#the holiday hiatus is almost over!

[blot-squisher]

We are officially one week away from Surviving the Game: Level 2 returning to regular updates! As a little teaser and a Christmas gift to you all, here's the opening for the upcoming chapter ψ(｀∇´)ψ

“I’m going to borrow this.”

The words kept repeating themselves over and over in Danny’s head but he couldn’t seem to fully grasp what any of that had actually meant. He was certain that it had been English, but he was still so stunned by everything he’d just witnessed, it made actually accepting it a bit difficult.

They’d been prepared and ready to go with Nemesis to Doc’s monthly injection appointment at Wesker’s ‘secret lab’ that… honestly wasn’t even a secret anymore. They all knew it existed, and now Evan, Jason, Michael, and Caleb all had the location so it wasn’t like they couldn’t find it whenever they wanted…

But there they’d been! Ready to go! Finally not taken by surprise when Nem came plodding in to grab Marcus! Everything was going perfectly! Until it wasn’t…

The Oni of all Slashers had decided he needed to talk to Doc and it couldn’t wait! Then again, Kazan had been waiting for quite a while… but still! Doc had been kidnapped again! Right out from in front of him! And all he’d done was stand there with a stupid look on his face!

After several minutes of stunned silence, Frank asked incredulously, “Did Doc just get kidnapped again?”

“And Ghostface was standing right there,” Susie added. “Like, did you even try to stop it?”

“Christ, Danny! That guy just came in here and kidnapped your entire boyfriend right in front of you!” Chucky berated. “And you just let him?! …Does he make house calls? Or like blondes?”

“Did you all notice the way Nemesis also just like… let that happen?” Joey asked, looking around at everyone else. “I swear, he actually took a step away. I can’t be the only one who saw that.”

“I mean… Did you want to try and stop him?” Julie asked, earning a trio of mumbled agreements.

Shaking his head, Danny finally managed to break himself out of his freeze. Glancing at the Legion, he quickly turned to stare up at Nemesis. “Hey! Hey, you!”

Nem looked down at him with an almost irritated sounding grunt, knuckles cracking as his hands curled into fists. To any sane person, that alone would have been a clear warning to leave him alone.

“Yeah! You!” Danny continued anyway. “Why the hell did you let Kazan take Doc?! Aren’t you on a mission to grab him and take him to Wesker?!”

Letting out a long, tired sigh, Nemesis had the audacity to roll his single eye. Making no further move to answer the question, he stomped past Ghostface. Ignoring the Legion as they scattered, he sat on the other end of the couch.

Staring at him for a moment, Danny demanded, “Excuse me?! What the fuck are you doing? No one told you to come on in and get comfortable! My boyfriend was just kidnapped by the wrong person! And I didn’t even get to go!”

“Man, having fun explaining that to Evan when he gets back,” Frank cackled, grabbing a can of soda from the fridge.

“Explain it to him?!” Danny shrieked, whipping around to glare at the brunet. “With any luck, Kazan will bring Doc back before Chuckles comes to take over as vet-sitter! Or anyone else for that matter!”

“Oooh, what if Michael finds out?” Susie asked thoughtfully. “I bet that would be hilarious.”

“Not if he thinks we had anything to do with it,” Julie interjected, and the other girl winced.

“For once, it’s not our fault,” Frank cheered. “We’ll be sure to tell him as much before abandoning you to his violent retribution.”

“It was your fault!” Danny yelled. Gesturing wildly at the door he was only three feet away from, he shouted, “One of you could have dove– diven– dived? Is- is it dived? Fuck me, I should know this. I'm a goddamn journalist when I'm not busy being a serial killer...”

“Dove,” Joey said thoughtfully. “Wait, hang on, let me think… English wasn’t my best class to be honest. Part of why I joined the swim team.”

“Diven?” Chucky repeated. “That’s not even a fuckin’ word!”

“S.T.A.R.S.” Nemesis offered, startling everyone.

“Yes, S.T.A.R.S. That’s the word I was looking for,” Ghostface thanked sarcastically. “One of them could have stars’ed in front of Doc to stop the kidnapping. Thank you, Einstein. Fuck the Entity. None of you are any help!”

“I’m not here to help,” Chucky dismissed, doing a double take when he realized the Tyrant was about to poke him in the side of the head. “What the fuck are you doin’? Get that away from me.”

“Careful, Nem, he bites,” Frank warned, before telling Danny, “Yeah, no, none of us are that suicidal. Maybe a little suicidal, but like, not in a serious, ‘let’s test Michael’s mood today’, kind of way. Especially after the snowball thing.”

“What the fuck is wrong with your generation?” the older Slasher asked, only to instantly feel himself age forty years. Oh god, he sounded like his dad.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he said forcefully, “Anyway. We have some time before Evan gets back to take over here. If by some slim chance he does show up before Doc is safely returned to me, you all will not tell him Doc’s been kidnapped! Right? Say it with me now! Nobody tells Evan!”

Getting nothing but unimpressed looks, he repeated, “Nobody. Tells. Evan. Or I’ll stab you in the kidneys! Chucky? Do you want me to stab you in your tiny little kidneys?”

“Wha- I’m not even a part of this mess!” he argued, only to nearly get knocked off the couch when Nemesis poked him in the side of the head. Slapping at his hand, the doll snapped, “Fine! Keep this fuckin’ cyclops off me, and I’ll tell him whatever you want!”

“No! Wrong answer!” Ghostface shouted petulantly. “You will not tell Evan! Nobody tells him anything! Right?”

With a lot of grumbling and groaning, he finally got five disgruntled agreements from Chucky and the Legion. Even Nemesis grunted at him, but that could have been because he’d tossed a balled up sock at his head when he tried to poke the doll again.

Clapping his hands together, Danny said as cheerfully as he could manage, “Right! So we’re all on the same page! Nobody tells Evan!”

“Nobody tells Evan, what?” a deep voice growled, and Danny froze, a thin smile on his lips as he turned to face the open closet and the Trapper. Fuck…

[jupiter-esque]

Hi!!! I saw that you write for Howls and I was wondering if we could get some hcs in how his so cares for him? Whether that be after a tough day physically or mentally or silly pampering him. How does Howl want and receive his comfort?

Preen

note: sort of went on an unofficial hiatus lol, but im finally on holiday yippee :)))) anyway i'm sure I've done this sort of request or smth before but I just love howl so much, he deserves all the love mwah <3

Warnings: nthn, just clingy howl and lots of sickening fluff.:3

Howl Pendragon x reader

It feels like the exhaustion is trying to imbed itself within his bones.

Howl struggles past the front door, His feet dragging as the castle door close with a resounding ding! signaling a new and hopefully much more calming scenery outside. He can't think of that now though.

bed, sleep, rest..now...

he could topple over at any moment.

The aroma of hot savory onion soup overtook his senses, he could almost feel the heady warmth of the liquid down his throat, burning away the worries and hardships of the day leaving him sated and drowsy. He could barely wait.

"Oh no you don't." Suddenly, soup didn't seem all that important.

Nimble fingers slip past his shoulders, pushing away his coat and fussing with its buttons. Howl's eyes landed on you blearily as he called out your name dreamily while reaching for you, his fingers smoothing out over any exposed skin he could reach and nuzzling into your blushing neck.

"Missed you." He mumbles quietly, his breath tickling you slightly. He pulled you in tighter as if trying to carve himself into you, trying to mold your bodies and souls into one. Too bad your offending apron and clothes prevented him.

"Poor baby." You coo as you brush through his hair, fingers carding through messily strewn strands and pressing into worn out muscles. "Okay time for a bath, then dinner."

"Nooo diner-"

"No, c'mere." You grinned with an air of finality, ushering him up the stairs ensuring he doesn't try flopping onto the cushy sofas in front of a grumbling calcifer, you're too used to his tricks and it comforts him to fall into your familiar routine. You sneak some more wood to the fire demon, a silent promise from his side to keep the thick onion soup bubbling and the bathtub upstairs equally toasty.

************************

Howl's staring into the soapy water, helplessly letting you wash his hair and scrub the grime off his skin, occasionally he plays with your free hand. you're both so very naked, so very vulnerable yet peacefully cleaning and gently caring for each other. A silly smile overtakes his lips as he remembers his flirtatious attempt for more...unorthodox intentions while you rolled your eyes and cheekily pushed him into the tub.

It should feel like a snug fit in the tub but magic has its perks and you're both settled into a pool of bubbles that would comfortably fit around three to four people. Howl shivers once more while you splashed water onto his richly dark hair. It hung limply over his eyes as you rubbed his back and pressed deliciously into his taught tendons, it took everything in him to not wantonly moan into your ear so he only let soft ragged breaths escape him as he gripped at your palms where you were sat behind him.

He could feel your smirk. You truly were his undoing.

Just as howl was about to let his eyes fall close and sleep to overtake him you pushed at his shoulders and complained loudly.

"Bath time is over you big oaf, get off i cant breath!"

Howl immediately saw his opening to tease you.

"I don’t know” He airly replied, slumping further into you while pretending to sleep and become dead-weight on top of your struggling form “It’s so comfortable here, I could just rest for a while~”

“Howl.” You warned.

“You wouldn’t mind right?”

You tugged at his hair with slight harshness

“Ouch!”

“Out! You’re clean. Now stop pouting.”

************************

Finally in fresh night-clothes, bellies full of soup and crunchy buttery toast, you're longing for sleep but the need to be in each others presence is stronger so you move to the living room in front of calcifer's hearth as he grumbles away about how much work he does around the castle. Howl shushes him with more firewood while you tuck little Markle to bed, before returning to cuddle up on the loveseat with a blanket wrapped round to stay cozy.

Eventually you find yourself preening through Howl's nearly-dry hair again whilst he settles his head against your chest and the rest of his body lays between your open thighs with his back facing you. All is quiet for a moment, only calcifer's crackling and your calming breaths fill the room as you rub at his scalp and untangle stray locks when a thought strikes you.

"Howl, dear."

"Hmm?" He hums tiredly letting one eye open.

"You know, you're a lot like a bird." You put a finger over his lips before he starts scowling about his more beastly raven-like form " In the sense that you always like your hair played with, a lot like how birds like their feathers preened. Especially by their bird partner."

You smiled down at him openly, he couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh? So that makes you my bird partner now, doesn't it?" He had one eyebrow raised while peeking up at you.

"Of course." You grinned, playing along.

"We'd make wonderful Swans then." He said with a serious expression.

"Why is that?" You blinked curiously, wondering why he was reaching closer for your face.

"Because they mate for life.''

and he followed his silent promise with a deep kiss.

BONUS:

“You know, I think you’d make for a wonderful peacock instead. Show off.” You muttered

“Quiet now, you love me.”

:))))

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

--

Jackson. 

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present. 

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day. 

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive. 

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades. 

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.  

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life. 

This…this was for him, and for you. 

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week. 

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it. 

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway. 

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map. 

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach. 

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot. 

Another life, upended by abrupt violence. 

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had. 

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child. 

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago. 

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed. 

Jackson. 

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window. 

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this. 

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants. 

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter. 

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty. 

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch. 

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down. 

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is. 

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it. 

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.” 

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind. 

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself. 

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“Don’t worry about it,  honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you. 

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you. 

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching. 

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness. 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. 

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite. 

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?” 

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place. 

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his. 

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it. 

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints. 

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them. 

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago. 

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same. 

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like. 

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings. 

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl. 

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing. 

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth. 

“Joel?”

“Yea?” 

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you. 

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass. 

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory. 

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up. 

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin. 

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles. 

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest. 

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten. 

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away. 

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.” 

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat. 

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a  weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner. 

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet. 

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you. 

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own. 

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over. 

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel. 

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?” 

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss. 

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat. 

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.  

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine. 

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb. 

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast. 

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat. 

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple. 

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop. 

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak. 

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized. 

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest. 

“Holy shit.” 

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm. 

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take. 

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body  in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss. 

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks. 

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable. 

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine. 

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips. 

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise. 

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind. 

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster. 

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. 

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster. 

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons. 

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin. 

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants. 

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes. 

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair. 

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself. 

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation. 

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward. 

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know. 

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you. 

“Joel!” 

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath. 

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep. 

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh. 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.  

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

[pauli-writes]

ever since 2.7 the sunday short(s) you made live rent free in my head.... how would reader react to him joining the ae after all of that 😣😣

warning: idk what to write here, themes of trauma and healing?

pairing: sunday x reader

author‘s note: thank u anon for waking me up from my hiatus with this. i was so creatively drained, but this request gave me new life. im probably gonna do all of the event stuff in the new year, so you can still request on that if you want. also happy belated holidays to all of you!

part i ☆ part ii

“no.”

“but reader-“

“i said no. i don’t want him here.”

march 7th and the trailblazer were looking at you with wide eyes, while welt, himeko and dan heng were a little more understanding to your seemingly drastic reaction to the newcomer of the astral express, who at the moment was standing awkwardly a little further away from the group.

“maybe we should talk about this in private?” dan heng suggested, but you only brushed him off.

“there is nothing to talk about. you asked me a question and i gave you an answer, i’m sorry if it doesn’t satisfy you.” with that you left the parlour car, the door closing shut behind you with a heavy thud. there was a tense silence that followed as the remaining members of the astral express exchanged worried glances.

himeko was the first to speak. “they’ll come around. this is just a lot for them.”

“himeko is right,” welt added calmly, “they’ll talk when they’re ready.”

later that day you were ghosting around the party car, unable to fall asleep. you supposed a snack and something to drink would do the trick. the earlier encounter was still heavy in your mind, replaying over and over again like a broken cassette tape. you know you were being mean and unreasonable, but you were just too overwhelmed with emotion to think reasonably.

as you got your drink and snack from shush, you turned to walk back to your room only to find sunday, staring out the window. the sight stirred something in you, a strange feeling of nostalgia, melancholy and hurt all mixed into one. you wanted to walk away, return to your room and never speak of this again, but just in that split second he turned his head and the two of you locked eyes for a split second, before he turned back toward the window. a moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he spoke up.

“the view is beautiful…” his voice was subdued, almost sad as he spoke, a stark contrast to the assured way he talked previously.

“i suppose it is…” you replied awkwardly, “i haven’t payed attention in a while.”

another stretch of silence passed between the two of you. you pondered if you should just leave, avoid the awkwardness, but before you could walk away he spoke up again.

“i apologise for any distress i caused you with my request to join the express. that was never my intention.” he turned away from the window and looked at you properly. you could see his expression, it was different that before, he looked sadder, remorseful even. this was a different sunday, that much was clear to you now.

you sighed and avoided his gaze uncomfortably, “you never mean to, but you still do it…”

sunday’s face fell at your words as a slight realisation fell upon him, he let out a small humourless laugh. “of course, i owe you an apology for that too…” he said mostly to himself, before clearing his throat and properly addressing you. “i see now that my actions were selfish. keeping you inside, wasn’t for you, it was for me… i know this apology doesn’t make up for what did, but i hope it makes traveling with me… easier.”

you looked to the ground silently. your emotions were all over the place at the moment. his apology didn’t help. there was a time were you hated him, but as you distanced yourself from what happened and looked back, you knew that sunday wasn’t solely responsible for what happened, his environment, the people around him, shaped him into that person. so, couldn’t blame him entirely anymore.

you took a deep breath and looked up at him. “i don’t what to feel anymore… the astral express was the first place where I was free to do as i please, it’s my home… somehow it feels wrong having you here.” you paused for a moment, looking for the right words, “but my reaction earlier was harsh, i can see you’re making an attempt to redeem yourself and that’s… comforting. i just need time and space to… to process everything.”

sunday looked at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “of course, i understand. thing like that take time.”

for the first time that day you smiled, only a little, but a smile all the same. sunday couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile, but he was glad to see that again. “thank you… well, i’m off to bed then. good night.”

he straightened himself and nodded, returning the small smile. “good night, reader.”

[atinywhore]

stuffed

pairing: jongho x (fem) reader

word count: 2250

genre: spicy spice :)

warnings: soft dom jongho, biting, lots of praise, fingering, size kink, sorry not sorry, but yo can't convince me that jongho doesn't have a thick cock so, low-key breeding but he just likes to fuck her raw idk what kinda kink you call that (psa: use a fucking condom bitches), uber romantic to lol I feel like he's such a softy, gets off when you come, I think that's all.

an: this is the first fanfic I wrote since returning from my hiatus so it took me a little to get back into the writing and rediscover my own writing style! So I hope you enjoy and please interact and give this lots of love! Happy Turkey day whores ;)

taglist: @mingigoo @ravenjoongie @wickeddarkness-place @whatudowhennooneseesyou @teezers99 @mirror-juliet

The boys love to celebrate American holidays with you. Every year you have fireworks and hot dogs on July 4th, and you always host a thanksgiving day meal. This year is no different. It’s a three day prep event for you and you can’t forget the cooking still needed the day of! Just to say it, it's a stressful but very rewarding day to be able to have a nice meal with the people you love most in the world. They always try to schedule events and showcases around the actual day of thanksgiving so they can celebrate with you. Last year they couldn’t and it really made you upset. It was the first time in three years that you weren’t able to celebrate your favorite holiday with anyone. They saw how upset it made you and they were determined to make it up to you this year, especially your boyfriend Jongho. He took the days leading up to the holiday off of practice for their next comeback to help you prepare the food. 

It was the day of thanksgiving now and despite the help from Jongho, you still were behind. You appreciated his help so much and you knew why he was doing it, but you had to go back and fix the stuff that you assigned him. Most of the time he just sat on the other side of the island and just watched as you moved around the kitchen. 

“Baby can you help me with the turkey.” You asked without looking up from the stuffing you were preparing. 

“Mmm” he replied standing up. You looked up to give him a smile to show your appreciation, but when you looked up you paused all your movements. This happens often. Ever since you two started dating. Jongho’s presence is so big. His shoulders are twice the size as your own and his biceps are almost as big as your head. From the moment you saw him you were attracted instantly. He loves to remind you how big he is and how small you are, especially in the bedroom. Sex with Jongho is very romantic and tender, with a hint of kink. He loves being on top, entrapping you beneath his thick, muscular body. He’ll lean down and speak hot things into my ear to make my orgasm that more intense. You can feel your face warm and your pussy grows slick with excitement. You try to look away before Jongho can see, but I know he knows what I'm thinking about. We haven’t had sex in over a week because his schedule has been keeping him in the studio all day and late into the night, and there was  a huge project that you needed to get done before you could start the thanksgiving prep. 

“What do you need me to do baby?” Jongho says as he steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and places a quick kiss on my neck. You can't help but giggle and instinctively push your ass into his groin. He lets out a little moan into your neck. Before you can get swept up into what's about to happen you kinda push him off of and turn to face him.

“Can you please turkey from the other counter. It’s too heavy for me to lift baby.” He nods and you give him a quick kiss on the lips as a thanks. Turning back to the counter you remember the potatoes that have been on the mixer and rush over to turn the machine off. Lifting the top of the mixer up and removing the mixing attachment you lick some of the potatoes off to make sure the seasonings are right. The butter and salt coats your tongue and you can’t help but moan a little at the taste. You feel a familiar presence behind you once more. 

“Taste good?” Jongho whispers in your ear. His voice sends a shiver down your spine and jolts of electricity straight to your pussy. Your knees go wobbly but his grip on your waist keeps you grounded. 

“Jongho..” You attempt to protest, but it’s weak. 

“Yes, baby?” He says peppering kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder. His hands smooth up your torso and one stops at your breast to tease your nipple beneath the dress and apron you are wearing. His other hand moves up to your neck moving your head to rest on his shoulder so he can have better access to your weak spot. 

“I need to f-finish.” You manage to get out as he sucks on the sensitive part of your neck

“Oh yeah baby? Finish what?” 

“The m-meal. The turkey n-needs to be st-tuffed.” 

“I think you need to be stuffed, not the turkey baby.”

You can’t help but give in to him. Your body continues to sink into his embrace and before you know it you feel your ass rubbing against his thick cock straining beneath his jeans. He continues to suck and leave marks all along your neck and when you reach back and caress his cock, he growls and bites your neck at the contact. You can’t help but let out a gasp. 

“Fuck baby. I need you now.” He says, as he turns you around and throws you over his shoulder. He easily walks the two of you toward the bedroom. In this position the skirt of your dress is bunched up slightly toward your hips exposing your pussy to the cold air of the room, you shiver at the sensation. You start to squirm in anticipation. While keeping your locked on his shoulder Jongho flips your dress the rest of the way up and uses his thumb to tease your entrance. 

“Someone is wet for me.” He says continuing to play around with your pussy. Jongho shifts his head to the closest part of your thigh and bites it hard. You squeal and moan at the pain. He kisses your new mark before tossing you onto your bed. “The things i’m going to do to you (y/n).” He stands at the end of the bed looking down on you and the only thought that is going through your mind is, big. His wide form casts a shadow over you and you can’t help but shiver at the form before you. He lets out a frustrated sigh before he grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it off in one smooth move. He pauses with the sleeves of the hoodie still on his forearms, the material gathered at his middle covering his bare stomach. His broad and muscular chest is now exposed revealing the deep heaving breaths, you realize your own breathing matches his. He is pointing daggers at you with his stare, it's so intense and pointed that you swear your heart skips a beat. His eyes shut slightly as his head tilts left and right, the movement accompanied with the popping of his neck joints. He lets out a moan and his usually big eyes, now half lidded, are pointed at me once more. He removes his arms from his hoodie sleeves and his full torso is now bare. He doesn’t have a full set of abs, but the area is muscular nonetheless. His hands now reach for the button of his jeans but he makes no move to unbutton himself.

“Why is my girl still dressed?” He asks with a shit eating grin lighting up his heated features. He extends his strong hands to help you to your knees. Your shaky hands make a move to undo the bow tying the apron to your figure, but you can’t seem to get the thin straps to budge. You look back up at him to see his arms crossed, making his shoulders look that much broader and stronger than he already does. 

“Need some help baby?” You nod still not able to find your voice, lost in the fog of arousal. He pulls you to your feet, keeping one arm around your waist and the other makes quick work of ripping the fabric off your body, leaving you in your favorite black dress. He turns you around and slowly unzips you from the dress. As the fabric slides from your body you are hit with another rush of arousal. The dress hits the floor and Jongho makes quick work of your undergarments. His hands explore your body, your moans echoing you in the room. His thumbs tease your nipples the way you like as he leaves kisses and hickies on the untouched side of your neck. Once he has you melting in his hands he moves one down over your stomach stopping at your pussy. 

“I bet you are going to be so wet for me baby.” He slides two fingers between your folds, groaning at the state of your pussy. He sinks his teeth into your neck again as he rubs circles around your clit. Your breath hitches and your moans get louder.

“That’s it baby. Sing for me.” He coos as he continues his motions. Kissing and moaning into your neck as he rubs your clit. The build up is coming at you fast, your breathing becomes more erratic and you find yourself swearing Jongho’s name. 

“Fuck- Jongho! I’m-m gonna cu-m.” His thumb takes over for his two fingers so they can slide into your pussy. You gasp and the new sensation sends you over the edge. Your eyes shut and your entire body goes fuzzy with your orgasm. 

You don’t really feel it, but somewhere in your comedown Jongho moves on to the bed. He positions himself between your legs and resumes pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. His back is bent showing off the strong muscles to your hazed eyes as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Pleasure erupts from you again. He moves to your other breast and he hooks his fingers inside, skimming his fingertips over your g-spot. He releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and removes his fingers from your pussy. You start to whine but stop when you see Jongho take his fingers and suck them clean of your juices. 

“You taste so good, baby.” He smiles and leans in to kiss you. Your lips move against each other like a dance. He takes off his pants and underwear and repositions himself at your entrance. 

“You ready for me baby?” You nod and he doesn’t move.

“I need to hear you baby.” He gives you a longing look, and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes baby. Please.” He smiles and pushes himself into you. You hiss at his size as he stretches you. He moans as he slides his full eight inches inside you. He slowly pulls himself back out, repeating the movement. The pain slowly turns to pleasure and you begin to feel the slow build of another orgasm rise inside you.

“Fuck (y/n), your pussy is so good.” He pants. He flexes his hips harder and harder slamming his cock deep inside you.

 “Oh baby, I can never get enough of you.” The mix of your moans and curses fill the room and create a beautiful symphony. He continues to moan sickly sweet confessions into your ear, making your building orgasm hurdle faster toward release. 

“Baby, I’m so close.” You whimper into his general direction, unable to focus your eyes due to the overload of pleasure fogging your vision. You run your hands up his arms dragging your nails along his smooth tanned skin until you reach his shoulders where you sink your nails. He growls and pounds harder into you hitting that special spot causing your moans to grow louder and more intense. 

“Fuck, come for me baby. Come for me (y/n).” He leans down to kiss you, claiming your mouth as he fucks you. The pressure continues to build until you come again. He follows after you shortly, filling your pussy with his load. After a few moments he slowly pulls his dick out of you and watches as his cum spills from your entrance. 

“So much better than that turkey.” You can't help but burst out laughing. He looks at me confused, but after a minute he understands the joke. 

“It sounded like you fucked the turkey then me.” You say sitting up on your elbows, your smiling face looking at his now rosy one. He grabs both of your cheeks and plants a big kiss on your lips. 

“Seriously, I have to finish the turkey. The boys will be here in 6 hours!” You jump up from the bed, forgetting your boyfriend's cum spilling out of your pussy and running down your legs. He laughs as you run from the room and into the bathroom to go get yourself re-ready for the party tonight. 

—------

Hours Later:

Everyone is gathered at your dining room table and starting to dig into the meal you have spent days preparing. Yunho and Hongjoon are talking about the latest comeback and how the dance routine is going to go with the new title song, Wooyoung is basically flirting with San and the former is pretending not to love it. 

“This turkey is delicious (y/n)!” Yeosang praised.

“Thanks Yeo!” I raise my drink toward him.

“The secret is in the stuffing.” Jongho added. You kicked him under the table and gave him a dirty look, He just smiled and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

[candyheartedchy]

Writing this post to let folks know I’m (kinda) back from my short hiatus, but also to bring up a few important things. So I’m putting the rest under the cut.

While taking a break, almost abruptly, I had to clear my head for a bit because I was under a lot of stress and honestly if I didn’t step away when I did, I would’ve snapped.

I’m keeping anonymous off. For now. I’m really sorry to those who’s been using it for either their shyness or for keeping their main anonymous from their side blogs, and it’s not that I had an issue with those reasons in particular, I’m just fed up with the random/weird/rude anonymous asks in my inbox. In the future I might bring the anonymous feature back. We’ll see. I’m also considering switching dms in the near future as well to only people I follow can message me. So atm dms are still open to anyone, but it might be switched, so I’m giving a warning.

Right now, please don’t tag me in any posts related or bring up the Fin.ding Fra.nkie game, including my self ships with the two Fra.nkies. I need to step away from that fandom atm.

Lastly while I’m finishing up all my overdue commissions for folks, it might be a while until I post my own self ship art again. There’s a few different reasons as to why that I really don’t want to bring up because I don’t think it’ll help or change how past situations from certain fandoms and people had affected me. Not that I never had support from others, but I’m still hurt by a few things that I don’t think ignoring them can help anymore. Maybe I’ll be more active again once the holidays are over, but right now, I just feel numb about my own stuff. I’m still gonna try to interact with folks here, but I’ll most likely be more active on my aesthetic blog @lullachy or my original art blog @chycreations for the time being.

I don’t mean for this post about me returning to be negative, I want to be a positive influence here, I really do, because I know a lot of us use this site, or heck even self shipping, to escape from the stress of our everyday lives outside of the internet, but I’m just so tired.

Thank you for reading.

[chris-hallelujah]

coffee | m.s.

Summary: A series of different situations where exbf!Matt and reader meet to catch up.

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, alcohol use, angst

Word Count: 661 words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses @lvrsturniolo @sturnzblog @nickgurl4life @emely9274 @sturniolozbae @ksturnz

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: Hello friends! I took quite the hiatus from writing. I've had lots of ideas flowing but no motivation to actually write them :( but I am going to try and push some out for the holidays. I hope this idea/concept makes sense. Please tell me if it doesn't and I can add an explanation!!

<3 Billie

"if I didn't love you, it would be fine"

Can't meet you for dinner at the Italian place...

The table held the awkward space between you as you recalled the last time you were both at this restaurant. You stared off at the booth in the corner. It felt like yesterday that you and Matt sat across from his parents, meeting them for the first time.

"How's your mom doing?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"She's good. She asks about you all the time. She misses you," Matt responded looking in your eyes. You felt a pang in your chest.

"I miss her too," you said with a slight frown. The relationship you had with MaryLou while you were dating Matt was so good. She was like a second mom to you. You pitied the many women who hated their mother in-laws because you absolutely adored her.

"Why don't you come home and say hi for a bit?" Matt offered.

a few hours later

Your legs were tangled up with Matt's as you rested your head on his bare chest. Both of you were breathless and trying to figure out how meeting up to 'talk' ended up with you in his bedroom at his parents' house.

I'd suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn Street...

The soft saxophone music played in the background as you and Matt sat at a small table in the corner. "I want to apologize for how things ended between us," Matt sighed. You fiddled with your purse strap as you listened to him talk. "It wasn't fair to you to not think about how my career was going to impact you and us."

"I feel like you chose your career over me," you spoke softly.

Matt's face softened. "I know. I have my priorities straight now. Can I buy you a drink?"

One drink lead to another. Somehow Matt's face ended up between your thighs as you gripped onto your bedsheets. You missed him and definitely missed this.

If we have wine...

Matt's lips were flavored with merlot. Even though you preferred a riesling, you couldn't get enough. Your lips chased his as he backed you up against the bed. You weren't sure where your clothes had gone but you didn't really care. "I want you," he whispered. Matt left open mouthed kisses along your jaw as his hand slipped down your torso. You moaned softly. The night started casually. Matt stopped by to have a chat and catch up over a glass of wine. A few hours later, there were two empty wine bottles on the table.

You said let's do the park 'cause I love the park...

The park swing held your body in a hug as you caught up with Matt. It felt like it had been ages since you saw each other, but really, just a few months. It started off a bit awkward, but you warmed up slowly. Then, the rain began. It poured on you both as you laughed running to his car for shelter. Inside the car, the two of you talked for hours until darkness crept in. It didn't take long for your heated kisses to make the windows to steam up as Clairo played through the speakers.

I'll meet you for coffee...

The warmth of the mug increased the perspiration in your nervous hands as you sat across from your ex. "How are you?" he asked.

You nodded, "I'm doing good actually. How are you?"

He gave you a genuine smile, happy to know that you have been doing well. Matt felt a lot of guilt around your breakup and was hoping that you were doing okay. You both chatted about his career and your schooling. The world felt at peace and almost back to normal. Both of you relieved to have the friendship back.

But the feelings in your heart crept out of hiding each time Matt laughed or recalled a memory between the two of you.

So let's not do coffee, let's not even try.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hiatus Update

Hey everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and is ready for the next year!

I'm really sorry that I keep falling into a hiatus status, but I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about some things.

No, this isn't an announcement of canceling my AUs or that I'm dropping Twisted Wonderland! I still love the series very much and I still have far too much in mind with the AUs to stop thinking about them so soon! I just wanted to get that out of the way since I realize my lack of content creation lately seems to have worried a few people, and I'd like to apologize to everyone for worrying you all.

That being said, that brings me to my next point, and...it's going to get serious. No TW, it's nothing like that! Just...me speaking my thoughts and realizations. TLDR at the end if you want to skip the ramble!

I've been writing for this blog for...gosh, I think about three years now? It feels less than that for me, but that's a lot of writing done over the years. So many AU ideas, so many asks, so much love for the AUs I've created that--honestly--I almost didn't even start this blog had it not been for some encouragement from a good friend. And I'm glad I did! These past few years have been some of the most creatively liberating times I've had before I ever discovered Twisted Wonderland (would you believe it was originally Leona that made me want to play it despite Malleus being the one that kept popping up in my feed to the point I had to try and figure out what his name was? XD).

Yet despite all that writing and hyper-fixating, I've come to realize and accept that I'm experiencing quite the huge burnout...and I have been for quite a while without realizing or accepting it.

It's not because of any particular wip fic or art that I've been slowing down. The burnout had been happening for a while and just boiled over, and I think as a result...I started doubting myself over time. Doubting that what I was writing was going to be good, or that I'd be able to fulfill everyone's requests or asks in a way that makes them happy or feel that I put as much effort into the writing as I do with others, feeling like I'd be letting people down if I don't make something as long or detailed as some of my other responses, or making promises of grand ideas and not being able to deliver on it. I didn't feel connected to my writing, that it wasn't meant for me to enjoy or feel like I could be part of.

To put it simply, I put far too much pressure on myself, and the lack of feedback or reactions beyond likes on some fics I spent a lot of time and effort on didn't exactly help my mind's relationship with my own writing. Because of that self-imposed pressure, I'd...forgotten what it was like to love my own writing, to enjoy the process for what it was and to feel like I can just write what I want and feel included in my own adventures. Writing consumed me to the point that most days...I'd only be able to stare at the blank screen or my notebooks, the words and scenes in my mind yet unable to string them together in tangible form and yet I felt terrible NOT sitting there trying to write.

It was a pretty vicious cycle I couldn't break until now.

Lately, I've been focusing more on self-care. Not just physical stuff like hygiene or cooking better home meals (though I am doing that), but I mean giving myself other things to enjoy on my self-care wheel.

This is what I mean by the self-care wheel (link to instagram post ). It puts it in a way that makes sense, and I hope it helps someone else as well! Here's a screenshot of the post for those who don't have Instagram.

I've been watching more anime and other shows on streaming services lately, I've been playing other games like World of Warcraft (which has become my current obsession!) among others, and just...essentially breaking up the routine I had where I did nothing but writing, so I could take a break. And honestly? I've been able to write other things again. But this time for myself.

I feel like I'm able to enjoy the process again.

I love my writing again!

But I know better than to just assume that things are okay now and I can jump back into the blog so soon. I don't want to repeat what I had been doing when I thought my burnout was gone and just silently falling into hiatus again. Healing isn't a linear process no matter what it's for, and things won't get better if I don't start being kinder to myself.

So to bring a long story short:

I'm okay. I'll be okay, I just have to remind myself to enjoy more hobbies and interests in my life to make each day more fulfilling--more rounded. And when I come back to Twisted Wonderland, I'll go at my own pace and remember to write for myself too. I'd still love to chat and ramble about it or even about other fandoms or things to try! I've spent far too long building this blog to let it and the wonderful people who have followed and commented and even sent asks and fanart go away, and I want to connect in a way I feel I hadn't been able to in ages. ;;v;;

Remember to take care of yourselves, and find other things to fill your self-care wheel! It'll take time and effort, but I promise that things will start to feel better the more you realize you've got other things to make life worthwhile. 💝

TLDR: I'm okay! I'm just going to be on hiatus for a while longer and working more on self-care to remember to enjoy life as it should be enjoyed. Writing and concept art will resume at my own pace when I feel I'm able to consistently enjoy the process of writing for the fandom again. Would love to ramble and chat about other hobbies and interests and interact with the community though!

[i-still-got-love-for-you]

Under the Mistletoe

Summary: just some fluff with Jason during Christmas!

CW: None just fluff, Christmas decorating in NOVEMBER!!!!!, literally that's it

A/N: hey yall, srry for not being active. i'm usually on tumblr when i'm depressed, so i consider this mini hiatus a good sign for my mental health. this was inspired by me decorating my xmas tree and imagining my crush, what of it? i'll do a percy or luke one if requested <3 enjoy and make sure to like and rb!

"You need some help?" Jason asked, his arm already reaching for the ornament in your hand. It was the same striking blue as his eyes. His gentle voice almost drifted into the jazz playing in the background.

"Yes, thank you so much," you sighed. You two had been decorating for two hours, losing track of time in the various boxes of Christmas decor.

One, you remember, was simply a heap of silver tinsel so tangled together you had to stop and fix. Another was full of pictures of you and your mortal parent, your age never being over seven. The most recent one you opened was full of holiday colored ornaments. Glittering red that looked like cranberries, molten gold so expertly crafted it seemed as if it was moving, green so dark and elegant you couldn't believe your eyes. And finally, an electric blue that reminded you of a certain blond.

You looked to your right, where said boy was extending his arms to put the blue ornament higher than you could reach. You could see a small slip of his stomach where his pj's rose up, but it was gone as his arms lowered. You looked back up at his disapproving face.

"Always in the gutter, love. This is Christmas, be wholesome!" he chided and tapped you on the nose . You giggled and fell into him, loosely hugging him around the waist. His arms automatically wrapped around your back and started gently swaying you two to the piano filtering through the speaker.

The swaying turned into a simple waltz, and soon you were sweeping though your shared apartment. You were laughing all the way through it, bumping into things and stepping on toes. Eventually, you stopped in a doorway, just hugging with your head to his chest.

"Looked up," he whispered into your hair. You did, and the mistletoe you found put the giddy smile back on your face.

"You know what that means..." you trailed off. You were both leaned in, eyes closed, about to touch, when-

"Hey, lovebirds! Whatcha up to?" Percy interrupted, grinning.

"How did you get keys to our apartment?" you asked, then responded to yourself, "Wait, never mind, he's Percy. Why are you in you apartment?"

"Checking that my decoration skills are being properly appreciated. And so it seems they are. Me and Annie are waiting for coffee downstairs, but I'll give you two a minute." And with that, he closed the door, locked it, and walked back to his car.

"That son of a..." Jason muttered under his breath. You grabbed his hands and pulled them to your chest.

"Hey, Percy doesn't matter right now. What matters is where we left off."

"You are absolutely right, Mrs. Grace. Where were we?" He grinned, before leaning in for a kiss.

[official-wonho]

[INTERVIEW] K-pop Star Wonho Marks Return to Music After Military Enlistment

The Korean singer released his new English-language single "What Would You Do" ahead of his American fan tour this December.

In September, a little more than a week after completing his mandatory military enlistment, K-pop star Wonho returned to the stage — and to Wenee, his collective fanbase.

“I was so nervous that I wondered if I had ever been so nervous on stage,” says Wonho in November, two months after hosting his first “Welcome Back Wenee” fan event. “I think it was the most nervous I ever felt before, kind of where I felt my mind go blank. But I was really excited about meeting my fans — and by meeting them, I felt more alive after.”

Wonho is getting ready to reconnect with even more of his fanbase. The 31-year-old singer is coming Stateside in December for a multicity U.S. fan tour, which coincides with several performances as part of the annual holiday-season concert series “Jingle Ball.” “I haven’t seen them in a very long time,” he says of his American fans. “So I thought if not now, then when?”

It’s 10 p.m. on Friday night in Korea, and the singer is working late, discussing his upcoming projects over Zoom. He was one week out from releasing his first single and music video since going on hiatus in late 2022, the English-language ballad “What Would You Do.” “This single was kind of a surprise for my fans, and I’ve been watching and seeing their reactions every day,” says Wonho, who references his gratitude for his fans in response to almost every question about his career and time away from the industry.

The singer has given fans a behind-the-scenes look at his return to music this fall through a series of videos, showcasing moments like him getting fitted for his first fan event, attending dance rehearsals, and attending Seoul Fashion Week in October. 

“I didn’t have to show my good looks to anyone during military service,” says Wonho, who has distinguished his visual identity through a muscular physique. “To be honest, I gained a little bit of weight and I didn’t really care that much about my style. But as we saw in the outfit-fitting video, after I tried on different outfits, I [realized] that I needed to get back into working out more.” 

While he concedes fashion choices to his stylists when it comes to his public appearances, Wonho adds that he tends to personally gravitate toward Japanese brands and silhouettes that are easy to move in. “These days, I really like outfits that are oversized and comfortable, but I can wear the same outfit to dance practice or to work out or to a fancier event. I like having an outfit that encompasses all of these different styles,” he says.

Read full article on wwd.com

[laurensjournals]

The Runaway

“Have fun, everyone!” Elain called as her sisters and friends headed out the front door of the apartment. It was another time for celebration in the snowy city of Velaris, the native holiday bringing festivity and cheer to all who sought it. The Inner Circle planned to spend their night having perhaps too many drinks at Rita’s—everyone except Elain. She claimed she wouldn’t be joining them due to a “horrible stomach ache” caused by her cycle, the cramps supposedly too debilitating for her to enjoy the party. At least, that was her excuse. When she told Feyre, her sister raised an eyebrow dramatically but chose not to press the matter. Thank the Cauldron, Elain thought as she watched Feyre grasp her mate's hand and whisk out into the night, dressed to impress.

In truth, Elain’s stomach felt perfectly fine. Her cycle wasn’t even due for another week. The real reason lay in the elaborate plan she had set for herself, a plan that was to take place exactly… now. She waited approximately sixty seconds after her friends left before racing up the stairs to her room, where a small bag of her most important belongings sat hidden in her closet. No one suspected for a moment that she had any intention of leaving Velaris, not even her fated mate, Lucien, who was on his way to Rita’s with everyone else. He had offered to stay behind to care for her and her aching stomach, but she had convinced him it wasn’t too serious and insisted he go enjoy the holiday with the rest of their friends.

Elain grabbed her bag from the floor of the closet, loosening the rough strings to check for the fifteenth time that everything she needed was inside: money, clothes, food, and the elixir she had purchased from one of the potionmasters of Velaris. According to the seller, once she drank the elixir, she would have the ability to winnow to anywhere within one hundred miles—but only once. After that, her only mode of transportation would be by foot. She didn’t bring a lot of money, not wanting to appear suspicious if her family noticed her withdrawing a large amount.

Elain had thought long and hard about where in Prythian she would go, and after much consideration, she decided on the Day Court. Its bustling city would provide ample opportunity to hide and find work, allowing her to become someone else—at least for a while. The warmer climate also enticed her, promising a respite from the chilling months that had put her gardening on hiatus.

Elain had spent nearly a month deliberating over this decision. She vividly remembered the night Azriel had almost kissed her, how desperately she had hoped he would. That is, until Rhysand appeared, looking absolutely furious, and whatever had existed between them that night was abruptly put to rest—at least on Azriel's end. She knew it couldn't have been willingly, given the way he still looked at her, thinking she didn’t notice. Or maybe he did, considering the way she looked back at him with the same longing in her eyes.

Her attraction to the shadowsinger frustrated her endlessly. Why was it so difficult to reciprocate Lucien's feelings for her? Had their paths crossed before she met Azriel, would her heart have been swayed differently? Despite her efforts to form an attraction for the red-haired fae male, her thoughts always seemed to return to the man with dark hair and hazel eyes—the one who stirred her emotions like no other. He was the catalyst for her racing heart and the electricity that surged between them.

Ever since that night, Azriel has kept his distance at the House of Wind, playing babysitter for Nesta and Cassian. And when he’s not there, he’s off on his own, doing whatever shadowsingers do best. But he’s never near her - not anymore. It makes her heart hurt in a completely different way than when she lost her father. Or when Nesta grew cold and distant. No, this pain was new, and felt just as bad, if not worse. It was the pain of losing someone before she ever had them. She can sometimes feel the ghost of the necklace he gave her on the night of the solstice, the warmth of his hands as he had put it on her. She never intended on giving the necklace back, but after realizing what Rhysand had probably said to him that night, it was for the best. She missed it more than ever now.

She pulled the drawer of her wooden desk open to reveal the note laying inside. Pulling it out, she read over it one more time to ensure that it said everything that needed to be said.

Feyre -

I assume you’ll be the one to find this note. If you’re worried about my whereabouts, don’t be. You won’t find me within the city of Velaris.

I’ve made the decision to take some time for myself, to figure out who I am and what it is I want. Everyone has a place here, and as happy as I am for you all, I simply don’t feel like I belong. Not right now.

There is nothing any of you have said or done to push me away, so please don’t let that be what you believe. I want you all to continue on without me for now, and allow Azriel to come back to his friends, his family. You are a part of that too. Take care of him please.

Tell Lucien that I am sorry. I know he tries, and I wanted to try too. But I can’t think of my mate when all I can see is the Illyrian that stole my heart. I need to get away from here and be by myself. Please don’t follow me. I love you and I’ll be ok, so don’t worry.

Sincerely,

Elain

It wasn’t the best written letter, but it got the message across. Elain read it over once more before laying it on her bed. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head before shouldering her pack, creeping down the stairs and slipping out the door.

The biting cold of the winter night sent shivers down her spine, tiny pinpricks of frost forming on her exposed skin, turning her cheeks a rosy hue. She drew in a deep, steadying breath, feeling her heart quicken its pace in her chest. She prayed none of her friends would notice her absence until the festivities had ended. She knew the odds of slipping away unnoticed were slim, yet with a determined head start, she just might be able to evade them a while longer.

She headed to the outskirts of Velaris to ensure her elixir would get her as close as possible to the city within the Day Court. She wouldn’t be able to winnow all the way there in one fell swoop with the potion, but she’d be close enough that it should only take a three day journey on foot.

With a final glance at the twinkling lights of the city, Elain uncorked the glass bottle, not hesitating to swallow its contents in one swift gulp. The liquid burned fiercely as it coursed down her throat, contorting her face into a grimace. Almost immediately, a tingling sensation surged from her fingertips and flew upward through her limbs. It felt as if the magic had always been within her, dormant yet familiar. With a focused thought, she willed herself to winnow. In an instant, she disappeared into a swirling vortex of black mist, propelled toward the sanctuary she had needed so desperately.

————————————————————

Azriel sat amongst his friends in the musty tavern that they tended to frequent these days. His glass sat empty in front of him, his fourth… maybe fifth of the night? He lost count after he had decided to get himself drunk to ensure his mind stopped wandering to the girl who incessantly plagued his daily thoughts. He had met his friends here from the House of Wind since he didn’t come by the apartment anymore. He hadn't in weeks now. He thought Elain would be here with them, and couldn’t help the anticipation of laying eyes on her flawlessness, especially when it had been so long. He should’ve known in the end she wouldn’t be here tonight. Assuming Rhysand had something to do with her absence, he found himself staring into the bottom of the crystal glass for the majority of the evening, listening to his surroundings that were filled with the sounds of endless chatter and bellowing laughter. If the High Lord had truly kept her from coming out tonight because of him, then his night was definitely going to be spent feeling like shit. However, he doubted the male would make her stay home instead of him, which left him wondering about her absence. Why was he allowed to be here tonight?

His thoughts had officially run rampant thinking about the Archeron sister, beginning to sober up before Feyre had mentioned she hadn’t been feeling well, and couldn’t make it out tonight because of a terrible stomach ache. His ears had instantly perked to that, and had him going from wondering about the girl to worrying for her. His first instinct was to go to her, to care for her and get her back to good health. His chest ached at the knowing that he’d never be permitted to do so.

So he waited. He watched as his friends downed drink after drink, losing their composure more and more. It had been a few hours since the start of their festivities now as he waited for the perfect moment to slip away. Once even Rhysand was falling from his usual composure, he muttered about a need for the restroom before faking a stumble from his chair. He snaked his way through the crowd towards the restroom before darting to his right and out the front entrance instead.

Even in the bustling crowds of the street, the nip of the chilled air had him clenching his jaw. Or was it his impatience to seek out the girl he so badly wanted to be with right now? He didn’t pay it a second thought as he found a pocket of space within an alley to spread his leathery wings and take flight into the winter air.

Within minutes he found himself staring at the front door of the apartment he had spent so much time in until recently. His hands somehow felt balmy even in this weather that should have them feeling borderline numb by now. He contemplated turning around and heading back to the House of Wind with the knowledge that the decision he was about to make might be the last decision he ever makes. Don’t you dare, he said to himself. It will only come back to bite you in the ass.

Even knowing the consequences, he couldn’t stop himself from striding forward and pulling open the front door within seconds. The house seemed eerily quiet - too quiet. He crept through the foyer before peering into the living room. No fire crackled, no candle burned. His gaze swept the kitchen as he walked back down the hall. There was no smell of baked goods in the oven, nor a kettle on the stove. Turning into the hallway once more, he peered up the old, creaky stairs as his pulse quickened. “Elain?” He asked into the darkness. No response.

His heart started beating faster, out of control. Something wasn’t right. His whole body grew a mind of its own as he ran up the stairs, yanking open her bedroom door to find nothing but a cold, empty space. All that was different was a piece of paper placed carefully at the foot of her bed. He took the few needed steps to the large four-poster before grasping for the note that held her beautiful, dainty handwriting. He realized he had never seen it before, but gods it was definitely hers. It matched her essence perfectly.

He read the note over, his heart skipping a beat when he saw his own name scrawled towards the end of the short letter. Her words lit a fire in him that hadn’t been there in months. He had stolen her heart? She had it backwards - she was the one who had stolen his. And he never once hoped for her to give it back - it was hers for the taking.

He blew out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair in stress as he realized what she had done tonight. She had run away from her friends. From him.

His blood started to boil at the realization. How could she do this? How could she put herself in danger like this? She could’ve gone anywhere. He scrambled to think of how she could have even left Velaris on her own. She must’ve visited the district where the potionmasters resided. I’ll kill them all for this, he said to himself. He couldn’t stop the rage that was boiling over within himself, and without thinking he let his fist fly into one of the posters of the bed, caving it in completely and causing the canopy to come crashing down onto the soft mattress. His breathing became ragged as he thought over his options. Where would she have gone? Certainly not to the Spring Court, nor the Autumn Court. That still left several options. He found himself pacing in the small bedroom, losing all composure as his brain ran a million miles a minute. She always complained about the cold here, always struggling when it came to her gardening. She wouldn’t go to the Winter Court knowing that, and couldn’t have gotten that far anyways.

So he had settled on where he would look first, the place that was far warmer than Velaris, the only place she could’ve gotten to with one of those shitty elixirs.

He would be paying a visit to the Day Court. Immediately.

————————————————————

Ten hours had passed since Elain had winnowed herself as close to the Day Court as her abilities allowed. She materialized in the midst of pristine fields, untouched and breathtakingly beautiful. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of making camp there, living off the land by hunting and drinking from crystal-clear streams.

She knew it to be impossible, though. Feyre was the only sister in their trio who could’ve pulled something like that off. With no skill for hunting, she would likely starve within days when her short supply of food ran out.

So, she started her journey towards the coast that lay to the East. If she kept pace, she would reach there within two days. She desperately wished she had winnowed a horse alongside her within hours, however. Her lack of muscles left her feeling drained by nightfall.

Somehow, by the grace of the gods, she had stumbled upon a small fishing village that lay alongside a river as the moon began to crest above her head. The lanterns dotting the small town acted as a beacon in the dark, and she quickly found her way into a horse stable where she made due with a patch of hay in one of the empty stalls as her bed. Despite the weight of her coin purse, she made the decision to conserve her funds for the journey ahead, opting to use the hay as her bed for the night. “It’ll have to do,” she murmured to herself before curling herself into a protective ball, seeking solace in the warmth of her own embrace until the first light of dawn.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the wooden beams of the stable, Elain stirred from her makeshift bed, feeling her joints protest as she stretched and rose to her feet. The stillness around her hinted that she had awoken earlier than the village people, a fact that spurred her into swift action. Gathering her scant belongings, she prepared to resume her journey, eager to put distance between herself and the small town.

Just as she neared the stable door, poised to slip away unnoticed, a soft, unexpected sensation brushed against her shoulder. Startled, she recoiled, almost hitting the back of her head into the opposite stable in her surprise. A small mare stood beside her, her gentle eyes fixed upon Elain with a mixture of curiosity and trust.

Elain hesitated, torn between her desperation to move swiftly and the unforeseen opportunity before her. She chewed her lip, weighing the risks and consequences of what she was about to do. "To hell with it," she muttered under her breath, her resolve hardening. "I'd rather take my chances as a thief than endure the rest of this journey on foot."

With swift decisiveness, she reached for the reins hanging nearby, silently motioning the horse to cooperate as she attached them to the mare's bridle. Pressing a finger to her lips in a futile gesture for silence, she whispered urgently, "Shh, girl. Let's go." The mare, seemingly sensing the urgency in Elain's actions, stood calm and compliant, ready to embark on this unanticipated venture with her newfound companion.

Luck was certainly on her side today, as the horse remained silent whilst she led it out of the stables and into the woods behind it. The horse was small enough that she was able to get on its back by standing on a nearby fallen log, however it wouldn’t be a comfy ride without a saddle. Elain’s morals kept her from stealing the one that hung from the wall of the stable, the shiny leather giving away the fact that it was worth a pretty penny. She knew it was silly to leave it behind considering she was already stealing a horse, but she figured she would keep the thieving to a minimum.

Her afternoon was spent clutching the neck of the mare as she led it through the woods and down a dirt road that she found as the trees cleared into more fields. Her thighs ached terribly as she struggled to remain atop the animal, but she figured it was better than walking for miles and miles. The breeze lifted her hair to flow behind her, the smell of the pines bringing comfort as she took in the nature that surrounded her. This is what Elain missed so much whilst living in Velaris - the sound of the birds, the butterflies that floated by. Raw, undisturbed life.

The sun was beginning to set when the horse brought her atop a hill, where the view that lay beyond made a smile break out on her face for the first time in what felt like weeks. The city that lay alongside the coast was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Large white buildings sat clustered together in what she guessed was the city center, smaller ones with royal blue roofs spreading away from it in various districts. Light seemed to glow from the city itself, like an aura. As she grew closer she could see the beginnings of farmhouses with rows and rows of thriving crops stretching beyond them.

As she passed the farms, she spotted people here and there ending their day’s work on the fruits and vegetables that most likely kept the entirety of the city fed. The smells of the city markets soon wafted over her, where she finally hopped off her newest companion and walked her alongside herself, though she practically limped with how her legs ached. The city was absolutely teeming with life, even with the beginning of nightfall, and she found herself getting lost in sightseeing before she stumbled into a market district closer to the city’s center that had the smile on her face dwindle into a confused expression.

Women were standing along the walls in clothing that left her utterly speechless. Men were swarming them with coins in hand, getting far too close to their faces with grins that were anything but innocent. She assumed the women would force them away - that is, before she watched them bat their eyelashes and pull the men even closer. Their dainty hands quickly snatched the coins from the dirty hands of those they drew in. And then, those dainty hands were gripping the men and pulling them into the nearby buildings that looked like they could collapse with a simple breath.

Elain then realized where she had found herself. Realized she should leave this market immediately. But before she could do so, she felt the strong grip of someone’s hand on her waist, spinning her around to face a fae male who was missing half his teeth and had a breath that could’ve knocked her and the horse out.

“And how much do you cost, pretty thing?” the male slurred. His mouth pulled into a sinister smile that sent chills up her spine, his eyes dropping to examine her chest.

She quickly yanked his hand off her waist, throwing it back to his side with a glare. “I am not for sale.” She declared before turning to walk away.

The male’s expression immediately fell to a look of pure annoyance, reaching out to snatch her by the collar. Her instincts helped her to duck out of his grasp, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the dirt. “You little bitch!” He roared as he struggled to get his hands under himself, to rise once more. Without waiting to see if he would pursue her further, she pivoted on her heels and sprinted down the narrow street, leaving her temporary companion behind. Her heart raced with a mix of fear and adrenaline as she fled. She trusted that the villagers would tend to the mare; surely someone would give the horse a good home, providing the care that Elain knew she couldn't afford.

For now, her only worry was where she could find a new place to call home within the city. She sped through various streets, keeping her cloak up now knowing what kind of people lurked between the buildings. She eventually found herself in front of a tavern that also served as an inn on the second and third floors from the looks of it. Not taking a moment to think it through, she pushed through the front door to find a smoke-filled lounge dotted with a few patrons drinking their sorrows away, or whatever plagued their thoughts in the night. She walked to the counter where a barmaid was polishing glasses that looked to be a decade old.

“You must be lost,” the maid drawled. “We don’t typically have women frequenting this bar. Especially ones that look like you.”

She stood tall, at about six feet. Elain peered up at her, feeling awfully intimidated as she took in the tattoos littering her from head to toe, the piercings that dangled from her lobes to the tips of her pointed ears. She had never seen a female quite so… domineering. Yes, that was the word.

Despite her initial unease, Elain squared her shoulders and cleared her throat, summoning a steadiness to her voice that surprised even herself. "I'm not lost," she declared firmly, meeting the maid's gaze. "How much for a room for the night?"

The barmaid took her time looking Elain up and down, chewing loudly on the piperoot in her mouth. “Five-hundred silver marks.” She replied after a moment.

Elain's eyes widened in dismay. Five-hundred silver marks was a princely sum, nearly a third of what she had managed to stuff in her bag. Panic surged within her as she contemplated the prospect of spending so much in one go. Gathering her resolve, she blurted out without thinking, her hands gripping the edge of the counter, "Is there anything I could do to make it fifty silver marks instead?"

The barmaid's response was unexpected and cutting. She threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that reverberated through the dimly lit tavern, drawing amused chuckles from the patrons around them. "For fifty marks, I'll let you sleep in the dumpster out back!" she quipped between bouts of laughter, her demeanor unyielding in the face of Elain's sorry state. The sting of embarrassment and helplessness washed over Elain, leaving her feeling smaller than ever.

She racked her brain feverishly, searching for a strategy to persuade the barmaid to grant her a room without depleting her meager savings. The thought of parting with a third of her silver on the very first night gnawed at her like a relentless hunger. She knew all too well that such a hefty expenditure would swiftly drain her resources, leaving her vulnerable and penniless in a city that offered little compassion to those without means.

Then, an idea dawned on her, one that she sensed could haunt her in the days to come. It felt like grasping at straws, but in her circumstance, any lifeline seemed worth the risk. Despite the gnawing feeling of impending regret, she forged ahead with her proposition. "What if I started working for you tomorrow? I'll tackle any task you throw at me," she offered, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

She was keenly aware that her proposal reeked of desperation, a scent she was certain the seasoned barmaid could detect from miles away. Yet, she pushed aside her pride and clung to this last-ditch effort, driven by the urgency of her situation. The prospect of earning her keep through hard labor seemed daunting, but the alternative—facing the cruel streets with dwindling resources—was far worse.

The female took a moment to ponder the idea, tapping her ragged nails upon the counter. Elain kept her eyes steeled as she waited for a response. Please, she thought to herself. Just give me a chance.

Then, the barmaid let out a sigh. “Considering this is likely your only option, I’ll give you one chance.” She stated before grabbing something from her pocket and tossing it to Elain. She barely reacted quick enough to catch it, unfurling her fist to lay eyes on the small metal key in her hand. She gasped in surprise, looking back up at the barmaid who now smirked at her. “Up the stairs, last door on the left. It’s yours until you inevitably prove to be a lousy barmaid. Be back down here at sunrise. You’ll start by mopping the floors.” That was all she said before turning back to the glasses that still needed polishing, though it didn’t seem to be making them look any better.

Elain looked back down at the rusted key resting in her palm, smiling to herself before pocketing it and heading up the stairs to her right and down the hall to the very, very unimpressive bedroom that was now her new home for the time being.

Finding the last door on the left, she inserted the key into the weathered lock, the mechanism protesting with a rusty groan before yielding to her touch. Pushing open the door, she stepped into the modest room that was to be her sanctuary for the foreseeable future. Dust particles danced in the light filtering through the grimy window panes, settling like a thin veil over every surface. Cobwebs adorned the corners, their delicate threads a testament to the solitude that had maintained in this space for far too long.

Brushing aside the disheartening sight, she squared her shoulders and shrugged off her worn bag, its contents nearly spilling onto the threadbare carpet. "Well," she murmured to herself, her voice echoing faintly in the stillness of the room. "Here's to a new adventure, I suppose."

————————————————————

This place smells like pure shit, Azriel thought to himself as he walked down the cobblestone streets of the Day Court city.

It was day four of his relentless search for Elain, and with each passing hour, his frustration grew. The city district he found himself in was a labyrinth of narrow alleys and grimy streets, where the pervasive stench of decay mingled with the everyday hustle and bustle. The noxious odors, a stark contrast to Elain's delicate fragrance, seemed to mock his efforts to track her down.

His own shadows, skilled though they were in the art of reconnaissance, had yielded little in this urban jungle. They flitted through back alleys and dimly lit taverns, eavesdropping on whispers and rumors that dissolved into nothingness as swiftly as they surfaced. No credible leads had emerged, leaving him to rely on the unreliable word of the city's denizens.

Despite his best attempts, no one he questioned seemed to have any clue about her recent whereabouts. The few individuals who claimed to have seen her gave vague descriptions or outright lies, hoping perhaps to gain favor or coin from his desperation. A handful of unsavory characters even offered their assistance in exchange for a promised reward—albeit one far more sinister than gold.

His temper flared at their audacity, their leering insinuations tarnishing the memory of Elain with their crude expectations. He may have let his fists do the talking in those moments, leaving a trail of bruised egos and broken bones in his wake. Yet, each encounter left him more disheartened and weary, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon him like a leaden cloak.

The evening breeze did little to cool his skin, which grew hotter as his frustration began to rise once more. He took in the sight of various women selling themselves along the sides of the streets, the men who flocked to them like bees to honey. He couldn't help but scan the faces of these women, praying silently that Elain wouldn't be among them. His heart clenched with each passing moment, fearing that she might have already fallen into circumstances that compelled her to sell herself. The thought of her enduring such indignity gnawed at him, fueling a surge of determination to find her before such a fate could befall the girl.

He searched every market, every tavern and shop as his hope grew dimmer and dimmer that he would soon find her. Perhaps she had not wound up here. Should he have started in the cities on the western edge of the Day Court? Did she even make it here, or was she lying injured somewhere in the outlands? Was she currently crying for help?

His mind spun out of control, his breath following in suit. He couldn’t take this agony of not knowing if she was okay. His hair had become a mess from the fingers that constantly ran through it, a habit he could never seem to kick.

Once he felt his anger start to boil over again, he made the executive decision to calm his nerves with a drink before continuing his search. His eyes fell upon a run-down building that held three stories, the first being a place he knew he’d find a drink for himself in. He was surprised he hadn’t made it to this one yet, feeling as if he’d looked in every single tavern by this point. With a drawn out sigh, he pushed the half-rotted door open and was instantly hit with a scent that knocked the remainder of his breath from him.

The tavern was at full capacity, fae males sitting at every beat up table with cards and liquor in front of them. Even in the haze of the mirthroot smoke permeating the room, he could identify that flowery scent anywhere, the one that could only belong to one person. He often thought about it when his hand found his cock late at night, when his desire was impossible to ignore.

He scanned the crowded room, his gaze finally settling on a figure that seemed out of place amidst the rowdy patrons. Elain stood diminutive and nervous, clad in a scanty barmaid's gown that left little to the imagination. Her hair was pulled back, emphasizing the delicate lines of her face as she maneuvered through the tables, delivering frothy tankards of ale with practiced efficiency. Yet, her unease was palpable, evident in the slight tremble of her hands as she completed her tasks. His heart clenched with concern as he watched her approach a group of men, her movements brisk yet wary. His worst fears materialized when one of the patrons, emboldened by his drunkenness, reached out and seized her by the laces of her dress, pulling her into his arms. His hand reached around to run over her ass before slipping his hand under the draping fabric to her thigh, squeezing tightly.

Azriel was officially seeing red. His shock kept him standing there, however, watching as Elain struggled to shove herself away from him. She ripped her dress from his hands as he continued to grope at her, muttering something to him that he couldn’t decipher through the dozens of voices shouting throughout the bar.

————————————————————

Elain smoothed the edges of her dress down with a huff, tugging it towards her knees as if it would do any good to cover more skin. Impossible when she knew everyone could slightly see the curve of her rear peeking out of the bottom. Her jaw had practically hit the floor when the barmaid lifted the so-called “uniform” up from behind the bar, tossing the scrap of fabric to her with an expectant gaze that said “either wear the dress or find another place to work.” She’d never worn anything so revealing. Her thoughts had quickly run to the thought of how she would pick something up from the floor without showcasing her entire backside, and in a place like this she knew that sight would only bring trouble.

Even without an occurrence like that happening, trouble had found her at every turn in the past few hours. She had probably ripped the hands of men off of her skirts at least five times by now. One man even tried to get on all fours and peek up the dress, which ended with him being tossed out by the collar of his tunic by the barmaid who appeared to have used little effort to do so.

Huffing in frustration, Elain deftly pried another man's fingers from the fabric of her dress, suppressing the urge to lash out as she scanned the crowded tavern for empty glasses. Her nerves were frayed from the continuous unwanted advances, her patience wearing thin with each lecherous gaze and groping hand.

Her eyes darted around the dimly lit room before they suddenly locked onto a figure standing in the doorway that made her release a choking sound. The winged male’s hazel eyes were ablaze with an intensity she had rarely witnessed, even in the heat of battle or the depths of despair. The sight of his unwavering fury sent a shiver down her spine, goosebumps prickling across her skin despite the warm, smoky air of the tavern. Her heart skipped a beat, caught in dread at the circumstances of their reunion. How had he found her so swiftly? And why now, in this humiliating moment, when she felt so vulnerable and exposed?

The thoughts circled her head, giving her no time to breathe. She felt the panic rise as his hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched with unrelenting anger. Her eyes darted to any possible escape, looking towards the female she now called her manager in a silent plea for help. She was too busy draping herself over the counter, batting her lashes at the men that practically threw their silver marks down the bodice of her dress.

Her next move might’ve been the dumbest thing she could think to do, but it was her only idea in the sheer panic that consumed her.

She ran away. Again.

The tray slipped from her trembling hands, the crash of metal against wood echoing through the tavern as she spun on her heels and bolted for the staircase leading to her meager room. Each step felt like an eternity as she sprinted, heart pounding in her chest with a mix of fear and urgency. Her mind raced faster than her feet, replaying the humiliating scene with each stride.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she ascended the creaking stairs, willing herself to move faster despite the burn in her legs. The weight of Azriel's intense gaze lingered like a shadow, urging her onward. She couldn't bear the thought of him seeing her in such a compromised state, her dignity sullied by the hands of strangers and the leers of drunken men.

Her breath was running ragged as she sprinted for the door at the end of the hall. She shook as she slipped the key into the lock, nearly dropping it before throwing the door open and slamming it behind her. She locked it once more, heart pounding wildly as she backed away and stared at the wooden barrier that was the only thing that stood between her and the last person she wanted to see right now.

She screamed as not even a second later a force flew into the door, slamming it into the wall with a cloud of dust. The air around her seemed to thicken as leathery wings unfurled in the doorway, casting ominous shadows across the room. Azriel stood framed by the wings, his figure imposing and menacing, every line of his body taut with fury that radiated like heat from a forge.

Elain's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she backed away from him. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, her fingers curling into fists at her sides in a futile attempt to steady herself. She could feel the weight of his gaze upon her like the stare of a predator cornering its prey.

As Azriel advanced slowly into the room, his movements deliberate and calculated, Elain retreated until her legs met the edge of the bed. She sank onto the worn mattress, crawling backwards until her back pressed against the headboard. Panic surged through her veins, urging her to find an escape route, however temporary or painful it might be.

In a frantic attempt towards freedom, she turned towards the window, her hands fumbling with the latch in her haste. The cold metal resisted her trembling fingers, the latch sticking stubbornly as she struggled to open it. Outside, the moon cast a silvery glow over the rooftops, a tantalizing glimpse of freedom that seemed just out of reach.

Azriel's steps echoed ominously behind her, drawing closer with each passing second. The urgency of her situation heightened, pushing her to redouble her efforts. With a final desperate tug, the latch gave way, the window swinging open with a protesting creak. The rush of cool night air brushed against her face, carrying with it the sounds of the city. Her hopes of escaping died quickly, however.

"Oh no you don’t," Azriel growled, his voice low and menacing. Suddenly, Elain felt strong hands wrap around her ankles, yanking her off balance. She squealed in surprise, kicking fiercely as he swiftly flipped her over and gripped her jaw firmly.

"Stop fighting me." His words came out in a near shout, filled with a mix of frustration and urgency. His grip tightened slightly, not to hurt her, but to emphasize his command. His hazel eyes bore into hers, his face a mask of determination and concern, strands of his dark hair falling forward in disarray.

Elain's heart raced in her chest as she struggled against his hold, her mind racing with fear. She could feel the tension radiating from him, his fingers pressing into her skin, urging her to comply. The room felt stiflingly small, the air thick with unresolved emotions and the undeniable proximity of their bodies.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she searched his eyes for any sign of relenting, any flicker of understanding. But Azriel's expression remained resolute, his features etched with an intensity that both frightened and compelled her.

"I-I’m sorry," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. She struggled to find the right words, her mind racing with uncertainty. Never before had she felt so utterly speechless.

Azriel let out a weary sigh, the tension in his fingers easing slightly as he released his grip on her jaw. He bowed his head briefly before meeting her gaze again with a mixture of frustration and concern. "I don’t care for an apology," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "I’ve simply come to bring you home."

Elain's eyebrows furrowed, a flicker of defiance sparking in her eyes. "Well, good luck with that," she retorted. "Because I’m not going back."

His eyes flashed with renewed determination as he locked gazes with her once more. The fury that had momentarily softened now resurfaced, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I don’t remember asking if you were okay with it," he replied tersely. "Rhysand and Feyre are worried sick - everyone is. You’re coming back with me, right now."

He glanced down between them, his eyes darkening at the sight of her. "After you change," he added, his voice sounding rougher, a touch of an emotion she couldn’t identify evident in his eyes as he considered her current state.

Elain's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she glanced down at herself. Her breasts threatened to spill out of the tight bodice, the skirt riding up to reveal her white cotton panties. With a hurried motion, she tugged at the edges of the skirt, pulling it down to the tops of her thighs—though it was clear it wouldn't cover much more. Her hands instinctively rose to her chest as she tried her best to conceal herself from Azriel's intense gaze. The heat of her blush deepened as she realized how exposed she felt in this moment under his scrutinizing stare.

“You can tell Feyre I’m fine.” She said sternly. “I am unharmed, housed and fed. I have a job already, and no one knows who I am. They cannot use me against you all. Now leave.”

Azriel laughed at that, only making Elain more infuriated. “Unharmed? How many men have tried to put their hands on you in the last few days? And housed? This place is a fucking dump. I don’t even know how you can sleep with the sounds of the rats skittering in the walls. Now get up and change because we’re going back to Velaris. I’m not arguing with you.” He slipped his hands under her elbows to pull her up, but was taken aback as she slammed her palms into his chest and pushed him away.

“No!” she yelled, stepping in front of him. “I will not go back there. Not while you suffer in silence and I serve no purpose. At least here, I’m doing something. And so what if the men touch me? It’s none of your business.”

Azriel stilled, his wings twitching. He cocked his head to the side. “None of my business?” he repeated slowly. He stepped forward, his chest almost brushing her face due to his towering height. “You know damn well it is far from being none of my business.”

She glanced away. “Yeah, well, not anymore it’s not. You made sure of that.”

His frown deepened, fists clenching at his sides. “You have no idea the position I’m in. Rhysand will have my head if I so much as lay a finger on you. Lucien too.”

Her head snapped back to look at him, frustration boiling over and spilling into every part of her being. She was tired of everyone making decisions for her. No one controlled her. Not Rhysand, not Lucien, not anyone. She hadn't felt in control of her own life in what felt like an eternity.

For years, she had been denied the ability to make her own choices. She remembered the countless days spent confined to their home, forced to stay behind while Feyre ventured into the woods to hunt, each outing a painful reminder of her own perceived uselessness. Then came the harrowing experience of being forced into the Cauldron, an act that stripped her of any semblance of autonomy. And even after all that, when she thought she might finally find some measure of peace, she was confined to the townhouse in Velaris. There, she lived out her days in stifling insignificance, her every move watched.

Her life had become a series of forced submissions, each one more suffocating than the last. She was tired of the constant oversight, the feeling of being trapped in a life that wasn’t her own. She yearned for freedom and the ability to make her own choices and carve out her own path. The pent-up frustration, the anger—it all surged within her, making her feel like she might explode.

She was done with it. “And what if I want you to lay a finger on me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His nostrils flared, the energy between them nearly palpable. “I cannot,” he replied. Turning away, he faced the bedroom door, running a hand through his dark hair. “I will not. Discussion over. Now, let’s go. Grab your things.”

“Then you can see yourself out. Perhaps I’ll find a male’s touch elsewhere. Maybe even downstai—” Elain was cut off as Azriel whipped around, taking two long strides until he once again stood in front of her.

“Say that again,” he growled.

Game on. She tilted her head back, glaring up at him defiantly. “You heard me. Now if you’ll excuse m—”

Once again, she was cut off mid-sentence. But this time, it wasn't because he had interrupted her with words. No, this time, she found herself unable to speak because he had closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, gripping her chin with a firm yet almost desperate intensity. His eyes, dark and intent, bore into hers for a split second before his lips came down in an aggressive, dominating kiss that left her breathless. She gasped in surprise, the sound muffled against his mouth, but quickly recovered from the initial shock. Feeling the unspoken need behind his actions, she responded in kind, tugging him down closer to her level and wrapping her hands around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him deeper into the kiss. The world around them seemed to blur and fade, leaving just the two of them locked in this powerful, electrifying moment.

She didn’t even remember moving as her back met the unforgiving surface of the wall. His hands were on her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer as his lips continued to mold against hers. The heat rose rapidly within her, starting at her neck and radiating down between her legs, a molten ache that made her knees weak. His tongue pushed into her mouth and claimed her with an urgency that sent shivers down her spine. She let out a low, throaty moan as the sound of her desire filled the small space around them. Surrendering completely to the moment, she allowed him to explore her, their tongues twining together in an intoxicating dance. Every touch, every movement was a new sensation that sent waves of pleasure and anticipation coursing through her, making her feel alive in a way she hadn't in a long time.

“Holy Gods,” he muttered between kisses, “You taste like honey. Pure fucking honey.”

Elain felt an intense blush tingle her cheeks before her fingers found his hair once more, pulling him impossibly closer as she pressed her mouth back to his. She couldn’t get enough, her body craving more with each passing second. Never in her life had she been kissed like this. The memory of Graysen, her first and only lover, flashed briefly in her mind, but there was no comparison. Not once in their time together had they shared a moment that felt this raw, this electric, this overwhelmingly passionate. With him, it had always been gentle and predictable, but now, with every touch and every kiss, she felt as if she were on fire, ignited by a desire that consumed her entirely.

Azriel’s grip shifted to the back of her thighs, his hands strong and confident as he lifted her effortlessly off the floor. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on tightly as their bodies pressed together. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders for support as he pushed his tongue back between her lips, curling it expertly around hers. Acting on impulse, she bit his lower lip gently but firmly. The sound of his groan, low and primal, sent a thrill through her, and she felt a surge of satisfaction as he pulled his lip back, a playful yet possessive gleam in his eyes. His gaze locked onto hers, piercing into her very soul with a look that spoke of both desire and something deeper, something that made her feel seen in a way she never had before. His mouth stayed open, breaths mingling with hers.

“You will be the death of me, Elain.” He muttered.

“Well I best make sure that your death is as mind-blowing as possible then.” Elain replied, leaning forward in an attempt to catch his lips with hers once more. But she never succeeded as he turned his head away, a frown settling over his face.

“I can’t do this with you. If we continue, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” His voice sounded strained, like it was physically tolling to keep himself from touching her.

Elain’s feet met the floor again as Azriel pushed himself away. He made to distance himself, but she quickly grabbed one of his scarred hands in hers. “Please,” she begged, “please don’t stop. I want this. You want this.” Her eyes looked up at him in a pleading gaze that made his pants tighten around his cock. “Stop fighting it.”

He looked down at her, eyes roving over her every detail. She was absolutely stunning. A perfect rose in a garden of thorns. There was nothing more he wished to do than claim her in every sense of the word. He wanted to kiss her until he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to feel the softness of her nipples against his calloused fingers and the sensation of her coming on his tongue. He knew there would never be a feeling that would surpass the moment he finally sank into her tight heat that he could scent from where he stood. The sweet aroma made his mouth water, and his eyes threatened to roll back. His cock felt impossibly hard as he continued to lose every last thread of control keeping him from acting on his desires.

“I can’t,” he said as he gritted his teeth. “I’m trying so hard to control myself right now. You have no idea the trouble that will follow if we do this.”

"I don’t care," Elain replied firmly, her voice tinged with defiance. She spoke the truth; in that moment, nothing else mattered to her but standing her ground in that room, where the tension between them crackled like lightning on a stormy night. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the restraint he imposed on himself. And then, in a surge of unexpected confidence, she decided to challenge the boundaries he had set. Her hands moved to the sleeves of her dress, fingers curling around the fabric before she boldly pushed them off her shoulders.

“No,” Azriel seethed. “Don’t you dare.”

She ignored him as she untied the laces on the back of the dress, letting the top half of it slip past the peaks of her breasts to pool around her waist. A ragged groan escaped Azriel’s lips at the sight, a primal sound that echoed the longing in his eyes. He fought against the urge to reach out, to touch her, to feel the warmth of her against his skin.

"Oh, Gods," Azriel practically whimpered, his voice thick with desire and conflict. His eyes remained locked on her newly revealed flesh, unable to tear away from the intoxicating sight before him. His refusal to act on his needs was painful, but he still made no move towards her.

And that wouldn’t do.

Elain’s thumbs hooked into the spot where her skirts hung on her hips, pushing the band down until the entirety of the dress had met the floor. She stood before Azriel in nothing but her cotton panties, their soft fabric hugging her hips and accentuating the gentle curve of her waist. The faintest hint of lace adorned the edges, adding a delicate touch to the otherwise plain garment. Her skin, bathed in the soft glow of the room, bore a warmth that invited his touch, every contour of her body tempting his gaze further. Her legs extended from the panties down to the worn shoes she then kicked off, leaving her in socks that matched her undergarments down to the laced edges.

Azriel’s restraint officially snapped. His fists unclenched along with his jaw, blowing out a breath before declaring “to hell with it.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between them in quick strides, his gaze never leaving Elain's exposed form. His hands, rough and scarred from years of battle, hesitated for just a fraction of a second before gently cupping her face. His touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting sharply with the intensity of his gaze.

Elain's heart raced in her chest, anticipation and desire mingling in equal measure. She could feel the heat emanating from his palms, a stark reminder of the fire burning between them. Despite the whirlwind of emotions and the gravity of the moment, she stood her ground, her eyes locked with his.

"Are you sure?" Azriel murmured, his voice low and gravelly, betraying the depth of his longing.

She nodded, her own voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes."

In one fluid motion, Azriel lifted her thighs around him once more, cradling her against his chest as he carried her towards the bed. The fabric of her panties brushed against his front, a sensation that sent a jolt of electricity through both of them. His eyes squeezed shut as he willed himself to not take this too fast. As much as he wanted to ram his cock into her until she was screaming his name, he knew he had to be gentle for their first time. As he laid her down on the sheets, he hovered over her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation.

Finding none, he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, a culmination of months of unspoken desire and restraint. The world outside faded into insignificance as they melted into each other, breaths mingling and hands exploring. Azriel’s shirt soon found the floor beside Elain’s dress, her hands immediately running over the planes of his chest. His muscled figure made her squeeze her thighs together as a fresh wetness seeped into her panties.

Azriel’s nostrils flared again as her aroma met his senses. His cock twitched in his pants before his lips pulled from hers to coast down her neck, sucking at the hollow of her throat. Her moans only made his aggressive need to claim her more desperate. Soon enough, he drifted lower to her breasts, taking his time to admire them before clamping his mouth around her right nipple and sucking fiercely.

“Azriel!” Elain cried, her fingers rushing to his hair. She tightened her grip on his head as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh. He almost seemed to be drunk on her, his eyes remaining closed as he stuck his tongue out and flicked at the peak before pulling it into his mouth once more. His other hand pinched and pulled at her left nipple, not seeming to get enough of the feel of her. He squeezed hard before pulling himself back to suck on her other breast, switching hands so that neither of them went untouched for more than a breath.

“By the Cauldron, Elain,” he breathed, between his tormenting, “you’re fucking perfect.”

His hands left to find her hips, and he kissed his way down her stomach, biting softly at the flesh there which elicited another breathy moan from her. His fingers teased the hem of her panties before they dipped under, dragging a line across the material. His eyes stayed locked on the covered area between her legs, as if he could see straight through the cotton.

“This,” he said to her pointedly, “this is what truly will be the death of me.” His thumb reached out and pressed at her most sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs over the material. She immediately responded with a squeak, pressing her thighs together. He chuckled as his hands then sprawled across her inner thighs, spreading them as far as they could go. He brought his face forward until his nose was pressed where his thumb had just been, breathing in her scent. “Fuck, this is addictive.”

Her face flushed an impossible shade of red, hands covering her eyes. “Don’t do that!” She squealed in embarrassment. Never in her life did she think she’d have a man going out of his way to take in the scent between her legs. Especially not Azriel.

“Are you kidding me?” Azriel laughed. “This is what I’ve dreamt about a thousand times over. Your scent,” he breathed in again, “is intoxicating.” He had never wanted somebody more. His eyes moved upwards from her most sensitive area, drifting up to peer at her covered face. “I’ve also dreamt about doing this.”

Suddenly, Elain felt the sensation of a warm, wet touch pressing against her clit through her panties. She cried out louder than ever before, hips shocking off the bed on instinct.

His tongue simply pressed harder into her warmth, moving relentlessly as she squirmed beneath him. He let out a guttural sound as he took in the taste of her through the cotton. She tasted better than he ever thought possible. If he thought her scent was addictive, this was pure opium.

He couldn’t help himself as he gripped either side of the cotton and ripped, watching as her sex became exposed to him as the undergarment tore in half. She gasped in complete shock, curling upwards to stare at the damage he’d just done.

“What are you do- oh Gods!” Elain was cut off as Azriel’s tongue once more came down to press against her clit before wrapping his lips around it. He flicked his tongue with no mercy, smiling as he felt her fingers rush to his hair and pull without restraint. It didn’t even pain him, the taste of her blocking out any other sensations.

His tongue traced circles over the sensitive bud, over and over as she squeezed her thighs around his head. “You like that?” Azriel asked between flicks. “Like my tongue on your little clit?” He felt absolutely drunk on her now. He closed his eyes once more as he dipped his tongue into her entrance, thrusting it in and out as groans fell out of his mouth.

Elain’s breath grew more and more ragged, each exhale a soft moan escaping her lips. This sensation was entirely new to her, an intoxicating blend of desire and vulnerability that she had never experienced with Graysen. Azriel’s touch was a revelation, each swirl of his tongue igniting fireworks behind her closed eyes. Her fingers tightened in his dark hair, strands slipping through her trembling grasp as her back arched involuntarily off the bed. It was as if Azriel had unlocked a secret chamber of pleasure within her, one she hadn't known existed until this moment.

Suddenly, she felt a pressure growing in her molten core as he continued to lick and suck. “Azriel,” she moaned, “I-I think I’m close.”

“Go ahead baby, come on my tongue. I want it.” He replied as he lifted a hand towards where his tongue continued to work. She gasped as she felt his finger at her entrance before he pushed it in, slowly stretching her. Gods, he knew what he was doing.

She continued to feel the pressure build up at a fast rate, struggling to keep still as he worked her towards a sensation she had only ever reached on her own. Graysen had never checked to see if she climaxed, finding his own release and stopping at that.

The pent-up sensation came to a head as Azriel pushed in a second finger, all while continuing to lick at her clit. The pleasure was almost unbearable, and she gripped his hair impossibly tight, squeezing her legs around him as she let out a moan so loud that every resident of the inn probably heard it. Stars danced across her vision as she came, her legs shaking and toes curling as wave after wave of the most intense pleasure she had ever felt crashed over her. Her hips rolled into his face, and he groaned in satisfaction as her essence spilled on his lips.

Azriel was relentless, his tongue replacing his fingers, softly pushing in and out of her entrance as his jaw hung open, enthralled by her taste. His desire for her only grew stronger with each passing second. The way her body responded to his touch, the way she completely surrendered to him, was driving him wild.

“That,” he finally voiced, pulling back slightly to look up at her with eyes darkened by desire, “was a religious experience. I think I can die happy now.” Elain giggled at his words, a sound that was both sweet and breathless. Azriel traced kisses up her sex towards her navel, his lips lingering on her skin, savoring the connection between them. He planted a kiss on each of her breasts before finally finding her lips and brushing them together in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

“You are a drug,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with awe and adoration. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a need that matched her own. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm matching her own racing heartbeat. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other, their connection deepening with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of affection.

Elain wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with equal fervor. She could taste herself on his lips. Her body was still tingling, every nerve ending alive with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She wanted more of him, needed more of him, and she knew that he felt the same.

Azriel's hands roamed over her body, caressing her skin with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. He wanted to memorize every curve, every dip, every inch of her. She was his, and he was hers, and nothing else mattered in that moment.

Elain, still coming down from the high of her climax, looked down between them at his groin. His pants had tightened so much it looked painful, the hardened length of him threatening to burst through the fabric. She bit her lip, the sight of his obvious arousal fueling her newfound confidence. With a determined look in her eyes, she pushed at him until his back met the mattress, her hands steady on his chest. She climbed on top of him, her knees hugging each of his hips.

Azriel pushed out a breath at the sight of her sitting atop him, her hair covering parts of her breasts as it hung down between them. He smiled as his hands gripped her hips. “What do you want, Elain?”

“I want this,” her hand came down to stroke up his length, causing him to hiss between his teeth. “I want you inside me.”

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. He pulled her hips up until he had enough room to unbutton his pants, the metallic clink of the buttons giving way to a quiet rustling as he tugged them down his muscular thighs with urgency. "I'll give you what you want then," he murmured, his voice husky with desire as he met her gaze, dark with desire and determination.

Elain’s breath caught in her throat as Azriel revealed his proud length to her. His cock was, to say the least, enormous, standing tall and rigid beneath her. A mix of desire and concern flickered across her face as she stared down at him, her eyes widening slightly. "Azriel... I-I don't think you're going to fit," she managed to say, her voice a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Her fingers twitched nervously against his chest, unsure of what to do next as she felt a flutter of apprehension mingling with the desire that pulsed through her veins.

He chuckled at that. “That’s why I stretched you out, baby. It’ll be fine. I’ll go slow.”

His cock was not only considerable in length, but the thickness of it also gave Elain pause. She couldn't help but worry that it might feel like when she lost her maidenhead all over again. Despite her apprehension, she remained still as Azriel gripped himself firmly, pumping a few times to prepare. His other hand guided her hips to position her above him.

“You ready?” Azriel asked, his voice low and husky, his eyes locked with hers under heavy lids, a close-lipped smile playing on his lips. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded slowly, her breath catching in her throat. The anticipation and nerves mingled within her, but the desire to feel him inside her outweighed any hesitation she might have had.

She gasped again as she felt the tip of his length pressing against her entrance, her breath hitching in anticipation. His strong hand pressed down gently on her hip to guide her with a deliberate slowness as he began to sink her onto him. Every inch that slid inside her elicited a whimper from her lips, the sensation both overwhelming and intoxicating. He groaned deeply, the sound reverberating through his chest as her wet warmth enveloped him. The feeling of her tightness around him was almost too much to bear, and he clenched his jaw to maintain control, savoring every moment between them.

He only managed to get halfway inside her before she gripped his wrists, her fingers digging in with urgency. Azriel’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his gaze filled with concern and a touch of tenderness. His body was taut with the effort to hold back as he paused.

“I just- need a minute,” she panted, her voice trembling. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to steady her breathing and calm her racing heart. The fullness of him was just as she anticipated, each inch stretching her in a way that was both thrilling and intimidating. The sting she felt with every bit he pushed deeper was almost overwhelming.

Azriel's grip on her hips softened as his thumbs gently caressed her skin in a soothing gesture. He waited patiently as she worked to relax. Elain focused on the warmth of his touch, willing herself to push past the initial discomfort.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. His words were a balm that helped to ease her tension. She nodded, her confidence slowly returning as the sting began to dull. She knew she just had to pass this first hurdle to reach the pleasure she craved, to find the rhythm that would turn the pain into ecstasy.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his gaze, giving him a small, determined nod. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice steadier now. “I’m ready.”

He responded with a slow, encouraging smile, the kind that made her heart flutter and her resolve strengthen. His grip on her hips tightened just a fraction, enough to provide support but not control. She felt an electric thrill as she began to sink down onto him again.

With each inch that sank deeper inside her, the initial discomfort began to transform into a growing sense of fullness and pleasure. She gasped softly, her breath catching as the sensations intensified, sending shivers through her body. Azriel's eyes remained locked on hers, conveying admiration and reassurance without a single word. She felt a swell of pride as she found herself almost fully seated on his length with only a small part of his shaft still visible.

She took another deep breath, feeling her muscles relax a fraction more. Slowly, she began to move, her hips rocking gently as she adjusted to a rhythm. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure through her, the initial sting giving way to a heat that spread through her core. She had never felt something so good, so right.

“That’s it,” Azriel groaned, his grip steadying her. “Nice and slow. Let yourself feel everything.”

Elain’s eyes never left his, her confidence growing with every passing second, the pleasure starting to eclipse the discomfort entirely. She moved a little faster, her movements more fluid as her body acclimated to the sensation. Azriel’s hands guided her, matching her rhythm, his own breathing growing heavier.

The connection between them felt almost tangible, a force that drew them closer with every shared breath, every soft moan. Elain’s heart swelled with emotion, the depth of her feelings for him overwhelming in the best possible way.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands squeezing her hips. “So perfect. Just like that.”

She began to ride him with more confidence, her movements becoming more deliberate. Each roll of her hips brought a fresh wave of pleasure, her body responding eagerly to his. Her moans filled the air around them as one of his hands reached around to grip her ass.

“Deeper,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “Take me deeper, Elain. You can do it.”

Elain’s heart raced at his words, her own determination fueling her movements. She adjusted her angle, taking him deeper inside her, the sensation making her gasp. Azriel’s grip on her hips tightened slightly as he felt his self control ebbing away. His groans grew louder, mixing with hers in a symphony of shared ecstasy.

“Gods,” he muttered, his voice a breathless whisper. “You feel so fucking good.”

Elain’s heart soared at his words, her own feelings echoing his. She leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, a culmination of everything they had held back for so long. The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing together as their bodies moved in perfect harmony.

“That’s it,” he groaned against her lips. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Elain's body arched against his in response. She moved with more confidence, the pace quickening as desire and pleasure mingled in a heady rush. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

“More,” she breathed against his lips, her voice a plea and a demand all at once. “I want more, Azriel.”

“Fuck,” he grunted in response. His hands tightened around her hips, fingers digging into her skin with a mixture of urgency and desire as he began pounding up into her. Her mouth fell open at the intensity of it, her breaths becoming ragged as he drove into her with relentless determination.

His thumb found her pulsing clit, pressing against it in tight circles that sent sparks of electricity through her entire body. The dual stimulation of his thrusts and his skilled touch had her on the edge, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. Her moans filled the air, mingling with his groans of pleasure as they moved together in a rhythm born of primal need.

“S-so close,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut at the sensation of her climax building.

Her words fueled his desire even more, urging him to take her higher, to push her over the edge they both craved. His own need was palpable as he sought to bring her to the peak of pleasure.

"You're almost there," he growled huskily. "Let go baby. Come for me."

His thrusts became more deliberate, each one calculated to bring her closer to that elusive release. His touch on her clit was unrelenting, a constant stimulation driving her towards the brink of ecstasy.

The tension in her body at last reached its peak, pleasure cresting like a wave crashing over her. She cried out, a mixture of his name and a wordless plea, as ecstasy swept through her. Her muscles clenched around him, her body shaking with the force of her release as waves of pleasure pulsed through her core. Azriel thrust deeply into her, his body tensing as he found his own release. Heat surged through him, mingling with the intensity of her climax as he spilled himself inside her, each pulse of pleasure echoing the rhythm of their entwined bodies.

His movements slowed gradually, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through him as he pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. He held her close, his touch gentle yet possessive, as they lay intertwined, bodies still humming with the echoes of their shared passion.

Elain's chest rose and fell with each deep breath, her fingers tracing patterns on his back as she savored the warmth of his embrace. She lifted her head slightly to meet his gaze, her eyes soft and filled with a mixture of contentment and adoration. "That was... beyond words." She said.

He kissed her forehead tenderly, his lips lingering against her skin. "I've never felt anything like it," he admitted, his voice a quiet rumble against her ear. "Being with you... it's different. In the best possible way."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Different how?"

Azriel shifted slightly. "With you, it's not just about physical pleasure," he explained softly. "It's like... every touch, every moment, it's meaningful. There's this connection between us that goes beyond anything I've ever known."

Elain's eyes searched his, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. "I feel it too," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Being with you, it's like… finally coming home."

Azriel's expression softened at her words, a warmth spreading through his chest. He leaned down to capture her lips in a tender kiss, pouring all his unspoken emotions into the gentle caress. They lingered there, their bodies pressed together in silent understanding, as the weight of their shared intimacy settled around them like a comforting embrace, his length sitting fully inside her still.

Elain felt a smile creep onto her face at a thought that came to her. “I will admit, you were a terrifying sight when I saw you down there. It almost looked like you were going to punish me yourself.” She stated.

Azriel's expression darkened slightly at her words, his jaw tightening. "Elain," he began, his voice low and strained, "you shouldn't have run away. It's dangerous for you out here, away from Velaris."

Elain met his gaze steadily, her smile fading into a more serious expression. "I had to, Azriel," she replied softly. "I couldn't stand seeing you avoid us, avoiding me. Rhysand's threats shouldn't keep us apart like this."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. "You don't understand the risks," he said, frustration lacing his words. "Rhysand made it clear what would happen if we continued... this." His eyes flickered over her, a mix of desire and apprehension swirling in their depths.

Elain reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against his arm. "I don't care about the risks," she insisted, her voice earnest. "I want to be with you, Azriel. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Azriel's resolve faltered as he looked at her, his expression softening despite the turmoil in his eyes. "Elain, you're mated to Lucien," he reminded her, his voice pained. "There are consequences..."

She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. "I don't love Lucien," she admitted quietly. "I never have."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears and desires. Azriel squeezed her hand gently, his resolve crumbling as he pulled her into his arms. "Gods, Elain," he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed you."

She nestled against him, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. "I've missed you too," she whispered. "Please don't stay away from me."

Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her protectively. "I can't," he vowed softly. "I won’t."

For a moment, they held each other in silence, the world around them fading into insignificance. Elain breathed in the familiar scent of him, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his back as if to reassure herself he was real.

Then, Azriel pulled back slightly. His gaze held a mixture of tenderness and a hint of something darker. "Now," he murmured huskily, his voice sending shivers down her spine, "back to the part about punishing you."

Elain looked at him with wide eyes as the words sank in. She felt a thrum of anticipation course through her body as Azriel’s hands squeezed her ass. “What do you mean?”

He grinned up at her with a predatory gaze. “You know exactly what I mean.” He said.

She suddenly remembered that his cock was still buried in her, and was quickly hardening in her warmth. She looked down at the space between them as she felt a new rush of wetness course over her.

He took his time pulling himself from her, causing her to squeak in surprise at the sensation. His hands traveled from her waist to her jaw, clutching it between his fingers as he pressed his lips to hers. “I want to show you what will happen if you run away from me again.” He declared.

Elain's breath hitched at his words, a mix of fear and excitement swirling within her. His intense gaze never wavered, and she could see the dark promise in his eyes. "Azriel, I won't—" she started, but he silenced her with a deep, demanding kiss that left her breathless.

He pulled back, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "You will never run from me again," he growled softly, his voice vibrating through her.

“Never,” she replied, eyes hooded as her core throbbed, waiting to see what he’d do next.

Azriel's hands tightened around her waist, his grip firm but not painful as he lifted her effortlessly. He positioned her on her stomach and stood behind her at the edge of the bed. His movements were deliberate and controlled, exuding an air of dominance that made her heart race. He lifted her hips and angled her so that she was on her knees with her upper body pressed into the mattress. The position left her feeling exposed and vulnerable, a sensation that both terrified and thrilled her.

The anticipation thrummed through her veins in a way that made her pulse race. She could hear Azriel's steady breathing behind her, feel the heat of his body so close to hers. His hands began to roam over her skin, exploring every curve and contour with a teasing touch. His fingers traced the line of her spine which sent shivers down her back, before moving lower to squeeze her hips and thighs.

His touch was maddeningly gentle, building the tension until she thought she might scream from the sheer need of it. When his hands finally reached her ass, he caressed the soft flesh, kneading it with a firm, possessive grip that made her gasp.

Then, without warning, he delivered a light smack that sent a jolt of sensation through her body. She cried out in surprise, the sting of his hand mingling with the heat of her arousal. The sound echoed in the room, sharp and startling, but the sensation that followed was even more shocking. A rush of warmth spread through her, and she felt her body respond with a flood of wetness.

Elain's mind raced. She felt as though she should tell him off, should protest, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she found herself arching her back slightly, presenting herself to him even more. The realization that she liked how he spanked her—no, loved it—took her by surprise. The mix of pleasure and pain, the feeling of being so completely at his mercy, awakened something deep within her.

Azriel noticed her reaction, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

She shivered, her body trembling with a mix of desire and anticipation. "Yes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I do."

He felt his cock twitch at her admittance. His hands continued smoothing over her skin, appreciating her ass that now held a tint of pink on one side. The sight of her, so willing and open to him, stirred a fresh wave of desire in him. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the reddened spot, his lips soft against her heated skin before his teeth nipped at the flesh. The cry she let out at that only helped to make him impossibly harder.

Azriel's hands then rose up to tangle into her hair. He gently pulled, tilting her head back so he could see her face. "You're beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice a mix of admiration and possessiveness. "And you are mine."

Elain's heart raced at his words, her body responding to the commanding yet tender tone in his voice. She felt a deep sense of belonging, of being exactly where she was meant to be. "Yours," she echoed, the word slipping from her lips like a vow.

Azriel's eyes darkened as he released her hair and moved back slightly. His hands gripped her hips, positioning her just right. He paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build, before slowly pressing into her. The sensation was intense, each inch sending waves of pleasure through her body.

Before she knew it he was sunken to the hilt in her. She hissed between her teeth at the burn as he stretched her again, his cock hitting every spot imaginable.

“Do you feel that?” He asked her. “You feel how full you are with me inside you?”

“Yes,” she moaned back. “You feel so good.”

He grit his teeth as his hands squeezed around her pelvis, pulling out ever so slowly before slamming back in with no warning. The scream that came out of Elain had him feeling like he was on cloud-fucking-nine.

“That’s right,” he mumbled. “Take it like I know you can.”

Elain's senses were ablaze, every touch of his driving her wild with a primal, almost feral hunger. The sensation of him inside her, stretching her, filling her, was not just overwhelming but exhilarating, igniting a fire that consumed her whole being. She bit down hard on the pillow beneath her, unable to contain the raw intensity of her pleasure, her body responding eagerly to his dominant presence.

His movements were powerful and commanding, each thrust like a declaration of his control over her pleasure. He teased her mercilessly, pulling out slowly to prolong the anticipation before slamming back into her with a force that stole her breath away. The impact reverberated through her, making her gasp and claw at the sheets beneath her, desperate for more.

The mattress beneath them groaned and protested. Her moans filled the room, mixing with his guttural grunts of satisfaction, a symphony of carnal need that filled the air around them. His pace changed as the hold on his control dwindled, thrusting into her with reckless abandon that had her mouth hanging open like she was being fucked dumb.

She felt the now-familiar tight coil of her climax approaching quickly with how intense the pleasure was. Every thrust of his had him hitting that spot deep inside her that felt so good it nearly brought her to tears.

"The way you take it, baby," he growled, his voice husky with desire. "So fucking good." His hands gripped her so possessively, guiding her movements to match his frenzied pace. "You want to come? Beg for it," he demanded, his breath hot against her ear as he pushed her closer to the brink.

Her whole body trembled with the impending release, every nerve ending ablaze with the pleasure he evoked within her. "I-I wanna come!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the bedroom, stripped of all restraint and control.

He heard her plea, felt the urgency in her voice, and with a primal growl of his own, he intensified his assault on her senses by bringing his fingers to her clit. "That's it," he murmured, his words a mix of command and encouragement. "Let go for me, beautiful. Come all over me."

And then, in a rush of sensation that bordered on overwhelming, they found release together. Elain's cries of ecstasy mingled with his guttural groans as they shattered into climax. She could feel the hot pulse of his release spurting into her, a feeling she might have loved a little too much.

They stayed like that for a moment as they tried to catch their breaths. She sighed contentedly as Azriel's hand gently brushed the hair off her neck as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin. The gesture sent another shiver of pleasure through her.

“I might have to run from you more often, I think,” Elain murmured softly, a playful glint in her eyes as she turned her face towards him.

Azriel chuckled softly, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through her. “If it results in moments like this,” he replied, his breath warm against her skin, “then perhaps I won’t mind the chase so much.”

They lay entwined, the quiet intimacy between them filling the room with a warmth that went beyond physical closeness. Elain traced her fingers lightly over Azriel's skin, feeling the contours of his body beneath her touch. Every movement was imbued with a newfound significance, as if they were discovering each other anew. She knew there would be challenges ahead, uncertainties to navigate, but in that moment, none of it mattered. What mattered was the here and now, the tangible sense of belonging they found in each other's arms.

Closing her eyes, Elain let herself be enveloped in the warmth of Azriel's embrace, knowing that whatever the future held, they would face it together. Their bond was not just a fleeting passion but a foundation upon which they could build something beautiful and enduring. In the quiet of that room, amidst the whispers of their hearts, they found solace and strength in each other's love.

[violinist-rachel]

Grey Skies

[Prev]

A door creaks.

Rachel turns on the light to dimly illuminate a dusty room filled with unused furniture and trinkets. All the holiday decorations, the unneeded dresser, the boxes full of miscellaneous items that were only used once; they all reside here until a day comes when it's eventually remembered and brought back out momentarily.

She walked over to the end of the room, where a black case leaned against the wall, and pensively takes it with her as she leaves the room.

-----------------------------------------------------

Rachel opens the case.

It's the violin. The violin that she received on her birthday in celebration of all of her achievements as a musician.

No one is in the house at this time.

The skies are layered thick with grey clouds, and the room echos with only the sounds of Rachel's footsteps tapping on the hard floor. Rachel breathes shakily as she sets up the sheet music on a stand, steeling herself to play.

She puts the bow up to the violin and begins playing.

It was just simple warm ups. Playing an instrument often require intricate and precise movements; similar to how athletes must warm up to prime their body before they start, playing music is just the same.

Feeling a little more confident, she decided to play an old piece she knew by memory. It wasn't a difficult piece, and it was one she mastered a long time ago. Whenever people asked her to play something upon learning she was a violinist, this would often be her go-to to showcase.

The clouds outside flashes briefly with lightning, but no audible thunder accompanies it.

As she played the final note, Rachel took a moment to pause. She turned her attention to her music stand, which held the sheets for the piece she was meant to play at the concert years ago. The last concert she was meant to be a part of before her hiatus. She assumes her position, determined to get through this piece, and starts playing.

She's off-tempo. She's playing too quickly and she knows it. When she comes across a long pause in the piece, she stops. Taking a deep breath, she decides to try it again from the start.

She starts playing again, slower this time. Although it felt more accurate, she finds herself becoming irritated. Her fingers felt stiff and heavy, as though they were rebelling against her. Parts that used to be fun to play and flowed easily now sounded almost stilted and forced. Halfway though the piece, she trails off and stops, unsatisfied.

She used to be able to do this. She used to play better than this. This isn't even a difficult piece. She used to like playing this.

She flipped back to the first page of the piece and started over.

She played the wrong note, so she'd start over. Her timing was off, so she'd start over. She didn't transition smoothly, so she'd start over. And over. And over. And over.

She never finished the entire piece each time. Halfway through, something would always go wrong. Something would just never be good enough. And each time it happened, her brow would furrow deeper, her frustration boiling, becoming more and more visible, until-

*CRASH!*

The music sheets are scattered everywhere. Her stand lays on the ground, toppled over. And Rachel stood, bitter and defeated.

This wasn't the first time Rachel has tried to play again, and it wasn't going to be the last, but it's always ended the same way. Every time, it's always ended in disappointment.

A streak of lightning flashed across the window and the sky rumbled threateningly, startling Rachel. Sensing a thunderstorm approaching, she scrambled frantically to re-collect all the sheets and put everything away.

She finds herself in the dusty room once more.

The light flickers as the storm threatens a power outage within the house. Feeling uneasy, she walks quickly over to the wall and places the violin case back where she originally found it. She looks back at it one last time as she exits the room and closes the door briskly as she hears another crackle outside.

Maybe one day, she'll be able to find joy in playing it again. But today was not that day.

[soaps-mohawk]

okay so firstly, I do have to say, it is your blog, you can do whatever you want, blah blah blah moving on

Secondly, I'd like to point out that professional writers usually take breaks between books as well. in my opinion, the first "book" of CRCB either ended after omega was rescued or will end after this next chapter depending on how long the story ends up being (I'm basing this totally off vibes btw pls don't take me seriously I beg)

that being said, you're doing this for free. FREE. if professional writers (who are paid to write) can take breaks, so the FUCK can you. the story you're creating is amazing and incredible, and while I (and probably everyone else who reads it) appreciates the regular updates, we also understand that you're a human, not a living typewriter.

take a break. please, God, take a break. focus on kyletober, or other fics, or even just go on a full writing hiatus if you need. but please, take care of yourself first. we can wait. we'll be fine. there's other authors and fics in the meantime.

Thank you, love 💚

That is true, even professional writers take breaks (I mean GRRM has taken like what more than ten years for the next ISOIAF book? Looking at you George...)

I do think this is a place where it would split into the next fic, if I was going to do things that way. There's still quite a bit to get through, even though we've kind of already had the big climax for at least that bit. So yeah, you're right that this would be the end of the first book so to speak lol.

And yeah, that's a good thing to remember. I do this mostly for free (not counting Patreon). It's a hobby and I do have a life outside of this hobby that I have to attend to that matters more than the fic and the blog and everything. I have a job because I have to have money to survive and I have appointments and friends and other things I like to do. While I've been blessed for a good chunk of the year to be able to focus a lot of time on this blog and this fic, it's just not possible anymore. At least for the time being. Come January and the end of the holiday season and as my job kind of winds down, then yeah. I'll probably be able to focus more energy on the fic and the blog again, but for now, I have to take a break.

It's not even just real life that's getting in the way, I'm burning out on the fic too. I've put out over 300k words in about eight months with weekly updates. That's a lot. That's on average almost 10k words a week counting this next chapter. It's hard to write 10k words in a single week. Chapters are starting to get hard to write and I'm finding myself excited that I'm taking a break and won't have to worry about writing the next chapter, so yeah. It's time for a little break from CRCB to let my mind focus somewhere else (I'm so hyped for Kyletober y'all have no idea) and refill those creative juices towards CRCB.

But thank you for being so understanding. Really. It's so reassuring to see everyone being so supportive. And it's not like i'm not going to be writing during this time, I'm just focusing my energy elsewhere for a bit to give myself a much needed break. 💚

[novafire-is-thinking]

(Until life picks up speed again, this is null. I’ll update it later.)

How to say goodbye ‘see you around’ and mean it…

The time has come.

First thing’s first: this isn’t goodbye—just a heads up.

Due to changes I’m making in my personal life, I’m easing away from the Transformers fandom for a partial hiatus. My ambition makes me restless, and it’s about time I put some of my plans into action.

Yes, a Chinese person becoming a doctor. How original.

Maybe I’ll turn out like Ratchet. Maybe I’ll suffer long enough to become Pharma.

Only time will tell…

In any case, I don’t plan on totally disappearing from the fandom any time soon. For the foreseeable future, you’ll see me around primarily on weekends, Wednesdays, and holidays—collecting posts for the queue, answering old asks, announcing completed WIPs, and making a post every once in a while.

What to expect:

The queue will publish a few times a day, and most original posts and extra reblogs will be scheduled.

I have 300+ post ideas saved in my notes and screenshots. My goal is to slowly release these into the wild.

I’ll try to keep writing meta, but when and how will depend entirely on how much free time I have, and what little energy I have to spare.

If I ever have extra time, I might open my ask box and play an ask game or two. Maybe…

Asks, tags, and other things:

If you sent an ask in the past, I probably have it saved either in my inbox or my drafts. Yes—even the asks that are almost a year old. I have not forgotten, and I still intend to answer, even if the sender doesn’t remember.

My inbox is closed for now, but I’ve set up a fancy little Google form as a replacement: Nova’s Commlink

If at any time, you tagged me in something interesting, I saved it in my drafts. If I’ve deemed it worthy of a response, you will see it eventually.

Feel free to keep tagging me in things. I’ll give posts a ‘like’ to confirm I saw them, and if I really like a post, I’ll queue it for later or drop it in my drafts if I want to give a longer response.

If you tag me and I don’t confirm receipt within a few days, drop me a note in the Google form.

If I said I would do something else for you, I haven’t forgotten. It’s on my list, and I will get back to you about it when I’m able.

WIPs:

Fics for my Constellations of Cybertron AU are on hold. I’ll still plot and plan, but it will be a long time before I publish any of those longer stories.

I will continue working on my shorter WIPs: short fics, zine pieces, etc.

How to reach me:

Anyone (mutual or otherwise) who has my Discord should message me over there. This extends to those I’m in servers with.

Mutuals who don’t have my Discord and anyone I follow here can still DM me through Tumblr.

Everyone else can contact me using the Google form.

Don’t be afraid of bothering me. It may take me a while to respond, but I welcome it.

Last updated: 5/14/24 - section(s) updated: intro, What to expect, and WIPs

[listerbirdloml]

this was probably from ages ago but some fun asks for you; favorite lister headcannons? [I]

OOH idk man i’m shit at head cannons ALSO THIS WAS SAT IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES IM SO SORRY I THOUGHT I POSTED IT

- well in my mind i always read him with a northern english accent and i’m not sure why. i know he’s from kent like Rowan + Jimmy but he just gives off northern vibes idk. and after learning that his dads scottish i can also see him using lots of Scottish slang terms.

- i think he’s a slag for a bit of pop too. Britney, Ariana, Taylor, Reneé, you name it. he gets a bit embarrassed though so he turns off his AirBuds when he wants to listen to girly pop music. he has the widest music taste out of the ark, so his Spotify wrapped is always mental. he posts them every year and not once has the same song appeared in his top listened to

- ik he’s not like blonde blonde but i think his natural hair is a lot darker but he’s been dying it blonder since he first met Jimmy and Rowan. when the ark are on hiatus he lets it grow out to his natural colour for a bit.

- he tried to grow a stache one time but Rowan shaved it while he slept. Also he didn’t know how to shave when he first met Jimmy and Rowan, so Pierro taught him. Pierro also taught him how to tie a real tie rather than use a clip on one.

- Joan LOVED lister. she would always fuss over him when he would come over. When he’d come round he would help her in the garden, but really he was terrible and Joan would always have to fix his mistakes. when he told her about how he and his mum would listen to albums together when he was little, she began showing him her collection of old records from when she was a teen/young adult. when she died she left Lister a few of his favourites. Lister keeps them hidden at all times so when he was hosting parties there was no chance they’d get damaged. after they stopped having so many people over Lister kept them displayed in the living room.

- i think that before he and Jimmy got together he had healthy and fun relationship with someone unrelated. it’s not anything ridiculously serious but it helps him see what he should realistically be looking for and what he deserves. it’s not like he’s using the person though, and he actually really likes them. they eventually end things amicably though, and stay good friends.

- it says on the WIKI article alice wrote for him that he has three half siblings. as far as i can think there’s no canon information about them other than that, so i like to HC that they are all from his dads second marriage and they don’t talk much since Lister hasn’t been to visit his dad in years. the ages are;

1.) Lister (19-20)

2.) a sister who’s like 17ish, she’s super embarrassed about the whole ark thing and is reluctant to rebuild a relationship with him again when he reaches out to her post IWBFT, because she remembers how he used to constantly fight with their dad when he’d come over for christmas / two weeks in the summer holidays. when they do start to reconnect and get closer she helps him bond with their dad too. (maybe she’s called Maya?)

3.) a younger brother who’s 13ish and a total TWAT. they look really similar and he’s just like how Lister was in school but he’s hilarious and really admires Lister. somehow he’s stupid smart though, even if he’s class clown. i think he reaches out to Lister when he’s still in the hospital after the incident. i also think it would be funny if the younger brother’s celebrity crush was Jimmy but his image of jimmy is completely shattered when he meets him properly. (i call him Brodie in my head)

4.) his youngest sister who’s like 7 who barely remembers lister but once they get closer she has him wrapped around her little finger. he almost bought her a horse once but Jimmy and Rowan had to remind him that a 7 year old who lives in a city centre can not logistically look after a whole horse. (i think her names Eilidh)

- the ark move from the flat into a house just outside london and he makes sure they all have a room so they can visit whenever they want to.

- after getting to know them better, he gets really close with Angel and Juliet. the three of them and Bliss have “girls” nights in the arks flat. when Listers hair grows they teach him how to pleat it. he gets really good and when he starts seeing his half siblings again he pleats his sisters hair for them)

sorry idk man i yapped a bit 🤷‍♀️

[escortingsecrets]

I might need to go on a mini hiatus until after the holidays. Im kinda parenting my parents to push them towards finishing the last of the cleaning before everyone comes over for the holidays. We're almost done but I would like the last week before everything starts to be nice and easy, with just shopping instead of all the things we need to do.

January I should finally slow down, so I will reply as best I can here or there to asks or smaller things. Longer replies will be in the new year. Thank you everyone for your patience ❤️