#i am regretting using satin for his hands

[itsmrshamilton]

No Apologies | LH44

summary: tensions between fem!reader and Lewis rise to an all-time high, forcing one of them to make a very important decision about their relationship. (Angst galore!)

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Y/n was falling asleep on the couch when she heard the keys jingle and the door handle turn. She jolted upright and moved to find the remote to the tv. It was playing a romance movie that she'd been looking forward to watching in theatres but hadn't found the time. When it was released in HD she gave up trying to plan the outing and instead picked a quiet evening to watch, except now she'd missed the whole thing. She sighed in defeat as the end credits began to roll and turned the tv off. She'd have to try again in two weeks when her schedule cleared.

The door was pushed open and in shuffled her husband with a tog bag and rolling suitcase. He froze when he noticed her disheveled state in the dimly lit living room. She stretched out her back then stood up to face him.

"Hey." He whispered, still rooted to his spot. He took in her unruly hair, tired eyes, pursed lips, and wrinkled satin pajamas. She looked like she should have been in bed. And she could have been if he had arrived home at the time he said he would.

"It's 1 am." Is all she said. Arms hanging loosely at her sides, pedicured toes pressing hard into the floorboards to prevent her from doing something she'd regret. She needed answers first.

He didn't reply immediately and the silence grew as her patience diminished.

"1 am, Lewis! I've been up worried because I expected your car in the garage by 10 last night- Is your phone off?!" She whispered harshly at him. Her toes began to hurt and cramp.

Lewis let out a deep sigh and looked away from her watering eyes. He felt bad but he really couldn't do this now. His back was aching and he still had to work tomorrow.

"I couldn't get out of a dinner and the drinks kept coming."

"You're drinking again?" Her hands clenched.

"No, Y/n. Of course not." He huffed in annoyance and removed his jacket.

He looked back at her when he heard her scoff. She glared at him for a second before walking off to the stairs in the corridor. She wanted to talk to Lewis properly. Have a sit down and truly open up but he made it so hard for her to sit and listen when he did things like that.

Lewis sighed once more when she left the room. He was used to her walking off mid argument but this time he was upset that she accused him of drinking again. He thought she knew him better than that. He locked the front door and moved his suitcase to the corner of the room then took his duffle bag upstairs. In their shared master bedroom, Y/n was already under the covers. He wasn't sure if she was awake or not so he took his belongings to the en-suite bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. Upon returning to the room, he was very sure that she was asleep. Her pillow had been abandoned and her small face was smooshed into the mattress. The sight made him feel more guilty. She must have been really tired before she decided to wait up for him.

He climbed in beside her and pulled her close. Her features scrunched in disagreement as her head rested on his tattooed chest, while his big arms wrapped around her figure. She let out a soft snore when he stopped moving and began to stroke her back. He hated fighting with her but it had become a part of their daily routine.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Y/n."

And stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

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Y/n woke up to an empty bed with the sun high in the sky which meant that they both slept in - Lewis probably because he was out so late and Y/n because her son was at a sleepover with a friend from school.

She stretched and took a second to think about last night. At the moment she felt tired and cranky from running errands yesterday then staying up to wait for him. Thinking about it all made the frustration bubble up again but her growling stomach reminded her of her priorities. Sighing, she got up to get ready for the day, splashing her face with water and brushing her teeth before making her way downstairs in her pjs.

It smelt faintly of pancakes and there were loud sounds of doors being slammed. When she got to the large pink and white kitchen she saw a plate of pancakes on the island, along with a small bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Her husband was crouched, digging furiously through one of the lower cupboards. She took in the state of the rest of the kitchen - sink filled with utensils, fruit peels all over the cutting board, sticky cupboard handles everywhere. She felt very confused by the scene before her, so much so that she began to feel a bit of anger deep down.

"What's going on?" She asked.

He jumped at the sound of her voice and faced her with a frown. She frowned in return, not liking the energy he was giving from the get-go. He let out a loud sigh, leaning back against the counter and gestured half-heartedly to the plate on the island in front of her.

"I was making you breakfast to, uh, apologise," he rubbed his beard. "But I couldn't find the juicer to make orange juice so now it's gone cold."

Her face softened at his admission and her anger slowly dissipated. He was trying to please her.

He slapped his hands on his thighs then straightened up. His face still held the frown but was quickly darkening in frustration, transforming into something more mean. "I would have made you coffee but I couldn't find the coffee machine either."

"I gave it away." She stated calmly. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"And the juicer?"

She pulled the yoghurt salad closer. "On one of the shelves in the storage room."

"Would have been nice of you to mention that earlier." He grumbled, looking away in annoyance. She stiffened.

"Oh? How? By calling you on the £900 phone you don't use?" Her tone was clipped. The calmness she had earlier fading away very quickly. She was tired of this dance with Lewis - creating a new problem to get away from the consequences of the old one.

"Nothing is where it's supposed to be in this kitchen!" He gripped the edge of the counter.

"Because I don't want things that I don't use in my kitchen, Lewis!" She slapped the island counter nearly knocking the bowl over but managed to straighten it.

He stared at her, in disbelief of her tone and the volume of her voice. She eyed him back taking careful breaths.

"Your kitchen." He repeated. She started picking off the fruit from the yogurt and eating it slowly.

"Yes, my kitchen. I am the one who makes breakfast, lunch and dinner in here every day, all week." She replied bluntly. The fruits were now finished but they had taken the edge of the hanger she had felt when she woke up.

Lewis just looked at her in silence. The disbelief wiped off his face and replaced with a neutral look. A poker face he used when he tried to find appropriate responses for difficult interview questions. He looked at his wife leaning against the marble island she'd picked, in the kitchen she'd decorated when they first moved in, and he realised that he had no response to her statement. He didn't want to fight today. He'd planned to wake up earlier than her and prepare her favourite meal then spend the rest of the day showering her with kisses and attention in order to make up for coming home late. But then he couldn't find the juicing machine he'd bought for her last Christmas and when he went to look for the coffee machine he'd received as a gift from a business partner, he couldn't find that either and it just set him off. He wanted just one thing to go right.

It had been such an exhausting week, and all he wanted was to come home on Friday evening and crawl into bed. Instead, one of the executives at the meeting suggested they go out for dinner to discuss any final details before the contracts for the films were signed. They wouldn't stop ordering drinks, he'd missed his flight and by the time he landed in England, it was already 12am. He would've called Y/n to update her on his times, but he knew it was her night off and thought she was already asleep. He really didn't mean to keep her up.

He sighed softly as he took her in. Bonnet sitting slightly askew, satin pajamas wrinkled and her usual jewelry sitting all pretty on her dark skin. She looked down at her plate.

"Thank you for the pancakes." She said softly. He pushed off the counter and held her face in his hands, tilting her head up to look at him. "I wasn't in the mood for orange juice anyways."

He smiled softly at her comment, taking in her big brown eyes with dark circles, broad nose, and her full lips. He pressed a couple of kisses to her lips and she smiled against him.

She couldn't be mad at him now. He was trying, and that's all she felt she could ask for. She took his hand feeling the cold metal of his wedding ring and led him upstairs to their bedroom. He was silent all the way so she looked back to see him smirking at her. She smiled slyly knowing that he thought he was going to get rewarded for his actions but really she had something else in mind. Once they entered the large bedroom she walked over to the messy bed and grabbed a pillow only to thrust it at his chest and lean in.

"Do you mind making the bed while I get ready, my love?" She whispered with a smirk. The eager look on his face fell away, and he rolled his eyes as she walked off giggling.

"I'm pretty sure we pay people to do this!" He called after but still carried on with the task.

She was getting ready in their walk-in closet when she heard him come in to change as well.

"So tell me about your week, seeing as you've been at work since last Monday." He eyed her warily. She tood her ground.

"Lew, I just worry that you work too much and that it'll strain you. I know you have business ventures, but what happened to taking a break after retiring from F1?"

He stood up abruptly and moved to get a t-shirt out of his drawers. He was tired of this conversation coming up every week. "I need to do something to keep your lifestyle going." He muttered lowly, but she heard him and stood shocked with her hands on her hips.

He did not just say what she thought she heard. To her face. She felt her neck heat up from anger.

"Are you calling me a gold digger, Lewis?"

He didn't turn around to look at her but stood with his head bowed. His lack of reaction made her angrier.

"When I met you, you had more luxury than any man your age needed, and you're talking about supporting my lifestyle?!" She felt like screaming but chose to march out of the closet instead.

"How do I know that you're actually working and not off with women, huh? Finding a better gold digger to replace me with?" She yelled. He followed after her and they stood on opposite sides of the neat bed.

"Are you out of your mind?" He hissed. "I dont go out galivanting. I do all I can to come home on time to you and our son." He was so tired of these fights at the most inconvenient moments.

"And I'm tired of that!" She threw up her arms. "I'm tired of being home all day cleaning up, taking care of Leo, always waiting for you. I want to do more. I want to finally start a life of my own and have something in the world that I can call my work."

He stared at her as she swung her arms around in an attempt to get her point across. The room was beginning to feel like it was too small for the both of them and their words. He felt like he was being choked.

"But this is what we agreed to. What about the rest of the plan to have more kids and then move my parents closer so we could have more support?" He replied, confused about what she was saying.

"I don't want that plan - that life, anymore. It's not going to work for me." She looked away.

"How can we be together if we can't even follow a simple plan?" This conversation was scaring him a little. They had had arguments, yes, but none addressed the topics like this. This sense of defeat that he felt was new. He ran his hand through his braids, and her eyes softened when she recognised his panic.

"You haven't even asked what I want to do yet. Somehow, everything always ends up being about and for you. Like our marriage." She whispered that last part.

"I don't need to know what you want because it's not what you said last time - what we agreed on right after we got married."

She threw her head back and let out an outraged cry. He wasn't listening to her at all. He didn't want to hear what she was trying to say. "Is our entire marriage just based on this plan of yours?!"

"Our marriage is built on trust! Trust that we'll both make it work." He was yelling at her now, and she was not impressed.

"What about the time I trusted you to be there for me and our son? I wouldn't doubt the original script if you stuck to it in the first place." She sat on the big bed with her back to him. She could still hear his heavy breathing.

"Y/n, if nothing I do for us works for you, then go. Start your new life. Leave all we've created behind." He shot back.

She froze with her gaze on the tiled floor. "Go?"

He confidently continued. "Yeah, but if you step out, I sue you. For everything, custody and all. I won't have you disrupting Leo's life because you want to live in some fantasy world where everything goes your way and abandon our family."

She whipped her head around at this. The audacity of this old man to speak to her like this. After she had given her all to him and made his retirement plan possible. She had stuck with him through everything. Her life falling apart, his following suit, then through the rebuilding of his while hers stayed stagnant. She was so angry she could quite literally see red.

"Sue for custody? You're fucking with me, Lewis. Who's going to look after our son while you're out entertaining fat men and their fatter wallets - your parents? Your dad who raised you so well by pushing you so hard you lost the little emotional connection you two had? Hm? Is that the man you want raising my child??"

He looked away with hurt written on his face.

"Or maybe your mum? The woman who left you with your father to have more kids with another man and raise them better. She probably saw that Hamilton men are nothing but work."

He felt his heart hammering loudly in his chest. He couldn't believe the words coming out of Y/n's mouth. She was his best friend at some point in their relationship, but somehow here she was, insulting at him from their marital bed.

He sniffled loudly before looking her in the eye. "Like your parents are any better. You're forgetting they barely contact you since you moved out."

"They don't like you, and you know that. I moved out to marry you, and they didn't approve. It's cruel of you to bring that up."

He scoffed at that. "And what? You don't think my relationship with my father is a touchy subject?"

There was a never-ending silence in the room. All they had ever worked for sat between them in that silence. Their first kiss, first night together, their vows, the birth of their son. All of it felt fake after the words they had exchanged. It was hurting them both, yet neither one wanted to apologise. This was unlike the other arguments, he realised. It was starting to look like there was no coming back from this fight.

She looked away from him and wiped at her eyes quickly. His heart was sore it felt like he couldn't breathe properly.

"I wish I had noticed earlier on that you don't care about me. Definitely not in the ways you said you did." She said softly.

Tears slowly roll down his face. When he opened his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer, indicating that someone was at the gate.

"That's Nathan's mother dropping off Leo from the sleepover." She stood up to leave.

Lewis left the room before she could and made his way downstairs. Outside, he took a second to wipe the tears and took a deep breath, then opened the gate to let Nathan's mother drive in. She was a pale woman with short red hair and a warm smile. One of Y/n's close friends around here.

"Lewis! It's good to see you." She opened the back door for his boy and moved to the boot to get a small bag. "Thank you for letting him come over."

Leo ran over to Lewis to wrap his small arms around his father's legs. "Dad!"

"Hello, my boy!" He received the bag from the woman. "Thanks for having him, Casey. I appreciate you dropping him off."

She smiled once more but took a second to eye him properly. He could see her questioning his red eyed and wet lashes. Finally, she waved and got into the car.

"Goodbye, Leo! See you Monday!" Shouted a ginger boy from the backseat.

"Goodbye, Nathan!" Returned Leo at equal volume. Once the gate rolled to a stop, Lewis lifted the small boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"I've missed you, Champ. Look how much you've grown!"

Leo squeeled in excitement, happy to have his dad home to play with. His mum was fun to hang around, but she was often too tired to throw him around like his dad when they played. He laughed loudly when his dad bounced him with every step he took towards the house.

Lewis felt the tension leave his body now that his boy was in his arms. He'd spend the weekend making up for the week he wasn't home. He began thinking of all the things they could do as he ducked through the doorway but froze as soon as he spotted Y/n. She stood in the middle of the foyer with two large bags beside her.

"Y/n ..." Lewis whispered. She eyed him silently. Her face not giving away her emotions. He lowered his son to the floor and watched as he ran to his mother.

"Mum!" She crouched down to receive one of his sweet hugs. "Nathan got a new pet bunny and it has its own room and its so big and-"

"Oh, wow, that's all so interesting, my sweets, but mummy needs you to use the loo then grab your favourite toys before we leave." She smiled at him so as to not scare him. He smiled right back at her and ran off to complete the tasks.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" Lewis asked her. She straightened up and glared at him silently. She could barely keep it together and was afraid of exploding angrily in front of Leo. She began to hoist the bags onto her body as Leo came downstairs. His arms were full of teddies and toy cars. He walked over to Lewis and raised them up as a gesture for his father to help him carry a few. Y/n saw Lewis' face crumble further.

"Leo love, dad won't be coming with us. Say goodbye so we can leave for Aunt Sofie's house." Leo looked at his mum with confusion, and she felt her heart ache. His big eyes bounced between his parents, trying to process the words.

"Dad's not coming?" He mumbled.

"Aunt Sofie has been asking to see you!" She tried to cheer him up but he wasn't having it and pursed his lips. "We'll call him at bedtime for a story, yeah?" He nodded at this and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Bye, dad."

Lewis crouched to receive a hug and kiss. "Bye, Champ. See you soon, yeah." He slowly released Leo.

"Okay, go climb into mum's car." She said and moved to follow behind him.

"Y/n-"

She turned to face her husband. He was teary-eyed and pale. Eyes red and braids a mess. That didn't phase her, though. He was lucky to get a proper goodbye from Leo because she should have left long ago during one of his trips.

"You can go ahead and sue me now, Lewis. Let's see how that plays out."

With that, she packed the bags into the boot and got into the driver's seat.

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Wow🙊Whose side are you taking? Part 2 soon?

I do not consent to altering my work, theft, copying, or reposting onto other sites.

Thanks for reading this far. Please interact before you leave🫶

[spookysnooty]

💖 Progress 💖

[adragonprinceswhore]

Teaching the Unteachable

Aegon Targaryen x Wife

Summary: When all else fails, Aegon's wife employs drastic measures to teach the unteachable.

Warnings: 18+, banter, (slight) dom/sub, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, dirty talk, Aegon being horny and in love

A/N: So, apparently this smutty drabble I wrote in December turned out to be canon? Anyway, have some more 'Aegon being bad at High Valyrian', but with a fun, sexy twist ✨

Word Count: 1200

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“No, you need to roll your R’s. Like this: zaldrīzes” 

Aegon rolls his eyes before mockingly impersonating you, “zaldrīzes”. 

“No no, place the tip of your tongue by the roof of your mouth”, you explain, demonstratively opening your mouth to show your husband how he should place his tongue to achieve the sound he hadn’t yet mastered. 

Aegon’s eyes light up in mischief as he regards you. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, my love. Perhaps if you place your tongue in my mouth, you can demonstrate it for me?” 

Now it is your turn to give him an unimpressed look. 

“If you want the realm to view you as a true Targaryen, you need to know how to speak like one”, you chide him, eyes sternly locking with his. 

“I do not give a shit about how the realm views me”, Aegon replies, tone sincere yet playful, “All that is of matter to me is how tempting my wife appears when she speaks of proper tongue placement”. 

You’re sitting next to each other by the table placed a few paces from the hearth burning in your shared chambers, Aegon’s hand continuously playing with your fingers. 

“You come to me sulking over the fact that your High Valyrian is no better than it was back when we were mere babes”, you sigh, “begging me to teach you”

Aegon hums as he bends your ring finger in his palm.

“Yet you do not listen to a word I say”, you scold him, pulling your hand away from his grip. 

“My love, I have come to a regretful realisation”, he replies with feigned gravity weighing heavy in his voice, “I’m afraid I’ll need another tutor” 

You answer his declaration by raising an impassive brow. A grin breaks out on his face. 

“One that doesn’t make my cock hard as soon as she opens her mouth”. 

Your eyes go wide at his crude remark, hand coming up to lightly smack him on the chest for his lewdness. 

“Aegon-“

He winks before moving closer to you, restless hands coming up to squeeze your thighs over your skirts, “Call me husband”

It is hard to stay mad at him in playful times like these, when he uses every charismatic trick he knows. Yet you have to remain strong, if only on the outside. 

“Why should I waste my days teaching the unteachable?”

“I am your husband. Your valzȳrys”, Aegon triumphs, hands moving up to pinch the flesh of your hips over the satin fabric you’re donning.  

One of the candles adorning the wooden table by you draws its last breath, hot wax running down its side. Your finger comes up to collect some, a pleasant chill running through your body at the sudden sting of warmth. 

“You can’t even say that right”, you tell him, a petty ridicule you know he won’t take to heart. Your eyes stay fixed on the wax slowly hardening on your fingertip. 

“Then teach me” 

His hands grab onto your sides tighter, pulling you off your chair and towards him. Instead of giving in too quickly, you resist his demand momentarily, feet steady on the floor to hinder him from pulling you onto his lap.

“Valzȳrys, I think you’re in due need of a punishment. For being such a disobedient pupil, and for talking about your tutor in such lewd ways”, you say, voice serious but eyes shining with mischief. 

Aegon looks up to meet your gaze, the grin on his face growing wider as he nods. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him. Your noses almost knock together from the close proximity. He brings his hands to rest around your waist, but you grab them both and gently place them on the armrests of the chair. 

“No touching”, you instruct and he nods obediently. 

You’re sure you can sense the rigid proof of growing arousal where your centres meet, and your strict demeanour almost falters at the realisation. You haven’t even begun, yet your husband is desperate for you. 

You fight off a victorious smile as you pick up one candle, flame still burning, and look into Aegon's lilac eyes. The hand not holding the candle moves to untie the strings at the top of the undershirt he’s wearing. 

“If you fail to properly recite the words I ask you to say”, you start, the grin you’d tried to fight off causing the corners of your mouth to twitch upwards, “I get to pour wax on your chest”

Your husband’s eyes light up in intrigue, “And if I say the words correctly?”

“You’ll be awarded the satisfaction of knowing you are coherent in your native tongue”, you respond sternly. Aegon watches you expectantly. 

“Wife”, you begin your unwonted examination, swirling the lit candle between your fingers.

“Ābrazyrys”, Aegon confidently replies, raising his face in pride. 

You tilt the candle to the side, allowing the hot wax to pour down onto his slightly exposed chest. He gasps in surprise and you tut at his reaction.

“Atrocious pronunciation”, you chastise your husband, eyes shining with amusement. He inhales deeply, hands gripping the sides of the chair tightly. 

“Again”, you demand. 

“Ābrazyrys”, he breathes out, a whimper escaping his lips as you pour more wax on his chest. You are now certain that the hardness against your centre is evidence of how much he’s enjoying your teaching method, so you languidly roll your hips against his.

“Ābrazyrys”, you correct him as he grunts at the feeling of your core pressing against his. The wax on his chest had congealed, resembling pearls resting on his flustered skin. 

The alluring sight causes you to momentarily lose your senses, pressing a kiss against his lips; the flustered pink tint of his cheeks too appealing. When you pull away, he follows your mouth for more, but you give him a pointed look and continue, 

“Thank you, wife”

“Kirimvose, ābrazyrys”, Aegon all but moans as you pour more wax down his chest in the middle of his utterance. Having him at your mercy, torturing him with stinging pleasure, has rendered you wanton as well, causing you to roll your hips against his more forcefully to dull the ache blooming there; waiting to be attended to. 

You lean forward, swiping your tongue over your husband's soft lips. He pays no heed to your instructions any longer, hands leaving the armrest to circle your body, pressing you closer to him as he devours your mouth. He pushes your body in a silent plea for you to continue rocking against him, and you comply, eager to soothe your neglected core. 

The passion between you almost causes you to forget the still burning candle in your hand, but you manage to detach from his lips long enough to blow it out, fingertips once again pressing into the melted wax on the top. Before it solidifies over your skin, you grab the sides of Aegon’s chin, messily pressing the wax into his flesh as you steer his face towards yours, kissing him deeply as he hisses in stinging bliss. 

Perhaps he truly needs another tutor? 

One that doesn’t get her cunt wet as soon as he opens his mouth.

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Thank you for reading! 🩵

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“  Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself  for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆●~☆~●~☆~☆~●~☆

I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

[luvly-writer]

XOXO

Ch. 22 Loving you was like breathing

-•-

Author’s note: Bro….i have been trying to sit my ass and write for the past few days and life has NOT been letting me. Finally i get the time to sit down and finish this story because I hurt my leg really bad and am on bed rest till it heals so perfect time to WRITE😈.

Warnings: Suggestive at one point, not explicit

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @grandstrangerphantom @mxtokko @loonymoonystuff @1llellykins @cangosleepnow @dreamspectrum @its-maemain @tamimemo @nightw-izhu @trasshy-artist @gabriiiiiiii @cassini-among-the-stars @pank0w @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @blackbirdi @m3ntally-unstable @fixation-rat112358 @can-i-feel

Masterlist:

—•—

We kiss until we run out of breath. For some reason, this kiss feels different than the rest…Tim nuzzles his nose against mine, neither of us willing to open our eyes.

“You love me, Timothy?” I ask lowly

“I breathe for you, Y/n Vanderbilt. Your mere presence is enough to bring me to my knees. I can’t exactly say when it began, can’t pin point the moment when you became an irreplaceable variable in my life, but it happened and i let it. I allowed you to get past my defenses and I don’t regret it. Every moment I have spent by your side, it was as if something clicked and everything made perfect senses. I was attracted to you the moment I saw that you refused to get retribution on Gen Humphrey because it would out Satine’s cousin back in Gotham Academy. I liked you when you came into MY doorsteps demanding, not asking, because we both know my love, you were demanding, my help and threatening me with my double identity-“

“-Kinky” I giggled,

“Hush now, I’m professing my love,” he huffed a laugh and continued, “And I think loving you came to me as easy as breathing the more time I spent with you. The lines between fake and real were blurred and I wouldn’t have it any other way….Scratch that, I would have. I do. I want you now, here, forever, and real. I see you, Y/n..angel, I see you, and that’s who I want. Not the perfect Vanderbilt or the Ice Queen of the Upper East Side. Just you, sarcastic, opinionated, bruised and healing you, you, and you, and you. I love you…” He craddles my face in his hands and looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, “I love you so much, my beautiful angel”

He nuzzles his nose against mine again and I giggle.

“And I love you, Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne. You have become the one unforgettable in my life….ever since Gotham Academy. I have to confess, when we “met” back in December…I lied…I knew who you were-“

“Oh yeah” he whispers, smirking

“Oh yeah, definitely. I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on the infamous genius Wayne son. Loving you….loving you was the air I needed after drowning for so long. Loving you, Timmy, is a constant I want to never get rid of. I see you, Tim, and I want you. I can’t eat when you’re away, I can’t sleep well until you text me you’re back from Patrol, I worry whenever I look out my window at night, I miss you when I wake up. I love you so much Timmy. The day I went to break it off, I thought you wanted to be just friends and I was scared you wouldn’t want me and that I would ruin things because at that point, I was so far gone that I knew if it continued and you didn’t return my feelings, I was just walking into devastation. I love you, Timmy baby, you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life” I say, hugging his waist.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way” he responds, holding me close and hugging me tight.

“Does this mean, I’m officially your girlfriend?” i say with a smile and look up at him.

Tim looks down at me and laughs, “No contract, no blackmail, I am completely yours, my heart.”

We spent some time just holding each other and kissing. Tim pulls me along as we exit the cave and head to the garage. We head to his apartment, a comfortable and pleasant atmosphere amongst us. We get there and stay in his living room. We decide to start throwing ideas on how to organize our scheme. After some time we had decided on ordering some take out and enjoy each other’s presence.

Night had fallen and, we were cuddling on the couch. I was unsure if it had come a time for me to leave.

“I should go,” I say as I stand up to leave,

“What?! Why?! I just got you back, you can’t just get rid of me that easily”, he almost whines

“My, my, Timmy, you are just insatiable! What about the city that needs your saving?”

“My sibblings can take care of it for one night” he grumbles as he pulls me close, tugging me into his lap.

“What would Red Robin say about this scandal?!?”

“I think, he would say I’m one lucky man for having you here with me”

“What would Batsy say?”

“Fuck Bruce, I deserve this” he grumbles again making me laugh wholeheartedly, “besides, don’t think, I have forgotten about how delicious you looked with my mask on” he lowers the timber of his voice, almost sultry. My laughter is over and replaced by something else, something hungrier. “Haven’t you noticed how absolutely delightful you look, my sweet angel face,” he says and presses me down to feel something hard between my legs. “Or how insane you drive me?” he starts kissing down my neck.

“I think,” he holds me close and stands up, “It’s time, I stopped telling you, and finally show you, don’t you think, darling?”

My mind is numb with the delicious feeling of his lips under my jaw, “I think that’s an excellent idea” I say just as we get to his room.

-•-

[lady-phasma]

Morpheus Returns

Part 1 of 2 (so far) cross posted from AO3

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, general smut and pretty fluffy, p in v sex. Written in first person fem!reader.

Summary a/n: Morpheus returns to find a favorite acolyte has waited 100 years for him. Also a bit of headcanon: I know he doesn’t sleep but the poor entity needs a break from time to time. No beta. 2k words

He lay imperiously on the black sheets of the bed. Their blackness swallowed light, no sheen like satin or silk. Draped over his bone-white body they gave the illusion that any light in the room came from him. The sheet fell across his belly and one leg. His arms spread out to his sides. His shaggy black hair shone with flecks of light as he turned his head in his rest. The King of Dreams sighed deeply.

My every action was imbued with the deepest reverence for Lord Morpheus. Each of us in The Dreaming had our roles and responsibilities, purpose and function. We were each created for a particular role. Although things had changed since his return, I had not. I had waited for a century. As Lucienne had waited. I didn’t leave The Dreaming when others gave up. I had one purpose and my existence was devoted to it. Much like gods and goddesses, the Endless enjoyed worshipers, human or otherwise. I was created to resemble a female human. Lord Morpheus had sculpted me to be perfect for him. Without him I had no purpose. So I waited.

When he returned most of us were gone. Lucienne encouraged him to rest but he had guilt and anger to assuage. I was patient. He saw me once before leaving to find his tools. How I had missed his expressive eyes and perfect mouth. I slid my fingers down his cheek.

“You look tired, my Lord,” I whispered.

“I am, Asteria,” he glanced down at me. “But I will return and I will make good use of our bed.”

My heart ached for his return but I busied myself with helping restore The Dreaming. I especially focused on his quarters. His palace staff gradually returned, as did his dreams and nightmares, but among them all I was cherished. He had given me my own personality, interests, abilities, but I was his design. My very being was sculpted to be his own dream. Each dream or nightmare in The Dreaming was his creation but created for others, for humans. I alone was formed for him, the physical manifestation of his desires. My limbs were long, my skin nearly as pale as his, and my body blessed with ample curves. My breasts were firm and high above a small rounded belly. My hips weren’t narrow but neither were they broad. My entire body was inhumanly hairless like his, except for long chestnut locks that fell, curling down my back. We only possessed human form, we were far from human. He had even named me in honor of the Titaness Asteria, the goddess of falling stars and oneiromancy. She had once had the ability to call him to her at will, Endless or not, to divine meaning from dreams.

I only slightly regretted disturbing his repose. He had previously promised me an audience and given me express instructions when to rouse him. My audiences with Dream were entirely selfish on his part. However, since I was created as a devotee there was immense pleasure in it for me as well.

I stood at the foot of the bed and let my nightgown fall off my shoulders. I climbed onto the bed. My eyes ran up the length of his body, along his exposed leg, his flat stomach, his taught chest, and his perfect collar bones. I sat next to him, my legs curled beneath me. I cupped his cheek in my palm and pressed my lips against his. He moaned into my mouth. His eyes opened just a fraction and he wrapped his long arms around me. I let my body sink into his embrace. This was the first proper kiss we had shared since his return. I wanted to touch every part of him at once. My hands roamed over his shoulders and chest.

“Time to rise, my Lord,” I mumbled into our kiss.

“Yes I suppose it is,” he sighed as he laid back. He placed one hand behind his head and let the other rest on my thigh, his long fingers almost brushing against my sex. His every movement was calculated. It was evident in the twitch at the corners of his mouth that he was enjoying teasing me.

Morpheus sighed again. He briefly closed his eyes. His hand moved slightly on my thigh. It was my turn to sigh.

I propped myself up on one arm and reached to stroke his chest, his arm, anything I could reach. This slight, intentional movement of my hips pressed his fingertips just against my lips. I shivered. He very nearly smiled at my urgency.

I moved to lean above him and began to kiss every inch of him that I could find. I kissed his neck, his chest, his nipples, under his arms, down his ribs. I gradually straddled him as I moved down his body. In doing so I pulled the sheet off of him. He had begun to grow hard at my touches. Oh how I had missed him! But I wanted to draw out my worship as long as possible. And worship I did. I slid my hands over his smooth, marble-like skin. I mumbled praise against his body, whispers of longing and adoration.

He had moved his other hand to rest under his head and lay almost perfectly still. There was a tinge of smile on his pouted lips. He was extremely satisfied. Anyone other than the two of us couldn’t possibly know the praise that was in that close, tight near-smile. It spurred me on. I had waited so long for this and I loved that I pleased him. I trailed kisses down his stomach.

“My Lord,” I said between kisses. “Mmmm… shall I leave you… mmmm… to continue resting?” My eyes shot up to meet his, my lips still on his skin. My grin was obvious.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. He reached down, placing a hand on either side of my face, and guided me up to kiss him. I spread my legs wider to press our bodies together and he raised his hips up to meet mine. His fingers wound into my hair eliciting a moan from me. His tongue pushed past my lips and teeth. Everything about him was long: legs, tongue, fingers. Another part of him that was quite long pressed against my backside. He had grown harder as I rubbed against him. I pressed my wetness against his belly to force a moan from him.

Morpheus withdrew his hands from my hair and rose up. He lifted me off him, onto my knees. With his hands cupping my ass, he kissed my breasts and my neck.

“You waited,” he murmured. “All these years… you waited.”

“Mmmhmm,” I responded. I buried my face in his hair and wrapped my arms around his neck. I held him close to my chest. I breathed in deeply. “Yes, my Lord. The thought of this moment and memories of the many before kept me warm while you were away. I only wish I could ease your suffering, your hurt.”

He turned his face up to mine and I kissed him, deep and hard. He kissed me back. He maneuvered my hips so that he could guide me down onto his lap. His hardness pressed into me. No hesitation, no resistance, a perfect fit. I gripped and pulled at his hair as the pleasure swept over me. He guided and moved me where and how he wanted. I was attuned to the movement of each of his muscles. His skin against mine felt perfect.

With no warning he flipped us over. He let me down on my back gently but that was all that was gentle. I could tell how badly he had missed me. He never needed excess words or expressions of sentiment with me. Allowing me to touch him, to pull him into myself, to hold him, was evidence enough. As emotionless as Dream wished for others to think him he was in fact often brimming with emotion. He buried his face in my neck and breathed deeply. He pushed himself further into me. I gasped and threw my head back, clutching at his shoulders. I felt warmth and wetness on my neck. I stroked his hair. His rhythm slowed. He made no sound but I knew, I could feel the silent tears. His embrace tightened around me, crushing me into him.

I resisted the urge to shush and console him. For far too long his actions had been governed by others. I was created to be the sole entity in his existence that didn’t require anything of him. I loved it. I cherished that he could let his guard down with me, shed all pretense. His muscles flexed within the circle of my arms. His tears stopped as abruptly as they had begun, short lived and rare.

He raised his head to look at me. He cradled the back of my head in his giant hand and studied my face. His expressive, red-rimmed eyes searched my expression for judgement and finding none he kissed me.

He ran his other hand down the length of my body, down the side of my thigh, guiding my leg over his hip. I pressed my heel into the small of his back, taking him deeper. I purred and arched my back. My hard nipples brushed against his chest. With his elbow bearing his weight, one hand behind my head, the other kneading my ass, I was enveloped by love. I was safe, my Dream had returned.

“Oh Morpheus,” I moaned. I stroked his face, his jaw, his ears and neck. I drew my fingertips across his perfect bottom lip. He kissed them as they passed. He held my gaze with his dark eyes. I saw the universe flash in them. That energy, that power, loved me. His rhythm had never faltered. His strokes were small and intimate. He was savoring our time. That connection was secondary to the reunion he so deeply desired.

But the moment passed and his expression became impassive once again. His stern jaw and pursed lips drove me wild. My breathing was shallow and hot against his neck. My hands had found their way back to his shoulders. I moved my other leg to encircle him. His pace quickened. I clung to him as if even momentarily losing my hold would allow him to disappear again.

Dream felt my need.

His fingers twisted and pulled at my hair. He slid his other hand between us to my breast, kneading, and caused me to arch against him. I was breathless, the entirety of my senses were filled with Morpheus. I kissed his shoulders, his neck. I squeezed, tight, around him as he thrust into me. The blunt exhalations he made as I did this sent electricity through me.

I felt his resolve melting. His rested his head beside mine, his shallow breath hot against my ear. I thought I heard him whisper my name. I moved my hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. I tugged slightly. He groaned. His hand slid from my breast to rub circles around my clit as he pushed deep into me, synchronizing his rhythms. My grasp on his hair tightened.

He pressed his entire body against mine, nothing save his arm between us. The pressure on my clit increased. I dug my heels into his ass, demanding he go as deep as possible. I realized I had been holding my breath and as I exhaled, my face still pressed against his, I moaned his name in half a dozen languages. And came hard and wet around him.

“My Asteria,” he breathed against me. “My love, how I missed you.” So quietly a mortal may not have been able to hear him.

A shiver ran over him, beginning at his shoulders and radiating outward. He exhaled sharply and I felt his final thrust deep into me. His cum was warm and slick between us. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew from experience that they wouldn’t show me the universe at this moment. They would be as black as a void. He almost purred into my neck as his body relaxed.

He slipped his arm from between us and let his full weight rest on me. I slid my legs down, still embracing my Lord. His hand in my hair loosened and rested on the bed beside us. He kissed my ear and began to raise his head.

“Please not yet, Morpheus,” I whispered. “We have spent so long apart.”

He raised his head to look at me and truly smiled.

“I will not leave you just yet,” he stroked my cheek and kissed me gently on the forehead. “I would imagine we need to do that a few more times before I do.”

Part 2

[marvelstars]

I do like TWC cartoon because it felt like an oportunity for us fans to see more of our fave characters in a day to day basis and it gave great and individualized personalities to clone troopers to let us know they are people under their armor but I agree with some fellow fans that in some chapters the show takes shortcuts and instead of delving into Anakin´s character when he makes decisions which should by all rights affect him emotionally, they play it for a joke because he will be "Vader"so it doesn´t matter or the show adds extra trauma that should be explored, see the Queen of Zigerria or his rescue of Jabba´s Son or the microchip in clone soldiers heads(the only difference between them and child slave Anakin was that Anakin´s had a bomb while the troopers are forced to obey or the chip makes them more obedient to the Jedi or members in the military) but TCW only shows Anakin mad in general at all those events while the other characters act as if he didn´t had a reason to get mad or he is exagerating because he is a "bad Jedi" tm because aparently his main problem is that he "cares too much" but it isn´t wrong to care and he isn´t wrong that they probably should be doing more for those situations that they are currently doing but the show doesn´t show it and this flattens Anakin´s character and I believe it also flattens the characters around him.

For example Satine and Obi-Wan

This moment is played for laughs while Satine and Obi-Wan seem to have next to zero reaction to Anakin´s action because after all, the man killed was indeed ready to kill them and all the people on their ship with a bomb and if he keep himself hidden he probably would have tried to murder Satine until he managed to do it.

Still I am not a fan of "good guys" who don´t want to kill or have doubts about the idea of murder but are totally fine with other characters who are their allies doing it for them so they keep their hands "clean". In the show Obi-Wan does this with Rex and Anakin. Neither when shows use this trope as a joke.

That makes them hypocrites because they are involved in the murder by accepting or ordering it even if they didnt do the deed themselves. The fact this doesn´t bother them shows they didn´t personally care that much about the act of murder itself, just about the fact they had to do it because it´s distateful for their self image of being a "good person" it´s fine for their allies, already used to violence to do it for them, they are already "grey" but not for them because they are "good". So imo they are also in denial about their personal responsibility in the whole issue.

Obi-Wan didn´t have a problem to cut off a guy arms for speaking rude to Luke in ANH which is the first time we meet him as a character, I don´t think he would hesitate so much in this instance just because Satine is there, he is in canon a pretty pragmatic guy and Satine is a planetary leader who probably had to order the use of force to tackle security with death watch involved in many confrontations with her goverment and if we include the years in which Mandalore was under civil war it´s possible she had to use force to protect herself or her family.

I do understand this was done in jest and to involve Vader´s theme but this definitely wasn´t a Vader kind of situation imo and I believe its interesting to analyze the character deeper motivations and this scene deserved more depth than the one given.

This is also why I regret the show never showing Anakin´s first years as an active general in the war on Bespin, that was a formative moment for Anakin as a leader and warrior and it explains so much about his characterization later in the war but also his trauma over death, the reason why he is so protective of the clones, his master, Ahsoka, Rex, Padme, Palpatine, etc.

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 14: Wonderin' Where I Am

If you need to catch up, here's the masterlist

Summary: Things become tense at Christmas Dinner

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of bruising, mentions of Neil. As always let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.4k

Authors Note: I had to give Jess a walking down the stairs in a dress scene. She deserves it

Jess awoke Christmas Eve morning with a knot in her stomach. It was currently 9:22 AM, which was much too early for her to be up considering she was up with Billy Hargrove until about 4 in the morning last night. 

It had been a little over a week since they watched Friday the 13th, and almost every night after Billy had been over, whether her parents knew about it or not. He had left her alone the couple nights following that one, not wanting to come off as desperate or pushy, until eventually, he used the excuse of their shared project that he honestly couldn’t care less about. The week started off with him just coming over for homework, but quickly turned to him knocking on her window and her pretending not to notice new bruises forming or new cuts appearing. She had tried a few times to offer ice or Neosporin, but her offers were always waived away. After the third fight resulting in Billy seeking sanctuary, Jess let it go. He mentioned how irritable his dad gets towards the Holidays, and how he’s forced to stay home longer to “take his mandatory vacation”, which explained the constant fighting. It came to a point where Billy was able to avoid the fighting entirely, exchanging the nights spent at home with nights with Jess. It became a strange constant with them, and Jess always wondered how her parents would feel if they found out about her sneaking a boy into her room late at night and allowing him to stay until after Mr. Logan left for work. 

She also wondered how Steve would feel. 

He, like her parents, had no idea how she was truly spending her nights. And though she had seen him as well since school was let out for break, the subject of Billy never truly came up, unless, of course, he asked about her project. Now that they would be under the same roof for Christmas Eve, however, she worried that it might come out, that Billy would divulge details of their strange new friendship, whether it be accidental or to get a rise out of Steve. 

Jess slowly slid out of her bed, her legs fighting to stay under the warmth of her covers. If it had been any other morning after spending all night with Billy, she would have looked at the clock and immediately went back to sleep. She felt the need to be ready today. She felt the need to prepare. She shuffled over to her dresser, staring at the disheveled hair and large, swollen eye bags she was currently sporting. She hung her head for a moment, finding the energy to walk to her closet and search her closet for the dress that she wore last year. Once her legs decided to move, she opened her closet and walked over the clothes, shoes, and gear to make it to the back, where the red satin dress hung for a year. She unhooked it along with the hanger and stumbled over to the door again, laying it delicately on her bed, the end of it draping over her footboard. She rubbed the fabric of the right sleeve between her fingers before walking out of her room to the bathroom, looking forward to her warm shower. 

Turning on the shower head, she placed her hand under the running water, instantly regretting not waiting another minute, the cold water piercing her wrist and palm; an immense contrast to sleeping in her sweatshirt under her comforter. She stripped from her clothes, using the sweatshirt to dry her wet hand, hoping to warm it some, before placing the opposite hand under the water. The water was much warmer now, though not yet at the temperature she preferred. However, she stepped in anyway, knowing that it would feel much better than the cold she was feeling now. 

Jess huddled underneath the water, her muscles relaxing more as it gradually became warmer. When she no longer felt the chill that came with the lack of clothes, she began lathering shampoo in her hair and soap on her body, careful to take her time. She needed everything to go perfect, to look perfect, to smell perfect. Though she couldn’t quite put a pin into why it needed to be perfect, Jess chalked it up to having both the Harrington’s and the Hargrove’s over in one night. Of course, there was Billy, who was now continuously giving her butterflies and causing her to second guess everything she ever did around him, this wasn’t the only factor that was making her overanalyze everything. 

She would have new people in her home, Max, whom she wasn’t too worried about if she was being honest, Susan, whom she hasn’t really said a single word to since meeting her, and Neil. Neil was what made her stomach churn the most. She was aware that he would be around her intimate area now, her home. And that he would be around her mother for the first time, which scared her even more. She knew of his temper, though also knew of his ability to hold his temper around company. Which is why she wanted everything to be perfect, not necessarily for her sake, but for both Billy and Max. 

She stepped out and wrapped her towel around her as quickly as possible, attempting to beat the cold air. She flipped the toilet lid down and sat there for a moment, still exhausted from the lack of sleep. When she finally stood up again, she picked up her clothes that were scattered on the bathroom floor and began to walk back to her bedroom, deciding to finish getting ready for the evening in there. 

When Jess heard the doorbell ring for the first time tonight, she hurried out the hall to the stairs, anxious to see who it was. When she saw Neil and Susan enter first, she immediately slowed her pace down the steps, wanting her parents to be the first to greet them. She then saw Billy walk through the door, wearing a hardened, distorted smile. He began to look back at someone behind him, who Jess assumed was Max, and started to open his mouth. Before he was able to speak, however, Jess caught his attention as she continued to slowly walk down the stairs.

Billy’s wry smile fell suddenly as he took in her appearance. Her hair was pinned back on one side, sweeping it out of her freshly done face, the makeup look being something he remembered from the party they had recently attended, the only difference being that her lips were now lightly tinted red, which matched the red silk that was draped perfectly over her body. His eyes left her lips to the sweetheart neckline that fell below the hems of the sleeves, which met with the dress in the middle of her shoulders, accentuating her collarbone. The extra fabric of the sleeves made them puff faintly before fitting tightly below her elbow where they ended. Billy continued to gaze at her in amazement, his eyes finally arriving at the A-line skirt that hugged her figure until it met the top of her hips, breaking away and flaring ever so slightly. 

He returned to her lips again. She was smiling at him the way she normally did, but Billy Hargrove felt everything but normal in that moment. He began to open his mouth to speak again, but Max grew tired of him blocking the doorway, which he had been doing without him realizing until Jess made it completely down the stairs. 

“Move, asshole,” Max whispered, shoving Billy out of the way, closing the door behind her. She then caught a glimpse at Jess as well and stole Billy’s words from him, “Holy shit, Jess, you look amazing!”

“Maxine! Language!” 

Max gave an apologetic smile to her mother, who was then reassured by Jess’s mother that it was alright and mumbled something about Max being right. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Jess said sheepishly, “It’s just the dress I wore last year, so…” She began to look back at Billy before being called by her mother to introduce herself to the Hargroves, again. Jess turned away from the two for a moment, allowing Billy to take in the back of the dress, which plunged under her shoulder blades. Billy’s eyes roamed down her body for a moment, then looked shamefully down to his feet. He began to feel uncomfortable with the amount of people in the room, partially wishing it were just the two of them. 

But then, what exactly would he do if it were just the two of them?

Nothing.

It had always been just the two of them. And yet, here he was, still painfully aware of how she was able to make his heart stop within a second and still not willing to do a single thing about it. His mind continued to race, becoming frustrated that she looked like this, and he was unable to tell her just how beautiful she was to him. 

And then, the doorbell rang. Knowing who it was, Billy ushered Max to the living room where the parents were standing, brushing passed Jess as she made her way toward the door. Mrs. Logan pulled Billy in a tight hug, telling him how happy she was to have him there, letting go to do the same thing for Max. 

Jess quickly turned the door handle to reveal a shivering Steve Harrington, who had a small stack of presents in his right arm, his other free to pull Jess into a hug before stepping forward to allow his parents in. 

“Heyyy girl, look at you! You look great!” Steve then grabbed the wrapped boxes with both hands, pointing with them to his right. “Where you want these?” Jess nodded her head to where he was pointing, feeling Mrs. Harrington hug her from behind. 

“Merry Christmas, love,” she said warmly, walking over with her husband to greet the Logans. Steve began to carry the presents under the tree when he stopped abruptly. 

“What the f-“

“I told you, we were having other people over…” Jess nudged Steve secretly, as if asking him to behave.

He bent his head down slightly to her level, still not taking his eyes off Billy. “You never said he was the ‘other people’.”

Jess feigned a smile, looking up at Steve and then back at the crowd they had in the living room. “Max is here too, you know…” She then looked over at Billy as well, who now had a smug smile plastered on his face, crossing his arms as he sized up Steve for a moment. 

“Hey there, Harrington.”

Steve snorted out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he walked straight to the tree. 

“Oh, Steve!” Mrs. Logan took the presents from him, hugging and wishing him a Merry Christmas. “You know Billy? He told us you were on the team together. His father is the new security guard at Stan’s job. Stan?” 

Mr. Logan looked away from the conversation he was having with both the Hargroves and the Harringtons. “Yeah, hun? Oh, yes.” He broke away from the group and walked toward Steve, patting him on the back before steering him toward Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove to properly introduce him to the rest. “… And of course, you know their son Billy…” 

Steve cocked his head back, staring at Billy with the same intensity that Billy was staring at him. Jess watched as Steve clenched his jaw before speaking. “Yup,” he muttered, clearing his throat, “he’s just, great.” The sarcasm dripping from his compliment caught Mr. Logan off guard, causing him to whip his head to face Steve, and then Billy, furrowing his eyebrows at the both of them in confusion. 

“Ookaayy…” But before Mr. Logan could question it further, Max moved Billy out of the way to greet Steve, excited to see him finally this break. 

“Hey! Great job on Dustin’s hair, by the way, he didn’t look like a total freakazoid like I thought he would.”

Steve chuckled lightly, “Hey kid. I actually didn’t do it; it was all him.” He then peered behind him, leaning back to give Jess another annoyed look. “If I would have known you were coming, I would have got you something…” He made sure to speak loud enough for Jess to hear while she pretended she didn’t. 

Mrs. Logan clapped her hands once, asking for everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s just about ready and the table is set… so if everyone wants to go take their seats while me and Stan get everything out…” 

Mrs. Harrington of course refused to sit without helping, patting Stan lightly and inviting him to go sit with her husband, which he did reluctantly. The grown-ups happened to migrate towards the end closest to the kitchen, leaving the opposite end for Jess, Steve, Max, and Billy. Jess took the seat on the corner, Max sitting across from her. Steve took the chair to Jess’s right, which left the seat at the end of the table for Billy. 

Billy brushed passed Jess’s chair, sitting to her left at the end. He continued to give Steve a sly smirk, but when Jess would catch his eye, he dropped it and avoided eye contact with her, which she thought to be strange. 

“So Hargrove, what you been up to so far, huh? Drinking with Tommy get boring yet?”

Billy snickered bitterly at Steve’s statement, “You know what, Harrington? I haven’t actually seen Hagen yet. Like I said, I’ve just been doing whatever this one says.” He tapped Jess’s hand, still without looking at her. 

“So homework then. Isn’t that fun...” 

Billy grinned at Steve again, swiping his teeth like he normally did when contemplating how to ruin Steve’s day. His eyes shot at Jess momentarily before locking in on Steve again, biting the inside of his cheek. “So that’s what she’s been telling you, huh?” 

Jess’s back straightened suddenly as she turned toward Billy with wide eyes. She shook her head as carefully as she could so that Steve wouldn’t notice. When Billy finally faced her, her eyebrows contorted with her irritation and horror. However, her face relaxed a bit as she watched Billy’s features change as well. He clenched his jaw for a moment as his eyes displayed what Jess could have sworn was anger before he leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes away from her, staring toward the other end of the table. 

Steve had not noticed his change in demeanor, however. He was currently nodding his head in disbelief. He laughed through his nose, looking at Max, who immediately shrugged her shoulders, and then looked at Jess, holding an annoyed smile as he clicked his tongue with the roof of his mouth. He leaned in so his shoulder was against Jess’s, now looking away to not give off the impression that he was questioning her. “What the hell is he talking about…”

“I don’t even know. He’s just being stupid.” Jess looked pointedly back over at Billy, watching the way his jaw clamped even tighter when he heard her excuse.

Mrs. Logan and Mrs. Harrington began to bring out large dishes, Mrs. Logan placed the mashed potatoes at the teens’ end, being sure to mention she knew how much both Billy and Steve enjoyed them. Both boys smile at her politely before glancing in each other’s direction, Steve looking more vexed than Billy did. 

“Alright, gang, let’s eat!” Mr. Logan announced, causing Steve to get up as quickly as possible, his mismatched chair dragging against the floor loudly. Everyone else followed suit, making their way to the food they were currently loading their plates with. The only two who remained by their seats were Billy and Jess. 

Billy slowly added mashed potatoes to his plate, Jess staring at him, obviously displeased. 

“What.”

“What happened to behaving?”

“What happened to ‘friends don’t lie’?” 

“I’m not lying!” Jess hissed, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was interested enough to listen in on their conversation. 

“Whatever you say, princess,” he said, his tone accusatory. He then plopped the serving spoon back in the potatoes rather aggressively, but when he looked up and met her eyes again, the anger he held in his gaze melted away. Though he was irritated with her, he knew most of the irritation stemmed from him being unable to relax around her like he was able to without Steve Harrington there to ruin it. He began to feel put out by the fact that no matter how many nights he spent with her, how many secrets he divulged, how many times he made her laugh, she would always choose Steve Harrington. And she would always choose to keep him a secret. Not that he could really blame her, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be bitter about it. Besides, he was in love with this girl, how could he not be bitter?

Fuck.

No. That couldn’t be true. He couldn’t actually be in love with her. There was no way. No way he was in love with the way she smiled, the way she looked at him when no one else was around. No way he was in love with quietly listening to her read to him as his mind continued to wander about whether she knew how much he loved seeing her pull her hair back in the clip she used only when they studied. No way that he secretly wished that she was in love with him too. There was no way. Because he didn’t even know what that word even meant. He clenched his jaw again, but this time it wasn’t out of anger. He left Jess standing there by herself, filling his plate even if he no longer had an appetite. 

When everyone sat back down, the adults continued to talk amongst themselves, conversation ranging from work to what their neighbors have been up to. When the conversation shifted to the high school basketball tournament which was being held in late February, their attention turned to the boys sitting at the end of the table, who were now avoiding eye contact. 

“How’s the team looking this year, son? We haven’t been to a game in a month it feels like.” Mr. Logan was looking over at Steve, which caused him to force the bit of turkey down with his water before he answered. 

“Yeah, we had a few away games, but we’re doing okay I think. Looking good for February.” Steve looked over at his father, who gave him a nod of approval. 

“Some of us are having trouble planting our feet.” Billy chimed in flatly, taking a forkful of mashed potatoes when he was done. 

“You know,” Steve cleared his throat, turning his body to face Billy, “I’ve been noticing a different problem.” He then shifted his body back toward Mr. Logan, who, along with the rest of the adults, was eyeing both boys peculiarly. “We’ve been having problems fouling, you know what I mean. Some of us even get benched in the middle of some games because they can’t seem to figure out how not to go a game without a technical.”

Billy shrugged at this, smiling to himself as he continued to look down and eat his food. Jess looked up at Max, who was minding her business, happily putting away what was on her plate. She was either oblivious to what was happening, or simply didn’t care, Jess hadn’t decided. She then looked over at Steve, who had a hardened look on his face, his hair partially coming undone from how many times he ran his fingers through it tonight. And then there was Billy, who continued to look smug in his seat, occasionally giving Jess strange looks that she couldn’t decipher. 

“The girls are getting ready for the bake sale,” Jess announced suddenly, attempting to change the subject and ease the tension that she wasn’t sure whether the rest of the party could feel yet. 

“Oh, a bake sale? How fun!” Susan voiced with a smile, looking around the table for more elaboration. 

“Oh yes, the girls on the cheer team always do a bake sale when the tournament starts,” Jess’s mom began, causing everyone’s attention to veer away from Jess’s end of the table, something she was grateful for. 

Dinner ended with Mr. and Mrs. Logan placing both a pumpkin and apple pie on the table. Jess got up to get a slice of pumpkin, but only picked at it when she sat back down, ready for this exhausting night to be over. They continued to talk for what seemed like hours after the pie was brought out until finally, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington rose from the table. 

Jess got up as well, hugging Steve goodbye and walking with him toward the door. “Sorry about… tonight,” she whispered, looking behind her as she spoke. 

“Not like you invited him.” He looked over at Billy one last time before shaking his head. 

“Right…”

Steve then raised his hand, now looking over at Max, “See ya, kid.” 

“BYE!” 

Steve then gave Jess a sympathetic smile before following his parents out the door, looking back as she gave him one last goodbye. Jess then closed the door behind them, turning back to the rest of the table. 

“Well thank you so much, Stan, Bev, we should probably get-“

“Wait, Jess, can I see you’re TV first?” Max interrupted her mother, excitedly moving her chair back and walking around Billy. 

“Uh, yeah, sure. If it’s okay with your mom.”

Susan looked over at Neil, who was now wearing a tight-lined smile, something that made Jess anxious. “Sure. Sure, honey. But then we have to leave.”

“Sure, mom,” was all Max said in response. Max then ran up the stairs as if she already knew where her room was. Jess took her time walking up the steps, careful to not catch one of her heels on the edge of a stair, and finally made it to a bouncing Max. 

Jess opened her bedroom door, Max rushing in without hesitation. 

“You’re room’s so cool.”

“It’s alright I guess.”

“I would kill to have a room this big.” Max was now walking around to the other side of the bed where she suddenly made a strange face. “Why do you have beer under your bed? I thought you hated beer. 

“Oh shit.” Jess quickly made it to where Max was standing, slowly bending down to retrieve what was left of Billy’s six-pack he had a week ago. “Shit, where do I put this.” She then opened her closet and kicked off her heels, walking over her mound of items before settling the beer in the far corner, being sure to throw a decent amount of clothes over them before leaving. 

“You’re messy.” 

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Were those Billy’s?”

 “Why do you ask?”

“They’re the same ones he always gets.”

Jess sighed. Knowing Max, she wasn’t going to get away without answering her questions. “Yes, they’re Billy’s.”��

“You guys spend a weird amount of time together,” Max walked away from the bed, heading toward the TV, running her hands over it before looking back at Jess, “Is that why he was acting all weird tonight?”

“MAX?” 

Saved by the bell.

Max rolled her eyes and groaned. “COMING!” She opened the door and quickly ran down the stairs. By the time Jess made it downstairs as well, the Hargroves/Mayfields already had their coats on and were migrating toward the door. 

“Thank you so much for having us over, tonight, we had a great time.” 

Everyone said their polite goodbyes as Billy fiddled with something inside his coat pocket. He slowly walked over to Jess and without looking at her, he asked, “Walk me out?” 

Jess found his question odd, considering how angry he seemed to be with her only moments ago. But of course, she nodded in agreeance. Billy walked over to the Logan’s coat hanger without delay and grabbed one that looked like it belonged to her, draping it over Jess’s shoulders lightly before following his family out the door. 

When his father opened his car door and turned to him expectantly, Billy cleared his throat, looking down at the pavement before cautiously looking back at him. 

“I’ll walk.” 

“Son, get in-“ 

“Neil it’s okay, we’re only down the road anyways.” 

Neil gritted his teeth for a moment before sliding into the driver’s side. Susan smiled apologetically at Jess, entering the car after her husband. Before speaking, Billy watched his parents’ car drive further away, causing Jess to become anxious. 

“Billy, what-“

“Are we friends, Jess?”

“What? Billy what are you even-“ 

“Are we friends.”

“Well, yeah…”

“Does pretty boy know that?” Billy pointed out toward the road with his thumb, assuming the direction of where Steve was at the moment. 

“What, you want me to tell him that you sneak into my room whenever you want?” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Of course he doesn’t know. Does Tommy or Carol know? Does Jane-“

“You know what, they just might.” Billy stared into her, the look of disappointment obviously embedded in his features. 

“Billy, I-“ 

He cut her off by reaching into the pocket he was fiddling with and taking out a small, wrapped present. The wrapping was folded into a square and was mostly flat besides where the presented rested between the paper. 

“Open it tomorrow. Or tonight. Whatever.”

“Billy…”

“Just let me know when I need to come back over to finish our shit.”

“Wait…”

He looked her over one last time, taking in her dress that he probably would never have the pleasure of seeing her in again. He sighed, dropping his gaze as he walked closer to her before looking back up. He took one of her sleeves between his index finger and thumb, rubbing it softly just as Jess did this morning. After a moment of staying silent, he looked away again, finally saying what he wanted to all this time. 

“You looked beautiful tonight, Jess…” He nodded to himself after saying this, as if he were agreeing with himself, and turned away, walking back toward his house. 

Taglist: @nix-rose @fandom-princess-forevermore @ooo---hazelgrimm---ooo @axionn @defenslessheart-main @the-lost-are-ignored

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

A night of passion

Summary: Just some steamy, romantic smut (no proper plot) for Fire Vermillion month as well as Kinktober (no I don't have any regrets) Pairing: Fuegoleon x f!reader (At 1st person pov) Genre: Smut Length: ~2.1k Contains: Romantic smut, some tearing of clothes, slight nipple play, vaginal fingering, established relationship, no mention of protection, one use of "Fuck me", cervix fucking (?), overstimulation, creampie, double penetration (he uses his fire/mana hand with all the added benefits and more cleanliness), mentions of bodily fluids; semen and vaginal fluids, praising, passion, aftercare (I think that's everything)

Dimmed lights. Starlight glowing from the window, draped by thick crimson curtains. And silk sheets under me.

They feel almost cool.

Almost.

But given how the man above me is anything but.

My beloved. The one my heart desires. The one I crave and thirst and lust night after night.

Because I simply cannot get enough of him.

Granted that he works long days, late nights and most often looks exhausted. During those nights I’m content with curling next to him, while placing my hand onto his chest and simply listening to his breathing as he drifts off to sleep.

But. This night is not one of those nights.

During this night, whether it’s the positioning of the moon and the stars, hormones, or the fact that it feels like weeks since he has last touched me, I don’t think I can quite make due without.

Tonight, my thirst is overwhelming.

Maybe he saw it. The plead, the beg in my half-lidded eyes as I straddled him while grinding my hips right against his crotch that he felt it. How much I want him.

‘Maybe’. Huh, who am I to fool myself. For if he hadn’t seen it, the way I looked at him, the way I licked my lips and bit down on it, would he be there, on top of me, ripping my shirt off with a promise to buy me a new one when I could care less about it. Why would I care when he yanks my pants down with a swift motion, and tosses his jacket onto the foot of the bed with yet another.

His eyes turn to me.

Those rich, dark, deep purple eyes that are like velvet wrapped in satin, when in daylight they’re aching to lavender. Eyes that are full of hunger, the same as mine.

Then he takes a hold of the lower end of his shirt, revealing his pecks, then his broad chest… neck which is so very fun to kisssss…. Strong arms and a fine jawline…

And again his eyes, right before the vermillion locks drape down onto his shoulders like silk.

He chuckles, the corner of his lips turning into a content smirk as he lets out a low… sultry… chuckle…

His lips part, just barely, but they do, as he begins to crawl back on top of me. His frame fully encases me, like he was a beast. A ravenous lion here to feast.

And I don’t mind letting him. I don’t mind being the entrèe, the main course and the dessert.

Actually, I’m asking to be just that. I’m asking to be a feast for him. Just for him…

So, when he lowers down and presses his lips against the skin of my neck I can’t help but gasp. I can’t help but feel shivers running down my spine, because I know this is but a prelude. His breath glides over me, as his mouth leaves sloppy, wet kisses as he keeps trailing down… and down… Pinches my nipple on the way, massaging my breasts for a while with a swirl of his tongue around the areola…

His hand… is faster than his mouth. It reaches down, inserting one finger, then another… a third… and I engulf it all, in.

I can feel him smirking against my skin again, as he already feels how ready I am for him. How I am wet and hot and needy for him.

But I know that it only strokes his lion pride. Because he is proud. Proud of making me feel this way, making me long for his touch this much. So, he glances at me with that devilishly delicious smirk, as his eyes glimmer in the faint light of the bedroom, and begins to climb back up.

His arms settle on opposite sides of my head as I can feel the tip of his cock pressed against my entrance.

My fingers grace his sides… his arms… his back… as he quite simply admires me. Just is there, for a moment that seems both long and not long at all, like time itself had stopped still. And I nod.

I nod, and I nod…

And he smiles.

He smiles while leaning back, his hands trailing along the length of my body, until he grabs my hips and pulls me closer, burying his cock all the way to the hilt into me. And I can see how he’s biting down his molars from how warm I must feel around him. How tight I am to him. Because it must be tight given how well he’s stretching me open, just for him.

I can feel him throbbing in me as his breathing is heavy and rugged, like he couldn’t wait but to pound into me, rearrange my insides time and time again, while painting them white with his cum, only to bury his cock back in to churn the cum in me, only to cum again and again until I overflow.

“Make love to me,” I tell him. “Do me,” I continue, drunk on the sheer amount of my feelings for him, or perhaps just the ecstasy of the moment. “Fuck me. Fill me. And then cum once more to make it flow out.”

Words I probably should say. Words I probably shouldn’t speak out.

But I do.

And he looks at me. His eyes lock together with mine to make sure that he heard right. Those purple eyes… Royal purple… Still dark and dimmed with how much he craves for me.

His grip grows tighter, fingers burying themselves into my ass cheeks as I can feel him still pulsating in me, the tip of his long, thick, cock pressed right against my cervix.

And I nod.

I nod to tell him that I meant it.

I meant it.

There’s a smirk that rises to his lips. An almost devilish grin as his lips part only barely.

“As my queen desires…” he purrs, murmurs through the air with a lick of his lips and a tone that is low and quiet. Sultry and decadent.

He pushes forth, rolling my hips as he positions himself directly on top of me, knees bent so that I can feel his balls pressing on my lower set of lips.

And then he rolls his hips, making sure that there is pressure to my clit. Making sure that every time he rolls his hips, he hits the sweet spot inside of me and that his cock is kissing the very entrance to my womb.

After all, if he pours it directly in there, he’ll have more space to fill.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises with yet another roll of his hips, a gentle motion, even if it keeps massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves.

I moan out his name, and see that smirk widen.

“Go ahead,” he tells me. “Cum, my love.” It’s a strange combination of a command, a plea and an implore.

He pulls his hip back more than before, only to slam back in with the rolling motion. Pounding into me with individual, heavy, thrusts that taste like his devotion and hunger.

I cum for the first time. Eyes roll back and my hands grasp the sheets as he continues the gentle motion all through my climax.

“Again,” he tells me as drool starts dripping down the side of my mouth.

He props himself with just his left hand, as his right travels down to my clit, applying both pressure and warmth in a combination that makes me clasp onto him. One hand on his shoulder and the other on his back, fingers pressed into his skin.

And that is when his lips latch onto my neck. His warm breath glides all the way down to my collarbone sending waves of warmth rushing through me.

He doesn’t need to tell me again, since I climax again, and even through the haze I can feel him smirk in triumph against my skin.

“You’re doing so well, my beloved,” he praises me again as he begins to move back.

“Wait,” I manage, gripping onto him, sinking my fingers deeper against his muscular back. “Give me a moment…” I plead, I ask, I wish… because I don’t want him to go.

“I’m right here,” he tells me as he brushes a few locks of my hair away from my face. “Just tell me when,” he places a kiss onto my forehead, which is enough for the moment.

The rush is wearing down, just a bit, but that bit is enough.

“Okay,” I nod, out of breath. “Continue.”

And I don’t need to tell him twice.

Oh by the gods how I don’t need to tell him twice.

He leans back, only to flip me around on the bed, ass high up in the air as if on display for him. And as I move my head to look between my legs, I can see my own cum running down my thighs, dripping onto the sheets.

I can feel his broad hands on my hips, palms pressing onto my ass with a grip that is securing, as if I was going somewhere.

And he thrusts in me. With a single, slick motion. Again all the way to the hilt.

Because he doesn’t do things carelessly.

He doesn’t do me carelessly. But with intense, certain, heavy motions that feel almost drunk with lust and crave and love and passion he feels for me.

And then he growls. “So good…”

I don’t think he realizes the words that left him. I don’t think he noticed to be speaking, growling and grunting out loud, but I don’t care!

Not as his pace is quickening. Not as I can feel his balls hitting against my clit with every smack of his hips against mine. Not as I can feel his cock burying itself into me as he comes, and warmth fills me.

He pants.

But just for a few seconds. Then there is a brief silence and a chuckle.

He leans forward, pressing my upper body more securely against the sheets as he starts pounding again, as his cum is churning up inside of me.

“I wonder…” I hear him half utter, half growl, as I feel his right hand trailing from my hip, onto my ass, and then… something warm tracing around my other hole, something warm.

Then he penetrates me again.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he commands me as his thumb is pumping in and out.

If I had the sanity left, I would have to admire his control over his flame arm. But, I don’t, and alas, I am merely drowning in the ecstasy of him filling me, claiming me, marking me.

I can feel my walls clench around him as the knot in my stomach only intensifies as I moan and gasp and I can feel my hips trying to match his movements out of impulse, but I-, can’t-, be-cause, it-,

And-

Jusss-t

I hear him growling behind me, right before my eyes roll back and the sound of blood rushing through my ears blocks all other sounds away, as I cum.

I cum again.

And he pumps in and out a few more times, through my climax.

I feel dizzy… but I can feel me hips twitching. Drool rolls down the side of my face. But there are no thoughts running through my mind. I’m just trying to catch my breath.

He wraps his arm around my waist and rolls onto the side, pulling me along with him as he’s still inside of me. His chest is sturdy and broad, as he envelopes me into his embrace, the skin of his left arm feeling so warm against mine.

“Are you alright?” He asks with an out of breath whisper, and I nod as he pulls out.

His breathing glides over my neck, onto which he places a gentle kiss, like a butterfly on a blade of grass.

“I love you,” he tells me, and I reply with a confession of my own.

“I love you too.”

I must sound out of breath and exhausted, but there’s a smile on my lips, because this is the best kind of exhaustion. Drunk on love and lust.

His thumb keeps stroking me as his arm stays right there, holding me close, as we just lie there.

Gradually my breathing settles down, and I let out a savouring hum, with which I hear hem let out a quiet, low chuckle.

He is pleased too. I know that he is.

In a little while he’ll take my hand and guide me to the showers, but for now, just a little while longer, we’ll stay here.

Just… a moment.

Just holding onto each other.

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

Marabelle 

-4- The Beaumont Bash 

Book: Choices – The Royal Romance, an AU series 

Series Premise: An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobles, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret? 

Catch up: Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Sophia (Sophie) 

Other Pairing: Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC) 

                           Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Sophia Taylor, Bethany Beaumont, Melanie Smithson, Tyler Gregson (Liam’s assistant), Elena (dress shop attendant) 

Rating: M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language. Not Beta’d: Please excuse all errors. 

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff 

Words: 2173

-4- The Beaumont Bash 

Chapter Summary: Sophie prepares for her first Beaumont Bash and is introduced to Bertrand’s love interest/Drake’s sister/future ally, Savannah Walker. 

Music Inspiration: Just the Way You Are, Bruno Mars 

   Love Story, Taylor Swift 

 A/N1: This is my submission for Choices April Challenge @choicesmonthlychallenge @lovealexhunt @aprilchallenge prompts, love is in the air, dinner, flower crown #april challenge 

A/N2: This is my submission for @choicesflashfics Week#30, Prompt3-  “That’s how the story goes.” 

A/N3: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the US: is Barthelemy Beaumont’s 2nd wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) was Bertrand’s mother. 

A/N4: Social Season in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in balls, dinner parties and charity events. 

A/N5: Thank you @peonierose for the inspirational quote!

Cordonian Capital...

It was a cloudy Tuesday morning in the Capital, which meant it was a good day to spend shopping. Keeping her promise to take her niece to the shopping district, Bethany smiled watching Sophie's excitement as the driver turned the Escalade SUV into the parking lot of an upscale formal wear boutique and parked alongside the floor to ceiling display window. 

“Duchess Bethany, good morning,” the elegant shop owner walked up to Sophie’s aunt in greeting as they entered the building. “This must be Lady Sophia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

Gazing at the display mannequins, Sophie turned and smiled, greeting the well-dressed woman. 

“Hello, good morning; your dresses are gorgeous!” 

“Thank you, I have taken the liberty of pre-selecting a sampling of the latest trending styles for you and placed them in the dressing room. My assistant is at your service this morning for whatever you need. I am sure that you will find the perfect dress for the occasion.”  

A petite woman appeared alongside a Sophie. “Please follow me, my lady,” the shop tailer smiled. “My name is Elena.” 

*** 

After trying on several styles and colors, the dress she fell in love with was a deep burgundy red, an A-line V-neck asymmetrical satin dress. 

Standing on the pedestal inside the dressing room of the boutique, Sophie looked at her reflection in the three-way full length mirror, critically. 

“Auntie, I found my dress! What do you think?” 

Sophie took a selfie and sent it off to Daniel for his opinion. 

“Oh, my dear, it’s lovely! That color flatters your complexion and hair color perfectly.” 

“It is a pleasure fitting such a lovely figure...ahhh to be young again.” Elena tittered as she handed her a pair of gold heels to try. 

“Lady Sophia, these stilettos will give you some added height.”   

‘I feel like Cinderella!’ Sophie thought to herself as she slipped on the heels and stood up straight. Sending another picture to her best friend, she made sure to include the shoes. 

Sophie’s phone instantly pinged with Daniel’s return message:  

‘Girl, look at your killer legs! GET IT! 🔥🔥🔥’ 

Sophie giggled at his response, texting back, ‘OK, OK, don’t hold anything back, now🫡😁!'

Sophie clicked off her phone before reading Daniel's reply, 'can't wait to see you this weekend! 😘 '

*** 

The Beaumont Estate...

Maxwell browsed through the endless list of Netflix movies on his phone, looking for a movie line-up for tonight’s viewing. Tonight, being a Tuesday, was the weekly ‘Maxwell Movie Marathon’. Max was excited to introduce his cousin to her inaugural movie night, complete with New York style deep dish pizza and his infamous ‘Beaumont Brew’. 

“Hey Maxxy,” Savannah Walker walked into the theatre room giving her friend a hug.  

“Hi, Sav. What do you think of these movies for tonight?” 

Glancing at his phone, “Oooooo, I love ‘Dirty Dancing’! Are you sure your brother will approve?”  

Maxwell gave her a lopsided grin, “I’ve been telling him about my plans since my cousin arrived. You should have seen how much fun we had watching ‘Titanic’ together last Tuesday night.” 

Savannah, Drake’s little sister, has a crush on Bertrand, still unbeknownst to Bertrand. Maxwell knew, however. 

“Well, you are my guest tonight, so I will let you pick the second movie.” 

Without hesitating, “‘Pretty Woman’”, Savannah announced. 

“Ha, I see where you are going with that,” Maxwell cheekily replied. 

She laughed as she pulled out a chair next to Maxwell, who had taken a seat on the sofa.  

“You know what your brother is like. If he sees it being played out before him, he will see for himself, and then he will realize, 'that's how the story goes.’ Or at the very least, I hope so.” 

Maxwell looked at Savannah, shaking his head. "Ahhh, 'love is in the air.' You are getting desperate Sav. I hope he gets the hint....maybe you should wear a flower crown.” 

"Ha ha, Maxxy!" Savannah sighed, shaking her head.

*** 

Sophie walked through the estate doors, returning with her aunt, after spending the day shopping. Feeling the excitement building up within her, she went up the grand staircase quickly, turned to the right and sprinted to her bedroom, depositing her parcels on top of her bed. 

After putting away her new shoes, and hanging the garment bag into her walk-in closet, Sophie looked at the gift she selected for Liam. The Swarovski crystal paperweight, with a gold inlay, was a miniature statue of liberty. Sophie thought back to the conversation she shared with him the day she was introduced to Marabelle. Liam was fascinated with the fact that Sophie had visited the monument many times. Even though the prince had visited New York City a handful of times, his advisors dictated that visiting the tourist attraction was a safety risk. With his security detail constantly ghosting his movements, this symbol of freedom was elusive for him.  

Similar to Liam, Sophie shared a love of history and described her visits to the statue and to Ellis Island. Liam was entranced with her insights and her knowledge of the backstory and meaning of the monument. 

The gold inlay was engraved with the inscription, ‘your breath of freedom.’ A moniker, Liam gave to Sophie that day. 

*** 

Walking into the theatre room, the smell of pizza wafting through the air, Sophie spotted Maxwell sitting comfortably on the sofa. He waved her over to sit beside him, handing her a tall cocktail glass of a blue liquid. 

“Okay, Max, I give up.” 

Sophie smirked at her cousin, taking a whiff of the drink. 

“Ohhh, this smells so good. What’s in it?” 

“Rum, vodka, blue curacao, pineapple juice, lime juice and ice.” 

“Don’t forget your secret ingredient.” Savannah giggled. 

“Hence. Secret. Ingredient!” Maxwell retorted. 

“Hi, it’s Sophie, right?” Savannah smiled at Sophie, and swatted Maxwell. 

As Maxwell feigned an injury, his eyes went wide when he realized that he didn’t introduce his cousin. 

“Yeah, Maxwell!” Sophie extended her hand in greeting and then poked Maxwell in the ribs. 

“What would Bertrand think?” Sophie teased. 

“I am certainly not impressed Maxwell.” Bertrand huffed and walked past his brother sitting on the wingback across from the sofa. 

Maxwell felt his cheeks redden. “What’s wrong with me?” Maxwell asked. “I’m always nice to people.” 

“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” Sophie raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, yes I am.” Maxwell challenged his brother, staring him down. 

Savannah stood up and motioned to Sophie to come with her to get pizza. 

“Yes, I am starving, good idea.” Sophie stood up to also get pizza with Savannah. 

“Wait! You didn’t select the movie you want to watch, Soph.” Maxwell bounded up following Sophie to the pizza.  

“Umm, let’s see...I know! “How about...’The Conjuring’?” Sophie answered. 

“Ooaa, scary! Love it!” Maxwell pulled out his phone to add it to the movie queue. 

*** 

After the first movie ended, Savannah moved over to sit beside Sophie and grabbed a handful of jelly beans from the candy bowl. 

“So how did you like the first movie?”  

Sophie smiled. “Honestly? I have seen it now for the fourth time.” Savannah laughed, “for me, it’s the third time; I really wish they had that type of dance in the clubs here in Cordonia.” 

“Savannah is originally from Texas and is still getting used to the slower pace of courtly life here.” Maxwell sighed. 

“Really, now I am curious. What should I expect at the Bash on Saturday?” Sophie looked puzzled at Savannah and Maxwell. 

“It’s a pretty informal event, but there’s also going to be formal dancing after dinner. It’s a tradition here, especially with both princes attending.” Maxwell explained. 

“Prince Leo has a reputation for being a bit of a ladies' man, even though he is betrothed to Madeleine. So, I imagine you might see some interesting things happening.” Savannah added. 

“Interesting how?” Sophie wondered aloud. 

“Well, the last time he attended, one of the guests was Princess Marguerite. She was dressed in a very revealing outfit, and Prince Leo was seen dancing with her quite a few times throughout the evening,” Savannah explained. 

“Madeleine was livid and threw her drink in his face.” Maxwell chuckled. 

“It is very unbecoming to gossip about members of court.” Bertrand interjected. “Sophia, don’t let these comments discolor your opinion of the noble life here in Cordonia.” 

Changing the subject, Savannah asked, “What types of music do you like to dance to, Sophie?” 

“Oh, I love dancing! But I never went to any clubs; only at parties or school events.” 

“What types of music will be played after dinner this Saturday?” 

“Mostly current pop music with the exception of the first dance. That is the one dance you can count on to be played by the orchestra. The Cordonian Waltz.” 

“It’s a tradition for the King to dance with the senior noble of the house to open the dance floor for the guests.” 

“For this Beaumont Bash, Crown Prince Leo will dance with my mother,” Maxwell added. 

“Which reminds me, Sophie, I need to teach you how to dance this waltz.” 

“Me? Why me?” Sophie challenged her cousin. 

Without giving anything away to Sophie about Saturday and the planned surprise birthday celebration, he explained, “just in case you are asked to dance by Prince Liam.” 

*** 

As the evening winded down, Savannah prepared to go home.  

“Hey Savvy,” Sophie called out to her new friend.  

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Savannah smiled. 

“Do you have any advice for me about how to fix my hair for the Bash?” 

“Why are you asking me this? I mean, you have such beautiful hair!” 

“Yeah, well...I was thinking of wearing a half up-do and I need someone to help me pin it. Auntie Beth will be busy preparing for the dinner.” 

“I would love to, I will get Drake to drop me off here an hour early on Saturday.” 

*** 

It was the evening of the Beaumont Bash and Sophie was brushing her long, auburn hair. Sophie stared at her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom vanity. 

Savannah was coming upstairs to help with her hair in a few minutes, and she had just finished applying her makeup. 

‘Okay, Soph... tonight is the Bash...why are you so nervous?’ 

After dabbing her perfume on her neck and wrists, she slid the gold upper arm bracelet cuff into place, followed by her mother’s gold locket necklace around her neck.  

Savannah knocked lightly on her bedroom door and opened it slowly. 

“Are you ready for me?” 

“Almost, come in, Savannah,” Sophie called. 

***

Bertrand walked toward Sophie as she stepped off the grand staircase.

Taking her hand, he moved her toward the ornate double doors of the ballroom.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

Taking a deep breath Sophie replied, "yes".

Offering his arm, she slipped her hand around his arm and together they moved forward.

"Presenting his grace, Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford escorting Lady Sophia Taylor of House Beaumont."

📌Tagging in the comments...

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[the-hinky-panda]

Strings: Part I

Title: Strings

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Les Packer x Fem! Reader

Summary: You and Les had been high school sweethearts. You're going to be a music teacher, he's going to climb the ranks of the SAMDINO MC. The only thing that stands in your way is his mentally unstable brother, Isaac. Things fall apart and fifteen years later, your daughter calls Les for help when you're in a coma and she's trying to figure out how to stay out of foster care. Les is faced with figuring out if you daughter is his or possibly Isaac's. Either way, he can't walk away for a second time from you and your daughter.

She looks like you, that’s the first thing that strikes Les. 

Her posture, straight and tense, the waves of hair falling over her shoulders, the serious set of her mouth. It isn’t until he enters the small diner and approaches the table that he realizes her nose and eyes are not like yours at all. 

They’re a Packer’s. 

The eye color is a mix, blue and green, like an unsettled sea. But the shape is most definitely Packer. 

“Zoey, I presume?” As if she could be anyone else. 

She nods once, those eerie eyes studying his face. “Mr. Packer.” 

He hears one of his guys snort from a couple booths over. Hoosier from the sound of it. He wasn’t sure if this was a set up or not so back up was a must. Now, he’s regretting that decision. With a heavy sigh, he slips into the booth across from her. He doesn’t know if she knows anything about him, or Isaac. What you told her about her father. He doesn’t have enough information going into this meeting so he does what he always does in these situations: get the other person to talk. 

“Alright, say what you have to say.” 

She reaches under the table and pulls out a stack of slightly yellowed envelopes, all tied neatly together with a fraying blue ribbon. “My mom told me where to find these letters, in case anything happened to her.” She pushes them with shaking hands across the scratched formica towards him. “There’s not too many Les Packers in California. I just assumed…” 

He recognizes the ribbon, remembers when he gave it to you, and fights the urge to reach out and touch it. He had used it to tie the stems of wildflowers together in a poor excuse of a bouquet when he had asked you out to some music in the park festival in Redlands. The next day, after the wildflowers had been arranged in a canning jar with water, you used the ribbon to tie your hair back away from your face while you played the guitar on a dilapidated back porch. He can still remember what the curve of your cheek felt like under his fingers, soft as the satin of the ribbon. 

He clears his throat. “So something has happened to your mother?” 

Zoey nods. “Yeah.” 

“Is she…” even after sixteen years of distance, he still can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. 

“No, but it’s bad. She’s in a coma.” 

“For how long?” 

“Six days today.” Zoey folds her hands in front of her and Les sees the ring on her middle finger. A small sterling silver band with a teardrop piece of turquoise. 

“Your mama give you that ring?” 

“No,” she turns it around her finger nervously. “I found it with the letters. In a safety deposit box. Do you want it-” 

It’s a cheap thing he bought from a street vendor in San Diego. You had loved it, the colored veins in the blue rock. You had called it a piece of art and he handed over a twenty dollar bill for the treasure. He shakes his head. “Nah. Tell me what happened to your mom.” 

“She was in an accident. On her motorcycle. She was coming back from a music recital at the middle school when a drunk driver clipped her. The police said she skidded across the road and h…h…hit a tree.” 

That’s a nasty type of accident and it sounds like a miracle that you’re just in a coma and not dead. “Do you think that’s what really happened?” 

Zoey’s entire face clouds over, tears gathering quickly in her eyes. “Yeah. The police arrested the guy.” 

“So what am I here for?” 

She pulls out another envelope, thick and wrinkled. “Here. It’s not a lot, about $560 but it’s all I have.” 

He glances in the envelope and finds mostly $10s and $5s. “Where did you get this money?” 

She fiddles with the fraying end of a braided bracelet around her wrist. “I’ve always saved up money. It’s just my mom and me. Some months are harder to pay the bills than others so I save up what I can to help when that happens.” 

Les closes the envelope and sets it down on the table between them. It pains him to no end to hear that you’ve had to struggle financially because of him. Because of Isaac. And what little bit he had tried to do for you, to help ease that burden, wasn’t enough. “How old are you?” 

“Fifteen.” 

He nods in understanding. “CPS is starting to snoop around.” 

Zoey uses a shaky hand to wipe away her tears. “Yeah. They’re talking about putting me in a foster home. I overheard the lady tell the doctor that they need to get me in placement as soon as possible for when my mom…” She chokes down a sob. “My best friend in school is in a foster home. She says it’s terrible. She sleeps on the floor, has to take care of the younger kids and work a part time job. And the father…” 

God, what is wrong with the world? Like he needed that confirmation to make his decision. He slides the money back over to her, along with the letters. Her face falls, thinking he’s going to say no. He’s failed in protecting you and your daughter. He’s not about to let that mistake continue. He’s stayed on the sidelines for far too long. 

“What hospital is your mama in?”

[jooheonspinky]

From the Ashes

Characters: Jungkook x Female reader

Genre: Fantasy!au, angst

Synopsis: I am ready to confess my feelings to Jungkook, but his older brother, a wizard, has other plans. Plans with devastating consequences that I could never have prepared for.

Warnings: major character death, various mentions of fire, mentions of panic attack

A/N: This story came about from a dream I had. Actually, two dreams I had last month. You can read them before the story if you'd like. I did have to change a lot in order for it to make a little more sense.

Dream Log 56

Dream Log 57

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

Part 1 

Word Count: 3.2K

“Are you sure?” My cousin stares at me with a mixture of disbelief and elation. “Once the words are out of your mouth, that’s it. There’s no taking them back.”

I giggle, my cheeks flushing with warmth from the terror and excitement coursing through me.

“I know, Merrick,” I say breathily. “But we only live once, right? If I never tell him, how will I know how he feels? I just don’t want to have any regrets later on.” Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to calm my rapidly beating heart, I ask, “Do I look okay?”

She side-eyes me as I run my hands over the smooth material of my cap-sleeved attire, trying to ensure everything is in place. The empire-waist dress hugs my breasts tightly, giving them a little lift. A butterfly embroidered sheer pink tulle overlay hangs beautifully atop the mint green satin length of the dress’s skirt that cascades down to the tops of my slippered feet. My hair is half-up, half-down, and a large mint green bow pinned to the back of my head completes the outfit I have chosen for the university’s Halloween festivities.

“I can’t believe you just asked me that.” She stares at me with feigned anger. “Didn’t you check yourself out in the mirror? You look absolutely gorgeous in that.”

The warmth in my cheeks intensifies, and I glance away momentarily.

Exhaling, I whisper, “I just want to make sure everything goes goo- no, great.”

She hugs me tightly, and I welcome not only the warmth the gesture provides but also the encouragement and love she is wrapping me in. My soul soaks it all up, steadying my heart. Though I am not a witch like her, we are extremely close and often find ourselves inadvertently sharing what the other is feeling. Merrick still believes I, too, am a witch, but at this age, nothing has manifested yet, and I don’t expect it to either.

And I am ok with that. 

Stepping out of her arms, I tug open the matching reticule that hangs from my wrist and pull out my phone. A quick message asking my crush to meet me at the top of the library tower, where we both love to spend time as we study, read books, or listen to music is sent off. It should be empty now as everyone prepares to go to the auditorium for the costume ball. No one should be there to interrupt. No one there to witness the rejection if things don’t go how I would like them to. As of yet, he has not given the impression that he thinks of me as anything other than a good friend.

I shake my head, pushing away the negative thoughts before they can convince me to keep my confession to myself.

“Go,” she urges me. “You shouldn’t leave Jungkook waiting.”

“Ok, ok,” I laugh as I turn to push the door open and step outside.

The air is brisk as it hits my flushed skin. I can feel Merrick’s eyes on me as she watches me speedily walk across the courtyard. Scattered mounds of melted snow collected on the sides of the square I walk across are evidence of the remnants of a mid-autumn snowfall that had surprised us earlier in the week. I am a bit too exposed to the elements with my wispy dress and primarily bare arms, but I don’t seem to feel the cold. I’m too nervous and excited about what I’m getting ready to do. 

Up ahead, I catch sight of Jungkook stepping into the archway that leads to the library tower. Though his face is not visible, his way of walking is unmistakable and gives him away. From this distance, I can make out that he’s wearing what appears to be black leather pants with a billowy white shirt that is only tucked into the front. A pair of black boots adorn his feet, and I wonder if he is dressed as a pirate or maybe a vampire just as he disappears deeper into the tunnel.

I speed up, soft, giddy giggles escaping my lips as I reach the archway. I pause to straighten my dress and take a few deep breaths as my slippered feet carry me forward. Footsteps echo across the cement walls, and the hair on the back of my neck instantly stands on end. I swirl around to find the silhouette of a slightly hunched figure clad in black floor-length robes. There is a hint of deep purple satin that lines the inside of the cloak, visible only when he steps closer.

I instantly recognize the pallid face that smiles at me. A chill shivers down my spine, and I have only a moment to wonder why it is that Jungkook’s older brother always gives me the heebie-jeebies whenever he is around despite his friendly demeanor. He’s never done anything to make me question his genuineness, yet I can sense something just behind those eyes that doesn’t quite fit the expression that sits on his face.

His hand darts forward to grab my wrist, pulling me from my inner thoughts. Though I gasp, nothing else comes out as I attempt to follow it with a scream. Utter fear and confusion locks me in place. It’s like his grip has control over my body’s functions, and nothing I do can override it.

“I knew it,” he hisses, his face contorting into disgust. His dark eyes hold my gaze as he tugs me into him. “You will not get the chance to tell him a thing, do you hear me?!”

My eyes widen. How does he know…

“Please,” I manage to croak out. “Let me go.”

“Oh, I’ll let you go, alright,” he sneers.

His fingers tighten, digging into my skin, as he begins to murmur unintelligibly. I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know precisely what he’s doing. He is a wizard, after all, and wizards, just like witches, have magic powers. The possibilities are endless as to what they can do with that power, power he’s not supposed to use while on school grounds unless authorized by a professor or the Dean.

But here, in the middle of the tunnel, where anyone can see or hear if they pass by, he is chanting a spell without a care, and there is nothing I can do. A sensation similar to vertigo washes over me, and I fight the feeling of nausea as my body begins to transform. It only takes a few seconds before I am no longer human. Whatever words he has recited has converted me into a bird. He laughs as he gazes down at me, pleased at his work.

“It’s nothing personal, little raven,” he confides. “I’m just tired, ya know? Tired of him getting everything he wants. Tired of everyone saying he’s better at everything. The ‘golden boy’,” he mocks. “He’s just a measly human. He has no powers. Can’t cast spells or make charms. I can, though. I can, and no one cares. It’s always about Jungkook. I won’t let you make your confession to him and give him yet another thing he wants.”

My beady eyes can only stare up at him, absolutely dumbfounded at what is occurring. I let out a caw, and he chuckles.

“I’ve given him a little snack to munch on while he waits for you to meet up with him. We both know the kid can eat.” He grins at me as if he’s just chatting with a friend. “But little does he know I’ve added something extra to it. He’ll be dead before you can even reach him.”

He exits the archway with another laugh, leaving me in absolute shock. I flap my wings frantically, unsure of what to do. 

“Y/N!” My cousin’s voice has me frantically skittering towards her. “Ohmygosh! What the hell happened to you? Did he do this? I saw him come in here after you, and I just got this really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach…”

Merrick doesn’t wait for an answer. She squats down and sets her hand gently on my head. Closing her eyes, I let the images and the conversation run through my mind like a piece of CCTV footage and focus on pushing them toward her. 

“Oh, shit!” she shoots up. “I gotta go get the Dean. You go and stop Jungkook!” 

Scooping me up, she rushes out of the small arched tunnel and straight to the library doors. With fear guiding me, Merrick opens her hands, and I find I can instantly fly. I hear the door close behind me as she rushes across campus toward the Dean’s office, cell phone pressed to her ear. 

I fly up the spiral staircase, my voice calling to Jungkook, screaming and begging him not to eat anything as I try to reach him as fast as I can. No words come out, only cawing sounds that reverberate against the walls as I circle my way up. Though new to flying, I make it to the top in record time, as if I have flown all my life. 

It’s not fast enough, though.

As I reach the landing, my eyes catch sight of a bright pink and red box of Kancho (칸쵸) choco biscuits lying on the floor. My gaze shifts from the box to Jungkook’s form. A newspaper he must have been reading while he snacked was under his feet, the crinkling of the crisp paper sounding amplified in the ordinarily quiet space. His hands are clutching his throat, his eyes wide in desperate panic. From inside my head, I can hear his brother laughing maniacally. 

The spell must allow him to see what I see, and I hate that I’m giving him a front-row seat to Jungkook’s dire predicament. 

I need to figure out how to help Jungkook. My mind races as I try to lock in on what I can do. Jungkook falls to his knees, and I swoop toward him. Maybe I can pluck the food from his mouth and stop any further reaction the morsel is causing. I bump my beak under his chin, trying to tilt his head up, but there is a slight pfft sound as soon as I make contact with his skin. I stare on in disbelief as Jungkook disappears, and a pile of ashes materializes on top of the newspaper where he had just been, a thin tendril of smoke undulating up in front of me.

Footsteps pound up the stairs, and Merrick falls to her knees next to my now human form, her chest heaving. The thought that perhaps Jungkook turning to ash broke my spell sits at the back of my mind as my eyes continue to stare at the remains in front of me in sheer disbelief. I can feel hysteria trying to claim me, my cousin’s voice sounding miles away as she attempts to bring my attention to her. The elevator dings behind us, and in comes the Dean with several guards, their presence making the space feel cramped. Voices resonate up the stairs, the commotion sounding as if it were in the same room. 

“Y/N was practicing magic,” Jungkook’s brother is saying. “I heard her say she was going to kill Jungkook, and then she changed into a bird. I was just on my way to find the Dean, actually.”

 Tears burn down my cheeks at the betrayal. How can a brother commit such a heinous act against his own flesh and blood? How does he have the ability to push that familial bond aside and go through with extinguishing the life of his younger brother? It just doesn’t seem fathomable to me.

It’s not long before the world comes flooding in, and I begin sobbing hysterically, folding the paper gently to contain his ashes, even as my body shakes violently. It’s too much: too much feeling, too much pain, too much anguish. It’s all just too much. So I hug him to me, feeling like I’m suffocating. I am overwhelmed with so much grief I can’t even speak. 

“Miss Y/N,” the Dean’s stern voice cuts through the cacophony in my head. His tone is not unkind and softens when he continues.  “I’m afraid that is evidence, and I must confiscate it.”

I look down at the newspaper clutched between my trembling hands, my grip tightening.

“Sir,” Merrick steps in. “If I may?”

She raises her hand, reaching out towards the Dean.

“Go ahead,” he nods.

Her fingers touch his temple lightly, and they both close their eyes as I can only assume she is sending him the information and images I had given her earlier. His eyebrows pinch together, and his lips tighten into a thin line as he receives the information. 

Merrick lowers her hand, solemnly replying, “That’s what happened.”

“I’m at a loss,” he shakes his head. Pulling out his walkie-talkie, he radios to the guards downstairs. “Arrest him. Use the magic suppressing cuffs.” To us, he admits, “His own brother. I would never have expected such condemnable actions from him.” The Dean sighs heavily, and it's full of disbelief. “Such an exemplary student. One of my best.”

“I never would have expected that from him myself,” Merrick agrees.

I would have. I think to myself. I felt something was off about him but had no proof of what. And now here we are. If only I had said something anyway.

“I will be contacting the family,” he tells us as we enter the elevator, my legs too shaky to take the stairs. Merrick holds me up as we descend. “I know I can trust you with his remains,” the Dean says gently. “You can hold on to them for us until they are able to come and retrieve them.”

I can only nod, the events draining me of energy. The elevator ride is quiet except for my sniffles and ragged breaths that sound extremely loud to my ears. This couldn’t be happening. There just could be no way Jungkook was dead. His brother. His freaking brother just-

The doors slide open, and I have a clear view of the offending man being escorted away, his hands cuffed at his back. Two guards hold him by the elbows on either side. My heart lodges in my throat when he looks over his shoulder, a small smirk adorning his lips as his eyes lock in on mine.

My knees buckle as rage and agony tighten my heart to the point it feels as if I’m about to have a heart attack. I crumble to the floor, and air refuses to enter my lungs. Black dots begin to dance before my eyes, but I don’t let go of the newspaper… of Jungkook.

“Dammit!” the Dean curses, and I can sense Merrick’s shock at his outburst. “Get her to her room before she keels over.”

My cousin nods, her arms hooking under my armpits to lift me.

“Come on, Y/N,” she coos. “You’re going to be ok. Just breathe and you’ll be okay.”

The Dean takes long, swift strides to the door and opens it quickly.

“Get him out of here, ASAP!” he roars before the door closes.

My focus turns to my cousin, who is begging me to breathe with her. I follow her guidance, and soon, the panic attack subsides, the darkness at the edge of my eyes slowly pulling away until I’m able to breathe and walk on my own.

“It hurts too much,” I whimper.

“I know,” she swallows thickly. “Believe me, I know.”

I have no doubt she does. Our connection so strong that I know she can feel just how grief-stricken I am, and it makes me feel guilty, selfish even as I allow her to guide me to my room. 

The adrenaline must be wearing off because I begin to shake as soon as we enter my studio. The rugged stone walls are still holding onto the chill from outside. As I step further into the room, Merrick immediately gets a fire going in the fireplace. A warm, soft orange glow fills the center of the room.

“Let's get you outta this dress and into your jamas.”

I nod, too lost in the horrors I had experienced to do anything other than shiver and allow her to take over. After rummaging through my drawers, she returns with one of my ankle-length long-sleeved nightgowns and a shoe box I had been meaning to discard for some time.

Unzipping the back of my dress, she turns me to face her. “You’re going to have to put this down in order for me to take this off.” 

I shake my head and whisper a desperate, “No.”

Merrick strokes my head as if I were a child. “I know this is difficult, but he wouldn't want you to be like this.”

I lift my eyes to hers, the tears distorting her face. “I can't,” I plead.

“Y/N.” She exhales before continuing. “Listen to me. You are in shock. You need to warm up, and in order to do that, you need to put this down so I can get you dressed properly and get you in bed.

I know you’re hurting, but standing here like this is not going to help anyone. You need to be strong for when his parents arrive. You understand?”

Oh, his parents! They are going to be so devastated. My heart breaks even more, but she's right. I have to get my shit together so I can be there for his family. They have two terrible pieces of news to deal with: the death of their youngest son and the fact that their eldest child committed the act.

“Ok,” I murmur.

“Ok,” she smiles at me. “Here’s a box you can keep him safely in.”

She holds it out, and I gently place the folded newspaper with Jungkook’s ashes inside the box. Just as carefully, she sets the box on my rounded table that sits across the fireplace, the two chairs neatly tucked in. Now that my hands are free, she is able to remove the dress and replace it with the nightgown. She walks me to my bed before disappearing into the bathroom.

I take that moment to remove my shoes and sit on my full-size bed. The frame is made of wood, with bulky square-shaped short posts. It has a rustic look, as I loved nature and enjoyed having pieces of it in my living space. The bed fits along the shortest wall of my rectangular-shaped room. 

Merrick returns with makeup remover wipes and a wet face towel. I allow her to gingerly swipe the makeup from my face and eyes before she wipes off any remaining residue with the cloth. Pulling back the navy and cerulean blue comforter, Merrick helps me slide in and lie down.

“I can stay,” she insists, pointing her thumb over her shoulder towards the wall beside the door. “I don't mind sleeping on your futon.”

“No,” I shake my head, my eyelids heavy as the exhaustion from the evening's events starts claiming me. “I just need to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, hesitant to leave. I nod my head, already between the waking world and sleep. “Alright then.”

She strokes my hair a few times, the gesture lulling me further into dreamland. I barely catch the click of the door when she leaves.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

I hope you enjoyed Part 1. Happy Friday the 13th! Please look forward to Part 2. Coming soon.

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

Moodboard by me

Image credits

Smoke

Fire

Jungkook 1 and 2

Flame in hand

Fire and Sparks

[storiesundercandlelight]

A Brief Moment of Control

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream the Endless x F!Reader

Synopsis: You and Morpheus have a strained relationship, your anger at his absence and the downfall of the Dreaming consuming you. But what happens when Morpheus offers you control over him? Or so you thought.

Warnings: I have only seen the show so I apologise in advance if anything doesn't add up - also Morpheus' chambers is a completely made up room. NSFW + 18, little rough I guess, throat grabbing, power play, Morpheus being just....dreamy.

Your eyes watched with vague disinterest as Morpheus stood at the head of the table in Lucienne's library, he had called a meeting to discuss the best way to rebuild the Dreaming now that all loose ends had been dealt with.

"I think this is the best way forward, however I am willing to listen to any suggestions" The snort you made came too quickly for you to stop it and loud enough for everyone, including Morpheus to hear it. "Is there something you wish to say?"

Your eyes met his from across the table, you could see despite his best efforts to remain neutral, a darker look crossed Morpheus' face. The same one you had seen so many times before the inevitable arguing between you began. "Nothing you would enjoy hearing....my lord"

You heard Matthew mutter a curse at your sarcasm, Luciennes' pleading eyes tried and failed to catch your gaze but you would not break eye contact with Morpheus, you knew it angered him further, a show of disobedience, not cowering under his dark gaze.

"Hmm" Morpheus' deep hum as he looked over you, hatred seemed to lay nestled in his eyes, his irises growing almost black as he stared back at you. "One day you will regret growing enough confidence to defy me"

..................................................................

"One day you will regret blah blah blah" You mocked Morpheus' voice, your feet resting on the table as you allowed the chair you sat on the lean backwards, the satin dress that covered your body slipping up as you reclined.

"I think you enjoy it"

"Enjoy what little bird?" Matthew landed on the table beside you, rustling his wings.

"Lighting his fuse, hacking at his patience, whatever you want to call it, you enjoy it"

"Enjoy angering him? I suppose I do"

"Why?"

"He's so high and mighty, when he was away we saw the true nature of his power, how it crumbled, he left us to watch as our home fell down around us and then he returned and expected us to just fall back in line?"

"He was captured, and sure he might be a broody ass but he wont let that happen again, you know angering him will only end in your own downfall, I like you, everyone does but none of us will be able to help you if he decides to...you know"

"Banish me? Destroy me? Lock me away in hell?"

"Sure any one of those" You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back, your eyes scanning the ceiling. The great doors to the library opened, the hingers creaking under the weight, calculated footsteps that could only belong to Lucienne echoed as she neared you. "Lord Morpheus has requested your presence"

You sighed. Of course he has, you stood up to face Lucienne, her face was both worried and neutral as she looked at you. Her gaze flicked to Matthew quickly before adding. "In his private chambers"

Your eyes narrowed at this. You had never been called to his chambers before. Few had. "Why? Is his throne no longer comfortable enough for his royal ass?"

"Please Y/N, do not anger him further"

The walk to Morpheus' chamber was a short one, but you made sure to take the stairs at a painfully slow pace, stopping occasionally to look out a window or two. When your hand finally met the wood of his doors you knew it had been long enough to anger him further.

"Enter"

Morpheus was sat at a desk in the centre of the room, the large window behind showcasing a dark starry sky, the room itself was dark, each piece seemed to be carved from the blackest of wood from his desk to the bed off to the side of the room, sheets impossibly black, the ceiling an endless shadow of darkness. The only light came from candles that flicked with an unnaturally cool flame. It was entirely him. You made your way over to the desk, stopping just far enough away to warrant him not telling you to come closer.

You watched as he leant back in his chair, his eyes raking over you before speaking. "You summoned me?" You did not hide the bite in your tone, he did not miss it either.

"You know before my time away I took great pleasure in punishing those who defied me, those you attempted to make me look weak" He rose from his chair, moving slowly around the table to you, his long coat following behind him as he moved. "Now? Well now I like to think I have perhaps changed my ways...but you? You still defy me, I can feel it, the anger you have when you look upon me. Tell me, what is it that makes you hate me?"

You looked at Morpheus, a brief flash of confusion crossed your face at his question but before you could answer he continued talking. "I think perhaps it is because you have no power over me"

You huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "You think this is about control?"

"Isn't it?

"No"

"No? So if I were to command it, you would give me full control?"

"Would I have a choice?" His eyes watched you, you could feel them burning like fire over your skin, but still you refused to meet his gaze. He was too close to you now, you could feel the heat from him as he stood by you.

"Perhaps it would help if I let you have it, even for a brief moment" His lips were so close to your ear, his voice a whisper, his breath tickling your neck as he spoke. "I think you would enjoy having me beneath you. At your mercy. To be above your King"

Your mouth parted as a breath you didn't realise you were holding was released. Something in you craved that power over him, to give into this, to allow yourself to use him, perhaps he was right, maybe that would help, help to finally remove this tension you felt around him. Was it just lust after all this time?

"Tell me what to do" Finally your eyes met at his words, he could see the temptation there as you pulled your lip between your teeth, a frown pulling at your eyebrows as you contemplated what he was offering, your desires slowly taking over you. Your eyes flicked to the bed behind him.

"Sit" The words felt wrong falling from your lips, a command you weren't fully ready to give you realised, how unnatural it felt to give him an order. How even more unnatural it felt when he obeyed you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, watching you quietly as you moved without thinking in front of him. You tried to get your body to relax under his calculating gaze, tried to get rid of the fear that you couldn't help but feel as you stood before him, thinking of what to do next.

Your fingers slipped under the delicate straps of your dress, easily allowing them to drop down your arms, the fabric threatening to fall from you. His eyes flicked to the movement. "Eyes up. Keep them there" without fail he returned his gaze to you, a whirlwind hit your stomach at the sensation, your confidence faltering for a second.

You wondered briefly if it was hard for him to maintain eye contact instead of allowing his eyes to travel down your body, to imagine what was beneath the thin silk of your dress, but still his eyes followed yours and you moved even closer, your body now coming to a stop right in front of him, your legs brushing against his knees.

You felt like you couldn't control your breathing, excitement and lust were clawing at you, begging you to take what you so badly wanted. You moved quickly before you could change your mind, mounting yourself on his lap, your legs trapping his, your upper thighs pushing into him. You heard his breath hitch, it was so subtle you almost missed it, but the fire it lit in you was unmissable.

You felt Morpheus' hand on your thigh, holding you in place, a vice like grip to attempt to stop you from your next move. You allowed a smirk to pull at your lips. "Is this hard for you my King?" His jaw twitched at the title. Your hands came up to his coat, undoing the buttons and pushing git from his shoulders, letting the dark fabric pool on the bed behind him, your fingers danced by his throat, touching his skin before you pushed him back.

You followed him down, leaning above him, your breasts within eye shot now the thin fabric of your dress had fallen forward but still Morpheus kept his eyes locked with yours as you commanded. You could feel the ridges of muscle under his dark shirt as you moved your hand along him, reaching for his trousers, pulling them undone before slipping your hand under to grab him. Morpheus inhaled at your touch, his body tensing below you, his grip on your thigh tightening. "You seem to be enjoying it" You kept your voice to a whisper as your hand moved along his hard length, stoking him slowly.

For the first time since you gave the order Morpheus' gaze broke from your to flick down to where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric of his trousers. The hand holding you up slid further down, bringing you closer to him, almost trapping your arm between you.

"You looked away my King" His eyes met yours once more as you removed your hand from him, but this time they were darker, the same darkness you had seen so many times before but here, in this moment, you felt as if that darkness would consume you.

Morpheus moved, too quickly for you to stop him, his hand moved from your thigh to your neck, gripping it harshly as he pushed himself up, bringing you with him until you were once again in his lap. Your gasp came in a short burst, his hand only allowing the shallowest of breaths. His other hand gripping hard enough to bruised as he held you in place, leaning in close to you, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he stopped just before your lips touched. "Your brief moment is over"

You tried to move but this only resulted in you moving your hips against his, his clothed member brushing against you before you felt yourself being lifted and thrown back onto the bed, the black sheets twisting around you as Morpheus pinned you down. "Did you truly believe I would allow you to take control?" His hands gripped onto the fabric of your dress, lifting it above your hips, the silk bunching at your waist.

You wanted to fight back, anger washed over you at having been tricked but you didn't. Because deep down you knew that you wanted him more than you wanted to prove a point. He let his fingers brush over your thighs, slowly coming up to where you wanted him, his fingers pushing between your folds, though the wetness that had pooled there. "Hmm...you seem to be enjoying it" He mocked before pushing his fingers into you. Your hips bucked up to meet him, his fingers pushing in and out of you painfully slow, curling up to hit that spot that made you gasp out a moan.

His lips met your collarbone as he moved his hand, kissing a bitting his way up your neck, leaving marks as he went. You felt the coil wind tighter and tighter inside of you, you breaths mixing with hushed moans as his lips ghosted over yours, never touching but teasing.

"Please" You cursed yourself for begging but it wasn't enough, you needed more, you needed him.

"Are you begging for your King?" You didn't miss the small smirk that shot across Morpheus' face as you looked over you. "Beg some more"

"No" His fingers stopped but they remained in you, you fought the urge to move your hips against them yourself, to take what you wanted.

"No? Perhaps you want to stop then? Your punishment can be being left unsatisfied" You felt your jaw tense as you looked up at him. Your eyes boring into his a mix of lust and hatred clouding your vision. His fingers curled once inside of you causing you to gasp, your eyes fluttering closed for a second as a wave of tension washed over you, causing your stomach to drop. You cursed yourself again.

"Please"

"Please?" Your eyes snapped open to meet his sickeningly smug gaze.

"Please my king"

"What do you want?" You groaned, starting to move your hips but he stopped you. "Speak"

"I want you, please" You could have cried out when you felt Morpheus remove his fingers, his cruel joke becoming too much for you until he pushed his trouser down further, releasing himself and pushing back between your thighs, his eyes met yours again, pausing for a second, before finally pushing into you.

You let your head fall back into the sheets, a moan falling freely from your lips as he starting moving at a punishing pace. His hips never faltering as he pounded into you over and over again, your hands clawing at his back, nails digging into his skin causing him to hiss and thrust harder into you.

His own breaths growing heavy as he moved, his lips finding your neck again as he tried to contain his own groans. as he moves within you. Your hands find their way to his hair, messing up the strands as you cling onto him, trying to pull him closer as you feel your release building up again.

"Morpheus-" You gasp his name when he changes the angle of his hips, hitting you deeper, harder.

"Say it again" He whispers, his face resting against yours, you lips grazing against each others, breath mingling as you both move.

"Morpheus" Finally he pushes his lips into yours, the sensation of his lips fighting yours for dominance, his tongue pushing against your lips, seeking entrance has you gripping him harder, your things trapping him against you, his pelvis brushing against your clit.

You moan against his lips, the feeling inside you so close to snapping, he pulls away from you resting his forehead against yours. "Let go" his voice is thick, grated, raw, it sends you over the edge, your body tensing as your release washes over you, your arms still pulling Morpheus against you as you moan.

He felt you tense around him, your grip like a vice, he couldn't control himself as his release followed yours, his head falling against your neck as he groaned louder than before, the heat of his release filling you his hips faltering for the first time as he rode out his high.

After a few more thrusts Morpheus finally stopped, slipping from you gently, his eyes looking over you, it was the most gentle look he had ever given you, it stole what little breath you had left as his fingers gently brushed away a strand of hair from your face.

You were so unused to the King of Dreams looking at you this way that you couldn't look away from him, your eyes scanned his features, up close he was even more beautiful, his lips mere inches from your own. You were tempted to kiss him again, but something stopped you. Your pride maybe, the fact that you didn't want to admit that your anger for him was annoyingly out of reach now, your feelings of longing taking control.

You hated to admit that you wanted nothing more right now than for him to kiss you and take you again.

"Do you still hate me?" As if reading your thoughts Morpheus' voice grabbed your attention.

"Annoyingly I don't think so" You allowed yourself to start to smile.

"I'm glad I could change your mind"

"Is this how you change the mind of everyone who hates you?" Morpheus looked down when you said this, his eyes scanning over your body, still trapped beneath him.

"No. This punishment is reserved only for you"

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to continue defying you" Morpheus' eyes snapped back up to yours, that familiar darkness growing in them once more.

"See what happens if you try"

[obislittleone]

House Of Memories (23/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: oof, drinking, pining, angst, the beginning of literal depression idk

Summary: Yours and Anakin's mission goes haywire, and you choose to deal with it, among your other problems, but going to a bar accompanied by him and his darling wife, the senator.

A/n: this is so much longer than it needs to be but you guys i saw some awesome pictures my brother took when we went to the cantina in galaxy's edge the other day and my inspiration skyrocketed so fast- also i highly recommend getting a reservation there if you can the scenery alone is worth it

Words: 4k

It had been weeks since the escapade with Satine, who you'd tried as hard as you could to push to the back of your mind. Really, you'd been trying to push her out of it, but with the murmurs of what happened with her and the Death Watch cult, she kept circulating in your thoughts from time to time.

You and Anakin had been assigned on a mission together while Ahsoka was sent to train cadets on Mandalore, and Obi-Wan was off world temporarily with Quinlan Vos. It was an easy mission, for the most part. Get in, steal information from the database, and get out. The problem with that was a man named Count Dooku, quite literally the person you despised most in the galaxy. He always acted like he was still compelled by the light side of the force, trying to regain relationships with people he once called friends. The reality of it was his need for endless power drove him to the darkness.

He had been waiting for you both upon arrival, taunting and tantalizing you both with his fancy speech, which had beat around the bush several times until he practically admitted he was prepared for your attack since the mission was set in motion. Needless to say, you failed, and both you and Anakin were taking it pretty hard. You lost a lot of clones that day, and had come home with half as many as you left with.

"It was my fault," he said, ducking his head into his hands. You scooted closer and rubbed his back in soothing circles.

"It's not. Neither of us could have possibly known that it would be a set up."

He shook his head, raising it slightly only to show you he'd been in a deep state of distress. You wrapped him up in a hug, letting his head fall on your shoulder as you kept affirming him.

He was a Jedi knight, now. A great general of the republic. He felt responsible because he had to. He hated when those feelings came over him, but every so often, something went wrong, and he couldn't help it.

"I will speak to the council when we return, if anyone gets reprimanded for this, I can take it. I've gotten sort of used to it by now," you chuckled a little, but it did little to lighten the mood. The ship was completely silent save for your conversation, and the steady whir of the engines.

"I am too, believe me. We'll go together, whatever they have to say can be said to both of us."

You silently agreed, resting a hand on his shoulder and keeping it steady for the remainder of the flight.

-

Well that went horrible. Absolutely horrible. Right off the bat, you mentioned that you had to crash a speeder to divert the attention of other clones getting away. Normally that would be considered a good thing, getting your men to safety and destroying enemy property while you were at it. The thing was, it was in the middle of a city, so no, it was not enemy property. You crashed a private mode of transportation. They revoked you of your piloting certification for the time being.

You were completely appalled by their decision and yelled about it to their faces. You regretted it instantly when you were done, but of course, with being a hot head, there were even more consequences. You were suspended from any and all missions until Obi-Wan returned. You stormed out of the room before they were finished and met Anakin in the hallway when he was done.

He didn't look so happy either; when he told you the reason why, you felt bad for him.

"You didn't need to stand up for me. It's clear they hate us both, and when we gang up on them, they despise us entirely," you threw your head back against the wall, the sting of the cold metal was distracting, for a few short seconds. You needed something to take your mind off this whole thing, and your usual solution was off world, probably not to return until tomorrow at the earliest. You doubted leaning on Obi-Wan's shoulder while he read in the library was going to help you with this much stress anyway.

You weren't sure where the urge came from, but you wanted to go out and get drunk, something Jedi were never supposed to do. You were to be alert and sober at all times, being the perfect symbol of a protector should anyone need you... but you'd been suspended temporarily, and Anakin was to take a short break from missions as well.

"Is Padme in the city?" you asked, wondering if maybe she could get you both into one of the more high-end clubs on this side of Coruscant.

"She is, but only until tomorrow. She has business to attend to back on Naboo. I'll probably be escorting her," he said, leaning against the same wall that you were, and you began to smirk with your eyes closed.

"Perfect."

"Oh no, what are you thinking?"

Oh no was a bit of a stretch, because once you'd explained to him your intentions, he was very keen to oblige you. It seemed impossible to not have fun when you had your favorite people with you, in an environment that was made for losing control and having the best time you can possibly have.

You'd never drunk anything really heavy before, although some of the older Padawans in the temple had taken you and Anakin out before to do some secret drinking, you weren't sure how much you could handle. You were almost positive that based on the strength and endurance of your right mind alone, you wouldn't be a light weight. You just hoped you'd be able to walk into your apartment again tonight without stumbling into someone. All you needed was to get drunk and crash into Mace Windu upon entering the place. You'd be expelled for sure... or at least until Obi-Wan got back, protesting until you were reinstated.

You hated hiding behind him all the time, because you wanted to prove to others that you were strong and capable enough to handle your own battles, but at the same time, you knew battling the council was a losing game, and that the only hope you had of defeating them was to let Obi-Wan save you. He didn't mind saving you all the time, which you appreciated, but often wondered about. It could not possibly be energizing to argue over the sake of another human being, and yet, he did. It must be exhausting to defend you on the daily. You'd have to find a way to thank him some time for it.

"Here, try this," Anakin slid you something in a tall glass, bright yellow in color and glowing against the steal countertop.

You raised an eyebrow before taking it in your hands to inspect it first. You sniffed it once, deeming it very acidic, before scrunching up your face and letting out a breath, downing it anyway.

Anakin looked surprised, his eyes wide and his jaw slack as he watched your reaction to that much alcohol at once. You cringed, the sting of it going down your throat was not pleasant, and not something you were used to, but in a few seconds, you already began to feel the tingling effects of it in your bloodstream. The energy, the cloudiness, the intoxication.

"Well, you weren't supposed to have the whole thing at once," he commented, but it was already far too late for that. Padme came up behind him, her shimmering evening dress was very beautiful under the lights. She watched on with concern for you, knowing you weren't like this usually, and if you were willing to do something Obi-Wan didn't want you doing, your mind must have really needed an escape.

"I think that's enough to drink for you," she took the glass from your hand and shoved it in the direction on the bar tender, who grabbed it and flipped it up onto the rack with ease. He was putting on some sort of a show to impress the patrons, throwing drink mixers, washing glasses, and serving guests, all while paying close attention to the Jedi visitors who had never been in here before.

"No, I need more. I can still think straight," you joked, your laughter carrying over a little too long for you to be considered sober. You weren't a lightweight per say, but perhaps just easily tipsy.

"That's the point. We don't want you in any more trouble with the council, and what about Obi-Wan? You know he wouldn't approve of you doing this," Padme was trying to be the voice of reason but was having a very hard time doing so when a half-drunk Anakin started pressing soft kisses into the crook of her neck.

"If he were here, I wouldn't be," you scoffed, turning to the tender and ordering another drink. Something small, but strong. "And besides, you might wanna get him home before he gets too handsy in public. I'll take the tram back to the temple when I'm done, I promise."

Your word of being responsible didn't quite ease her mind, but she almost considered it, seeing as Anakin was getting a little bit too intoxicated to function. She shook her head, standing her ground and breaking away from Anakin as she came right beside you. She knew that some of the patrons here were more often than not disrespectful to women, and even though you had a lightsaber strapped to your hip, it wasn't always enough when you were alone, much less drunk.

"Stay here, don't drink anything else until I get back," she said with a pointed finger. You put your arms up in fake surrender before watching her leave to a corner of the club, taking her holo-transmitter in hand.

You took the drink that the bar tender slid to you, nodding in thanks before tipping it to your mouth.

"I'm not a snitch, but you really shouldn't drink anything until she's back. She has a way of knowing things. She'll get very angry very fast when she finds out."

"If," you corrected him, "if she finds out. And besides, I have a way of knowing things, too."

"Yes, I believe that's called the force. She doesn't need it, she just knows."

You slammed back the green liquid, feeling a burn that not only hit your throat, but made your eyes water slightly. It was pain, but it was different pain. The type of pain you inflict on yourself just because it feels good.

"Well, that could be because you're married to her," you joked, feeling the buzz circulate your head more. You weren't able to quite get to a place of drunkenness, and you were upset about it. Anakin didn't ever seem like he was able to, either. You supposed beings with higher M counts were less susceptible to the aftereffects of being intoxicated. It made sense. The force was the base of all existing life, and you both were practically super-powered by it. It probably gave you a bit more immunity in order to protect your mind.

"Or because I've seen her in the senate, I'm telling you... she just knows."

"Alright then, let's have another drink together, see if she knows about it when she gets back," you said, haling over the bar tender to top both you and Anakin off yet again. He did so quickly and efficiently, and in no time, you were clinking glasses, downing the liquid as fast as you could. You were done first, and you chalked that up to Anakin being slow at ingesting literally anything. You remembered how long it would take him just to finish a glass of Bantha milk when you both were kids.

You were about to set your glasses back down on the counter when you both felt a hard smack come across the back of your heads.

Ow..

"I told you not to drink anymore," she said, her voice becoming a bit louder than it usually was. She was by no means a quiet person, as a senator she was loud and well spoken, but now she was just loud. "And you, need I remind you that she is your responsibility till Obi-Wan gets here?"

"I'm not anyone's responsibility but my own, besides, Anakin should honestly-" you paused mid-sentence, cutting yourself off to rethink about her last words. "I'm sorry, did you say here? As in he's coming to this bar?"

"I just got off a transmission with him. He's back on Coruscant early."

You dropped your jaw, looking at her like she'd done something unbearable. You raised your hands up and pretended to crush something in them, your face doing a good enough job of conveying to her your emotions without words, although you still had quite some words to say.

"I can't believe you called him," you stressed, being overly dramatic in your hand motions as you continued. "I'm going to be punished for the rest of my life! I'll never become a knight! I'll probably never see the light of tomorrow!"

"Oh, calm down, he wasn't mad," she explained her face was as dull as could be, and Anakin was watching from behind her in pure amusement. He knew he shouldn't be laughing, but the scene you were causing on this side of the bar was definitely cheering him up from the events of today.

"You don't know what Obi-Wan looks like when he's mad," you told her, but she was right. When she called him, he had shown no signs of hostility, or even anger at your situation.

"Maybe not, but I know what he looks like when he's concerned."

You shut up for a moment, some of the alcohol beginning to take effect, not so much in slurring your speech, or slowing your reaction time, but in making your thoughts spin around in your head like a blender.

"He'll be here any minute, and I don't think you want to be here when he shows," she turned to Anakin, handing her the ignition pod for the speeder you all took here. "Go out and wait for me, and don't even think about flying."

He dropped his shoulders, realizing the fun of the evening was coming to an end. He understood she was being wise in making sure you were delivered into the hands of Obi-Wan safely, but he didn't understand why he had to leave. Oh, yes, he did. Obi-Wan wouldn't yell at you in public, but he'd never had to twice about giving Anakin an earful when he did something stupid.

Now that he knew of Obi-Wan's feelings for you, he knew that it would enrage his old master to know that Anakin took you out drinking, even though it was your idea.

"Would you like to enlighten me on the real reason Anakin suggested we come here?" she had a mothering tone, almost. It was funny, your lack of mother figure caused you to see it in even your closest of friends, heck, even Ahsoka, who stood several years younger than you could remind you of a mom sometimes.

"I would not," you said, your head becoming a little lighter as your eyes began to see the lights in the room a little differently. You mind was becoming fuzzy, but not blurred. You weren't drunk, but you were still quite far from sober.

"Are you doing this out of spite?" She was guessing now, seeing if she could get anything out of you. For her sake of sleeping tonight, she wanted to know this wasn't an actual issue. "Look, I know how you feel about him, but this isn't going to get his attention in a good way."

"That's not why I'm doing it," you said, finally turning to look at her and give her the real reason why you were here, why she was here, and why Anakin had been here. "I need him to see that I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I want him to trust me to make them myself and not hover over my shoulder to keep watch."

"He does trust you to make you own decisions, but it disappoints him when you make bad ones."

You understood what she was saying but didn't want to take it into consideration. You knew Obi-Wan was probably going to give you a lecture this evening on the dangers of your behavior, it was inevitable.

"This is a bad decision then, hmm?" you weren't mad at her, but your intoxicated mind was not able to filter the tone in which the words were spoken. It came out harsher than you had intended.

"It was a decision you made without thinking, which is another reason why he's disappointed. He loves you more than you know, and he only wants what's best for you."

You scoffed, beginning to sip the water that Padme had set in front of you, trying to help sober your mind a bit more. Not that you were all too affected to begin with.

"He doesn't love me, he can't," you knew what she meant, but the lines of love in your mind had been running an awful close stretch lately, and you wanted to bring it up just so you could tell her how much you hated yourself for it. "He can never be with me the way I want him to be."

"If I've learned anything from Obi-Wan, it's that only a Sith deals in absolutes. Just look at Anakin and I... How can you be so sure he'll never consider it?" She made a valiant point there, but you had something she did not yet know about.

"Why don't you ask your dear friend Satine Kryze?" You looked back ahead of you, clenching your jaw after that name left your lips. They tasted bad, the words that were her name. You didn't like letting them loose from your mouth.

"The duchess?" She asked confused. She furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if what you said was crazy. Maybe you were really drunk.

"Mhm, from what I understand, she and my Master have some complicated history."

Oh, she thought. You were jealous and having learned about the man your affections lied with having perhaps a past relationship with a woman who has since made her way back into his life, you weren't handling it well.

"Were they-?"

"Yep." you said shortly, the word cutting off any chances of her finishing that sentence. You hated that it was reality. You wished she didn't exist. You wished Satine Kryze had never been born, or better yet, you wished that her assassination attempts had been successful. You wished you hadn't helped Obi-Wan save her.... but you always helped him, no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry," she said, finally understanding what this whole entire escapade was about. The jealousy, the need for independence, the craving of something to intoxicate your mind. It all made sense, now. She was regretting calling Obi-Wan, but perhaps the best thing for you would be to talk it out.

"Yeah, me too."

It was then, you sensed a familiar presence enter the doorway, and upon seeing you look over, Padme mimicked your actions and her eyeline met with Obi-Wan, who indeed, was not angry. He wore a look of concern and fear on his face and making eye contact with you seemed to dull that if only a little.

-

The ride back to the temple was completely silent, as you sensed he thought you were drunk, and not coherent enough to listen to his words deeply enough if he spoke to you. You could have easily mended that, asking him about his mission, but you were far too focused on avoiding getting reprimanded.

He didn't say anything to you until he got you home, into the main room of your apartment. He stripped you of your cloak, hanging it by the doorway and watching you take a seat on the couch. It was only then he realized you were sober enough to understand what you'd done, and you were readying yourself to speak with him about it.

He didn't even know how to start; how should he start? In all the years he'd trained you, you'd never done anything truly bad or disobedient to the rules. You and Anakin were plenty mischievous, but you weren't bad. You were his beam of light, that could do no wrong. The one who made him feel like maybe hope was more existent in what seemed like an endless war. You were the optimist, the encourager, and as he always said, you were the light incarnate.

"Little one," he sat down across from you and sensed your guilt. It was only now that he felt it in rippling waves, and he figured it was because only now, when you were home and, in his presence, that you really thought about your actions. "I know that you're not one to act so impulsively like this. Something is bothering you, and I can't help you unless you tell me what it is."

"You can't help me with this, master."

His heart cracked a little at hearing the formal term you'd used with him. You were shutting up all your walls, making it impossible for him to even find a trace of evidence as to what could possibly be driving you towards these actions.

He moved from his seat to kneel in front of you, lifting your head so that your eyes were visible. They were filled with unshed tears, but you would not let them fall. You'd cried in front of him countless times before, but now you held them back, trying to avoid any signs of weakness. He'd already seen many, though. He didn't care; he wanted to help you, to make all your problems go away. You loved him for it. For many reasons among that, of which you were too tired to name.

"Let me try," he was looking at you with something you hadn't seen in his eyes before. He seemed to be concerned, but more than that, he seemed angry. Not at you, but at whatever was making you feel this way. "Please."

And then the tears were coming, pouring out in droves that you could not control even if you wished you could. It hurt so badly to think the man before you were the reason for these tears, because he had done nothing but be kind and good to you for all the days of your life. It was only because of your stupid feelings that he made you cry. If only he knew.

"Hold me," you whispered, closing your eyes and waiting for a response. He instantly came to your side and clung to you, whatever you needed. He pulled you into his chest, and tightly tucked you in his embrace. He wouldn't be letting go anytime soon, and he was just fine with it. "I'm sorry."

He wanted to say not to apologize, that it was okay, and you were going to be alright, but he wasn't actually sure of any of those things. He couldn't be. You were going through something horrible, and refused to tell him what it was, so how could everything be, okay?

"I know it seems like you have to go through this alone, but you don't. Whatever it is, tell me, I promise you I will do my best to fix it."

You didn't want him to keep fixing things for you. He did it because he loved you, but you didn't know that. You thought he did it because he didn't trust you to do it yourself. The thing in question, though, of which needed fixing, he couldn't truly fix if he wanted to. You had no idea why he did the things he did. You didn't know it was because he would move mountains and earth to make you happy. You only knew that your master cared for you far beyond what anyone else in the galaxy possibly could.

"I can't be fixed," you told him through your tears.

Love me, that's all I ask for. Then everything will be fixed. Then everything will be okay.

-

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

[miseries-mistress]

OUR LOVE | CHRISTIAN

Synopsis: Life was quiet. There was no blaring music from the Moulin Rouge or the streets alive with creativity and people bustling with excitement, but a part of Christain didn't mind the quiet anymore if it meant he got to indulge in a peaceful morning just with you. 

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, all fluff. W/C: 872

Notes: ahh, i just watched this movie, and i needed to write a blurb about him. i'm going to try and write more blurbs like this was ewan mcgregor's, less popular, of course, characters, because i am in love with him

em masterlist

The subtle trace of a fingertip against your bare arm was enough to arouse you from the sleep that had claimed you many hours ago. You peeked an eye open, carefully watching Christian as his finger drew circles across your flesh, enraptured by the softness and beauty of it. He appeared intently focused on each dip and curve of your skin, admiring every inch of it as he did last night. Finally, your eyes opened fully, but you remained quiet, content with watching Christian perform his ministrations. 

Your skin was still bare from the night before, the cotton sheets being the only thing to provide you any modesty. The warm blankets threatened to pull you under sleep's spell, the drowsiness finally catching up to you. You resisted the pull, blinking the sleep from your eyes. 

Your leg brushed against his, and Christian's eyes tore from your arm and raised to meet yours. You melted under the sheer admiration and love brimming in his irises as they moved across every intricate detail of your face. You were indeed the incarnation of beauty as the sunlight poured through the open window, encasing you in a heavenly warmth that made you seem more ethereal. 

He would say that he's sure to have memorized every detail of your face by how long he's admired it, but that's just not true. He would never fail to find a new scar or maybe a fresh freckle was strewn across your cheek. He would make sure to place his lips on any newly discovered markings he found, amazed by your ability to surprise him with something new, no matter how small. He liked the unknown you had brought to his previously drab life. 

His hand moved with a will of its own to your face, his hand cupping your supple skin laced with sleep. 

"Good morning, my love," the slight rasp in his voice from not using it brought a smile to your face. He must have woken up not long before you. Good, he deserved every second of sleep he could obtain after Satine's death. 

It haunted him, and for a while, he was stuck in a place of regret and guilt, wrapped up in his mind's delusions, until he met you. 

Christian was convinced that he could not love after his first, that no one could compare to the beauty and chaos she had placed over his life until you stepped through his apartment. Granite, it was purely accidental. You had mistaken your friend's flat for his, but when his eyes fell upon yours, the world seemed to fix itself. Instantly, there was a shift in his heart from mourning to hope, and boy, what a refreshing feeling it was. It brought a new light to his life that had previously shrouded over in darkness, like the rain clouds parting for the sun. At that point, he also realized the true meaning of Satine's dying words. She wanted him to love, to live a life outside of her and the fantasy they had created. It took a while to make that shift, to let someone else into his fragmented heart, but you were patient, slowly putting the pieces back together, placing a kiss on each one you patched up to remind him that he wasn't alone and above all that he was loved. 

The process of healing from such a traumatic event was long. However, even from that day when you had embarrassedly asked him for the right room, promising him to see him again, he had begun to heal. 

Now Christian stared at you, his heart in your hands. And although it was scarred, you cradled it so gently that he couldn't help but not be at ease. 

"Good morning Christian." His chest hummed with the airy laughter that left his thin kiss-bitten lips, his starry blue eyes never parting from yours. "Sleep well?"

"How could I not with you at my side?" Now it was your turn to laugh while he adjusted himself on his elbow, his fingers tracing the outline of your face. 

"Such a charmer," you cooed, pushing a silky onyx strand of hair from his eyes. 

"I would be anything for you, my darling. You need only to ask."

"Oh yeah?" You raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled, his head slightly shaking. 

"Yeah," he murmured almost breathlessly. 

"I want you to love me."

"But my sweet, I already do." The crease between Christian's eyebrows deepens, his eyes filling with confusion as your hand moves to cup his face, and within seconds he relaxes within your touch, soothed by your actions.

"That's the point."

[mellowpiepizzalamp]

Period problems

Summary: you got your period and Bucky doesn’t know anything about it, so you teach him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, my rubbish writing (it’s a warning), graphic written period explanations and changing pads and tampon, Bucky knowing shit about periods because men were uneducated in the 40s

Word count: ~1400 words

Bucky shook her awake in a huge panic, calling her name and shaking her body until she gasped awake. 

“What?” she said before coughing because she choked on thin air. 

“You’re bleeding! I think it’s coming from between your legs, did I do that last night? Did I hurt you?” he asked, she could see the fear in his eyes. She lifted the sheets and heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Oh thank god,” she smiled lightly. 

“What?! y/n you’re bleeding! You’re hurt,” he said and was getting close to tears. 

“Wait, no, no, no. I’m not hurt, not yet at least. I just started my period,” she explained and stroked his cheek after kissing it gently. 

“Your what?” he asked.

 “Okay, I’ll explain it in a minute, I need to clean the sheets, my clothes and put in a pad,” she said and slipped out of bed. 

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked. 

“No love, I’m fine. Do you want the long explanation or the short one?” she said with a smile. 

“The long one, I have the day off and I want to know what’s going on with you and your body,” he smiled, exchanging a kiss before she walked off to the bathroom. 

He took it upon himself to change the white sheets to the dark blue satin like ones that he knew were her favourite. She walked out again and was surprised by his doing, he didn’t do it often. 

“How do I get this out?” he asked as he stood with the sheets in his hands. 

“Give it to me, then I’ll explain about menstruation and then show you the things if you want,” she said and threw the sheets in the bathtub that was filled with some cold water and her clothes. 

“I want to know everything,” he said. She got out one of her old biology books and started to explain until he understood. But that was just the theoretical explaining. 

“I think I understand. So, the last thing. You’re telling me that men have a 24 hour hormonal cycle and women have a 28 day hormonal cycle and that’s why women are tired more often?” 

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” she said. 

“Okay, then I get it,” he said proudly. 

“Good, it’s also important to know that those hormones have side affects. Such as moodiness, cravings, cramps and other pains. I can also be demanding hugs,” she said. 

“Oh and bloating is a thing too. It’s a chain reaction. I am bloated, then I get insecure about it, then I cry about it and then you come in and try to hug me and ask questions and I won’t answer and then your questions drive me crazy and I snap at you, then you leave and I don’t want you to but I won’t say anything, then I cry even harder and then I feel stupid and guilty and I cry about it to you and you tell me it’s okay and give me one of your ‘I won’t talk right now because of the situation but this kiss is supposed to tell you everything, otherwise I’ll kiss you more’ kisses and we binge watch Notting Hill while eating bars of chocolate and then when I regret it and saying I’ll look fat and you tell me you still think I’m pretty and you lift me up and make me laugh again.” 

He smiled at her and she smiled right back. 

“Okay, noted, but what are the thing you use, because I don’t think you bleed freely from your vagina for a week,” he asked. 

“Yes, well people do that, but not me. I’ll get the basket.” She stood up from the bed and got all her stuff and started to explain. 

“Okay, I have an exercise for you, put these on like normal but around your calves, then put in a pad,” she said. They did all kinds of things and he learned all about it. 

They watched a movie until the late hours of the night and she fell asleep on his lap. The movie finished and he took her to the bathroom to take her makeup off, gently brushing her teeth and changing her into her pyjama’s when he remembered he’d need to change her tampon and/or pad. He sighed before pulling her trousers down and putting her on the toilet. 

Don’t worry, they’d been dating for almost a year now but he just found out what a period is because, because- because... Let’s just be glad he knows now. 

He did the Pad first as he’d done that to his own underwear before pulling her legs apart and seeking for the blue string. He didn’t find it. but he found a red one and gently pulled on it and caught it with toilet paper. He managed to put a new one in too as he forgot she actually shouldn’t sleep with one for longer than 8 hours. He finished her routine he knew by heart from watching her do it every night for a year. He didn’t know what everything was for but he knew how to use it. 

“What are you doing?” A voice reached his ears and he looked at her as he was throwing away the cotton pad. 

“Doing your thing you do every night. I think I did everything,” he said proudly. She smiled at him tiredly and dragged him between her legs and held him there. 

What are you doing?” he asked her with a goofy smile. 

“Getting you close, but tell me what you’ve done so far?” He showed her the bottle of makeup remover as she had on mascara, the face wash “That’s why your shirt is a bit wet because it didn’t go as planned”, and finally moisturiser. 

“That’s all right, right?” he asked. 

“Yes, perfect. Thank you,” she said and kissed him with her last energy. They separated and she leaned against his chest. 

“Okay, on a scale of one to ten how tired are you?” he asked with a cheeky grin. 

“Very, but wipe that smirk off your face and take me to bed yeah?” He giggled lowly and lifted her off the counter. 

“Gotta switch your shirt,” he said and took it off. She unclipped her bra and threw it away with a disgusted face. 

“As much as I love you braless, what did that thing do to you, sweetheart?” he laughed and helped her into her t-shirt like a little kid. Because what kind of relationship do you have if you help each other out of your clothes, but not into them? 

“They’re uncomfortable,” she yawned. 

“Lay back for me,” he said and raised the covers for her and kissed her forehead. 

“You want to cuddle with me?” he asked as he hoped she would. 

“Yes, you?” 

“Very much, how?” She knew what he meant and she wanted to be the little spoon for tonight, even if she was a tummy sleeper. 

“Spoon,” was enough for him to know and pulled her as close as he could. 

“Good night sweetheart, I love you,” he said into her hair. 

“I love you too, weltrusten,” she said, not mustering up enough energy to say it all in English.

It was deep into the night when Bucky woke up, not because of his nightmare, but because of y/n whimpers of pain while she slept. 

“y/n wake up, it’s okay,” he said, gently shook her, and kissed her hair. She woke up and clutched her stomach. 

“Did I wake you? I’m so so sorry, go back to sleep,” she said, knowing of his bad sleep. 

“No. Are you alright? You’re sweating, whimpering and clutching your stomach. Does a pain killer help?” he asked worriedly. 

“I’m sorry, there are pills on the dresser,” she said and rubbed her eyes. He got them and gave her the glass of water that stood beside her bed. 

“I’m so sorry for waking you up,” she said before she broke out in tears. She didn’t know if it was the pain in her stomach, her hormones, the feeling of guilt of waking him up or the long week she’d had. He didn’t know either but just took her in his arms and stroked her back. She fell silent after a while and held on to him, afraid to let go. 

“Let’s go back to sleep, yeah?” She nodded and drifted off before he knew it.