#pray for my stretch knits

[biblically-accurate-angle]

I've been cleaning, and I guess I didn't latch the lid on my storage bin correctly last time I dipped into it for sewing projects. A mouse got into it, most likely from our rodent problem last year. Thankfully there isn't too much damage, and everything salvagable was already prepped for a prewash before I threw them in the bin for storage. Hopefully the delicate cycle on my washing machine will be nice to my fabric treasures. The bin has been sterilized.

[ryukzakiii]

distraction ⭑ l. lawliet

summary: during a late night working on the kira case with L, his distractions become too overpowering and the two of you decide to blow off some steam.

( part 2 here ! )

pairing: l. lawliet x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT!! MINORS DNI!!! this gets a little filthy actually. virgin!L, praise, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), L is needy as hell, also he swears like 3 times i think so

authors note: hiiii this isn’t proofread and it’s 4am enjoy

smut under the cut‼️

every night working with you was a long one. in the beginning it was because, try as he might, L could not seem to get you to remember the simplest things you were supposed to do to help him out. you’d forget how many sugars he took in his tea, or forget where you had filed something away the night before, whatever it was it always got on L’s nerves.

not like he could say something to you, he was always fearful that he would hurt your feelings or that you would think he was much more upset than he really was, and that would impact your work.

nowadays however, now that your working together was no longer a new thing and the both of you had gotten into more of a routine, L began to attribute the long nights to simply one thing, you.

he wasn’t sure exactly why, but he found himself distracted from the task at hand most nights of the week, usually thinking instead about how nice it is that you help him out with so much and how enjoyable it is to work with somebody as smart as you. right now in particular though, he was realizing just the reason you were becoming such a distraction.

thanks to his crunched posture, you were blissfully unaware of the growing distraction that laid underneath the zipper of his jeans.

when you’d first joined him that evening, the sight of you descending from your room adorned in pyjamas that left alarmingly little to the imagination, only being aided by a knit cardigan left hanging open, a sudden pulse shot through his body and left L truly praying you couldn’t see the tent forming in his pants. it wasn’t as if L didn’t realize before how attractive you are, but things like that had never affected him the way they were now.

if she would just button up that sweater. maybe then i’d be able to get some work done.

“hellooo?” the sweet sound of your voice interrupted his thoughts, “ryuzaki, did you hear a word i just said?”

“er- no, my apologies. what was it you were saying?”

you playfully rolled your eyes at him and stood as you spoke again, “i said, i’m going to make another tea. do you want anything?”

just to make this throbbing go away so i can get back to work. “no, thank you. hurry back though will you? i’m not getting through this as quickly as i’d like to so i’ll need as much of your help as i can get.”

he watched you hurry out of the room to make your tea and tried hard not to take notice of how little the back of your shorts covered or the sway in your hips as you walked. he placed a hand over his clothed erection and allowed his head to fall back onto the chair, a quick sigh escaping him at the accidental friction.

his few moments of solace came to an end quickly when you came back into the room, giving him little time to sit up and readjust before you took your seat in the chair next to him. almost immediately you scooted over closer and held out a closed fist in front of him, “give me your hand.”

L stretched his hand out underneath yours, a small wrapped candy falling into his palm.

“i grabbed one for you from the bowl in the kitchen.” you said as you unwrapped one of your own.

he watched carefully as the candy brushed your lips before you gently placed it on your tongue, his breathing steadily becoming more heavy and intense and he could feel every pump of blood circulating through his veins, “thank you.”

“are you alright? you look a little flushed. i can turn down the heat if you want, i did turn it up a bit a little while ago.” you started to stand.

“no!” the tips of his ears began to burn with embarrassment as he quickly stood in her place, urging her back into her chair so she wouldn’t be able to see anything, “uh- no, thank you. you just sat back down, i can get it.”

L tried to steady his breathing on the walk over to the thermostat, taking this time with his back turned to attempt to shift his erection in a way it would go unseen. hesitating to turn back around, he scurried back over to his chair with his head down and hoped to whatever god might be listening that you didn’t get a chance to see.

god, how unprofessional. if she noticed, our professional relationship will be tarnished indefinitely and she’d never trust me again. not that i would really blame her, i mean how would that seem, she’s alone at night with her boss and he’s sporting an erection.

unfortunately for L, you had noticed, you actually had noticed back when you got up to get your tea but you weren’t sure if you were just fantasizing imagining things. you were sure of what you saw on his strange walk back to his seat.

while he was lost in his own worry, L failed to notice you moving your chair so your arms were practically touching until he felt you peering in front of him.

he snapped his head back, “what are you doing?”

“just looking at what you’ve got over here. if you weren’t hogging it the whole time i wouldn’t have to invade your space.”

L clutched his knees closer to his chest, at the point of being unable to hide his unsteady and shallow breaths. he wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say to get out of the position he was now in to decide what happened next.

you turned around to look at him, presumably asking him something about what you’d just read. he tried to hear you, he really did, but over his pounding heartbeat and mind full of thoughts all he could do was watch your mouth move in what felt like slow motion.

“i’m sorry, can you please say that again?” he could barely hear his own muffled words. you were so close to him and he could see directly down your top from where he was sat, not that it helped much that you were leaned directly into his eye-line.

you placed your hand on his knee and he thought he was going to throw his stomach up, “i just asked what you thought about these men from the yotsuba group. ryuzaki, seriously is everything okay?”

he wanted to answer but before he could even try you spoke again, “maybe you need to put the case down for a while, y’know, blow off some steam.”

finally, he looked you in the eye, “please forgive me.”

before you got a chance to ask what for, both of his hands held your face as he leaned forward, planting a hesitant but desperate kiss on your lips. he was sure that the moment he pulled away, your involvement in this case and his life was going to crumble in front of him.

to his surprise, he barely had a second to take a breath before you were gripping onto his shirt and pulling him back in. every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, you were practically on top of him and he couldn’t help but try and pull you in closer, reaching for your jaw and your waist and practically anything he could get his hands on. his body was moving by itself and solely on instinct, making him feel a little self conscious about if he was doing the right things. his mind was soon put at ease when he felt his arms fall slack and your weight shift over him, the closer you got the better. you pulled away just slightly to take a breath and his legs fell to a normal position, hurriedly kissing you again and hoping you would just understand and sit down so he didn’t have to try and speak right now.

“ryuzaki—“

“L.” he interjected, “please i— please call me L. just here.”

you smiled, “L, are you sure this is alright?”

“one hundred percent.” his hands still holding onto your waist for dear life, you held his face with yours as you closed the small gap that remained between the two of you. he let out a small, involuntary groan when he felt your thighs press around his hips, “i’m going to need some guidance here, as i’m sure you’ve guessed this isn’t something i have any prior experience with.”

“don’t worry, i’ll teach you.” gently, you began to grind down on him, earning a deep sigh from L and his hands making their way from your waist down to your hips, using his white-knuckled grip to help you slowly along.

“that- that feels incredible. y/n- please i don’t know if i can hold out.” his cheeks were flushed bright red—probably the most colour you’d ever seen on his face—and he looked down to where the only things standing in his way was his jeans and those godforsaken pyjama shorts you wore, “not that i want to go quickly through this, in fact that’s less than ideal it’s just— this is getting rather painful. i need— shit, can i please, you know.”

to put him out of his misery, you hushed him with a kiss and got to work on undoing the button on his pants. you’d barely gotten it undone when his hands pushed yours out of the way, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.

you were glad you were already sitting down. not that you were expecting to be disappointed by the size of course, but just seeing it now made you feel a little nervous. drool nearly threatened to escape your mouth before you snapped back into it, making a mental note that you would have to do that another time.

L looked up to you, one hand pushing your shorts to the side trying not to cum right there when he realized you hadn’t been wearing underwear and the other slowly stroking himself, awaiting your approval.

the look on his usually-blank face would’ve been enough to make anybody weak, “L, please.”

he wasted no time in lifting your hips up and pushing himself in, pausing after just the tip to breathe and calm himself down. you could feel his hands trembling during his failed attempt to keep his composure, opting to ease yourself onto him instead.

he let out a shaky breath that caught in his throat when you’d fully sat back down. you yourself were trying to breathe through the intense feelings already taking over your whole body, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to take him fully, and now that you had you felt more full than you ever had in your life.

“let me know when it’s okay to move,” you whispered by his ear, “we’ll go as slow as you need.”

his hands returned to their spot on your hips, “dear god, move.”

you started off slow, his cock only coming out about an inch or two before pushing right back in. his head was spinning, you were invading his every sense. all he could smell was your shampoo, the taste of the candy you’d eaten still remaining both of your tongues. all he wanted to do was show you what he was feeling. he didn’t have the words to even begin to try and explain it. as if they had a mind of their own, his hips began to meet your movements, quickly picking up in speed and overtaking your control.

“fuck! that’s it— L, please.” you couldn’t say much more than that, every word being punctuated with a hushed moan, but the praise drove him crazy. any hesitation he’d had before was forgotten about, and he let his instincts take over. after all, he’d learned to always trust his instincts, why would now be any different?

he knew he wasn’t going to last very long, yet he couldn’t help pushing your hips down to meet his thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every one and making you practically cry out. if it weren’t for the quiet chants of ‘please’ he’d have thought you really were crying.

you could feel your orgasm approaching soon, and as if like he could read your mind L lifted a hand to push your shirt up above your chest and dipped his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking so gently compared to the harshness of his cock.

your arms wrapped around his head, hands tugging at the roots of his hair which earned you a deep groan into your chest. with every thrust you were getting closer and closer, his mouth having moved on to kiss your neck with the same desperation he’s harboured since the first time.

“i’m so close, god please don’t stop. —feels so good.” you begged, throat dry and still panting and holding his hair for dear life.

“fuck,” he began losing the rhythm he had been trying to keep to, “i’m— i’m going to orgasm. i need you, please.”

his hips started to stutter as he reached his peak, panting and whining into your ear and wrapping his arms tightly around your back. the feeling of you coming undone and squeezing around him just made it that much more intense, his face felt so hot he buried it into the crook of your neck.

by the time both of your movements had come to a halt, he was laying back in the chair clutching onto you, head still held tightly to your chest and cock beginning to go soft inside you. L never wanted to move.

the embarrassment and nervousness was slowly returning and he felt his cheeks get hot again, so he tried to focus on the sweet smell of your shampoo that engulfed him to calm himself.

after a few long, perfect minutes, you broke the silence, “was that okay?”

“that was amazing.” his head remained tucked into your neck, “i’m sorry if i wasn’t very good at it, and that i couldn’t last any longer.”

“don’t be ridiculous, L it was fantastic. we’ll have plenty of time to build up your stamina if you really want to.”

and just like that at the thought that this could happen to him more than once, he felt the blood rush back into his cock and you suddenly remembered something you’d wanted to do earlier.

“why don’t you let me show you how good you made me feel, huh?”

[sunoooism]

› summary : what txt do when you're feeling sad ! (separately)

› fluff , comfort / wc: 691

› warnings : mentions of sadness, little bit of crying, a few kisses, hand holding, not proofread, gn!reader. muias writing comeback ?? 😓 literally praying this shows up in tags caused it's queued. ALSO, I WILL NOT HAVE ANY PORRIDGE SLANDER.

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choi yeonjun

→ cooks for you

you sniffle as yeonjun places a bowl of porridge in front of you, wiping your watery eyes with the ends of your knitted jumper. "thanks, 'jun."

"of course, pretty." he smiles, leaning down to dab at your damp cheeks. you let him do it for you, his touch so delicate, as though he thought you'd crack without it. he finished his ministrations with a tender kiss to your puffy cheek.

"'m gonna get some jam for your porridge."

your face lights up a little. "raspberry ?"

you can hear yeonjun chuckle as he rummages around your cupboards, fetching an unopened jar of jam before he makes his way back to you and your steaming bowl of oats.

"duh, what else." his lips quirk up as he let a dollop of the sweet spread melt into your food.

choi soobin

→ takes you on a walk

you let out a yawn, the chilly air filling your lungs as you continued strolling down the narrow road with your boyfriend. his gloved hand was tightly clutching yours, making sure to keep you on the inside of the pathway and away from moving cars.

"you look so cute, all bundled up like that." soobin chuckles, staring down at you with his scarf and earmuffs practically swallowing you whole. and a fluffy coat that fell past your knees just like he insisted.

"I really think you should have worn gloves like I said..."

"binnie, I'm fine, I promise." you smile lovingly, leaning against his side as he kept your hands warm in his. with him, you already felt better and your heart a little lighter.

choi beomgyu

→ tries to cheer you up with his jokes

"what ? you didn't think that one was funny ?"

he's grinning, and you're trying your absolute hardest not to as well. your hardest wasn't enough though, apparently.

as soon as Beomgyu sees your lips quirk up —even if it's the smallest smile to ever exist— he's wrapping you in his arms and squeezing tightly.

"ah, see ! you do think I'm funny !"

it's not even the joke itself that makes you laugh. his smile is contagious, and even if you wanted to stay sad and wallow in self pity some more you couldn't, he wouldn't let you.

"mmm, maybe a little..." your arms slip around his waist, squeezing him back as you sigh contently into his warmth.

kang taehyun

→ reads to you

you gazed up at taehyun as your head rested on his chest. just simply admiring him while he read to you. his voice was gentle and soft, adoring brown eyes flicking across the page. you had always loved when he'd read to you, especially when you were feeling down. he always managed to help.

he stole a quick glance at you, wondering if you'd maybe fallen asleep because of your stillness and silence. but when he caught you staring he let a small smile stretch out on his lips.

"do I have somethin' on my face ?" taehyun chuckles, placing a thumb in-between the pages of the book so as to not lose his place. you smile in return and brought a hand up to the hair which framed his face, tucking it away from his eyes and behind his ear.

"no. jus' wanted to look at you."

he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before continuing to read to you.

huening kai

→ doesn't let go of you

your room was blanketed with darkness, soft breaths and whispers of sweet nothings filled your head. the gentle scent of kai's cologne wafted around the cozy room. your boyfriend had you pressed against his chest, and he made sure to keep you close when he tangled his legs with yours.

"are you feeling a bit better ?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he let his thumb draw circles on your lower back. you hum at the soothing action, sighing contently into his chest.

"mhm, 'm feelin' a little better. thank you, hyuka."

kai smiles and presses a warm kiss to the top of your head, pulling you even closer until your nose was pressed into the juncture of his neck. the two of you lay there with one another in a comfortable silence, exchanging tender and chaste kisses as the melancholic feeling faded from your body.

©sunoooism

[ohdeerfully]

can you do a lil story abt alasor x chubby reader? Idk I've been getting kinda insecure lately especially abt all my stretch marks so please and thank you! Have a nice day also I love your story's and stuff

rahh i just had to write something for this even though its at the top of my list. hopefully you like it, and i hope youve been feeling better lately! heres some sickeningly sweet fluff!! rather short, around 1.5k words

Bare

Alastor x Reader (fluff/comfort)

TW: body dysmorphia, insecure reader, alastor ooc but hes a cutie pie so its ok really (coping)

join my discord!

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You purse your lips at your bare reflection, turning this way and that to peer at the different angles of your body and its curves. The expression on your face turned into a frown as your eyes trailed over the stripes that decorated the conjunction of your stomach and thighs, evidence of the weight you had gained over the last year.

The atmosphere was all too uncomfortable, which only made you feel worse. A mediocre shower had left your hair damp and skin cold, and the light breeze that wafted from your slightly cracked window chilled you. Your towel was lying, discarded, by your feet, but you had become too engrossed in looking at yourself in the body length mirror to really take note of the goosebumps that pricked up your arms.

You looked away from the mirror and down at your legs, lifting and twisting one to get a better look at your thighs. You sighed at the sight. You thought you might cry, but you didn't want to cry—

“Cher,” A familiar voice made you jump to attention, head whipping up and almost knocking against the chin of the culprit had he not placed his hand in the way to halt your motion. “We don’t want to catch a cold now, do we?” His voice was uncharacteristically low, and it lacked the usual intonation of static.

You met Alastor’s red gaze through the mirror as he stood behind you, bent slightly so his head was level with yours. You were embarrassed, standing here naked in front of the Radio Demon, but you were frozen in place. His hands rested gingerly against your shoulders, trailing up and down your arms, slow and gentle. 

You fought back the urge to shove him away when his hands strayed from your arms, traveling under them and wrapping over your stomach. You swallowed. Tears started to blur your vision as numerous racing ideas filled your mind, casting doubt on the genuine nature of Alastor’s affections. You paused mentally when you felt another light touch of his lips against your cheek. 

You didn’t blink, worried that a tear may slip down and concern the demon behind you. You caught his gaze again in the mirror and he stood silently for a moment, studying your expression. You knew your eyes looked glassy and your lips were pressed tightly in a thin line, but you prayed to God—ironically enough—that he wouldn’t notice. His brows knit, creating a slight crease on his forehead, and you timidly stood there wringing your hands together. You felt so vulnerable, so scrutinized, because why else would he be staring at you so intently if it wasn’t to judge your bared body?

“What a sight,” He said suddenly, promptly placing a featherlight kiss on the crook of your neck. “How lucky is a man to have you all to himself?” He eyed your face and your body, but his gaze lacked the typical glare of lust and hunger that you would expect from a man. Instead, they only conveyed some tender, unspoken feelings of affection for you. As strange as it was to see such a look on Alastor, you had grown accustomed and welcoming of it.

There was still doubt in your mind, but you knew to trust the gentle words he spoke to the best of your ability. Alastor was full of lies and manipulation, but he was different behind the doors of your shared room. You knew a side of him that was, for him, as equally vulnerable as you were currently. So, though there was still a part of you that fought against the idea of him loving you despite what you found in yourself to be so ugly, you allowed the reassurance of his touch and words to calm your mind.

“Now,” He said, standing up straight once more. He gingerly picked up the damp towel by your feet, contemplated it for a moment, and then vanished it in a dark plume of inky smoke. “Let’s get you something warm.”

He lightly placed his hand by your shoulder blade, pushing you with the lightest pressure to maneuver you away from the mirror. You cast one last look at yourself out of the corner of your eye, but noticed he was still watching you. You quickly looked away with an awkward, breathless laugh. He pulled you closer to himself as he walked you towards the bed. With a gentle shove from Alastor, you sat lightly on the edge of the mattress, bouncing your leg as you watched him cross the room.

He hummed as he sifted through the closet of your room, a finger on his chin as he looked too concerned about picking out pajamas. You figured he was just trying to be silly to lighten your mood, and you appreciated it. Plus, you had to admit to yourself, seeing him look so serious at a bunch of old, oversized shirts did cheer you up.

He returned after a moment with a simple red top and fuzzy black pants. He motioned his finger to prompt you to lift your arms, which had subconsciously come to rest over your stomach. You obeyed, albeit with some hesitance, and bit your lip as you lifted your arms from their protective position.

“You know,” He spoke as he aided you in pulling your arms and head through the shirt. He paused his words for a moment to shake out the pants so the fabric was straightened, and then he continued. “If the Gods were to exist, I’d say your beauty would make them rather jealous. I don’t think art even portrays them quite as enchanting.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” You said with a light eye roll and a too-sarcastic tone in your voice that you immediately regretted. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

“Oh, but it’s true!” He argued back with a light smile. He tenderly lifted one of your legs and slipped the fabric of the fuzzy pajamas over, and followed suit with your other leg. You lifted yourself up with your hands so he could slip the waist over your hips.

He stood, looking down at you for a moment, again just analyzing you. It was easier to feel more comfortable under his gaze—as comfortable as anyone could possibly be with Alastor looking at them so intently—when you were clothed.

He ruffled your hair, accompanying the movement with a pleased hum, before turning and beginning to change himself. You shuffled yourself up the bed, resting your back against the headboard as you carefully watched him.

His coat came off first, slipping down his shoulders and hung carefully in the closet. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the fluffy red tail that flicked as the cold air breezed through the fur. You made a mental note to ask to pet it later—maybe he would let you if you told him it would make you feel better. He then pulled at the hem of his undershirt, tugging it up and over his head and then down his arms. His hair tumbled down in soft locks from the neckline as he popped his head from the shirt.

God, how embarrassing you probably looked right now, watching Alastor undress in front of you with the sickest, lovestruck eyes. If you were a drawing, there would probably be hearts floating all over your head right now.

He bent at the hip slightly to rustle through a drawer of his own night shirts, and you watched the edges of his shoulder blades and the slight curvature of his lean muscles shift and contort under his pale skin with every move he made. Your eyes traveled up and down his back, drawing mental images with the lines of scars that marred his otherwise smooth flesh.

Heat flushed your cheeks when he turned his head slightly, looking at you through the corner of his eyes, catching you ogling him. His grin only grew wider, though, before he finally threw on a loose shirt. What a tease.

He made quick work of his pants, replacing them with some comfortable sweats that looked almost alien on him, considering his usual attire. He joined you in the bed, his body creating a sizable dip in the mattress that made you fall against him. His arm snaked behind your back, coming to cup you at the curves of your waist and pulling you closer. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head before resting his cheek against it.

There would be no discussion about what had been bothering you minutes prior, and you were perfectly okay with it. Alastor was useless at emotional discussions, and in extension comforting you directly, but he could, to the best of his ability, comfort you through his actions and presence. A light, soothing jazz tune reverberated in the dark room, manifesting from his cane that sat against the wall by the bed. You closed your eyes and sighed, tangling your legs into his underneath the sheets.

You purse your lips, a light curve at the corners as you smiled at your previous idea.

“Al, my love,” You said softly, moving your head so he would lift his own off of it and look at you. His red eyes had a light glow in the dark.

“Yes, ma moitie?” He lifted his clawed hand and gently placed his index under your chin. Your next words made his body jerk and tense.

“Could I pet your tail?”

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 5

Relic

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: Shadow

Word count: ~4.6k Warning: None [not enough editing/formatting]

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. Going to pretend to be some big shot writer and dedicate this chapter to the ones who encouraged me to keep writing. And my favourite reader (you know who you are, hopefully).

The doorknob twisted under his fingers and Azriel gritted his teeth at the soft click. Mercifully, the door made no more sound. Darkness and quiet awaited him on the other side, while a haunting aura loomed behind him in the hallway under the fading sunlight. The hag was nowhere to be found.

Everyone except Ayla had known who he was, yet something changed after that day.

The last time he walked into the bar, Raya glared from across the room stopping him in his steps. She and Uri exchanged hissed whispers before the server led him out to the streets. He croaked out a “We’re closing soon anyway” with an apologetic smile and shut the rusty door in his face.

And, the hag—gone were the expectant eyes and the grateful smile when Azriel returned the next night. Instead, he faced a creature twice as large as him with knitting needles in one hand and jagged talons out in the other. 

Nonetheless, it warmed his heart and calmed his mind that Ayla was cared for.

Grumbled curses seeped through the wall on his side. His shadows wound tight around him. Clapping his wings close, Azriel wedged through the gap and shut the door carefully, praying it didn’t alert the hag.

A second passed and another. Then, sweet silence embraced him.

‘We’re closed.’

Azriel whirled around.

The room seemed to stretch far and long in the darkness with thick curtains shielding the windows. Stacks of wooden trays, empty glasses, and filled crystal decanters piled on the counter. Behind it, Ayla reached on her toes and placed a bottle on the shelf. A lone lantern burned a muted golden above the bar illuminating her.

‘I really need a drink,’ he uttered the first words that came to his mind, cursing himself for the senseless fool he was.

Her hand went rigid. Ayla stilled, and time and space froze with her. If not for the wisps of hair fluttering with her every breath, Azriel would have believed so.

None of their previous encounters ended on a good note. After the last time, he needed to clarify himself. If his mate deemed him vile, Azriel preferred she hated him from close. But in her silence, it struck him. She could be the one behind her friends’ defence, commanding them to keep him away.

‘Lock the door.’ She said a moment later, adding another bottle to the display. ‘I don’t want anyone else to believe we’re open yet.’

Resisting a smile, Azriel tested the knob again. He and her, alone in the empty bar—dreams truly did come true.

Once he settled across from her, Ayla faced him. She looked at him, unblinking. 

Azriel waited. So did she. He fumbled into his pockets and his fingers caught in the leather. His heart sank. He remembered stuffing a pouch with gold marks explicitly to bribe the hag if needed.  

Ayla laughed, the sound echoing through the air, chasing away every thought from his mind. She had blessed him with her smiles before. But this, it was beautiful—more so than her melodies, like the chime of a willow.

‘I was expecting your order.’ Her shoulders shook as she picked a glass from the pile. ‘Spare your money. The bar is still closed, remember?’

Heat crept up his neck. Though Azriel smiled, he ducked his head low. His shadows swayed on his shoulders as if laughing along with her. Traitors.

Ayla pulled a decanter from under the counter, simpler than the ones above, and poured a mouthful for him.

Azriel took the first sip and her eyes never left his face. 

A thick sweetness coated his mouth, the aftertaste lingering on his tongue. A drink was surely an excuse for his cause, but he expected a real one in a bar. He almost said so when his throat tightened. His vision clouded. Bitterness exploded along the back of his tongue before morphing into a burn that settled in his throat, and an undignified cough escaped his lips.

Amusement sparked in Ayla’s eyes. ‘I can find you something light if you’d like.’

‘It’s fine.’ Azriel cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse when he got the words out. ‘I didn’t expect. . .that. What is it?’

‘Poison. Didn’t your instincts warn you?’

His shadows danced along his back and wings, but they were quiet and calm. Azriel studied her blank face as he took a subtle sniff. It smelled quite like her—a jumble of spices and sweetness. 

Ayla laughed again. ‘I’m not daft to kill you in my own bar. It’s something Raya and Uri have been experimenting with.’

‘So it could be poison.’ Azriel smiled and tested another sip. It tasted easy this time. When she paused to fill his glass, he gave her a nod.

Her eyes fixated on his shoulders. ‘And for your companions?’

The wavering darkness stilled.

One ever wondered what they did for him or could do for them. In five centuries, no one asked what they wanted. His shadows that sensed the insensible and expected the unexpected, skidded down his back as though her question had rendered them awed. Their whispers quieted, and in that eerie void, Azriel seemed to hear a word echo back to him. Far, far away. Ayla.

‘Nothing.’ He dropped his gaze to the drink, smiling. It only served right that his companions suffered his agony too.

Leaving the liquor beside him, Ayla tended to her shelf. 

It was a cold, cruel world outside. A woman who hurt her and promised worse lurked beyond that room. A court wanted to whisk her away for a reason he knew nothing of. But Ayla had no worry. She drifted back and forth, shuffling the bottles in an innate pattern only she saw until the colours bled and blended into a seamless artwork, a mosaic of reds and browns and amber in the faelight.

How could she be so carefree with her life in danger?

She preferred the lonely, Uri had said. Even with Azriel mere feet away, she was alone, in her own world—getting her bar ready for the evening, and he was content watching her.

Cradling a bottle against her chest, Ayla leaned back against the counter.

If he set his glass down and reached a little, Azriel could trail a finger down the arch of her spine, feel the smooth curve of her waist under his palm. A little lower, her shirt crinkled, right above the swell of her— He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat.

‘You don’t have to act tough,’ she said. ‘No one shall know the big bad shadowsinger can’t drink. It will be our secret.’

Azriel looked up. Ayla moved down the bar, away from him, towards the unattended pile. A teasing smile tugged at her lips. And her face lacked the hatred he believed she felt for him.

Had he been wrong? The times he met with her, she was polite—ignoring her threat—and she talked without hesitance.

‘You were gone for a long time. Where were you?’

‘Shouldn’t you know that already?’ Ayla wiped the glasses, the rings on her bracelet clinking with her every move, and stacked them on the tray one by one.

‘I’m a spy,’ mumbled Azriel, ‘not a stalker.’

She chuckled, so light it was almost a breath. ‘Don’t the lines blur for you?’

Always a quick question thrown his way to draw the attention from her. Azriel was used to rudeness, anger, and even snark. But Ayla, she was something else. Her words were a weapon, sharp and precise, and always found their mark.

Shadows gathered over his shoulder, coiling and threading into dark ribbons, inching towards her. Ayla glanced at them and a smile curled her lips. With that, she shattered his resolve.

‘Drink with me,’ said Azriel.

Her hands froze and the smile faded. She peered at him.

‘Drink with me, Ayla.’ He said again, only gentler.

For a breath, she didn’t move, only assessing him. Then she abandoned the trays, glasses and bottles, and walked back to where he sat. 

Snagging the drink from between his fingers, she took a sip. Her brows pulled together as she pressed the back of her fingers to her lips and gasped. Azriel grinned.

‘Gods, that’s horrible.’ The veins along her neck strained as she swallowed again. ‘They should not be making that.’

‘A bar owner who can’t handle a drink. It’ll be our secret.’ Azriel poured another glass.

‘Ah, so it begins. Is this how you interrogate your suspects? Get them drunk?’ Ayla crossed her arms on the bar. It brought her closer to him.

Azriel nodded. ‘Right after a meal of their choosing.’

‘Sure, sure. We don’t want to lose them to exhaustion. And when does the screaming begin?’

There were two kinds of women—ones who idolised him and ones who feared him. Neither cared who he was underneath his mask of Night Court’s Torturer. And they definitely did not joke about it. 

Azriel chuckled under his breath.

Ayla drank again. ‘It’s still not my secret to share if that’s why you’re here.’

‘Not the part where you’re involved. That’s yours to tell.’

Her eyes didn’t waver. She observed him as though she could stir through his thoughts and pull them apart until she took what she wanted. 

After a long minute, she muttered, ‘I’m starting to see why you’re a spymaster.’ She tucked a fist under her chin. ‘I’ll tell you what. You find out where Hamra is and I’ll give you—’

‘She just passed the borders of Winter. If she moves west in the next two days, she’s heading to Autumn.’ 

Ayla blinked twice. Her lips parted and closed. She shook her head and slowly, a smile made its way onto her face. ‘Not a stalker,’ she mumbled, brushing the loose strands away from her eyes. ‘I met her five years ago.’

Azriel brought the glass to his lips and hid his smirk behind it.

‘I had to stop at an inn on my way back from a trip. I never do because they are always loud and crowded. That place was no exception.’ Her brows furrowed, yet her smile remained. She stared at the wood between them, ‘I almost left until I saw her. She was cursing at three men who were trying to hold her down and she was soaked in blood. I couldn’t tell whose it was. But she was fighting back. And those who wished to help were afraid of her.’

‘You helped her.’

Ayla nodded once. ‘Not right away. I wasn’t sure if she was innocent. But, she was cornered and outmanned. One of them even had a rope to tie her down like a beast. It didn’t matter though. The next minute, she was waggling a knife at them. Almost took an eye out of one.’ She laughed, shaking her head. More hair spilt from her knot. ‘I still don’t know where she got it from. After I had her cleaned and fed, she offered me gold for my horse and promised to let me ride him if I offered her protection.’

Azriel grinned. He expected nothing less from the spitfire of a child. ‘Who was she running from?’

‘Her sire.’ Ayla hesitated for a beat, then sighed. ‘Hamra is a half-nymph. When she came of age, many coveted her for her beauty and suitors poured in from every court. Her sire is a lowly lord. After he married a high fae to keep his bloodline pure, her mother hid her birth from him. But news of her existence spread when she bore more resemblance to him than her mother. Since Hamra carries his blood and passes as a fae, like any arrogant male, he claims to the right to decide who she weds and beds to further his lordly dreams.’

Different courts, different times, but the same tale.

Anger coiled in Azriel’s gut. Hamra was a mere child. Almost as old as when Mor endured the same or Gwyn.

‘Who’s her father?’

‘I’ve spoken more than I promised.’

‘And the woman, is she here on his orders?’

Ayla stole the drink from him and took a long sip.

‘Tell me the child is safe to travel alone.’

She lifted her chin, her eyes scrutinising him. The glass hung from her fingers by the rim. ‘And why do you care?’

Azriel didn’t know what trick she was playing. How could one not care? The sight of Mor’s naked body, bloody and bruised, on the ground still haunted him. He couldn’t condemn another to the same fate. ‘Shouldn’t we when her life is in danger?’

Ayla sipped again. Another minute of silence passed before she smiled. ‘You’re kind.’

The words felt wrong even from her lips. If she knew his true intentions, that the fae had been a pawn to get closer to her, she wouldn’t feel the same.

Azriel looked away, ‘It’s not what people say about me.’

‘Maybe you’re listening to the wrong people.’

Her gaze was heavy on him. The urge to hide gnawed at his chest. But they were alone and his shadows had their own will around her. They peeled away leaving him exposed, bare and whole. 

Aware of the little time he had before they were interrupted, Azriel took the drink from her. ‘Is that why you refuse to work for lords? For her safety?’

‘I don’t find them reliable.’ She shrugged, ‘Most are entitled and self-aggrandising.’

‘Rhys isn’t like them.’ At the least, not after one knew him.

Ayla clicked her tongue. ‘Your High Lord must pay you well if you endorse him while drunk.’

Azriel chuckled. He itched to defend his brother and convince her that he wasn’t as evil as she believed him to be. But he wanted to stay with her more. 

‘Why the bar?’ He asked instead. Her brows furrowed. ‘You make weapons and yet, own a bar.’

‘I liked the house.’ Azriel must have failed to mask his confusion because she added, ‘It’s in the middle of the city. I have a view of Sidra and the mountains from my balcony. And on solstices, I can see every celebration. The lights, the decorations, the music. For months, I tried to negotiate with the owner. But he wouldn’t sell it without the bar.’ She sighed, waving a hand between them. ‘You would know if you saw my house.’

His heart lurched at those words she uttered so nonchalantly.

‘Tell me this,’ she leaned forward on her arms. ‘Doesn’t it contradict your purpose if you declare yourself a spymaster?’

Azriel grinned. Of course, his mate would be bold enough to ridicule him. ‘I have others working for me. And everyone expects a shadowsinger to spy. There’s no point hiding it.’

Ayla rolled her eyes. ‘Excuses. Admit that you’re terrible at your job.’

’You don’t even know what I can do.’

‘You couldn’t find out where I was.’

‘But I found Hamra.’

‘She probably spotted you. Your shadows aren’t as subtle as they should be.’ She took the drink from him. The warmth of her skin grazed his fingers.

Darkness swarmed and writhed over his shoulders at the insult. A low chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Why the singing?’

Ayla frowned at the sudden shift. ‘You seem to be very curious about my life. Are you sure this isn’t an interrogation?’

‘You’re not screaming yet,’ teased Azriel.

She drew a breath and the corner of her lips twitched. ‘Among my people, women are supposed to be pretty things who do pretty things.’

Azriel waited for more. But she answered with silence.

Sire. Her people. Your High Lord. Her choice of words was strange for a commoner in the north, or even a lady. But she carried no markers of the southern courts. Even when she spoke of Hamra, she refrained from naming a place.

From the way she talked of her people, only two places came to his mind. 

Azriel knew the chances were slim but, for someone whose every word was calculated, she was bound to correct him rather than reveal the truth herself. ‘Autumn?’

Ayla grinned, ‘Do I look like I’m from Autumn?’

Hewn City then. Azriel hid his smirk by taking a sip. ‘I didn’t know making swords was a craft fit for a lady.’

‘Spoken like a true man.’ She exacted her vengeance by snatching the glass from him. Her gaze lingered on his hands as she drank and his fingers twitched on their own. 

He clenched his fists and turned away. He couldn’t bear that look from her—like he was that weak, helpless boy who cried for help, someone reduced to his past and ghosts.

‘We all have scars, shadowsinger.’ Her voice carried a note of tenderness. ‘You bear yours on your skin.’

When Azriel turned back, she was peering at his fists unfazed. She didn’t flinch away with disgust or cower when he caught her inspecting them. 

Ayla opened her palms to him. ‘May I?’

The last time she touched his skin, Azriel was too lost in her to notice. This, he wasn’t prepared for, nor could he forget.

‘You can refuse me,’ she said. Her hands rested on the counter between them as a sign of reassurance that the choice was truly his. 

Many had desired what Ayla asked of him. Even Mor at one time after she learnt the truth from Rhys. But it was Azriel who always chose who and when he touched, never the other way around. The only person he ever let feel his hands was his mother once the bandages were removed.

Slowly, he offered his hand to her. At the graze of her fingertips on his knuckles, he sucked in a sharp breath.

Ayla held his gaze, waiting, allowing him the chance to kill her curiosity. When Azriel didn’t resist, she comforted him with a smile before lowering her eyes. 

For a long time, she only observed, taking in every ugly ridge and wrinkle on his skin. She held his hand in both of hers, her fingers barely touching him. Her thumbs weaved through his digits and stroked his palm, eliciting a jolt through his spine with each traversed path.

We all have scars.

What scars did she possess? Were they a reminder on her skin like his? That thought alone birthed a hunger in him to inflict pain onto the world. 

How could anyone wish to hurt her? A woman whose eyes beheld compassion instead of pity for a cursed soul like him? The one who cradled his marred hand as a sacred relic deserving of her utmost care? The one whose face softened with a kind smile as she marked every inch of his scars with her smooth touch?

‘I wish,’ Ayla breathed, ‘they had treated you better.’

Azriel realised it then. Why Mother burdened him with a loveless life for five centuries. Why Mor didn’t accept him. Why Elain was never meant to be his. 

So he could belong to Ayla. And he would endure the heartache again for eternity if Mother promised him one lifetime with her.

Her fingers stilled, hovering over his palm. ‘Did they pay for this?’

Ayla’s face was that of an ardent believer of forgiveness—warmth radiating from her every time a smile adorned her lips. She cared for Raya and Uri. She protected a child endangering herself. She sheltered a homeless hag.

But Azriel had also witnessed her choke a male defending a fae. 

Which one was he—one worthy of her generosity or her wrath? 

Was he the same innocent boy deserving of justice after the blood he spilt with his own hands? Or was he a sinner for how he punished his half-brothers? What would appease the woman in front of him cradling his hand with a gentleness that rivalled a mother’s touch—that they were forgiven and shown the path of kindness, or they were ripped to shreds by his own tortured hands like they deserved?

No, the word inched closer to the tip of his tongue, ready to satiate his mate with a simple lie. One to keep her from running away from him. ‘Yes.’

The corner of her lips curled up, ever so delicately, and she murmured. ‘Good.’ 

When a frown etched between her brows, he knew her next question well. He grappled at everything he learned of her to lead her elsewhere. 

‘Can I see your dagger?’ She asked softly. 

Azriel almost laughed. One minute, his heart ached with the weight of his past, and the next, with joy and need.

Her back arched over the counter and she leaned low. She narrowed her eyes, prodding at his palm and pinching his fingertips. ‘Do you need special hilts? For your hands, the grip on them should be interesting.’

Oh, Azriel would prove his grip all right.

His shadows buzzed by his ears sensing his insidious thoughts. 

‘Maybe next time,’ he said, easing his hand out of her grip. What an idiot he was denying her the very thing he craved—her skin against his.

Her brow raised but she smiled. ‘Planning ahead, are we?’

It was neither a threat nor a refusal.

Refilling the glass, Azriel nodded at her wrist. ‘Did you make that?’

Ayla glanced at her bracelet before emptying their drink. ‘Orvin did. Leather and innovation are his specialities. I’m better with traditional weaponry.’ She poured another glass and Azriel grabbed it before she could. ‘I don’t carry weapons, so he made it for my travels.’

So close, the rings appeared more silver than gold but lacked the lustre of either. ‘What is it made of?’

‘It’s something I’m working on.’ Ayla threaded her third and fourth fingers through the rings and pulled, slowly revealing the cords. A trilling echoed in the air as they strummed from the strain. ‘See,’ she looked up at him, her eyes bright and eager. ‘It’s malleable under tension. It may not look like it, but it’s tougher than steel.’

She flexed her fingers and the rings whizzed back to the bracelet in a blink. Her smile widened.

Azriel set the glass down and reached for her wrist. Then, he stopped. When he turned to her, she nodded twice, extending her arm towards him. 

His fingers were thicker than hers. The rings barely slipped past his nails. The heat from her skin still warmed the metal. 

Ayla leaned close and Azriel held his breath. She curled his fingers, trapping the rings between his knuckles.

‘They are meant to be a little loose to manoeuvre them.’ She pointed at his half-closed fist, ‘You can’t get proper control if they’re snug. There’s also the danger of breaking your fingers during a fight.’

Azriel nodded and tested a little tug. His fingers trembled at the tension as though the cords fought back against him. Both times Ayla used it, she did so with an impressive ease that almost shamed his Illyrian strength.

She traced her fingers along the width of the bracelet. ‘Here’s where the tethers go. It remembers its form and reverts to it once you let go.’ Then she frowned, ‘But it’s not perfect yet. Leather gets worn out soon. We’re trying to replace it with metal but the slide and friction are hard to get around.’

Words tumbled out of her lips about metals and temperatures and mechanics. The more she talked, the further she edged towards him.

Azriel narrowed his eyes.

A smoky tendril teetered over her shoulder, one to the other. It coiled and wove itself with the loose ends of her hair, curving along her jaw carefully to not touch her skin. And as the rogue shadow nudged against her collar, swaying too close to her ear, he gritted his teeth. 

Ayla looked up at his silence.

Azriel nodded, bringing his gaze back to her face. Or did she ask him something?

He stared at his hand, the rings still in his grasp. He coiled the cord around his fist like she did on that first night. She was right—he could tolerate the strain better. He tugged and her hand slipped on the table, almost knocking the glass off. She caught it before the liquor spilt on him.

‘Hey,’ she laughed—sweet and soothing. His shadows sighed at the sound. ‘Careful!’ 

Azriel released the rings, letting go of the tether, letting go of her.

But Ayla didn’t move back. She drank, smiling. 

Lights hit the crystals on the shelf right and their glow echoed around her like a gentle halo—turning her into the ethereal being she was. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and her cheeks flushed warm. She licked the remnants of the liquor from her bottom lip as she emptied the bottle and nudged the drink towards him.

Azriel willed himself to breathe. Placing his finger on the rim, he turned the glass around. When he brought it to his lips, his tongue darted out to gather the wetness still stuck to it, where her lips had been not a moment ago. He took a long sip, savouring every drop of the burning nectar she offered.

Ayla stared at him—his parted lips, the column of his throat as he swallowed. Her inhaled breath stuck in her throat. As Azriel set the glass down, her eyes followed it before they flashed to his. 

Far, his mind screamed, too fucking far. 

But Azriel noticed the slight twitch of her lips before her gaze flicked to his side. A thread of shadow curled around his ear. 

A lock clicked beyond the wall. Ayla looked over her shoulder at the closed office door, sinking her teeth into her lip.

Raya, his shadows announced.

‘That’s my bartender,’ her voice took on a lower note, more melodious than ever. She swallowed a breath and turned to him. ‘We’ll be opening soon.’

Azriel waited. 

Ayla didn’t move.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers. 

Metal clanked and scratched against the wood as her fingers splayed on the counter. When her lips moved with his, Azriel buried his other hand into her hair—her beautiful, silkened hair. 

He swept his tongue against her lips, wide and hungry. Honeyed sweetness from their drink lingered on them, and beneath it, he tasted her. A shiver raked through him, every nerve in his body awakening at her kiss. When she gasped, he stole the little breath from between her lips. She didn’t resist. 

Gods, not once did she resist.

Azriel kissed her. 

He kissed her with every piece of his heart. He kissed her for the centuries he waited for her. He kissed her for the moments wasted between them, and the moments he would miss until next time.

Here.

Feet stomped close on the other side of the door.

Azriel pulled away, dropping his hands.

The door opened.

‘People generally rest in their bed,’ groaned Raya entering the room. Her mouth fell open when she spotted him, her wide eyes darting between him and Ayla.

Azriel only watched his mate. Her hair, ruined by his hands. Her cheeks aglow golden with a flush. Her lips pursed—wet, swollen, and all the more inviting.

But the light in her eyes, the playfulness, faded.

He stumbled back from the stool. 

‘Thanks for the drink.’

And he left without looking back.

Next Chapter: History

[fawnandshadows]

I'll Be Home For Christmas ~ Part One

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: Smut, language

AO3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’ve never been on a train before.” Elain admitted, her eyes trained on the snow-covered pine trees through the moving window. 

The strong body beside her shifted, careful to maintain a small amount of space between them. 

“Really?” Azriel asked curiously, turning the page in his worn book, A Christmas Carol, that he snagged from her bookshelf. 

“Usually someone drives me to and from school,” Elain turned to him with a smile. “Someone being you.”

Hazel eyes met hers over the brim of a fraying book. 

“Sorry my car broke down.” Azriel said, almost playfully. Well, Elain could recognize the playfulness in his voice. Anyone else would have heard a droll deliverance. 

“‘Broke down’ seems excessive,” Elain turned towards him, her hands pressed between her cheek and the cloth seat in a praying gesture. “You need a new battery and the shop is closed.”

“The perils of traveling on Christmas Eve.” Azriel said, and though the book was covering half of his face, Elain knew he was smiling. 

She looked around the carriage of the train, over the empty seats, and silently wondered if they always ran the train with next to no one on it. A few passengers rose in other carts, but Elain was grateful for the privacy. Somehow they had managed to hop on the train all of three minutes before it left — the bus that they tried left five minutes early, and the car rental place was completely sold out. 

“I think you did it on purpose,” Elain yawned, her eyelids suddenly feeling heavy. It must have been the excitement and anxiety of this morning getting to her — all the last minute changes, and it wasn’t until her butt sat firmly in her train seat that she felt exhausted. It all crashed into her at once. “So you could see more of my ugly face.” 

An ugly sound caught in Azriel’s throat, and she saw the corner of his eyes crease as he smiled. 

“Of all the words I would use to describe you, sweetheart, ugly isn’t one of them.” 

She smiled softly at that, and then they weren’t talking. She became startlingly aware of the fact that they were just looking into each other’s eyes and the weight of his gaze became the center of her universe.  

With flushing cheeks she blurted out, “Read to me?” 

“Marley was dead to begin with…”

Elain shut her eyes and hunkered down in her seat, listening to his deep, dark, relaxing voice. She focused more on the luxurious sound of his voice than the actual content of what he was saying, but she had read the tale multiple times and saw enough movies to be able to follow along, a picture forming in her mind as she felt lighter and drifted off. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Elain awoke when she felt as if she was no longer in motion. Her neck was bent at an awkward angle, and somehow her cheek no longer pressed against her hands, but had migrated to Azriel’s chest. One arm smooshed between her side and the seat while her other arm came up and clutched Azriel’s shoulder. Her sleeping form clinging to his strength and warmth.

The book was laid open on his chest, and Elain gazed up at him to find that he had fallen asleep as well — one hand resting on his stomach to keep the book in place, and the other stretched over her seat, allowing her to snuggle and burrow into his side. 

He looked devastatingly handsome. 

His black hair curled out from under his navy knit cap on his thick locks, and she could see a few freckles on his brown skin — Elain wanted to touch each and everyone of them, to map them out as if they were her own constellations. Soft snores passed through his parted lips, and it somehow endeared him more towards her. Which she didn’t think was possible. 

With more strength than she had, Elain turned her head away from him and looked out the window. The entirety of the glass was frosted over and Elain nearly had to shield her eyes from the blinding snow swirling around outside. She quickly looked away, but after growing up in New England she only needed two seconds to register what the whiteout meant. 

A blizzard. 

Begrudgingly, Elain pushed herself away from Azriel, leaving her hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake. 

She watched as his eyes blinked awake, slowly gaining consciousness. 

“Are we there?” Azriel asked, his voice heavy with sleep. 

Elain shook her head in response. 

“I don’t think so,” Elain started, ignoring the way his arm fell so that it no longer rested on her seat but rather on her back. “There’s a blizzard.”

His eyes fluttered behind her to look at the window and then drifted back to her face, understanding dawning in his expression. 

“I fell asleep.” Azriel stated, slight disbelief coloring his voice. Elain bit her lip and nodded her head — Azriel was notorious for his insomnia. Whenever she couldn’t sleep Elain would find herself scrolling through tumblr or Instagram, and Azriel was always on. She’d wake and find messages from him timestamped 3:00, 4:00, or 5:00 am…and whenever she and her sisters would spend the night at the place Az shared with his brothers, she would always wake to hear him quietly playing videos. Sometimes she would go and join him, either having him show her how to play, or if she was too tired she would just sit by him to keep him company. 

“Well, it’s a good thing cause you didn’t sleep much last night.” 

She woke up at seven and saw a text dated three hours before. 

Azriel was in grad school at the same university where Elain was pursuing her bachelors — about seven hours southwest from where their family lived. It was only Elain’s second year, but she loved traveling with Azriel to and from campus. She always had a small, school-girl crush on her sister’s boyfriend's brother, but somehow she had fallen hopelessly in love with him from the passenger side of his car. He was kind…funny…attentive…and there was nothing she could have done to stop the casual affection she felt for Azriel from blossoming into something beautiful. 

And Azriel…Elain thought he felt something similar. When she first started college, he went out of his way to make her comfortable, and he was her only friend until she met Nuala and Cerridwen. But he went on dates and had casual hook ups — on more than one occasion she went to his apartment early enough to see half-dressed girls try to sneak out. Elain would simply paint on a fake smile and avert her eyes, not saying anything to Azriel when she saw him…but his dates and hook ups became few and far between. He spent most of his days texting her, and in all of their free time they would go to the library or their favorite diner — studying together, sharing their favorite meals, or even having Netflix marathons at his apartment. 

Azriel sought her company just as much as she sought his. 

“What are the chances we actually made it to Velaris?” Azriel asked in a gravelly voice, sitting up slightly from his slouched position — his discarded coat halfway off his seat. 

Elain pulled her phone out of her backpack on the ground and checked the time. Somehow only two hours had passed since they left. 

“It’s only 3:00.” Elain showed him her phone. 

“Well, fuck,” Azriel said, rubbing his clean shaven chin. “You should text Feyre, let her know what happened. You know your dad will worry.” 

Elain nodded, sending a quick text to her sister, downplaying what happened to make it seem as if her and Azriel weren’t somehow stranded in the middle of a blizzard — even if they were stranded in the middle of a blizzard. 

“My dad likes you,” Elain said softly, her eyes not looking up from her screen. “I have no service. You?”

Azriel jostled in his seat to pull his phone out of his back pocket, tapped the screen, and shook his head. 

His eyes met hers and a sarcastic look took over his expression as he said, “Your dad hates me.” 

There was one time last winter break where Azriel came over to her house and they watched all the Christmas episodes of The Office in her room — the rest of their family went bar-hopping and Azriel stayed home with her — and they both fell asleep on her bed. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Somehow in the middle of the night she had ended up in Azriel’s arms. And when her father knocked on her door the next evening he wasn’t thrilled to see her and Azriel sleeping next to each other. Ever since then her father would make off handed remarks about their relationship and would give Azriel the stink eye whenever he saw him — Even if they were huddled over her phone or sitting too close together her dad would yell, “Save room for the Holy Spirit!” which would cause Elain to turn bright red and roll her eyes. 

“That’s not true.” Elain said, tucking her phone back into her backpack. 

“He certainly doesn’t want me dating you.” Azriel raised a dark eyebrow at her and adjusted his beanie. 

A flushed ran through her cheeks as she mumbled, “He doesn’t want me dating anyone. It’s nothing against you in particular. He just knows that we spend so much time together.”

“And you told him you spent the night in my bed.” Azriel groaned and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. 

Elain cringed at the memory. For some reason she thought it would placate her father to know that it was a common occurrence — she would go over to his place and accidentally fall asleep while watching tv. Nothing ever happened, but her fathers face turned red with anger before pointing to her doorway and saying “Out.” between clenched teeth. Azriel tried to apologize, but her father wouldn’t let him, so Azriel left and sent her a sad look over his shoulder. 

“I thought it would make it better. Give him a better understanding of our friendship.” Elain explained, crossing her arms across her chest as she leaned back into her seat. 

His eyes fell to her chest, not in a sexual way, but to take note of the sweatshirt she was wearing. His sweatshirt that she had stolen months ago. 

“No one understands our friendship.” Azriel stated, mimicking her posture and crossing his arms, but he did it with arrogance. As if he has somehow checkmated her in this conversation. 

He was correct. 

There were whispers around campus that they were friends with benefits — Even though Elain liked to stick to herself, she had the twins and Azriel and it was enough. Too many bad friends burned her in high school that she learned the value of just having a few good friends. Most people weren’t even interested in her, they just wanted to know the girl who got Azriel to stop sleeping around. For the most part, they just ignored the whispers. 

There was, however, one person that really didn’t love or understand their relationship. Rhysand. Azriel’s closest friend. 

Rhys shrugged off the entire incident of Azriel spending the night in her room. At that point, Elain was still basically his little sister and Azriel was his brother, and as far as Rhys knew Azriel was still fucking around on campus and wouldn’t look twice at her. However, two days later he held a party at his house, where Elain could drink with her entire family and not have to worry about anything, and somehow she ended up on Azriel’s lap. They were both drunk. One of Azriel’s hands on her bare thigh, her skirt was bunched and hiked up higher than she would have liked if she was sober, and his other hand was on her knee — holding her close to his chest so she wouldn’t slip off. Elain was playfully adjusting the Santa Cap on his head, her fingers touching his hair a little more than was necessary, but Azriel let her. He just smiled up at her. And there was a teeny, tiny part of Elain that was hoping he would kiss her. 

He didn’t. 

Feyre came over and kindly pulled Elain off of his lap, offering to dance with her and Elain eagerly agreed. 

Elain had no idea anything was even wrong. It wasn’t until later when she heard Rhys and Azriel arguing upstairs on her way to the bathroom that she realized there was an issue. 

“She’s 18!” Rhys whispered angrily. “You’re 23!”

“You didn’t have a problem with that a few months ago, when you kept pushing me to hang out with her.” Azriel replied in an icy voice. One that Elain almost never heard. 

“To be her friend! To make her feel comfortable and help her settle in! Not to drool over her tits while she’s giving you a lap dance,” Elain looked down at her chest from the opposite side of the door.  “Not to make her fall in love with you.” 

“We are friends.” Azriel responded glibly. 

“A friend you don’t want to fuck?”

Silence. 

“Don’t you fucking hurt her,” Rhys started, and for some reason Elain thought he was probably poking Azriel in the chest. “I know how you are, Az, you’ve never been with someone longer than a week. You get bored and you leave them. Fucking A — that girl looks at you with fucking stars in her eyes. She obviously likes you. Just be her friend. And keep your dick to yourself.” 

Elain quickly scampered to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and ran her hands under cold water, wanting to cool herself off as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. And when she went back downstairs Azriel was standing next to Cassian — who was playing against Nesta at beer pong — and Az intentionally didn’t meet her gaze as she reached the bottom of the steps. So, she walked over to the makeshift dance floor with Feyre and Mor. Thankful they never noticed the confusion hidden behind her smile. 

Neither of them spoke for a few moments and then the blurry, distorted voice of the conductor came from the overheard speaker. 

Elain and Azriel looked at each other, silently imploring whether or not they could hear what the conductor was saying. 

They couldn’t. 

It wasn’t until one of the workers walked into their car a few moments later that they realized they had managed to dock at a small station, but the tracks were completely snowed over ahead of them and there was no way for them to be going anywhere. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The small diner located just down the street from the train station was cozy, to say the least. 

Small with a few locals sitting in the booths, and as soon the bell jangled to alert the patrons of their arrival, Elain felt all eyes land on her and Azriel. 

It was the type of place where people recognized a new face. 

Elain smiled politely and quickly sat in the booth toward the end of the restaurant, where there was enough room for Azriel to lay down their bags without being in the way. 

She expected him to sit on the opposite side of the table, but he surprised her by scooting into the booth next to her — his thigh pressed against hers as he leaned his head close to hers. 

“What are the chances we get out of this town tonight?” Azriel asked, his voice low and close to her ear. 

Elain forced herself to turn her head and look out the window, taking great effort to appear unaffected by his closeness, and saw the white flurries falling down and obscuring the entire view. Nothing but a veil of white. 

“I’m thinking it’s pretty low,” Elain said, turning back to him. “The roads aren’t even plowed yet.” 

Azriel nodded his head. 

“Looks like you’ll be spending Christmas Eve with me,” Azriel said, nudging his shoulder into hers. “Hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“Never,” Elain smiled, suddenly feeling shy. “You don’t have anyone back home waiting for you? Heartbroken that you aren’t showing up?”

Elain meant the words as a joke, but as soon as the words left her mouth it felt as if the entire world was resting on a pin. Ready to topple with what he said next. 

“No,” Azriel said, his eyes darkening. He brought one hand up to rest behind her shoulders, on the back of the booth. Just like how he sat in the train. “I don’t have anyone pining over me.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Elain asked, leaning into his side. 

Azriel tucked one of her curls behind her ear. He opened his mouth to respond, but the waitress sidled up to their table and handed them the menus. 

“Can I get you lovebirds anything to drink?” She asked, smiling at them. Elain could see the fine lines in her face made from smiling over the years. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head and her name tag read ‘Alis’. 

“Two hot coffees with cream, no sugar.” Azriel said, giving Alis a polite smile. 

“Do you know what you want? Or do you want to look at the menu?” Alis asked. 

Azriel turned to Elain, not even opening the menu before saying, “Waffles and bacon?” 

Elain nodded her head upon hearing her favorite breakfast. Not the healthiest. Or one she had very often. But her favorite. 

Elain tapped her finger on her nose three times, thinking. And as she spoke her finger slowly turned and pointed at his amused expression. 

“Denver omelet,” Elain said thoughtfully. “Rye toast, hash browns, aaaaaaand,” She drew out the last word, thinking about what Az would like to complete his meal. “A side of fruit.” 

“Perfect.” Azriel said with a grin that showed off his dimples and handed the unopened menus back to Alis. 

“You two are sweet,” Alis said, tucking the menus under her arm. “How long have you been together?” 

Elain felt her cheeks blush at the words, but Azriel didn’t miss a beat. 

“About a year now.” 

His arm dropped down from the seat and settled around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. For the second time today. 

His hand curled around her shoulder. 

“But we’ve known each other for years.” Elain added, and Azriel looked at her in surprise as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Underneath his coat. 

“Awww, childhood sweethearts,” Alis said with affection. “I’ll put your order in.” 

She walked away, but neither Azriel or Elain moved. They didn’t shift or pull away. 

They leaned closer together. 

“This isn’t a horrible place to be.” Elain admitted, slightly nuzzling closer to him. 

“Even on Christmas Eve?”

“Especially on Christmas Eve.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After their meal Elain and Azriel finally decided to check their phones and see if their service finally returned — they both hid their disappointment as they saw the full signal bars on their screens. 

“I’ll call hotels and you call Feyre?” Azriel suggested and Elain nodded along, looking at all the unread messages on her phone. Sighing, she called her sister. 

“Elain?” Feyre answered, worried. “Are you ok?”

“We're fine,” Elain reassured her sister, watching Az dial from the corner of her eye. “We just finished lunch, but I don’t think we can make it home tonight — Our train stopped at the first station it could. We only rode for about two hours.”

“Where are you?”

“My phone said Winter Court — wherever that is,” Elain replied, noting how Azriel hung up the phone to call someone else. “Are you guys still doing cookies tonight?” 

“Yes,” Feyre said, and Elain could hear the shuffling cookware over the phone and multiple people speaking at once. “Though, I’m sure they’ll be burned without you.” 

Azriel sighed, hung up, and called someone new. 

“They’ll be delicious,” Elain said with a soft smile. She was about to remind her sister to set the oven five degrees less than what the recipe recommends, but she heard her fathers voice on the other end. 

“Is that Lainy?”

“Yeah, papa.”

“Let me talk to her,” Static shuffled through the phone, and like clockwork Azriel called someone new. “Are you being safe, sweetheart?” Her fathers voice became crystal clear and for the first time she felt a pang of homesickness. 

“Of course, papa,” Elain said. “But we’re not gonna make it home tonight. Az is calling hotels to book a room for us. I miss you guys.” 

A beat of silence. 

Azriel hung up his phone, but didn’t call anyone else.  

“A room?”

Her eyes met Azriels, and he must have heard her father because he nodded in confirmation. 

“Is was all they had?” Elain meant to say with confidence, but her voice lilted into a question. 

Azriel nodded in confirmation even though his lips curled into a smile as he mouthed, 

“Honeymoon Suite.”

She blushed. 

“Hopefully it has a couch for the boy.” Her father grumbled. 

Before Elain could stop herself she said, “I’m not going to make Azriel sleep on the couch, dad.” 

Azriel raised a dark brow at her. 

“Let me speak to him.” Her father said with a sigh. 

Elain held the phone out to Az, their fingers touching as he took it from her. 

The bastard turned the volume down so she couldn’t hear what her father was saying. 

“Mmmhm,” Azriel’s eyes never left hers. “Don’t worry sir, I’ll protect her,” His hazel eyes darkened. “Mmhhmm. Goodbye.” 

Azriel handed her phone back to her and said, “He hung up.” 

“Honeymoon Suite?” Elain asked, pocketing the phone. 

“This town has a surprising amount of hotels and motels and somehow they’re all booked. Apparently, this is a really popular Christmas destination for tourism, and hotels get booked years in advance. Somehow I found this small B&B and the only room they had was the honeymoon suite on a special reserve. If anyone asks, we eloped at the courthouse on a whim and haven’t had time to buy rings yet,” At her silence he continued. “I’m thinking we take a cue from Alis. Childhood sweethearts?”

“Az?”

“Yes?” 

“We’ve been good friends for over a year now, yes? And we’ve known each other for a while — but I’ve never heard you talk for so long.”

A face-splitting grin stretched across his lips. 

“Maybe I talk when I get nervous.” Azriel said, his cheeks pinkening. 

“You’re nervous?” Elain asked softly, her heart speeding. 

“It’s not every day that I propose.”

Her stomach felt hollow. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, this is the best proposal I’ve ever received.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, so Elain could feel him tense just a bit. 

“I’m not your first?”

“Lucien Vanserra in the fourth grade and then again in eighth.” Elain explained and watched as 

Azriel’s expression became carefully guarded. 

“The prick in your American Lit class?”

“He’s not that bad, and he was very gracious considering the fact I shot down his proposal twice.”

His jaw worked. 

“And what about mine?” 

Elain leaned forward and adjusted his knit cap, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“How would you like to be my first husband, Az?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Their B&B was a fifteen minute walk from the diner, but it took them almost 40 minutes since they couldn’t see more than a foot in front of them. 

Azriel held Elain’s hand tightly as they wadded through the snow — neither of them in the proper footwear. At one point Azriel’s beanie almost blew off and Elain practically had to jump on top of him to keep it from flying away. 

Their coats were wet and heavy by the time they arrived, and as soon as they stepped through the door they dropped their duffle bags on the ground and Azriel immediately wrapped his arms around Elain. Her wet hair in his face. His hands aggressively rubbing her arms over her wool coat. 

“You must be the newly weds!” A friendly voice called over to them and Elain heard the clicking of heels over the wooden floor. 

Elain poked her head out from Azriel's chest and saw a stunningly beautiful blonde — eyes a bright blue and hair almost white as snow and creamy, bright skin. 

“That’s us.” Azriel said in an even voice, one that made it seem like they just took a stroll on a lovely fall day and not through a blizzard mars. 

“I’m Viviane,” She introduced herself and held out her hand. Elain stayed wrapped around Azriel for warmth, but he managed to find enough manners in her to shake her hand. “My husband and I own this place. I’ll get you checked in and have someone show you to your room.”  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You can shower first.” Azriel said as soon as they stepped into their room.  

Elain toed off her boots and walked across the hardwood floor to place her duffel bag at the base of the bed. 

“Are you sure?” Elain asked, ignoring how her teeth harshly chattered together. 

“Lainy,” Azriel said, his feet silently padding across the floor as he came up behind her. “You’re a human popsicle. I’m pretty sure you’re so cold that my tongue would stick to you if I licked you,” He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her so that she would face him. Her white socks twisting beneath her feet. “Go take a hot shower.”

Her wide eyes met his. 

“Do you plan on licking me?” Elain asked, slightly breathless and a flash of heat swept through his hazel eyes. He didn’t say anything. “There’s a rumor I’ve heard about you on campus.” Her tongue came out to wet her lips. 

“And what’s that?” Azriel challenged. His voice was rough and Elain could vaguely feel his fingers tightening on her shoulders. 

“That you like…”

“That I like…?”

“That you like using your tongue.” Elain rushed out and her face was so hot she thought that her skin would start to peel off. Her cheeks were at odds with the rest of her body. 

“Yes, I like using my tongue,” Azriel said as he narrowed his eyes. One of his hands fell away from her shoulder and he brought it up to rub at his lips. “I need it for speaking. For eating. I find my life would be quite difficult without it.”

It was Elain’s turn to narrow her eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Azriel tilted his face down to hers. 

“Say what you mean, Elain.”

“I heard around campus, from a few girls,” Elain started and she fought the urge to turn and climb under the covers to find her flushing face, but she wanted to finish what she started. “That you like to go down on them. With your tongue. In their vaginas.” 

Elain puffed out her chest a bit like she won some sort of battle. 

“I do.” 

Her chest faltered. 

“Oh.”

 Elain scrambled for something to say — for some reason she never thought he would actually admit it. And she couldn’t stop the onslaught of images that cascaded through her brain, of all the girls that taunted her about it. She could picture them with Azriel's dark head between their thighs. 

“I like giving blow jobs,” Elain admitted, her voice deceptively innocent. His face didn’t change. He didn’t so much as blink at her words. “If you were curious.” 

“I wasn’t,” Azriel said blandly, his voice carefully even toned. “Take your damn shower Elain.” 

She scampered to the bathroom without looking back. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Azriel wanted to hit someone. 

Mainly himself. 

“I like giving blow jobs,”

And whoever the fuck Elain was giving blowjobs to. 

He shucked off his soaked coat and sunk into a froofy chair by the window as the shower turned on. 

His scarred hands came up to grip his hair as he tired hard not to picture Elain’s naked body glistening with water as she showered, and he tried fucking hard not picture her blowing her exboyfriends. None of them fucking deserve it. They didn’t deserve her. 

Maybe he wanted to hit Rhys. 

For getting in the way last year. 

If Azriel thought hard enough, then he could still feel her plush thigh beneath his palm. Her fingers gently tugging at his hair. He could remember the feel of her on his lap, and how his eyes kept drifting from her lips to her flushed cheeks to the ample cleavage on display — and he kept fighting the little urge to kiss her. It wasn’t even an urge. It was a beck and call. 

Elain was the type of girl he could kiss forever and never get bored. She was soft. Luscious. He could hold her in his arms and kiss her until he was blue in the face — his hands lazily exploring her body as their lips moved together. Slowly. Gently. Playfully. 

There were a few times before she plunked herself down on his lap last year that he thought about kissing her. Her lips pursed whenever she was concentrating really hard ( her nose scrunched as well, but that’s besides the point) and he recalled one night they were studying late in the library when he thought that kissing would be a much better use of their time. 

And when she would bake for him. Sometimes a little frosting would linger on her mouth, and Azriel wondered if it would be sweeter on her lips than out of the bowl. 

Elain had the perfect fucking lips for kissing. 

And blowing. 

Apparently. 

“I like giving blow jobs,”

Azriel wasn’t stupid. Or blind. 

He’s always known Elain was incredibly beautiful — it was a fact. Saying Elain is beautiful was like saying Cassian is incredibly fit. Or that Rhysand is smart. It just is. 

He knew that Rhysand didn’t push Elain at him just to help her settle in on campus, but the more time Elain spent with Azriel, then the less time horny frat boys and jocks would be sniffing around her. Azriel was aware of his reputation, and he didn’t care that Rhys wanted to use it to protect Elain. Hell, Azriel even agreed with it. And he liked Elain. So he went along with it. 

But he didn’t realize just how much he fucking liked Elain. 

He found himself seeking her out. Calling her. Texting her. He would send her all the tiktoks that he thought she would like, or even just a random one with his thoughts like, “This is fucking weird.” He didn’t realize how much he craved her until he was in bed with some blonde, and after they were finished fucking Azriel immediately checked his phone and smiled when he saw the notifications from Elain. The blonde girl he was with wanted to talk. Or cuddle or something. And he cared more about replying to Elain’s  tiktok messages than he did about going for round two. Eventually, he started thinking about Elain as he was fucking some random girl and he couldn’t wash away the oily feeling that lingered for days afterward. 

Azriel sighed deeply as he sank further into the chair, the heels of his palms rubbing his eyes as he tried to ignore the images of a wet, showering Elain that were pilfering through his mind – her pale skin glistening and beads of water dripped down her curves, lathered soap slipping down her back—

His cock hardened at the image, and Azriel shifted himself in his jeans. 

The squeaking sound of Elain turning the knob of the shower off rankled his nerves. 

“Az?” Elain called out, and Azriel lifted his eyes to peek at the bathroom door that was cracked open ever so slightly, steam floated out like shadows from behind her. 

“Yes?”

A beat of silence. 

“I forgot my clothes.” Elain said hesitantly. 

Azriel felt his skin flush and overheat, but he pushed himself up and walked over to where he plunked their luggage down. 

“Do you want your entire bag?” He asked in an even voice, his eyes dropped to her lips as she took her bottom one between her teeth. 

“Just my toiletry bag and pajamas, please.” Elain said in a high voice. And Azriel nodded, slowly unzipping her bag and carefully moved her clothes out of the way to fund her pjs. 

“You didn’t pack any.” Azriel called out, forcing a teasing tone to his voice as he ignored the scraps of lace panties that kept jumping out at him. 

“Yes I did,” Elain responded, huffing in slight annoyance. “Those plaid shorts,” Azriel had thought they were underwear, but grabbed them at her words. “And your old AC/DC shirt.” Azriel’s fought from grinding his teeth together — he knew Elain stole his clothes, knew that she slept and lounged in them, but knowing that he packed his old tshirt and was going to sleep beside him in it made his skin flame. 

Azriel carefully grabbed the first underwear he could find and placed it between her pajamas so that they weren’t on display. He placed her clothes underneath her toiletry bag, and tried not to stare down at her damp cleavage as he handed them to her. 

A tiny white towel was wrapped around her body, and Azriel knew that with one tug the knot would be undone and the towel would be on the floor. 

“Thanks.” Elain breathed, opening the door to accept the pile Azriel stuck out for her. 

“Need anything else?” Azriel asked, his voice unnecessarily husky. 

Her cheeks turned pink, but she shook her head and said, “No, thank you,” and closed the door. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Her damp feet pattered over the wood floors, her body still damp and humid from her shower, and sunk onto the bed, her eyes trained on Azriel who looked at her from the overly stuffed chair by the window. She still couldn’t see past the snow coming down outside. 

“What now?” Elain asked, tucking her feet underneath herself. 

“Well,” Azriel teased. “By the looks of it, you’re ready for bed.” 

Elain rolled her eyes. 

“I think that after your shower,” She smiled at him. “You should start reading to me again since this place doesn’t have a television, and then we order down for room service for dinner.” 

“Hungry already?” Azriel asked, his eyebrow tilting upwards. 

“No,” She said firmly “But I will be. Eventually. And I bet they have amazing desserts here.” Elain smiled at her, knowing his weakness for sweets. 

Azriel didn’t bother to hide the smile playing on his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Somehow they ended up under the covers. Elain’s soft body pressed into his warm one as they were both sitting propped up against the headboard, pillows cushioning their backs, and the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room, along with the moonlight reflecting off of the white snow outside their window. 

Azriel’s dark, silky voice carried through the quiet of the night. 

He didn’t even startle when her cold feet tucked into his for warmth. Azriel just shifted so that they were more comfortable. 

“...During the whole of this time Scrooge had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self…” Azriel wet his lips and shut the book, causing Elain to furrow her brow and raise her eyes at him.

“What is it?” Elain asked. 

“Silly as it may be,” Azriel started. “After a few hours of reading I need some water.” 

Elain felt her eyes widen at his words and said, “Hours?” in disbelief. She pulled herself away from his warmth and checked her phone, ignoring the messages from her family and focusing on the fact that it was closing in on eight. Well past dinner time. 

“You must be starving,” Elain said, crawling closer to him with her phone still tucked into her hand. “Should we call down for dinner?” 

Azriel nodded in agreement, and leaned over to grab the antique phone from the nightstand next to him. 

“Think this works?” Azriel asked, eyeing the delicate brass machine. 

“For sure,” Elain nodded. “It was probably just made to fit the aesthetic of the place,” She snuggled into his side. “Order me something good.” 

Azriel dialed one, and Elain could hear a feminine voice answering his call. 

Her mouth watered as Azriel ordered two pot roast dinners, a bottle of wine, bread, chocolate cake, and, most importantly, water. 

“I think you’re officially the best orderer,” Elain said, slinking into his side as he took up his initial position, his arm coming out to wrap around her as he picked up the book. “Let me,” She took it from between his fingers. “Until the water comes.” 

It only took 30 minutes until a knock interrupted them. 

“Already?” Elain asked, setting the book down. Azriel smirked at her before getting up and walking towards the door. Elain found herself sinking into the warmth he left behind on the sheets. 

The door was out of her line of sight, but Elain heard Azriel open the door and the brief conversation he had with the woman who brought their food for them — the oddly long conversation that didn’t seem to have an end in sight. 

Elain pushed herself out of the bed, the chilled air nipping at her toasty skin, and walked over to the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. 

 Azriel was standing at the door, incredibly still in a way that told Elain he was hiding his annoyance, and out in the hallway was a redhead holding their service cart in a deathgrip. 

“Is this everything?” Elain asked, sliding up next to Azriel and threading her fingers through his. Azriel relaxed at her touch. 

The girl’s teal eyes flashed towards Elain and said, “Hello,” with a strained smile. 

“My husband and I are … eager … to continue our night,” Elain said in a too kind voice. “So, I was wondering if this was everything?” 

Azriel’s body vibrated with suppressed humor. 

“This is everything,” The girl said, pushing the cart to them. They’d have to take her word for it, considering everything was covered in silver domes, but Elain wasn’t going to reach out if anything was forgotten - she didn’t want any more interruptions. She just wanted time with Azriel completely uninterrupted. Luckily, she could see the bottle of wine and water on the bottom shelf of the cart. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else.” 

“Thank you.” Elain said as Azriel pushed the cart further into the room, and shut the door after bidding the girl farewell. 

The savory smell of the potroast was mouthwatering, but Elain couldn’t shake the irked feeling of the redhead so obviously lusting after Azriel — and they were in the honeymoon suite. 

Elain grumbled as she lifted the silver covers and took in the food. Everything appeared to be in place, and Azriel looked down at her in amusement as she inspected their dinner. 

“Everything to your satisfaction?” He asked and Elain felt her cheeks flush at the way he looked at her, knowingly. 

“Yes, husband.” Elain grumbled and Azriel threw his head back in laughter, her body prickling at the sound. 

His large hands clamped onto her hips and Azriel drew her back into his chest. 

“Jealous?” He asked, his lips absurdly close to her ear. 

“I don’t see why I should be,” Elain said, shifting on her feet. “I know who’ll you’ll be sleeping with tonight.” 

Azriel groaned and buried his head into the crook of her neck. 

“You can’t say things like that, Elain.” He spoke into her neck, and Elain could feel his lips moving against her skin.

“And why’s that?” She asked breathlessly. 

“We’re trapped in the honeymoon suite with spotty cell phone service and a bottle of wine.” Azriel replied. 

“Planning to take advantage of me?” 

His fingers tightened on her hips. 

“I think it’s the other way around,” Azriel muttered, tearing himself away from her body. “Now, do you want to eat in bed, or should we try to be civilized and eat at the table?” His chin nodding in different directions as he spoke.  

“Bed?” Elain asked and watched as Azriel’s eyes darken just a hair.  

It was something that that had done time and time again — having dinner in bed together. Usually while watching television, but the honeymoon suite didn’t have one, and from the second they stepped foot into the room they had an unspoken rule about not touching their phones, so as soon as they crawled back into bed (Azriel wheeled the the cart next to his side of the mattress, so he could serve them as he pleased) their conversation ebbed and flowed so that no tension lingered between them. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Most people would have been surprised at how easily and freely Azriel spoke around Elain. And at that the wicked sense of humor Elain let loose around Azriel, and Azriel only. Every once in a while it would slip out around her sisters or his friends, but most of the time it was just reserved for Azriel. 

A Christmas Carol was tossed onto the nightstand, far away from any damage it could incur from their food and drink, and Elain and Azriel hunkered back into their original positions. Volleying back hypothetical questions and would you rathers. 

“Bullshit!” Elain exclaimed, jerking up right, and narrowing her eyes at Azriel’s amused expression - his eyes gleaming as they crinkled with his hidden laughter. “In no world is Jason Todd a better Robin than Dick Grayson! You’re just saying that to annoy me.” 

“Am I?” Azriel laughed, using his fork to steal a potato from her plate, and he stared at her as he chewed smugly. 

“Yes,” Elain said, shoving at her shoulder. “You know I have a crush on Nightwing.” 

“You don’t have to be so obvious about it.” Azriel said, his dimple indenting his cheek. 

“Not everyone tucks away their feelings like you do.” Elain mumbled, settling back into her position by his side. 

“Is that what I do?” Azriel asked, his eyes bright with a challenge as he looked at her. 

Elain glumly stabbed a carrot and brought it up to her mouth, chewing slowly. 

“You tell me.” 

After a short pause Azriel asked, “Wine?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Elain said, taking a sip from her second glass of wine. 

“You don’t?” Azriel asked, his eyes intently peering at her face and she carefully avoided his eyes. 

“No, I don’t.” Elain shook her head, careful not to slosh her drink over the edge of the glass. 

“You don’t think it’s any of my business how many of my shirts you steal? Do you have any idea how expensive it is to be your friend? You’re lucky I’m not naked right now.” 

Elain’s eyes flashed to his at his words, her eyes falling to his torso and made the mental note to start taking even more of his clothes. 

“It’s not my fault,” Elain defended herself. “Your clothes are just comfier than mine.” 

“Are they?” Azriel asked, his fingers sliding underneath his shirt that hung off of her frame and over the soft skin of her belly. 

Elain silently nodded her head, her breath caught in her throat. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Azriel asked, and Elain gave him another slow nod. “I think my shirts look better on you.” He whispered conspiratorially and Elain couldn’t stop the smile taking over her face. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Elain asked, pushing her face closer to his, and Azriel jerked in head in confirmation. “I get sad when your shirts lose their scent. That’s why I always have to steal more.” 

“You like how I smell?” Azriel asked darkly, pushing their bodies closer together. 

“Mmmmhmm.” Elain confirmed, holding her wineglass close to her chest. 

“I love it when you sleep over,” Azriel admitted, his eyes smoldering. “You make my bed smell like jasmine.” 

Elain took one more sip of her wine before handing him the glass, silently asked him to put it back on the cart, and Azriel took his cue and placed his glass down next to hers. 

“There’s something I’ve been curious about.” Elain admitted quietly as soon as Azriel faced her again. 

“What’s that?” He asked curiously. 

“Ever since I heard those rumors,” Elain wet her dry lips as she forced the words out. “About you being good with your tongue…I’ve been curious.” 

Azriel’s body stilled next to hers. 

“Curious about what, Elain?” 

“About what it’s like - with you. Guys have gone down on me in the past,” Elain shared, her cheeks burning. “But it was always awkward. It felt like a fish was down there.” 

A choking sound ripped through his throat at her words. 

“A fish?” Azriel exclaimed, and Elain shoved at his chest. 

“You can’t make fun of me!” Elain shrieked before hiding underneath the covers. “Just forget I said anything. I want to go to bed.” Her voice was muffled from the layers of blankets and sheets. 

Azriel slowly moved the covers off of her and she looked up at him with wide brown eyes, her face red and flushed, and her golden hair messily tousled over her face and pillow. 

“You want me to go down on you, sweetheart?” Azriel asked softly, and Elain nodded her head. He shifted so that he was caging her in with his arms. “Are you wet for me?” She nodded again slowly. 

Heat gathered in Azriel’s groin at her admission. 

Azriel lifted one hand to slowly tug down her bottoms, so that she was only left in his shirt and her white lace panties. Elain kicked her shorts to the bottom of the bed, silently hoping she didn’t appear too eager. 

His large, warm hands cupped her over the lace and Elain shivered at the groan Azriel let out. His eyes shut as if he was savoring this moment and the feel of her. Elain hips moved against his finger, which was rubbing her through the lace, the tip of his finger almost touching her swollen clit. 

Needy mewling sounds started escaping from Elain’s lips. 

“I can feel how hot and wet your pussy is,” Azriel said, looking at her through half-open, heavy lids. “I bet it tastes fucking delicious.” 

“I-I never get this wet.” Elain said, her cheeks burning. 

Azriel couldn’t stop the male pride that threatened to tear him apart. 

“You only get this wet for me?” Azriel asked, his voice laced with possessiveness and  his fingers working overtime. 

“Yes.” Elain said, feeling her orgasm mounting, and didn’t even try to hide her disappointment as Azriel stopped his movements. 

“Would you rather have my fingers or my mouth?” Azriel asked, his eyes dark. 

“Mouth.” Elain mutters, flushing harder as Azriel pulled away her panties, at the wetness that was coming out of her and clung to the lace.

Azriel tossed the scrap of fabric over his shoulders and moved under the covers, and Elain could feel his humid breath dance across her wet center - could feel the shadow of his mouth against her lips. 

“Wait!” Elain called out, and Azriel immediately popped up, the blankets over his head as he looked at her with a blank, slightly worried expression. 

“Did you change your mind?” He asked evenly, and Elain knew that if she asked, then he would move on and act as if this never happened. 

“No,” Elain shook her head. “I just want to see you. Us. This.” 

Something shuttered over Azriel’s face, but he nodded and the two of them tossed aside the bedding so that Elain had an unobstructed view. 

She leaned back onto her elbow, her chin forward as she looked down. 

Azriel spread her legs wide, his large hands on both of her thighs, as his eyes feasted on her dripping core. 

His eyes met hers from his position between her legs - his eyes gleaming from lust - and he deliberately ran his tongue up her slit. His eyelids nearly shut in pleasure. 

“Ohh.” Elain moaned, her hips arching off the bed, but Azriel kept her in place with his hands. 

His tongue repeated the motion and Elain felt herself panting. 

Her hands snaked into Azriel’s dark curls, pulling slightly, needing something to grab onto. 

Azriel’s eyes darkened at the movement, and coaxed a moan out of Elain and he slowly slid his tongue into her channel. 

“Yes.” Elain sighed, her heart pounding as his tongue thrust in and out of her. “Yes.” 

He groaned against her, sending vibrations through her core and causing Elain’s hips to jerk. 

Azriel pulled back, his lips wet and plump, and brought one hand up to work her with his long fingers. 

“You taste so fucking good.” Azriel said breathlessly before diving back to between her legs. Using both his tongue and fingers to tease her into a frenzy - and eventually Azriel stopped trying to control her hips and let Elain ride his face. Her fingers pushing his face deeper into her pussy. 

“Fuck,” Elain cursed, as Azriel fingers hit the sensitive spot deep within her. “Right there - yes!” She screamed and his fingers fucked her faster. 

Her eyes were clenched as pleasure seeped through her, only to go wide as Azriel took her clit between his lips and sucked hard. 

Her toes curled as she came undone. 

Her body went limp as her breathing turned harsh as the last of her orgasm rushed through her. 

“I - that - thank you, Azriel.” Elain panted, forcing her heavy lids to open as she looked at him. 

Azriel licked his lips and he made his way up the bed. His breathing was heavy and there was a noticeably large tent in his pajama pants.  

“Don’t thank me,” Azriel said as he laid next to her. His hair stuck in every which way thanks to Elain’s fingers, and he wrapped one hand around her body to press them close together. “I enjoyed that way too fucking much.” 

Elain bit down on her lip, her eyes dropping to his pants. 

“May I?” She asked in a soft voice. 

“Only if you want to.” Azriel said, and Elain met his eyes briefly before cupping him through the flannel of his pants. 

He groaned deeply and pressed himself into her hands. 

Elain moved her hand to slide beneath the waistband of his pants and exposed his erection - and nearly came again at the sight of it. Its purple head had a bead of pre-cum seeping out of it and she could see veins extending along the shaft before disappearing underneath the fabric. 

She licked her lips and ran her hand slowly up and down his length. She knew her fingers couldn’t wrap around it even if she tried, so she slowly stroked him. 

Her eyes met his as she worked his erection, and he stared at her so intently, as if he couldn’t believe that Elain’s hands were on him. His breath warmed her face and she could feel his chest moving up and down, but Elain kept her pace steady - squeezing gently every once in a while - but not wanting this moment to end. 

“Do you like this?” Elain asked. 

“Too fucking much,” Azriel said in a heavy voice. “You’re going to ruin me, sweetheart.” 

Elain gasped at his words, her thumb smearing the liquid at the tip of his cock - and that one tiny movement pushed him over the edge. He came, coating her hand as she worked him. 

Spent, Azriel tugged her closer to his side, pulling the discarded blankets over their bodies. 

Elain held her hand out, his orgasm sliding down her skin, and Azriel was about to apologize but stopped as she brought her hand to her mouth and licked. Her pink tongue collecting his seed, and it took everything in Azriel not to take her right there. 

She licked at her hand again, and met his eyes. 

“Next time you’ll come in my mouth.” 

“If you’re not careful,” Azriel said, leaning to grab a napkin from the cart next to the bed and then took her hand to clean it off. “That’s going to be sooner than you think.” 

Elain squirmed next to him. 

He tossed the napkin away and turned back to Elain. 

“That was magical.” She said quietly, almost sheepishly. 

“Better than…fish?” Azriel couldn’t stop himself from asking, and Elain rolled her eyes. 

“Much better,” She said, her face bright red. “I’ve never come like that before.” 

An arrogant smirk appeared on his face and Elain hid her face in his chest. 

“Goodnight.” She murmured, bringing a leg up to wrap around his hips. 

Azriel stretched to turn the lamp off, the glow of moonlight on a bed of snow snuck through the curtains, but he soon found himself back to Elain - his hand resting on her soft thigh. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” He whispered into her hair.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hehe, I couldn't not post something for the holiday season! You guys know I love Christmas and winter too much not to write something seasonal :) . It's been so long since I've posted that I'm not going to be tagging anyone! Please share if you enjoyed this and let me know your thoughts! I'm wishing all of you a Merry Christmas <3

[aureli-us]

tesfest day 6: mirror

hello all!!! i haven't been posting these on tumblr but i really enjoyed writing this one, so i figured why not 😎 maybe i'll post the rest after tesfest is done! otherwise they are all on my ao3 :3

This time, when he walked by the tall, slender mirror in their bedroom, he actually stopped.

He avoided mirrors if he could, rarely ever checked himself prior to going anywhere or doing anything. If Tharya complimented him on their way out, then he knew he'd done fine. But he hated it, his own stupidity with these things. It was utterly trivial. In Apocrypha he had moaned and wept and prayed for a mirror to remember his face by, anything to grant him his reflection that he had forgotten. And now that he walked so freely amongst mirrors large and small, he disliked them.

But he made himself stand in front of this one. One of the great joys of his mornings was watching from bed as Tharya got ready in front of this mirror. One of his great joys in the evening was watching her undress and step into her sleeping clothes, watching her inspect herself in this mirror. She did it so easily. It was foolish of him to run from his own reflection like a scared deer. He forced his gaze to his own body, the vessel he so often felt...unnattached from. The thing he had lost sight of in Apocrypha as well, not for lack of a reflection, but for lack of its preservation. Hermaeus Mora had ravaged his skin and bones countless times, torn him, knit him together, touched him, split him, crushed him.

Yet the mirror showed his body as whole. How strange. It was...different than he thought he remembered from the Merethic Era. He'd been a bit thinner then, the muscles in his stomach more prominent. Now his midriff was cushioned by a healthy layer of fat, though he was sure if he tensed, it would all go rigid. The muscle had not vanished, just changed shape. His chest had perhaps been a bit smaller, his arms not as big. He could heard Morokei's voice in the back of his mind, a fleeting memory from his childhood, at the point where Miraak had learned that if he would never be taller than his peers, he would have to be stronger. Aelskling, you've gotten bigger! He thought those words and found himself...brightened by their presence. He was sure Morokei would say the same now - in the Merethic Era he had been strong, but less hulking, less dense.

His legs had never been so thick either, but as he examined them they were nicely proportionate to the rest of him. Faint stretch marks decorated his inner thighs. Softer at rest, a good cushion for the woman who so often occupied his lap. And...quite long. Had they always been like that? He supposed it made sense because of his height. Atmorans were a long-limbed people. Still, he peered at them in the mirror, dressed in only his smallclothes and with tight concentration behind his eyes. Both Tharya and Bhijirio had remarked before that he looked taller the less clothes he wore. He didn't know how that happened, but it seemed a fair statement. Here, now, the optical illusion of wearing less did seem to make him...a bit bigger than he thought he was.

Hesitantly he lifted one arm, curled it, and watched his bicep contract, bulging against his forearm before he stretched the arm out. Thick veins decorated the hinge of his shoulder and shot down into his arm. Veins that carried real blood, not the sludge of Apocrypha. Strange. He put the arm down to twist it, examining his tricep and elbow in the mirror. All strangely mundane parts of the body, yet he couldn't help as if he'd never seen them before. Holding his arm like this made it press into his chest, creasing his pectorals together and disfiguring the long scar slashing over them. Warily he held his chest in both hands, trying to emulate the sensation of the way Tharya did it. No, that was ridiculous. He didn't need to grope himself just for- for research.

But that scar...as he traced it, the open-mouthed concentration in his face settled into grim deliberation. That scar had almost torn his heart out. Almost ruptured his lungs and ripped through his ribs. He was lucky his healers had grabbed him when they did, otherwise he would have surely lost his life to Paarthurnax that day. The old worm had left him to bleed out in the lush foothill they fought upon. Perhaps he had known it was the crux of his Thu'um, its home nestled to his heart between his ribs. Perhaps he had merely been living up to his name.

Silently he let his hand slip up to the base of his neck, but immediately it felt itchy just sitting there. He didn't like things around his throat. He wore his necklaces loose and low because of it. He let Tharya touch his neck, but she never held it in the way he did hers. A pang of guilt slithered into his gut at that. That didn't seem fair.

He stepped a bit closer to the mirror and bent down to examine his face closely in the reflective silver. It was difficult, but he felt he must. Carefully he took in his eyes and nose, his undefined cheekbones. The neat edge of his beard. Absently he ran his fingers through it - soft, trimmed, and oiled. Little things. He thanked the gods he'd been blessed with the ability to grow one so fully. Vahlok always used to have a little stubborn patch below his chin that refused to grow. The memory made him smile however faintly, chuckling to himself, but he zeroed in as quickly as possible to catch the expression before it faded. Gods. What a dreary sight. He remembered smiling with his teeth once upon a time, laughing freely. Did he always look so...bland? Poor Tharya.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it a bit to let it fall looser. He didn't have Althëa's curls, but his hair had little waves in its inner layers that sometimes curled if he let it grow long enough. It, like his beard, was one of the very few things about his appearance he truly cared about. More for habit than any real love of his own visage. Humming curiously, he decided to comb his hair back with his fingers, pushing away the little pieces that usually framed his forehead. He wanted to know why Tharya always said he looked so different with his hair swept back.

The change was small, but very noticeable. Even removing those few strands seemed to...open his features more. He realized she was absolutely right - it did look good. As he straightened out and examined himself in the mirror again, he hardly recognized his own face. It all seemed to flow differently.

His concentration was broken by the door coming open, but, in a brief panic, his feet remained rooted to the spot. Gods, he would look like an idiot standing here. No one did such foolish things unless they were daft in the head. He found himself warming with - what was that? Shame? The guilt of being caught? - as Tharya stepped in, still dressed from the day.

"Hi, beautiful," she said easily, smiling at him. Heat creeped into his neck. Gods, how many thousands of years since he'd blushed? He almost wanted to laugh at himself. Almost. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I am...I had a bath."

"That's exactly what I'm about to do," she snickered, joining him to put her hands on his hips. She squeezed him lovingly, and he noticed for the first time how that little extra bit of fat that he hadn't had before pooled into her palms so perfectly. "You look spooked." Her hands traversed his body so easily, drawing up his arms, rounding his shoulders and settling on his chest. He had admitted to her before she seemed to know his body better than he did, and it was true. She knew the strongest parts of him, and she knew the softest. She knew where to touch him to make him crumble into her palms and where exactly to touch him to inflate him, to make him stand straight. She knew how to hug him to make him feel the thousands of eyes on his back retreat. She knew how to stroke his hair and trace his face to tease him into sleeping. She knew the places on his body that had never healed completely in Tel Mithryn, and she knew which scars he still felt the most, and which she could kiss. "Everything okay?"

He blinked at her and then merely nodded, feeling dazed at how many things she knew of him, how he could so easily list them. He liked to think he returned it, but she had a certain intimate knowledge of his body that he simply could not have with hers. She had been the one to take care of him for so long, after all. It only made sense. He glanced in the mirror again - if she knew him so well, then there was only one question his curiosity begged to ask.

Wordlessly he held her hips and turned her around, watching her peer at him in the mirror.

"Tell me what you see," he whispered. "Please."

[nanqmies]

Vashwood x Reader

cw: voyeurism, cunilingus, mentions of facials, p in v , and blow jobs. gn amab!reader , afab!vash, implied threesome, masturbation, reader is a little bit of a pervert ngl

wc: 0.4k

a/n: just a quick drabble cause this was in my mind, i fr wrote this at 11pm >_< , i pinky promise I’m almost done wif my full fic!! please be patient. i hope you enjoy my work.

please read my pinned before interacting with me!

nsfw under the cut~

imagine vash n wolfwood like a bunch of sinners giving small touches to eachother, his hands leading down to vash’s and sliding his fingers in, nick rubbing his rough fingertips over vash’s sensitive clit and rolling it in small circles causing him to mewl in pleasure. Maybe he’ll even pull down his slacks and place vash’s thighs over his shoulders as he runs his tongue flatly along his slick folds, vash knits his fingers through his dark colored hair and urges him to keep going.

Of course he’ll oblige, teasing his bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue while his fingers slide in to stretch out his tight pussy. Maybe that makes you a pervert for watching, your hand wrapped tightly around your cock whilst rubbing the tip with your thumb. The pre dribbling from your slit proves your thoughts right, watching your closest friends being intimate together from the crack in the door. Vash’s moans sound angelic in your ears, you pray he’d sound like that when you’re inside him. His voice breaking as he repeats your name over and over while your hands grip his hips and fuck into him roughly.. Nick slides another finger inside him, curling them to perfectly hit his g-spot, vash groans loudly and puts a hand to cover his mouth to keep in his sounds of pleasure.

Wolfwood’s always been good with his mouth, in bed or meaning his sharp tongue. His lips are always so perfect and plump, you’ve thought about them wrapped around your cock more times than you’re proud to admit. His eyes filling with tears when your tip hits the back of your throat, you’d moan shakily feeling his tongue run over the underside of your cock, tracing over every sensitive vein. You’d pull out and paint his pretty face with your thick seed, you shouldn’t be thinking of a priest in this way. Your breathing is heavy while rutting into your hand, feeling close at the sight of vash’s face contorting in bliss as his climax is near, god you want to feel his warmth around you, nicks mouth on you. You want them both badly, with a silent groan you finish in your hand. Covering your fingers in hot ropes of cum, you feel ashamed, like a pervert even. You pull up your pants and rush away from the cracked door to clean up.

Nick wipes his mouth from vash’s orgasm, he glances back at the door wondering if he’ll ever tell you they left it cracked on purpose.

@nanqmies © 2024

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @henbased and @marivenah for some wip goodness (thank you beloveds)

tagging: @cloudofbutterflies92 @aceghosts @galaxycunt @ocdemon-747 @unholymilf @wrathfulrook @amalkavian @fourlittleseedlings @harmonyowl @mccarthycormac @mxanigel @madparadoxum @carlosoliveiraa @confidentandgood @afarcry5fromstraight @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @statichvm @peppertheferalraccoon @josephslittledeputy @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @poetikat @cassieuncaged @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt (no pressure of course)

writing tag list here to be added/removed

well i'm back with some of chapter 51 of American Beasts. It's Kit and the kiddos again. I've shared little snippets of this here and there, but this is a bit more cohesive:

“You’re not our mom!”

Her jaw tightened on reflex, her brows knitting together to meet with the lines that creased there. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know that,” she muttered. 

“So then just leave us alone.”

“I can’t,” her voice broke into a soft whisper. “Please, let me take care of you.”

A little chubby hand reached out from under the bed and gripped onto the toe of Kit’s boot, fingertips stained with blood from when the little girl had held her earlier. She lowered to her knees, dropping down to her hands to look at the faces of the children. Placing her hand on top of Quinn’s, and stroking the toddler’s hand with her thumb. The frozen chill on the child’s skin mellowing her, making her heart ache.

She couldn’t bear the thought of becoming what her father had been to her as a child. Someone to fear rather than respect. A God whose love and mercy she had never received. Kindness never shown. They didn’t deserve that life, she wasn’t so sure even she did.

“Please?” She begged Carter, pleading with a child as she sat bent over in supplication. Her piercing stare turned glassy as she looked at the little boy. “Please come out,” she whispered, her voice trembling and weak as if she were praying for an angel’s assistance in her hour of need. “Please, I promise I can be better.”

Kit wasn’t sure why she said it or who exactly she was saying it to. Was it a promise to herself, to the children, to God? Or some version of the future she so desperately clung to, the one where everything would turn out for the better, where the man she needed lived and there was hope and light at the end of the tunnel and not just more darkness – never ending and all consuming.

“Please.” Her eyes flitted over the boy’s face, desperation sinking into her. There had to be some version of this scenario where things worked. God wouldn’t have sent her here just to have it all go wrong again, he wasn’t even that cruel to Abraham. 

Carter sighed and started to crawl out, while Quinn stretched out her arms the way an infant would when it was desperate to be held, letting herself be swung up into Kit’s waiting arms to be cradled against her chest.  Kit’s heart beat faster as she held Quinn tight to her and looked between both of the children. “I know that you’ve had your heads filled with stories about me and the family. But I swear to you, I swear to you both I will protect you with every last breath in my body if you just trust me. Please, come outside, come with me back home, come with me where I can keep you safe. Safe and protected…innocent and pure.”

Safe.

Repeating the word over and over, reminding herself she didn’t have to be that monstrous thing, that abomination that took the lives of those who had yet to even live. She could be trusted, she could be good. She wasn’t bad. She was good. God, she swore she could be good. If not for her, she’d do it for them. 

Her hands shook as she clung to the toddler in her arms, leading the two children outside where vehicles waited and bodies lay scattered on the ground. Death had followed them up into the mountains, to where refuge was meant to keep them protected from the violence of the cult. Guttural moans and the last cries of pain shouted out before being silenced forever echoed up into the canopy above, but Kit remained unfazed. The mysterious woman who’d come to find them was unshaken by the horror, standing silhouetted by the lights of the truck, basked in darkness except for the halo that surrounded her body.

As Kit placed Quinn back down on the ground beside her brother, Carter was quick to wrap his sister in his arms. Staring out at the faces of men with stringy hair, and unkempt beards, their clothes tattered and worn, some of them even marked upon their foreheads by the cross of the Project, he did his best to stay brave, watching them move around the grounds of his family home with weapons in their hands. 

Kit’s void-like stare focused on how his eyes traveled over the members of the hunting parties that had come to find her, refusing to let fear overcome him. He was strong, there was no denying that fact. “Don’t look at them, okay? Look at me, Carter,” she cooed. His dark eyes falling back to meet hers. “I can’t in good conscience leave you and your sister here alone. You’re starving, you’re cold. You’re babies. You’ve done a great job keeping yourselves alive, but you can’t live on bread and peanut butter alone.”

“We’re not going anywhere with you. We’re not gonna be doctornated.”

She kneeled down once more, no longer towering above them, they were eye to eye. Equals. Bathed in the headlights, she looked even more the angel before him, red hair shining with gold, totally illuminated as she held out her hand towards him, palm facing upwards. “You can trust me. No harm will ever come to you. As long as I’m alive no one will ever lay a finger on you or your sister.”

Carter froze, his eyes ticking back and forth as he questioned everything he was taught and what he knew. But his answer didn’t matter, not as Quinn stepped forward and placed her little hand in Kit’s, looking up at the woman with giant brown eyes. 

“Quinn! Get back here.” He reached out for his sister, but it didn’t matter, she’d already made her choice. “We can’t, Quinny.”

Chin hugging waves of brown hair fluttered over the little girl’s shoulder as she turned to look at her brother. “Don’t wanna stay.” Climbing Kit like a koala, the little girl locked her arms and legs around the redhead’s torso. “Take us home,” she whispered, nuzzling her head against Kit’s wounded chest.  

Swallowing heavily, looking down at the little bundle in pink fleece pajamas, warmth spread throughout her again like a light that shone from the little girl into her. Stroking her hand through the girl’s soft curls, for a brief moment she leaned down and sniffed Quinn’s head, breathing in the scent of her until Kit’s lungs were filled to the brim. 

Holding out her hand towards Carter, Kit gave him a gentle smile. “I’m not leaving you behind. You and your sister are a package deal. I intend to keep it that way.”

“I’m not joining the cult.”

“No one said you have to.”

Carter’s eyes lowered from hers, his focus turning to her hand. Standing there, arguing with himself in his head. The same indomitable will she had, one that refused to give up without a fight. She was already swelling with pride about him. 

“I’m not trying to replace your mom and dad, I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

“Why?”

Her eyes teared up, choking back the guilt that had weighed on her for so long. Biting back on the fear and the anger and all the nightmares that had plagued her for years. Those dark brown eyes that watched her from the dark recesses, staring out blankly, empty – haunting her. Kit’s voice was a hoarse croak as she spoke, “I’ve made my mistakes. I hurt people. Innocent people. I can’t have you on my conscience too.”

His eyes fell, face filled with concern, and then without another word, he stepped forward and took her hand. Her fingers clasped to his and she tilted her head, not quite believing it had really happened. A nervous smile curled her lips as she stood and led them towards the waiting vehicles.

[moongothic]

So after I finished my orange-black blanket I had just a smidge of the yarn left from that project. And I spent a good little while just trying to figure out what to do with it, eventually deciding that fingerless gloves would make for a quick side/scrap project

So I very carefully divided my leftover yarn evenly so I'd have two balls of each color for each glove. I was worried I wouldn't have enough yarn for the project and wanted to be sure I'd be able to make two evenly sized gloves without having to unravel anything etc, so dividing the yarn ahead of time felt like a good place to start. I was worried for nothing though, because I ended up having leftovers anyways, it just be like that sometimes But I got to knitting, and because I was worried of running out of yarn, I chose to knit them top-to-bottom. That way if I'd be able to make them as long as I wanted on the wrist when I got there, instead of having to figure out how long I wanted the cuffs to be and then praying I'd have enough yarn for the rest, y'know? (Again, this ended up being unnecessary but hell if I knew when I started)

Knitting these top-to-bottom did make figuring out how to attach the thumb a bit tricky though, definitely required some futzing around but I figured it out eventually (though, admitedly it's been so many months since I made these at this point that I don't even remember what I did and how to attach the thumbs lmao, this photo is all you got) (I do remember fucking it up the first time though, the seam being visible on the outside, so I had to detach the thumb and then reattach it the other way around lol)

Now, two things about the knitting process: First, I couldn't tell this at the time while I was knitting, but I later did realize the leftover Tynn Linen (cotton/linen/viscose blend) was not a great pick for these gloves. Because while the gloves did fit perfectly while I was knitting, after they were done and I had gotten to try them on a few times, they started stretching pretty bad

This would've been easy to fix, just frog the whole thing and start over. But. I just could not muster the energy, for the life of me, to unravel these fingerless gloves. This was supposed to be a quick sideproject to use scrap yarn, this was not like "a big, important thing". I just didn't want to give them that much effort. (Especially because I would've had to unravel them entirely (thumbs aside), since the size issue starts at how big my cast-on was to begin with) (But to be fair, these were fairly fast and easy to knit so it's not like it would've taken a lot of time to reknit them at all. Again, I just did not feel like it)

Forgot to take photos, but here's what I did to "fix" the issue; I folded the excess fabric inside and sewed it down on the inside. (And I added some elastic thread to the top of the glove so it cinches in)

Like so (but sewn down in orange so it isn't visible)

But yeah this yarn may have been a piss poor choise for this project. You live and you learn

Now the second issue I had was that. Like.

I did not like the solid orange. Ideally, these would have been striped gloves, but because I was so worried about not having enough yarn I could not bring myself to commit to trying to do stripes. Indeed, in the end I totally could've done stripes, but I did not know that while knitting these. But the solid orange still BOTHERED me. Like it just didn't look good, it needed something extra to it to break up the solid color

Now I had recently come across duplicate stitching, and I figured, why not give that a shot and see if I could add like, somekinda detail on the gloves that way. Couldn't really think of what to add though so I figured a funky cross-looking thing could be fun and uh

Yeah the first try turned out quite stumpy lmao. (Sidenote, this wasn't intentional at all but the cross glove does give D. Gray-Man lmao, that's a happy accident right there) Fortunately it was quite easy to add to the top and bottom tips to make it more even. But yeah I did have to learn that knit fabrics don't make perfect square grids the hard way. I chose to do a moon on the other glove and I did try to compensate for the ratio on it ahead of time and it kinda backfired but it's fiiiiiine, I could not bring myself to really care anymore, again. This was supposed to be a small side-project

But uh yeah, they certainly turned out. An absolute trainwreck of a quick sideproject but they're done and kinda cute in their own right!

(You can see how much better my duplicate stitch technique got when I got to the right glove tho lol, the inside is much neater)

[orangeboulevard]

And The Cities Burned (Oneshot)

Day nine of kinktober, dayumm. Smut, religious talk, triggering elements in this one such as stalking and grape, if that is potentially harmful please dont read. Monster in this one, also can be read as a reader insert? spooky!! Dynamics: monster x human, yandere/stalker and their darling Content: stalking + biting/marking Word Count: 702

It's true what they say: by the time you've realised I'm hunting you, it's already too late; I've been following you for days. 

You're so loud, purposefully attention-seeking in everything that you do, in the way that you that your footsteps fall heavily onto the slated paths around my forest, in the way that your breath comes out in measured deep exhales, in the way you slam your door shut when you return to your home, and in the way you languidly peel your sweaty tight running clothes by your open window. 

You're inviting me in with your whistling, you decided to take a late-night jog by my forest yet again. I've had to restrain myself the last two times. My thighs still bear the deep claw marks. I don't want to be like this. I don't know why God saw it fit to burden me with such a cursed mind, I'm crying at night, praying for these... impulses, to go away. I want to look at you and wish only that you go home safe and sound, far away from my forest and the other creatures lurking here. I wish not to look at you and think of the most depraved and disgusting things; this is your fault, if you would just stay away...

Maybe God has sent me to punish you. You are Sodom and Gomorrah reincarnate and I shall be the cleansing rain. You are required to feel the burn and choke on the sulphur if you wish to atone and be forgiven. I am your reckoning, I am your saviour. 

You should be thanking me when I tackle you to the ground and drag you into the depths uncharted, not screaming. You're being too loud again. One look at my red eyes has you shutting up. Finally. You're prettier when you don't speak, when those sultry lips are curled into a frightened frown, your eyes wide and watery. 

I stop to coo at you, my cheek brushes against yours -I ignore your flinch-, You mustn't be scared, I am going to deliver you to your salvation. You're an unholy creature of seduction, Jezebel's bastard daughter, Baal's seed. If it is not His will, why does he not save you? Why have I not been struck down? This is His will then, he has abandoned you to me. 

So don't squirm away when I pull at your clothes. I said don't. You turn your face away from me now, laying still, tears falling over the high arches of your cheeks. Submitting yourself. Good. The sight of your bare body is not foreign to me, yet it does not fail each time to arrest my attention, captivated by those gently painted curves, those hand-sculpted mounds of tainted flesh. The red crown of my teeth in your shoulder is my mark of Cain, a promise: I will purify you. 

You cry out when I enter you, the stretch no doubt is a searing pain, but you'll live. My body looms over yours completely, you're sizably quite smaller. No matter, your body will heal. When my hips start to rock, your hands grip my chest, your nails digging in, I allow it. Your face is scrunched up, your brows knitted and your eyes squeezed shut. It hurts, I know, I know. My cheek brushes against yours again, I coo softly at your harsh yelps of pain.

I know you're still adjusting but I need more already. I am a slave to my degenerate mind, this is your effect. My hips slamming into you more relentlessly, the obscene sounds echo, from the way that you're screaming now, you act as if I'm splitting you in two. Your entire body moves up when I thrust into you, I have to pull you back down, further onto me. 

I start to lick at the bloody bite mark I left on your shoulder, I'm repeatedly hitting your G spot because of how big I am, it's starting to turn your screams and cries into reluctant whimpers and then moans. 

[cocrante]

Walking the Wire

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

warning: it contains significant spoilers, please do not read it unless you have read the third book of "The Trials of Apollo". If you decide to proceed, I will not be held responsible.

summary: The dreams at Camp Half-Blood have vanished. Gentle nights embrace the campers in their hours of sleep, but just as the dreams have disappeared, so have the prophecies. For a mortal, this might not mean anything—nightmares suddenly gone, sweet nights wrapped them in the warmth of the sheets—but for a demigod, dreams are the bridge that connects them between the mortal and immortal worlds, an annoying bell that keeps them constantly on alert, and without those to disturb their nights, it was like losing their compass. But not everyone is without dreams, if "dream" this can be called, one is still allowed to travel in the dream world, perhaps out of pity and compassion of the Fates.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Saturday. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 4]

WILL COULDN'T STOP NICO'S DREAMS, BUT HE COULD PREPARE HIM AN HERBAL INFUSION TO HELP HIM SLEEP AFTER THEM. Together, they went to the camp infirmary. Nico didn't have to do anything, just hold a few bottles and pass him the dropper when asked. Will searched his cabinet for the ingredients he needed to brew the sleep aid, scanning each vial until he found the most suitable one for the occasion. There were many infusions for campers to sleep, from simple herbal teas to more complex remedies. Will had to prepare the latter.

Nico had never realized how long and complex the preparation of all those infusions, tonics, ointments, and whatever else was needed in a field infirmary was.

"It won't take long" he reassured Nico, with the confidence of someone who had been preparing those remedies for a lifetime.

He poured a few drops, not one more, into a vial, diluting it with another slightly thicker liquid. He added aromatic herbs, berry juice extracts, stirred, and boiled for a few minutes. He blew over it, and before sealing it, whispered some words in ancient Greek. Nico understood it must have been an ancient blessing. He sealed the vial with a cork stopper, handing it to his boyfriend.

"Just three drops before bed" Nico nodded, looking grimly at the still warm bottle. "It doesn't taste bad" he reassured him, knowing Nico wasn't fond of medicines.

"Thank you, Will" he smiled, confident that he would be able to sleep even after seeing the Fates.

They spent the whole afternoon together until evening, when they said goodbye after the bonfire to go to their respective cabins. Will reminded him to take only three drops of the infusion he had prepared, sure as ever that the next day he would find Nico a bit brighter.

Nico crossed the threshold of his cabin, the long shadows of the room stretching ominously on the walls; he didn't like the atmosphere his gloomy cabin gave off. He changed into pajamas and got into bed. He took just three of those drops, praying to the gods that they would truly work. Shortly after, he fell asleep.

The scenario was always the same, an immense dark corridor, whispers in his ears, the clanging of scissors, the knitting of destiny spreading all around. He was sweating, something that had never happened to him in a dream, if that could even be called one.

He approached, retracing the path he had taken for several nights now.

"I'm here" he said, realizing at that moment that the Fates had given him the ability to speak. A cold light illuminated the three old women. They were all watching him that night without saying a word. They held the embroidered scarf in their old hands; it was beautiful, adorned with gold threads, with designs that told a story Nico didn't understand, written in a language older and known only to those three old ladies. He wanted to speak, to ask whose it was, why they were showing him all this, what he had to do with that story, but the words wouldn't come out. The elderly ladies approached the boy in a flash, holding the scarf between their hands. To Nico's surprise, he suddenly felt calm in front of the three old ladies.

The son of Hades held his breath when Atropos lifted the scissors, polished for the moment. "He made his choice" mellifluous Lachesis whispered, who had woven his fate, the architect of it all. Nico wanted to scream: "Who? Who made his choice?" but the words wouldn't come out. He was stuck, he could only watch. "The time has come" Atropos cut the thread.

Nico woke up in tears, still hearing the sound of the scissors in his ears, the hoarse voices of the old women in the background repeating to him that he had made a choice and so his time had come to an end.

The next morning, Nico was unrecognizable. All night he had asked himself the same question, wondering who that person was. He alternated between thoughts and tears, unable to find any peace. Unable to find any answers. He knew Death, he knew what it was like, he appreciated its honesty. He had spent years in his father's realm, wandering through that arid, dry, inhospitable land, with the souls of the dead passing through him. He had heard the screams of the desperate, the groans of the condemned; he knew everything that would come after him. And yet, he didn't know what those words meant, he couldn't give a face to it, a name; nothing could lead him back to anyone. In his memory, he remembered blurred those letters sewn on the scarf, letters he didn't understand where they came from, they were ancient, perhaps older than the gods themselves.

Will looked at his face with regret. He thought that infusion would be strong enough to let him sleep peacefully.

"It's not your fault" Nico reassured him. "I have the feeling they wanted me to know" he said grimly, unable to look at his boyfriend's perfect face anymore.

Will took his hand, hating himself for being so powerless and not being able to do much more. He didn't know anything about what Nico had been through, he didn't know the extent of the external and internal wars he had to fight. He only knew that for years he had faced those battles alone, with no one by his side to help him or free him from that heavy burden; perhaps out of habit, he believed he was still alone. Will wanted to prove him wrong.

"After breakfast, come to the infirmary" it wasn't a question, but a request. He wanted to be with his boyfriend, at least he could do that much.

"I wanted to go to the arena" he replied, lifting those black and tired eyes from the table.

"With the energy you have now, you wouldn't even be able to lift a sword" he commented, looking him in the eyes, as if challenging him to prove him wrong.

Nico let go of his hand, hating it when he used his healing gift to control him.

"Will, I'm fine, let me go to the arena" he sighed, really needing some time for himself that morning.

"Boyfriend's orders" the Apollo's son crossed his arms, it wasn't negotiable, and Nico knew it. He also knew how much he liked using that phrase in his presence. "If you faint, at least I'll be close by" he explained, managing to convince his boyfriend.

They spent another long day together, and Nico could only be more grateful to him for saving him from himself and his thoughts. Throughout the day, he listened to him talk about his dream, what he had seen, how the scarf was made. It could have been anyone they knew, any of their friends who had lived such a worthy life. A scarf so distinct, colorful, and elaborate could belong to— but Nico shook his head violently, as if trying to rid himself of that macabre thought. Will had thought the same thing.

In the afternoon, Will dragged the son of Hades to archery practice, by now, the children of Apollo were convinced he absolutely had to learn to shoot with it. Nico cursed himself for going there last summer, he could have pretended to be sick to see him again and ask him out.

Will kept an eye on him as he did with the other demigods at camp, correcting his horrible arm posture. It was easy for Will to criticize him since he had no trouble posing with the bow. He wasn't as fast as Kayla—her arrows shot before they were even drawn. That girl was incredible.

The son of Hades tried again until he ran out of arrows in his quiver, Will was really satisfied with his student's progress.

They all gathered at the same table for dinner. If anyone had asked him, he would have denied it, but he had missed the energy emanating from the voices of the children of Apollo; energy that was also unleashed in front of the bonfire, encouraging everyone to join in the singing. Nico refused, preferring to roast marshmallows by the fire and delight in his companion's voice.

The campfire songs went on for a few more hours, ending with curfew. With a heavy sigh, the campers got up, going their separate ways.

Nico and Will said goodbye as they did every evening, agreeing to meet again tomorrow at sunrise. They separated their hands, which were intertwined, saying goodbye one last time before going in opposite directions.

The son of Hades sighed when he reached his cabin, and looking at the entrance, he could almost hear the mocking laughter of those figures holding the door, as if they already knew what awaited him that night. He took a deep breath and entered.

He changed his clothes, took the drops Will had lovingly prepared for him. Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes, letting the darkness envelop him with its cloak. That would be his last nightmare.

[CONTENTS]

prologue

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7

↬ masterlist

[himbos-hotline]

Name: We only write by the moon Word Count: 1000 words Ship: "Hangman" Adam Page/Kenny Omega [ship: he could make me golden] Characters: "Hangman" Adam Page, Kenny Omega Rating: General audences Prompt: @wrestleprompts [Week three:A proposal on the beach] Triggers: None! Authors note: Kenny takes Adam skinny dipping...in Feburary...look nobody said he had good ideas! Tag List: @ithunderstorm @itsnoosetome @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @melancholycowboy @josiewrites @basil-the-evil-cowboy @ss-trashboat @ambroseasylum @wrestlezaynia @banannabethchase @bellicosebunny @mrsmatt @racerchix21 @anairbri @mistress-omega-majesty

READ ON AO3

Adam feels weird about being on a beach in February. He finds it weirder that he’s strolling rather unsteadily down the stony pathway during the night, but there was something adding an adorable buzz to Kenny’s voice that all Adam could do was smile and nod. He tugs tighter at his jacket, running ring-worn nails down the fluffy fabric. There’s wind that brushes past his ears and a chill that paints a river of red across his cheeks. He squints against the streetlights, trying to at least spot anything that shows that Kenny was also wandering from gravel to moon-kissed sand. 

“Cmon Kenny where are ya?” He asks under his breath, half expecting someone else's voice to echo back to him. He pauses, letting his feet sink into the somewhat warm sand. The beach is empty, just an endless sea and sand that stretches on for what feels like forever. Adam wonders if Kenny is standing at the opposite end of the beach and silently prays that he isn’t. Sand sticks to his bare feet and Adam looks over his shoulder, wondering if it's too late to jog back to his car and grab his boots. 

“Adam!” Kenny’s voice rings out like a skylark at dawn and his arms wrap tightly around Adam's middle, face pressed securely into the dip between his boyfriend's shoulders. Kenny feels the anxious breath rush out of his lungs and steps back satisfyingly. “Where’s your shoes?” 

Adam glances down, lips pressing together when he spots that Kenny is wearing flip flops. “Car. We’re on the beach…” Kenny giggles and brushes his lips against the curve of Adam's jaw, the tip of his nose brushing against day-old itchy stubble. “You don't wear shoes at the beach..” Adam sounds like he’s trying to rationalize his choices and Kenny smiles, pinching his cheek like Adam was a child. Adam laughs and Kenny nods as if happy with the result. 

“Cmon I gotta show you something!” Joy paints itself so clear in his voice that Adam feels his knees go a little loose as love trickles slowly through his bloodstream. Kenny takes better to the sand than Adam does, he clings to his boyfriend's hand as if trying to keep Adam upright as his toes scuff against the sand. He’s never really been the one for the beach, his parents never took him a lot growing up. Adam preferred the farm and swimming in streams. He stares out at the sea over Kenny’s head and his eyebrows knit together. 

He must have stopped walking because Kenny tugs on his arm stubbornly returning to his side. He taps one finger into the middle of Adam’s palm. “Can you swim?” He asks, nodding towards the sea. Waves lap around the shoreline and Adam nods once, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Course I can swim. Don't you remember when we went to that lake by my farm?” Adam cuts Kenny a playful look, grinning at the soft pink that paints itself across the back of Kenny’s neck. A clear indicator that Kenny not only remembers but frequences the memory. He chuckles and stares back out at the sea. 

Kenny tugs once again on his arm, hard and stubborn enough that Adam’s head snaps to face him, tilted in confusion. “Cmon!” When Adam stares at him dumbfounded, Kenny chuckles and squirms out of hoodie. “Let's go swimming!” He kicks off his shoes, wiggles his toes into the sand and pulls his shirt half-way over his head, pausing when Adam raises an eyebrow. 

“Did you really invite me to the beach to go skinny dipping?” 

“Nobody’s gonna see.” 

Kenny’s bottom lip pokes out slightly before his face explodes into an energetic grin when Adam sighs, reaching out to pull Kenny’s shirt off fully. “The stuff I do for you hmm?” Adam hums, folding his jacket up to place it on the sand. 

“It's because you love me!” Kenny teases, leaning over to press a kiss to the back of Adam's now bare shoulder. “Plus the moon looks nice on your ass!” 

Adam bursts out laughing, resting his forehead against Kennys temple. “We could get arrested for this ya know.” He tucks a messy curl behind Kenny’s ear, presses a kiss against the hinge of his jaw and whispers “if you wanted to be in handcuffs, ya coulda just asked.” 

Kenny swats at his chest, fingers brushing against the fat on his hip. Adam grins and watches Kenny for a second, striding down the beach. The waves kiss at his ankles and after yet another check over his shoulder to make sure they are actually alone, Adam follows, awkwardly trying to cover himself with his hands. 

The water is aggressively cold, it presses wet, chilly kisses against Adams thighs and he squeaks. “It's cold!” He paddles up to Kenny, wrapping an arm around his side, his skins still obnoxiously warm against Adam's fingertips and if it was anyone other than Kenny, Adam would scowl and throw water in their face. But then, he wouldn’t be skinny-dipping in the sea with anyone other than Kenny, because he loves Kenny. 

He loves Kenny enough to let him splash by his side, sending ice cold water into his face and eyes. Sea salt tilts his lips and Adam just shakes his head. 

“You said you had a proposal?” Adam prompts sometime later, when they are still half dressed and laying under the stars. He rests his chin against the crook of his folded arm. Kenny’s eyes brush down his frame, he runs a finger across the middle of Adam’s back, tracing a pool of moonlight. 

Kenny leans over, presses soft kisses down the side of Adam’s face until his lips brush against his. They are still cold and Kenny nips at the salt-stained skin, smiling when Adam slowly opens his mouth and whines, silently begging Kenny to come closer. Kenny doesn’t and Adam all but nearly has to force his eyes open “What is it angel?” 

“Marry me?”

[gemmahale]

I have a dress a friend picked up for me from one of Target's summer releases...a year or two ago? Two I think.

It's this BEAUTIFUL coral red with ultramarine blue and black tropical leaves, but it also makes me feel like I'm being incredibly loud. (The fabric rustles in a way I don't entirely vibe with?) I'm praying I can still fit into it, but that's a different conversation.

My solution: knit a solid colored vest. I've had that idea since the 1st week with it.

Note the tense in that last sentence. I've had this dress for 2 years and I haven't gotten around to ordering the yarn and making this damn vest.

I think I will next month. (Budget allowing.) I'm tired of waiting or getting distracted by other things.

I want to have a bunch of vests I can layer over different pieces. I want my wardrobe to be a big pile of mix-and-match; like a capsule wardrobe but more colorful, I suppose? (The dreams I have for my wardrobe, sigh.)

And sure, I'll probably only ever wear that dress with a black or a blue vest, but at least I'll wear it.

I want my aesthetic to be Ms. Frizzle meets Plant Nerd meets Pin-up/Vintage, but I have a stretch to go before I get there mentally and wardrobe-wise.

[mof17]

My Dear Love Light - Tales of the Nightingale #1

4/8/24

My dear love, light

just for the time—you take to share with me- to bloom

But you don’t leave me alone, in my tomb—for flight

My little night-light

You stay with me

odd, shining and bright

And I pray you don’t go, so see-

For how I long to cling onto your dark, knitted clothing, that keep me warm at night

For your wings that stretch beyond the capabilities—for which my words cannot keep up with be-ing

That your words sing me lullabies—like none other, a mockingbird putting me to rest with all it’s might

That If you shared the same eyes I do 

Maybe you could see it too

My nightingale love light

I wish you are quite right

For me

[fundielicious-simblr]

(Lana's POV)

As we near being married for almost 9 months I've been trying to make more of an effort to cook a variety of recipes. My mother spent the last few months of my time at home teaching me how to cook and going over different recipes that I loved as a kid. I've been motivated to do more for Parker's sake growing up Casandra, Adalynn, and Macie did the cooking and their food tastes amazing so I'd like to be able to replicate that for Parker now that he's moved out of the house. My most recent experimentation has been a classic carbonara, I've never made one before so I was following the recipe to a T. Thankfully it came out amazing, it tasted like it was almost restaurant quality! With winter around the corner I'd like to get into the typical winter cuisine like soups and casseroles, growing up in the desert we never really got weather that was cold enough for typical winter food. Casandra has given me one of her many recipes for chicken casserole, due to busy schedules we can't meet for her to walk me through it so we're going to hope and pray that it turns out alright.

Parker's cousin Celeste got engaged just before harvestfest and already has her wedding planned for a few weeks time! I've been helping in any way that I can whenever my schedule allows it, and recently we've been each others workout partners. Annette is a faithful gym goer, so she's been helping celeste get regular workouts in before the wedding. My usual workout is stretching work with some light weights and low impact workouts like long walks, so working out with Annette really puts me through my paces. I'm so thankful that the Lord has blessed me with a husband that has such a close-knit, godly family. His cousins feel more like siblings than cousins, and they've been so sweet and welcomed me in with open arms.

I finally stopped procrastinating and got some of our wedding pictures framed, aren't they great! I've yet to frame some of the smaller pictures, but these are a great start. It feels like our wedding was just yesterday, but we're close to hitting our one year anniversary in less than 6 months from now!

I've been working my way through this daily devotional that my mother gifted me at the start of the year when we got engaged, it's amazing and I feel like I've learned so much. I do my daily bible reading then go through the devotional, Parker's parents also gave us a devotional to go through as a couple when we got engaged as part of our premarital counselling, so we do that together either after our breakfast or before we go to sleep.