s related to the High Lady—her sister, Elain. But what about her relationship to him?” You pursed your lips, scanning Elira’s face for any sign of judgment. “I can’t help it,” you added softly, as if apologizing for your curiosity. “I saw the way she looked at him, how worried she was. It… made me wonder.”

Elira seemed thoughtful. “I’ve only heard rumors,” she said carefully. “He’s one of the High Lord’s closest advisors, part of that inner circle. They’re all very… intertwined. Friends, allies, perhaps more sometimes. Elain is well-known as someone gentle, kind, a bit shy. She’s close to all of them, I think. There’s talk that Azriel and Elain… share a bond, but nothing confirmed.” She shrugged lightly. “You know how rumors are.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting. A bond. The word reverberated in your mind, tangling with your own secret discovery. Could it be that you weren’t the only one feeling something unexpected? Or perhaps Elira had it wrong, and it was merely idle gossip. Regardless, your heartbeat fluttered nervously at the thought.

“I’m not one for gossip,” you said evenly. “I just… I need to understand the dynamics so I can navigate these situations better in the future.”

Elira gave you a small smile. “Don’t fret too much. Relationships in that inner circle are complicated, from what I’ve gathered. All you need to focus on is healing and doing what you do best. The rest will fall into place, or so I’ve learned over the years. Fate has a way of showing us truths when we’re ready.”

You pressed the bandages into a neat stack, forcing a steady breath. “You’re right. I shouldn’t get tangled in their personal affairs.” But even as you spoke the words, you knew the tangled knot in your chest was not so easily undone. If a bond truly existed—be it gossip or reality—you’d have to face it in your own way, in your own time.

For now, you settled for the comfort of the clinic’s routine, and the quiet solidarity of another healer who understood that sometimes, wanting answers was part of the human—fae—condition. You’d return to Azriel the next day, as promised, focusing on his recovery and ignoring, for a few hours more, the silent questions that thrummed under your skin.

Night had fully fallen, and the hush that blanketed Velaris seemed deeper than usual. In your small apartment above the clinic, a lamp cast a gentle glow over the modest furnishings. You sat curled on your couch, cradled under a thick cover, a warm cup of tea balanced on your knee and a book open in your other hand. The scent of chamomile and honey rose with the steam, comforting and mild.

A soft, muffled tap came from the window. You paused your reading, glancing up just in time to see Ydil—the eagle who’d followed you through countless journeys—perched on the sill. His feathers ruffled slightly in the night breeze, and his keen eyes shone with recognition. Without hesitation, you set the book aside and rose to open the window. The chill of the winter air nipped at your cheeks as Ydil hopped inside, letting out a small, happy sound—a rough, throaty chirr of delight.

You closed the window with care, sealing out the cold. Ydil nudged at you with his head, as if in greeting, his beak gently tapping your arm. The affection was unmistakable, and a tender smile curved your lips. “Hello, old friend,” you murmured quietly, stroking the smooth feathers along his neck. He had traveled with you through distant courts and unknown lands, watching over you as you honed your healing craft, bearing witness to triumphs and losses. Now, here he was, comforting you in this new chapter of your life.

You settled back onto the couch, rearranging the cover so that it would fall partly over your lap and leave room for Ydil. He hopped closer, tucking himself beside you with a small flutter of wings, drawn to your warmth and the promise of quiet companionship. The lamp’s glow highlighted the subtle patterns in his feathers, the soft shine in his dark eyes. He was safe here, as were you.

Reclaiming your mug, you took a slow sip of tea, the sweet warmth settling in your chest. The book rested on your lap, its pages waiting patiently for your attention. But for a moment, you just breathed, listening to Ydil’s faint rustle as he positioned himself more comfortably, feeling the soft weight of the blanket, and smelling the gentle floral notes of your tea.

Outside, the night carried on in hushed whispers. The starlight and the faint hum of distant laughter from the city below reminded you that life went on, despite all your questions and uncertainties. You would face them—tomorrow, the next day, whenever fate demanded. For now, you had this peaceful moment: a warm couch, a loyal companion, a cup of tea, and the quiet promise that you weren’t alone, not tonight.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. One moment you were reading, the gentle rustling of Ydil’s feathers at your side, the soft lamplight glowing over the pages of your book; the next, your eyelids grew too heavy, and your mind drifted into a gentle haze. The mug in your hand grew tepid, and the words on the page blurred. By the time your book slipped from your grasp and settled lightly against your lap, you were already lost in quiet slumber.

Ydil noticed immediately. With a soft, rustling sound, he slipped out from under the cover. The eagle cocked his head, studying your face as though ensuring you were truly at peace. You looked so tired—no wonder you had succumbed so easily after the long, restless night before.

He hopped lightly onto the arm of the couch, where the lamp rested on a small side table. Balancing his weight with delicate precision, Ydil stretched out and pressed the lamp’s switch with his beak. The soft glow vanished, leaving only the faint silver gleam of moonlight filtering through the window. In that gentle darkness, the world felt hushed, a cocoon of calm around you both.

Carefully, the eagle tugged at the blanket’s edge with his beak. Bit by bit, he pulled it higher until it covered your shoulders, ensuring you would remain warm against the night’s chill. Satisfied, he settled himself beside you again, his head turning as if listening to your steady breathing.

Ydil tucked his wings close, sharing the silence and stillness. Outside, Velaris slept, stars glittering softly in the winter sky. Inside, the quiet companionship of bird and healer spun a fragile moment of comfort—no demands, no urgent calls to duty, no doubts hovering at the edge of your mind. Just rest, and the gentle presence of an old friend looking after you in the deep hush of the night.

----

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[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

order 88 | headcanons | Heartslabyul | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: ignoring them and giving silent treatment. Unintentionally a bit angsty, how could you ever ignore them

Requests open as of now if request now if you have any😎

➺ Ace Trappola

He is honestly really offended and keeps mocking you saying how you can’t keep it up forever. But once he realizes it’s been longer than a few minutes he gets actually agitated. He sits right next to you, staring expectantly. If you move away he gets closer. He gets really clingy and does everything to make you talk again. Texts you, bribes you, ignores you back, pokes you, tickles you, just everything.

“Look at the video I sent you.” He said while elbowing you, but you say nothing but just continue doing whatever on your phone. He grits his teeth and he suddenly squeezes the side of your waist. He laughs at your reaction and tries to poke at your stomach as you try to ignore him and defend yourself from his attacks. Best to give in at that point.

➺ Deuce Spade

He’s so sad, he doesn’t really notice it at first and just assumes you’re spaced out until you turn and walk away from him. He chases after you and, like Ace, follows you around and clings to you. He’s basically begging to know what he did wrong and asks a lot of questions and apologizes for everything. He still wants to be near you even if you’re mad at him.

“[Name], are you okay?” He leaned over to you but you didn’t even glance at him, just reading the book you had. “I’m sorry for whatever I did.” With no response back he looks at the book you’re reading and sighs. He grabs your free hand and squeezes it apologetically. Unconsciously you may squeeze his hand back.

➺ Cater Diamond

He’s unbearable, it feels like he’s being brutally punched in the gut whenever you ignore him so it’s agony. He needs your attention. HE NEEDS IT. You have to watch the videos he sends you and you have to respond to all of it. More importantly you need to talk to him. He will grab you and look at you in the eye and ask why. Though your silence and turning away is enough to make him sulk. He just keeps whining until you give in. Which he doesn’t know when but he’ll do it as long as he has to. He sets up a Timelapse video of you until you talk again. He uses any tactic to break your silence.

“[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]!” He chanted while pulling your arm, “You can’t ignore me forever! Whatever it is I’m super sorry and I won’t do it again but please talk to me…” You didn’t even glance his way but he grabbed your chin and forces eye contact. He pulls you in close and gives you a slow kiss, cut short because of you pulling away bashfully. He leans over and smirks, “C’mon.”

➺ Trey Clover

He tries to reflect on what he has done to deserve this but he is still really disheartened by being so blatantly ignored. He tries to talk to you for a bit, asking how your day was and if you need help with anything. He’ll probably fix your hair for you and clean up some, trying to get in your good graces again. If that doesn’t work then he does what he does best, which is baking. He bakes your favorite pastry.

“[Name], are you hungry?” He asks but no response, not even a glance. He sighs and sets it down in front of you, before picking up a piece and holding it close to your face. He can see you inhale it and you blink a few times while struggling to contain your urge to eat it. He smirks, “If you want it, use your words.”

➺ Riddle Rosehearts

You can see the heartbreak on his face when he greets you and you move right past him. Maybe you were spaced out? But once you do it again he’s troubled. He approaches you calm but in the inside he’s desperate trying not to crash out. He asks to talk it out and he wants to apologize properly. But once ignored again he’s freaking out. He grabs your hand and unexpectedly just hugs you.

“In order to understand what I did wrong, I must know what it was. It cannot be a true apology if you leave me in the dark.” He says earnestly though you walk away. You don’t get very far as he grabs your hand and with a pause he pulls you in. His arms wrap around you and he presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Yell at me, insult me, just say something.”

[revelboo]

Revel- Revel, please, my bank account can’t, I’ve ordered too many little guys- Where am I even gonna put them all?! 🤣 Happy holidays, hun, and take care!!! If it wouldn’t be too much to ask, I’d love a little more Ironhide or IDW Bee if you’d be willing to spare some!!! Much love!!! ♥️

They don’t take up any space- and I just saw the new ones not released in the U.S. yet. They’re even smaller 😆 I may have bought a box…

Last Night Pt 7

IDW Bumblebee x Reader

• Glancing at where you’re wrapped in a blanket on a counter watching Ratchet work on him, he resists the urge to joke about you worrying over him. To tease, because you’re obviously not in the mood. That look on your face when you’d seen he was hurt had shook him. He’d known you were slowly starting to open up to him despite being unhappy about the circumstances, but he hadn’t thought you’d really cared. Hadn’t dared hope. “You’re going to have to take the whole arm off, huh? Can you please beat him with it when you do,” you say and as his head turn’s in surprise, your eyes are dead serious, but you’re smiling. Teasing him now that you’re sure the danger is over and his spark warms.

• “I ought to lock him in alt mode for a week,” Ratchet mutters. “For being careless.” Hear Bumblebee’s weak ‘hey, now’ of protest as his head turns sideways to stare at you. Making you uncomfortably aware of the way he’s smiling at you. Like he’s happy to be in Medbay getting poked and prodded. Because you’re there. Not sure how you feel about the warmth spreading through you at that stupid grin, you pointedly ignore him in favor of watching Ratchet work. So maybe he’s growing on you. So what? You’re still here against your will. Even if it’s not his fault.

• “You love me, admit it. You were worried,” he teases since you’d started it. Grinning when you scoff at him, looking everywhere but at him and he knows he’s right. That anger of yours at the situation no longer aimed right at him. Accepting that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been trying to help. There’s still guilt about trapping you in the Ark, there probably always will be, but he likes it better when you’re not actively blaming him.

• Love? Yeah, right. “I was only worried they might stick me with someone worse if you die on me.” Because in all honesty, he’s not so bad. It’s not like anyone you’d dated in the past was ever half so attentive unless they wanted something. Since sex is so far off the table to be laughable between your species even if he had the necessary parts, it’s hard to keep your guard up. Having decided he’s just lonely and he likes having you about. Having someone to talk to. And you might like talking to him, his optimism wearing you down.

• “You care. You like having me around.” Grinning when your face flushes and you shake your head in denial, too flustered and embarrassed to come up with a retort. And teasing you? Watching you get aggravated with him, but not truly angry? It’s nice. Being on the smaller side means getting forgotten or left out sometimes among the Autobots. Knows that and fully intends to make sure that it doesn’t happen to you even if he gets on your nerves. Because he likes having you beside him and can’t help reaching after you even if he’s getting on your nerves.

Previous

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: The author's thoughts about Sylus's life as a dragon.

Warnings: Angst. Description of cutting off horns/carving out scales. Sylus's trauma, basically. Probably not super close to canon because I forgot how this part of the Myth went and I refuse to read that heartbreaking story again.

Author's note: If I have to suffer then so do you. Er... Sorry? Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Do you ever think about how confused he must have been as a little boy in his past life? His kin died by the hands of humans— and they took him in. Mistaking him for one of their own because his horns and tail have not grown in. How scared he must have felt when the same hands of those who cradled him became hands that wanted his blood. It didn't matter if they took care of him once, he no longer belonged.

But was he not theirs? One of their children, to be loved and protected? Cherished instead of hunted?

What if he questions why he was born that way when he takes the blade to his growing horns and slices— jagged, rough cuts. Scales carved out of his skin by his own hands that will soon develop into claws. Rivers of crimson pool beneath him, akin to his eyes. Who does he turn to, if not those who fed and clothed him? He probably will not yet understand that he is not human like his “saviours”.

Still too young of a boy, too hopeful when birthed in a world catered to be cruel towards his existence.

Do you think, when his wings start protruding on his back, he finally learns that he is utterly alone in this world? I wonder if he experienced growing pains like any other child did. And if so, who hushes his cries? Who muffles his screams of agony caused by bones piercing flesh? Who coos at him as a mother should her child? There is no one to fly him out of the nest; even if they were still alive. He was born neither fully draconic nor human. An anomaly, something that should not have existed.

Who— or rather, what— was he supposed to be?

When he meets you in that life as a dragon, do you wonder if he is repulsed by himself? That you get to caress him as much as you allow yourself to. Yet he cannot indulge, terrified by the idea of not being able to reciprocate the same tenderness. Do you think he reminisces about when he was just a boy (he still is, in heart) and wishes that his claws were still hands? Missing when he could actually experience the warmth of another in his palms?