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navybrat817 · 7 months

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Rules and Chaos

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: Your friends are a bad influence when you and Bucky set up booths for a Fall Festival. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Implied sex, slight humor, slight fluff, tension, teasing, inner monologue, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Previous Part of AU: Ladies and Gentlemen A/N: Fic #4 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Quick visit with Hottie and Sugar and a small mention of Thorn and Rose.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @jobean12-blog (thank you and @whisperlullaby for assuring me this wasn't garbage!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Bucky edit by the amazing @nixakimbo .Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You did this on purpose. I know you did.”

With a small laugh, you finished setting up the last sign in front of your table. You wanted the stand to look perfect. “What exactly did I do, Tess?”

She pointed to the booth beside yours where Bucky and Hal were also in the middle of getting their things set up. “You somehow got them to put us right next to the boys.”

You stole a glance at the “Sin On Skin” booth beside yours, the sign tastefully saying “S.O.S. Tattoo Parlor”. Bucky winked at you when he caught your gaze out of the corner of your eye. A goofy smile appeared on your face before you cleared your throat and got back to work. “You do realize I had absolutely no control over where they placed us since I didn't organize this event.”

The nearby elementary school had put on a Fall Festival over the last few years and the woman Steve started seeing was a teacher there. She thought it would be fun for the guys to do face paintings and temporary tattoos for the kids. It was Bucky who suggested that your shop sell baked goods, after running it by you first. Not only was it good for exposure for you and Tess while helping to raise money for the students, it was an excuse to spend the day a few feet away from your boyfriend.

How could you say no to that?

The only downside was that the weather for tomorrow called for rain. To be on the safe side, the booths were going to be in the gym so that the families could still enjoy some of the festivities if it stormed. No matter what happened, it would be a fun day for everyone.

“Then he did it and now I have to watch you two make eyes at each other between customers tomorrow,” Tess accused, but there was no malice behind her words. You didn’t argue since there was a good chance that you would check Bucky out and vice versa. “And aren’t you two hanging out tonight after we finish up?”

“Yeah. We’re doing a movie night,” you replied. You hadn’t had a chance to do a lot of fall activities with Bucky yet, but he promised that he’d take you on a hayride tomorrow before the event was over. And the two of you were watching scary movies tonight. A perfect excuse for you to snuggle against him.

Which will probably end with him inside me, so well worth the jump and scares.

“I still think he’s the reason why we’re next to each other,” Tess said, checking over the order you put together. You made sure there was a range of Autumn and Halloween colors and everything was back at the shop ready for you to set out the following morning. “Though I shouldn’t complain. You two are cute together and he makes you happy.”

“We are a cute couple,” Bucky said, winking at you again. “And she makes me happy, too.”

You had to smile as your heart skipped a beat. It still felt a bit like a dream that the handsome tattoo artist was your boyfriend, but he was yours. It was silly to think that the season was brighter because you had him around, but he was like the unexpected warmth you sometimes experienced on a cool day when the sun came out. If you told him that, you knew he’d argue that it was the other way around. That you were the one who brightened everything around you.

Bringing out the best in each other is what good couples do.

“Get back to work, Hottie. We’re almost done,” you teased when he walked around his table. Clad in one of his signature Henley's, maroon to likely go with the fall theme, you found yourself staring at his chest as he stopped in front of you. Your eyes snapped to his lips when he tapped them with his finger.

“Gimme a kiss first, Sugar,” he said, his voice as warm as your cheeks felt. “One little kiss. That's all I'm asking for.”

“Fine,” you agreed, moving in close. “One kiss.”

He cupped your jaw as he leaned in and deeply kissed you, instantly making you melt against him as you kissed him back. You smiled as you tried to pull away after a second, his lips eagerly seeking yours as he went in for seconds. You discovered after your first date that one kiss was never enough for your boyfriend. He claimed your sugary lips drugged his system with desire and the only cure was for him to have another taste, which made him crave you and your kisses more.

I crave him, too.

He wrapped a hand around your hip and dragged you closer as you mewled, a sound of need that you tried to stamp out. Arousal seized you as his tongue licked along your mouth. It wasn’t fair that his kisses brought such a strong reaction out of you, especially when there was nothing you could do to satisfy it. At least, not right this second.

I’m not going to wiggle my hips and rub my pussy against his cock. I will maintain some sort of self-control.

“Hey!” Hal grinned as you tore your lips away from Bucky’s, shivering at the slight growl he let out at being interrupted. The sound made you want him more. “You two can’t fool around here. Not unless you’re teaching Sex Ed.”

“Yeah,” Tess chimed in, handing you her phone so you could take photos. Bucky still had a hand on your hip, only allowing you to twist a bit. The possessive touch also had safety behind it, telling you that you had nothing to fear when he was close by. “Behave, you two. This is a school.”

Your jaw dropped before you snapped a few pictures, making sure to capture the entire booth. You’d have to get more in the morning once the treats were set out. “We are professionals. We would never fool around here.”

And, thankfully, no children were nearby to witness you and Bucky kissing each other since it was after hours. You couldn’t wait to see him interact with the kids though. They would adore him and his gentle giant demeanor. The kids would love all of them. Jake’s sister even planned to stop by so his niece could get a face painting done.

“So, you're saying if he dragged you off to a nearby classroom… Oh, come on. Like you didn’t think about it the second you asked for a kiss,” Hal said, shrugging when Bucky shot him a glare and set out a bottle of orange paint that matched the shade of his hair. You wondered if he’d keep it orange for November or if he’d go for a shade of red. “Or maybe you two will roll in the hay during that hayride you keep talking about.”

Bucky didn’t look at all embarrassed, swearing that the boys were used to hearing him moan on and on about you. It was a nice feeling. “Like she said, we’re professionals and we wouldn’t do that,” he argued, raising an eyebrow. “And did you just say ‘roll in the hay’? You sound like Jensen.”

“I’m a country boy at heart. I know all about rolling in the hay,” he smirked, looking over at you when your boyfriend pulled you closer. “Hey. Don’t classrooms have locks?”

“Hal, stop encouraging them,” Tess hissed as he chuckled. It was too late. They planted the seed and you knew Bucky was thinking about it, too. “Though he does have a point. Just go into one of the rooms and lock the door. No one will notice.”

“And there’s still time before we have to get out of here,” Hal added as he checked his watch. “Make it a quickie.”

“Hold on,” you said, handing the phone back to Tess when you realized you were still holding it. “You two are actually encouraging us to find a classroom to fool around in? The night before the event?”

Not that it wouldn’t be fun and a good stress reliever, but-

“It’s no different than you two in the kitchen,” your friend said, pointing at Bucky as your cheeks got hot. “Yeah, I had that counter cleaned twice.”

Bucky turned his head toward you, humor in his eyes as you played innocent. “You told her about that?” he asked, brushing a kiss to your temple. You had to tell her. It was technically her kitchen, too. “How I ate you out so good you almost cried?” he added low enough for only you to hear.

You trembled at the memory, the mere thought of his skilled tongue and fingers making your toes curl in your boots. Before you could open your mouth to say something in your defense, Hal laughed. “And it’s no different than the two of you messing around in the break room. Thought Andy was gonna buy a new couch to replace it.”

It was Bucky’s turn to feign innocence as you gazed at him, gently tugging on his bun as tried not to smile. “You told him about that?”

Earlier in the week, you waited around for him to close the parlor. The two of you chatted on the couch when you didn’t want to leave right away, which led to a heated makeout session. It wasn’t long before he had you in his lap, bouncing you up and down on his cock as he growled filthy praises. How well you took him, how beautiful you looked riding him. It was a feat that you could walk out before he took you home.

Where he wrecked you all over again.

“Steve told him, so everyone knows. Punk can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Bucky said, glancing around where a few others were starting to wrap up. “Look. Messing around in our shops is one thing. We own them. Messing around here is something else.”

“He’s right. And even if we wanted to mess around, I’m pretty sure the security guard or administrators will catch on if we suddenly take a stroll down the halls,” you said before your brow furrowed. “Wait a second. Where’s Steve?” you asked. You hadn’t seen him since he dropped off the table banner.

Hal looked behind him and shrugged. “Wasn’t he helping Rose grab decorations for one of the other displays?”

“It shouldn’t take that long, should it?” your boyfriend asked.

As if on cue, Steve rushed into the gym and came to a stop a foot away from the booth. His cheeks were pinker than usual and his hair was a bit of a mess. “Sorry. Rose was showing me around. She’ll be back in a minute.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Thought you two were getting decorations.”

“Well, yeah. We did. She has them,” he said quickly.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Check your fly,” Bucky said, nodding to his crotch.

Hal laughed so hard he almost fell over as Steve fixed his pants, you and Tess covering your mouths to not draw more attention as you giggled. “See? If Stevie can have fun in a classroom, so can you.”

The blonde looked slightly offended by the assumption. “We were not in a classroom,” he stated as you all stared in disbelief. It only took a moment for him to smile. “We were in an office. That’s completely different.”

You shared a look with Bucky, practically seeing the lightbulb turn on over his head. “An office?” he repeated.

Steve nodded, pointing to one of the gym doors. “Yeah, the principal's office is that way and the nurse’s office,” he said, smirking when he realized why his best friend was asking. “You’re worse than I am, you know that?”

“Worse than what?” a kind voice rang out, Steve's girlfriend gracefully walking over with a small box in hand. He took it from her hands immediately, like it was too heavy for her.

“Buck was wanting to, um, 'visit' one of the offices,” he replied.

Rose kept a neutral look on her face as she looked at you two. “So he told you,” she said carefully.

The poor guy really can't keep a secret.

“More like his open fly told us,” Hal chuckled, holding up his hands when Steve took a step toward him.

Rose placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “I normally wouldn't encourage this, but since Steve let the cat out of the bag,” she said, smiling when he gave her a lopsided grin. “The teacher's lounge should still be unlocked, but only for a few more minutes and I can't help you if anyone walks in. You're on your own. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bucky chuckled, leaning in close to breathe against your ear. “What do you say, Sugar? Think we can sneak in there? Have a bit of fun before our movie night? Break a few rules?”

The thought had you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. “Thought you wanted one kiss before you got back to work. Not a quickie.”

“Let’s live dangerously,” he smiled.

Your breath hitched, something in your mind telling you to go along with the crazy idea. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. The two of you would clean up any mess you’d make once you were done. And if Rose, who worked here, had fun with Steve, would it be so wrong for you to do the same?

“You’re a bad influence,” you smiled back as he tugged you by the hand toward the door. “All of you!” you added when Tess laughed and Hal whistled.

But it’s good to be bad now and again, especially with the right partner by my side.

So, did Bucky fuck you against the door, the vending machine, or on a table? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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toji-girl · 19 days

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can we have a merciless sukuna just pounding you for hours and hours to take his cock in front of a mirror and him saying "look how fucked out you are" AKJFHKAJFHKAHFAKH -👺

18+ content only - mdni

this is really short knajge but I'm dipping my toes back into posting! this is not my best writing but I wanted to post this still sknjrtr

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + true form! Sukuna + double penetration in one hole + overstimulation + sukuna is occ because I made him a love-sick fool

"Sukuna! Slow down!" You squealed trying to get the King Of Curses to listen to you as you hurried behind him feeling your heart thud with each step that brought you closer to the kitchen where the servant who tried to put a move on you stood preparing dinner.

He finally stopped when you grasped his robe tugging on it with all your might. With blood rushing to your ears you took a step back when your lover turned around to look down at you. "I'm going to kill him and put his head on a stake so everyone knows." He muttered.

You stepped forward to slide your much smaller hand into one of his four. "It's not even seven am and you're already talking about murder, let's go enjoy a bath together or something, because here soon you will not have any servants left if you keep offing them." You told him.

Sukuna was a man, or monster that most people called him wasn't someone you wanted to argue with but you knew he had a soft spot for you, his wife. You were the only one not scared to step up to him.

He liked seeing the fiery look in your eyes when you challenged him, at first Sukuna enjoyed having you as one of his servants until he made you his wife. "Then they need to stop looking at what's mine, you're my brat, not anyone else's." He tutted rolling his eyes.

"You know The King Of Curses doesn't pout, right?" You teased turning away to make your way down the hallway that brought in a natural light that bathed you in it stopping Sukuna in his steps to watch you disappear around the corner.

It didn't take him long to reach the bedroom in time to see you dropping your robe before stepping towards the bathroom but you were stopped when he swept you off your feet quickly tossing you on the bed gently hearing you giggle and squeal his name.

Your laughter was one of the sounds that didn't grate on his nerves and he wanted to be greedy and lap it up, the man who has killed many and has done unforgivable crimes knows he doesn't deserve you but Sukuna never claimed to be a good man and he wanted you.

The idea of his servants eyeing you made his blood boil with anger and a protectiveness that flared deep within him like a flower under the warm sun after a long reason of rain and cold, the petals blooming and taking over.

Sukuna joined you on the bed hearing it creak to cover your body with his.

That's how you ended up on your knees with Sukuna behind you an hour later, two arms wrapped around your waist, one between your legs to circle your clit, and the other holding the back of your neck when you rested his head on his shoulder feeling both cocks slide back into you with a wet squelch that made you huff.

It was quite a mess really with how he kept pulling orgasms from you like a magician does with scarves out of his hand, Sukuna controlled your body and you wouldn't have it any other way when he made you feel this good. "Look at you, so fucked out." He growled in your ear.

He knew what he was doing too when he made sure that same servant had to pass the bedroom to hear the bed squeaking and your unashamed moans, the same man who wanted you also had no choice but to see it happening with the door open for him to see.

Sukuna caught his gaze as you continued to stare in the mirror at your husband who cared greatly for you before catching onto the silent stare-off between him and the servant.

It wasn't the first time this had happened and while you never minded if people watched you both there was something inside you that snapped knowing that he wanted you, your pussy gushed around Sukuna as he stilled to bury himself deep inside you with a groan.

Later that night when you entered the kitchen for a late-night drink you were met with Sukuna cornering the man from earlier. "Kuna?" He whirled around to see you standing there confused.

The man couldn't be more grateful for you in this moment as he scurried away from certain death.

#💌incoming #👺anon #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna smut #Sukuna x you smut

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prettyfastcars · 5 months

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thunderstorms | Lewis x Reader

Summary: Your mom and his dad have been in a serious relationship for a little while, but you do everything to avoid interacting with Lewis. He’s everything you’ll never be. How could you compete with that amount of fame, glory, power and multiple world championships. So you kept your distance in order to avoid hearing your mom praise him endlessly, but that was until a mandatory family vacation. Living in the same house, under the same roof, you couldn’t avoid him anymore. Neither could either of you avoid the tension in between you.

Themes: smut, stepbrother!lewis, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), forbidden/taboo romance

The thunder sounded like it shook the entire cabin.

You froze on the wooden stairs, holding on to the handrail for dear life. You liked to think that you were a brave human. But thunderstorms scared the hell out of you. Especially right now given you and your ‘family’ were in some cabin in the middle of nowhere.

You could’ve been on a nice beach, soaking the warmth of the sun, swimming in the ocean, drinking all day, going on boat rides. But no, the golden son – your soon to be step brother – decided to take the family to a cabin, in the mountains where it is cold, humid and dark all the time. Where it rains incessantly.

He wanted to hike. And naturally his dad and your mom agreed. And naturally your opinion didn’t matter. Sometimes you thought, all of you didn’t matter whenever he was concerned. After all, you were nowhere near as accomplished as he was.

He had it all. He was loved by millions, admired, worshipped. People loved him, everyone wanted to be his friend, everyone wanted to be seen with him.

All you had was a boutique in Paris, that too it was gifted to you by one of your mom’s many ex husbands. It was your entire life now. But no matter how luxurious, elegant, sleek and modern a Parisian boutique is, it cannot compare to multiple motorsport world championships.

Hence, your suggestion of going on vacation somewhere warm was immediately ignored. As expected. And here you were now, still holding on to the handrail.

You finally let go of it, and wrapped your blanket tighter around you. You were on your way downstairs in search of something warm to drink. This whole cabin was freezing despite the multiple heaters.

“Damn him,” You whispered under your breath as you walked into the open kitchen, turning just one light on and leaving the rest of the kitchen in darkness. “Could be on a beach partying right now,” You muttered bitterly like an old woman as you gathered your things to make your hot chocolate. “But no,” You hissed as you put the kettle on. “His Majesty wanted to be in this damn forest,” You grabbed your mug and put your cocoa powder in, “We could be killed in here,” You kept muttering as you waited for the water to boil. “God knows what’s in these woods, wild life, serial killers,” You scoffed. “As if he doesn’t get enough adrenaline–,”

A smooth voice spoke up from one of the dark corners of the kitchen, “Still cursing my name I see?”

You gasped, turning around to face the dark corner immediately. There he was, the light from his phone allowing you to look at his ridiculously handsome face, and his ridiculously handsome smirk. His braids were out of his usual ponytail. It angered you almost that he looked even better this way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but ended up squealing instead as the loudest thunder ever shook the entire cabin once again.

You crouched in place, holding onto the kitchen counter. Meanwhile Lewis broke into chuckles, laughing at you right in your face.

“You are seriously scared of thunderstorms?” He laughed some more.

You frowned at him, your bravery coming out of hiding now the thunder had passed. “Oh shut up. Of all places you had to bring us here?” You shook your head and turned around to carry on making your hot chocolate.

You heard the chair screech as Lewis stood up from the small table, you heard him walk over to where you stood. Your body became hyper aware of each one of his moves.

The way he placed both of his hands on the counter, on either side of you, caging you in.

The way his torso pressed gently against your back.

The way he subtly nuzzled your neck from behind.

You froze. Lewis’ lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Is that why you’re down here so late at night? Hmm?” He teased, “You needed your big brother to keep you safe from the thunderstorm?”

“You’re not my fucking brother.” You gasped in surprise when you felt him purposely drag his lips up your neck. “Lewis…” You whispered, “What are you doing?” Your voice ended up sounding a lot more like a quiet moan.

You’d be lying if you said this was the first time the two of you were crossing lines which you knew you shouldn’t. The man was drop dead gorgeous, it was hard to resist him.

“What?” He acted oblivious even as he left soft, open mouth kisses all over your neck and slightly exposed shoulder. “I’m just helping you make hot chocolate before the water gets cold.” He said as one of his tattooed hands wrapped around your waist while the other grabbed the kettle and poured hot water into your mug.

The warm drink was the last thing on your mind as Lewis kept kissing up and down your neck. “Lewis…” You murmured again, “We shouldn’t.”

He didn’t stop. You didn’t want him to stop. He knew that.

He let go of you momentarily and gave you enough space to turn around and face him. Fuck, that was a mistake. In the dim, partially lit kitchen he looked too tempting. Big brown eyes, how could you resist those?

The blanket you had around yourself fell to the ground. Now you were left in tiny shorts and an almost see-through pj top. Lewis’ eyes roamed your body shamelessly. Your face burned when you admitted to yourself that you liked it.

“Look at you,�� He murmured, as he placed his hand on your waist again. His other hand came up to grab your chin. He leaned in slightly, his scent acting like an aphrodisiac. “What am I supposed to do when you’re walking around half naked, little sis?” He accused in that dreamy voice. “Am I supposed to keep my hands to myself while you walk around looking like this?”

You couldn’t look away from his rich, dark brown eyes. Bottomless, warm, inviting. His eyes had an intensity that was hard to ignore.

You were aware of how his thumb drew lazy circles on your hip. You felt weak in your knees. Lewis just smirked. “You better stop looking at me with those fuck-me eyes if you don’t want me to bend you over this counter right here right now.” He whispered, leaning in even closer to kiss the corner of your mouth.

You were dragged back to reality once you broke eye contact. So you cleared your throat and pulled away from his embrace. The air felt immediately colder as you pulled away from him.

Lewis picked up your blanket and wrapped it around you again. You muttered a quick ‘thanks’ as you clutched the blanket under your chin, securely as if it would keep you safe from him. Then he handed you your mug and said, “Wanna watch a movie?”

You should’ve just gone to bed. You should’ve said no.

Seeing you were contemplating, Lewis added, “Unless of course you want to go upstairs and be all by yourself.”

Right then, another loud thunder echoed throughout the entire place. And your decision was made.

So you found yourself in the living area, on the same couch as Lewis while some horror movie played on TV. And with each loud boom from the sky, you scooted closer and closer to him. He chuckled each time you jumped due to the thunder, but he made no further comments.

After a while, and some more scooting he said, “Just come here, will you?” He patted the spot next to him and opened his arms.

Maybe it was the thunder. Or the fact that he looked so nice, warm and comfy in his sweatpants and sweater. Or maybe it was that you were subconsciously dying to be in his arms. Whatever the case, you slid right up to him and let him wrap his arms around you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“There, see,” He said, “Isn’t it nice to let big brother take care of you?” He teased.

You scoffed, but remained in his arms. “You’re not my brother. I hate you and your big ass forehead.”

Lewis laughed. You smiled too, but hid it quickly.

“Can I have some of your hot chocolate?” He asked after a few silent seconds.

“I drank it all.” You said.

“Shame,” He murmured, “I really wanted a taste of it.” He sounded almost seductive as he said it.

There.

You could feel the shift in the air just then. That line, you were gonna cross it again.

You pulled away and looked right into his soft brown eyes. “Lewis…” You whispered.

“Come here, baby,” He whispered, cupping your face and leaning in for a kiss.

You melted instantly, kissing his warm and soft lips back immediately. You didn’t even hesitate before making your way to his lap, straddling him without breaking the kiss. You felt him smirk into the kiss, you did too.

Too late to turn back now, that’s what the smirks meant.

You only pulled away to take a breath, looking into his eyes to find him just as breathless as you. Neither one of you said anything. Not even when you whimpered as you felt his erection through the layers of clothing separating your bodies.

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered. His hands touching you wherever he could. Sliding across your now exposed thighs, up and down your sides and fingers caressing your skin, dangerously close to where you ached for him.

You didn’t say anything, but Lewis looked down and found your eager fingers toying with the waistband of his sweatpants. He smirked when he saw that, and looked up at you with a cocky look in his eyes.

“Is that what you want?” He asked, sounding just as cocky as he looked.

You nodded, heart racing at the thought of what you were about to do. But it was too late to turn back now. You held his heated stare as you lowered his sweatpants and wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking his cock, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath.

You leaned in close to him again, “I want you,” you whispered against his lips and then pressed your mouth to his. He kissed you back immediately. “I want you inside of me.” You said, urgently and breathlessly.

You slipped your tongue past his lips and slowly stroked the top of his mouth. He groaned into your mouth, and you immediately bucked your hips against his, your clothed core rubbing against his cock and he grunted.

His hands rubbed up and down your sides, fingers sliding under your thin top until he could toy with your nipples.

“Take me,” He whispered against your mouth.

You pulled away from the kiss briefly, quickly removing your shorts before you lowered yourself down on his cock, earning quiet moans and groans out of both of you as you sank down on him.

Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside. Your face felt hot at the thought of him being too big to fit inside your wet cunt. Lewis felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his gorgeous face.

His voice was cocky and laced with lust as he spoke, “I bet you’re regretting wasting all that time on your little French boys now, huh?”

You scoffed, deciding to mess with him. “Oh, trust me. They’re not little.”

His brain short circuited. For a moment he loathed every man who ever touched you like this.

Lewis glared at you for a moment, before he grabbed you by the hips thrust up into you. You gasped in surprise as you felt him fill you up. He was nice and snug inside you as he whispered, his voice filled with promises, “I’m gonna ruin every single man for you.”

Your lust-drunk brain was barely able to process his words. All you knew was that you wanted more. His cock throbbed against your pulsating walls, causing the tiniest bit of friction which drove you both insane. It felt like he was splitting you in half.

“Ah,” You whimpered, “Lewis, please…”

He grabbed you by the hips and guided you up and then back down on his cock. You whimpered as he groaned when the tip of his cock reached sensitive places you never knew existed.

“Does big brother’s cock feel good? Huh?” He taunted before leaning forward to wrap his lips around one of your clothed nipples. He gave it a hard enough suck to make you moan, then moved on to the other one.

Fuck. This was so wrong.

The forbidden nature of it gave you a warm rush. You just whimpered and nodded as you moved faster, impaling yourself down on his cock each time.

You felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily.

When he noticed that you were comfortable with the pace, he let go of your hip and wrapped his hand around your throat instead. “You look so good like this, little sis.” He teased. “Taking my cock like you’re made for it.”

You couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his plump, soft bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time. Lewis pulled your warm body closer to his as you bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his dark eyes.

Lewis rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock, throwing his head back and moaning.

“Shh,” You whispered as you kissed along his bearded cheek, barely able to keep from moaning yourself.

He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “You feel so good,” He whispered.

“Damn you…” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone.

You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.

Lewis came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him. “Fuck…” He swore before saying, “I think I like thunderstorms even more now.”

You still sounded breathless as you said, "I still hate you."

---

here's part two if you want

#f1 #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lh44

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astraystayyh · 1 year

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Young and beautiful

hyunjin x reader. mutual obsession. lots of fluff. they are in love your honor (but still haven't told each other).

feedback is highly appreciated <3

You never really understood the difference between loving someone and being in love with them.

That is until you met Hyunjin.

You didn't love him the way you loved sunsets or the smell of earth after the rain.

You were in love with him. You were so submerged in Hyunjin's love that it was all you could feel within you at times.

Other emotions come and go in you, like tidal waves lapping softly at the shore. But the love for him stays- it echoes inside you like the distant ringing of a cathedral bell.

You imagined that your love for Hyunjin slowly seeped into your body and intertwined itself with every atom that formed you. That loving him became a certainty for your being, just like your name or the lines stretching across your palm.

Still, despite all those grand feelings you harbored, you never dared to confess to him. Those five words were stuck in your throat, and you had to force them down each time Hyunjin existed near you.

You didn't want to scare him off. But most importantly, you didn't want him to feel forced to reciprocate your feelings.

So you didn't say it. But you kissed the mole under his eye whenever his face was close enough to you. You sent him daily reminders to drink water because he tended to forget it. And you slipped encouraging notes in the pockets of his jackets, so he'd find them randomly throughout his days.

Those were wordless confessions you sent his way in the hopes that he'd understand. That he'd feel your love and he'd store it inside him, keeping it safe until the day you finally found the courage to say it.

And on mornings like this one, it was especially hard to not shout your love for the whole world to hear.

You rose before Hyunjin, and the sun was streaming through your curtains- its golden rays casting an ethereal glow on his sleeping figure. You slowly trace the outline of Hyunjin's face, sliding your finger down his eyebrows, his eyes, his nose and his plump lips. His lips reminded you of soft cushions, rosy and yours.

"Morning, angel," he whispers, eyes still closed, and you bury your head in his neck, "Morning, baby."

His arms instinctively wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough with him. You wished you could crawl inside of him and build a home for you to rest in there.

Hyunjin places a soft kiss on the top of your head, and you retaliate by kissing his neck. Once, twice, and then you stop counting.

"I think the rest of my body is getting jealous of my neck," he giggles and you lean away, smiling cheekily. "Really? We can't have that, can we?"

"No, that'd be sooo unfair," he pouts playfully and you laugh, before straddling his lap. You start with a kiss to his forehead and he smiles at you so brightly, you feel sorry for the sun shining outside, for it could never rival with your Hyunjin.

You then kiss his eyes- the left one first, then the right one. The tip of his nose is next, his rosy cheeks follow, and finally, his mouth. His lips move against yours slowly, his hands finding your hair and gently threading through it. There was no rush- you had the rest of your life to love him.

When you both inevitably pull away, panting for air, Hyunjin grabs your hand and places it on top of his wildly beating heart.

"You feel it?" he asks breathlessly and you nod timidly in response. Sometimes you couldn't believe the effect you had on him.

"Whenever you laugh, I feel as if my heart is in the palm of your hand. And you are squeezing it to the beat of your laugh," he speaks quietly, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"When you kiss me, I feel as if my skin is on fire, tingling all over from your lips. But it's not a burning sensation, it's more of a warm one. You make me forget all the days I've spent feeling cold before you." He clasps your hand in his tightly, as if holding it gave him the force to speak.

"And when you look at me I feel as if you are the answer to all my prayers. Even the ones I haven't made yet." He pauses, gazing deeply into your eyes, "You are everything to me, yn. And I don't- I don't mind if you don't feel the same. I love you enough for the both of us."

"You love me?" you question, eyes wide staring into his. It felt as if your heart was leaping out of your chest, leaving you dazed in its trail.

"I do."

You start to giggle, bewildered by his words, which then morphs into a fullblown laugh. Hyunjin simply looks at you, a confused smile adorning his face.

"So you're telling me," you try to speak through your laughter, "I've been torturing myself for the past weeks so I wouldn't tell you and you love me?"

"Wait. You love me too?"

"Do I love you?" you repeat incredulously, "Hyunjin you are everything I've ever loved and more in human form."

"Say it," he whispers breathlessly and you beam at him.

"I am in love with you, Hwang Hyunjin."

"Say it again," he grins, as he grabs your body and spins it around, until you are laying on the bed and he's hovering over you.

"I am in love with you."

"Again."

"I'm in love with you," you giggle and he sighs happily, leaning his forehead on yours.

"I think your laugh just gained a strong competitor."

"What do you mean?"

"You saying I love you has just become my favorite sound," he explains, kissing your forehead gently.

"My poor laugh was dethroned?" you ask and he nods sadly, "Unfortunately. But you know what my favorite favorite sound will be ?"

"What?"

"You saying yes when I ask you to marry me."

"Who says my answer is yes?" you tease, even as an evident blush creeps up your neck.

"I'll keep asking until you agree."

"it might take time."

"I'll still ask even when I'm seventy."

"Yeah? even when I'm no longer young and beautiful?" you joke, referencing to one of your favorite songs to listen to together.

"Nonsense, you'll always be beautiful. And I...", he leans down, bopping his nose with yours, "I will love you till my last breath."

"You do love me," you whisper in relief, any hint of teasing gone from your voice and he smiles softly at you.

"More than you'll ever know."

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justporo · 1 month

Note

Hey you :D

Here’s a request just to add your huge list for after vacation muahaha 💖

How do you think a slow, bickering romance with Astarion (kinda like Howl and Sophie) would go down.

Hey darling ❤️ You might’ve forgotten about this ask but I have not! I'm combining this with another one asking about where Astarion rejected Tav at first but then slowly fell for them.

Also haven't done one of this headcanon posts for a whole haven't we? Here we go:

Headcanons about Astarion slowly but surely falling in love with you (and how he pursues you)

Oh, it's all just a game for him, isn't it? At least at first. But this silly little jester didn't realise he was playing himself.

He might have rejected you at first (because he's a prick who has looked at the sun a little too long, let's be honest) but he quickly realises he can't take his mind off of you

You keep stirring the vampire's undead little heart and it scares him at first - and of course you had given up on it after that first hurtful rejection

But his crimson eyes start to never stray far from you, no matter if in battle or at camp: he can't tear his gaze from you - gods dammit, you're lovely!

It's in the way you always put others first, always have a kind word to spare, always a warm smile. How you laugh and how brave you are, how you bite your lip when you're lost deep in thought.

Quite frankly: a stake to his heart couldn't have been more effective.

But he realises another thing: he wants to be real with you, he wants to fall slowly with you - not a vicious thunderstorm but a soft, warm summer rain

And so Astarion begins to yearn in silence as you too can't keep your thoughts from turning around him often

It's painfully obvious to everyone around you how much the two of you are in love with each other; so much so that bets are being made in camp if you're gonna make it before you all reach the Gate

You notice that Astarion keeps sneaking around you like an adoring cat would: always a playful quip on the tip of his sharp tongue that you never take serious because... this Astarion we're talking about. "Oh my heart, aren't you even more blinding than the sun today" "Look who's blessing us with their grace and insight." "A copper for the thoughts in your pretty little head, darling."

Astarion doesn't know how to live the teasing out of his tone, maybe out of fear you might actually start taking him seriously; but if you would peel back the generous layer of faked sarcasm you'd find he's actually being serious

This man is downright smitten by you and you don't realise it as he achingly yearns for you - so much the others can barely take it

Sometimes you find little gifts on your pillow when you wake up: a sweet treat, snuck away from the others, a single blossom, a mysterious line of poetry - you are at a loss at where this comes from or if someone is playing with you

Meanwhile Astarion swallows his pride to regularly go to Wyll and ask his advice who... does help him but not without a haughty grin whenever he sees the lovesick vampire stroll over in his seemingly hopeless endeavour

Meanwhile you keep doing your utmost best to be at Astarion's side because you truly only want to help him and be happy and safe

Again: have mercy with the poor tortured soul, sometimes Astarion almost feels like he could combust on the spot if you give him one of your adorable lopsided smiles

When Moonrise and unpleasant people happen something in Astarion breaks, it all bursts out of him at once, overpowering even his terrible fear of rejection

The hug and tender first kiss you share that night tears both if your walls down.

You have not defeated the big bad enemy but something in your heart lightens knowing you have someone who will travel the road to whatever end with you

From there on out the two of you become even more unbearable in your pining for each other - meanwhile not trivial amounts of gold are passed between the other companions with quite some grumbling - but be assured: all of your friends are rooting for the two of you.

There we go, I love idiots in love with each other, hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x you #poro headcanons #bg3 companions #astarion x reader

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theemporium · 6 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/theemporium/732996365739819008/httpspbstwimgcommediaf-cfpsex0aa8a5hformat

PLEASEEE can we have the smallest of blurbs/thots on this, them cuddling into the reader because they’re wee pups after all

-🥀

I KNEW I HAD TO AS WELL

You were aware that the forecast said it would rain, but you didn’t realise it would be a full fucking thunderstorm.

You had been huddled in the Red Bull garage when the weather took a dramatic turn for the worse. First, there were just a few radios here and there about some rain hitting the track. Seconds later, a massive dark cloud was covering the track, the sun was gone and the conditions were far too dangerous to finish the end of qualifying.

You were honestly just happy both your boys were safe as they made their way into the pits, even prouder when you realised this meant they would be starting on the front row together. But then the thunder started and a part of you froze.

Thunderstorms were never a problem for you. If anything, you enjoyed them. The rain pattering against the window, the distant sound of thunder claps in the air with strikes of lightning as you played some calming music. Being cuddled up in bed, maybe even a book in hand with a warm drink by your side.

But your boys never thought the same.

You had began moving before you could even process it, but the team wouldn’t let you leave the safety of the garages just yet, which left you watching the interview on one of the screens. You could see it on their faces, even if they tried to hide it. You could see them trying to laugh it off and continue with the questions. You could see the way their bodies flinched, the way they covered their ears, the way they gravitated towards each other for safety. It broke your heart to see because you knew exactly how they were during thunderstorms.

The second they were given the go ahead, the boys were heading straight back to their drivers’ rooms to leave for the hotel as soon as they could. But it was short-lived when both boys barreled into Max’s driver room, Charles rushing towards you before you could even blink.

A low whine left him as he wound his arms around your waist, tugging you close and burying his face into the crook of your neck as another distant thunderclap echoed outside.

“I know,” you murmured, holding onto him tightly as your eyes caught Max’s—who you knew was trying to put on a brave face. “Let’s head back to the hotel, okay? Everything is gonna be fine.”

Both boys were twitchy the whole ride over. All three of you were sitting in the back of the car, with you pressed between both boys as they tried to distract themselves. You could feel the anxiety rolling off them, you could feel the way their bodies tensed and the way their hands tightened on your thighs. You knew they just wanted to be alone and far away from the thunder.

The second the hotel room door locking sounded through the suite, you heard the distinct sound of clothes ripping before two massive, fluffy beasts were approaching you. Another clap of thunder rendered through the air and both boys let out pitiful whines, cowering slightly as they looked up at you with big eyes.

“My poor boys,” you cooed softly as you reached out to run your hands over the heads, scratching behind their ears until both wolves were nosing at your legs. “C’mon, we’ll do what we do when we’re home.”

And it was a little more squished than the bed you shared at home, but it did the job just fine. You had both wolves squashing you between them, their heads resting on your stomach with the duvet over them. It was a trick you read online with dogs and fireworks, but it seemed to work perfectly with your werewolf boyfriends.

“You both need to eat something soon,” you told them when you felt one of them—probably Charles, if you knew your boys well—pushing the fabric of your shirt up until he could rest his head on your bare stomach. “And I would rather not scare hotel staff with two massive dogs that are technically undisclosed.”

Max let out a huff against your thigh.

“Don’t be a puppy,” you snorted as your fingers threaded through his fur. “Just one meal and then you can transform back. I would like at least thirty minutes with my boys to tell you how proud I am of both of you for getting the front row.”

Charles let out a loving purr as he nuzzled himself further into you.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

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dykells · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐀.𝐀

𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ she hopes im cursed forever to sleep on a twin sized mattress never graduating up in size to add another 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,1k ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: religion, homophobia n’ nsfw content

abby feels owen’s hand on her waist like a brick to her chest weighting her body down, it wouldn’t take much for the drowning to begin but your face across the room was both oxygen and the final anchor of her demise. she weighed her options as their personifications stood before her, father smiling brightly at the happy couple unaware his own daughter forced her chirpiness while she yearned in the deepest aching to be swept off her feet by the girl just a few away– who now refused to face her much understandably. you cursed her for inviting you to their preppy engagement party, cursed her for multiple reasons more, yet your heels stuck to the ground like they clung for dear life anticipating a plot twist shaped by regret.

“excuse me” she finally croaked out mid conversation, the place where her fiancé’s hand once held onto now burning her skin like a rotting poison. she wished to bathe herself clean in the rain like a baptism, wished owen didn’t felt like sin tainting her body from being with you, her holiest of experiences, wished she had not known heaven between your legs so she may live on her life guiltless and not as someone who has felt blasphemously like a god herself. your fingers brush past eachother as she walks up behind you and fireworks bloom from your fingertips like lily flowers at spring. lillies, her favorite, your perfume.

you follow her to the bathroom, breath unsteady, and regardless of how long the affair has been happening no familiarity prepares you for the crash of her lips against yours as you twist the doorknob. sometimes you think these moments might make you understand her, to have abby anderson’s tongue exploring your mouth, hands by your neck to keep you still, perpetual apple cinnamon smell, was nothing short of a religious experience. perhaps that is what the church brought out in her, this same inextinguishable fire at the pit of your stomach with understanding of icarus and his hope for the sun. if all sins felt this sweet it did not seem so big of a sacrifice to die for them– you’d die for her if asked.

“abs, stop” you whisper once her lips are on your neck, long wet kisses all across the exposed skin warming up your body from the winter cold better than any cloth could have, she’s hungry, biting you down and her fruity scent doesn’t let the irony of forbidden fruit to die on you even as she hums in fake confusion allowing herself more time in her feast begging it to cloud your judgement as it almost does “abigail, we have to stop”

“don’t do this to me” she begs, voice cracking “please don’t leave me, you’ll take all the sunshine with you and it’s cold, it’s a cold winter i need your arms, your limbs, your body, my sunny girl-“

“you’re getting married, abs” you sigh with the exclamation, it seems nearly as though you’ve just reminded her of it like someone who forgot to turn off the oven before they had left the house, someone destined for burnt flames, your reality scares her into kneeling submission and you’re laughing because it looks like a proposal and it’s absurd, her hands gripping yours, her gaze doe-eyed and unconditional. you are missing a ring but you see hers, diamond, and the ache doesn’t easen.

“you are everything that i want…”

“then leave him, abby. don’t sit on the dirty bathroom floor of a venue for your engagement party and promise me a love you are too scared to give me, i can’t keep excusing your cowardice for the sake of sanity. take off that ring and walk out of here with me, we’ll figure it out, we’ll be happy together, your winter won’t be cold”

she pretends to take in your words, analyse them as if her nights haven’t been filled with scenarions and possibilities all of which there is pain unbearable. you’re searching her eyes with a hope unbeknownst to men and suddenly you feel the line between dream and desperation blurring itself into oblivion. abby lets go of your touch and slides the ring from her finger out onto it’s demise on the tiled floor. you think you won. you think god exists when she locks the door behind you and presses you against the wall, believe he had heard your prayers once her fingers dip between your thighs. when she’s thrusting inside you, you cry out for god instead of her name, moan louder at the sight of her wedding band far away on the ground, feel your walls clenching around her digits and her warm breath against your neck, she’s mumbling so many i love yous you barely notice how multiple sound like im sorrys.

with your hands curling around her loose hair she gets sloppy, deprived, wants you to tug on her and beg for her mouth without needing the plead to taste you and you do so eager it burns her scalp. she’s back on her knees and she thinks for a moment not admited this might be her holy repent. tugging on your jeans till their ultimate glide towards the floor, shes sucking on the wet patch of your underwear as a tease, letting her senses flood of lillies and pussy. she finally pushes it aside and dives in, godhood in the shape of your swollen clit grazing her teeth, you tilt your waist to give her further access and there are stars and angels behind your fluttered eyelids.

she calls your her sunny girl as you rain down her face in white honey, her muscles spread your legs further apart and suck it in till it has destroyed her makeup, part of her wishes to leave this bathroom and still smell of you, part of her is scared owen might kiss your heavens from her tongue and catch it all. she’s putting her ring back on at your climax, and you’re confused and heavy breathing. a sob clings to your throat.

abby tells you all she’s ever known is the cold. tells you girls like her are unworthy of the sun. tells you owen is waiting and maybe you should leave. she doesn’t tell you she thinks god isn’t real once you’ve turned your back because he would never have created something to purely magnetic to have it ripped from her hands, she does not tell you the only thing worth worshipping is the gap between your teeth, the crook of your neck and the dimple in your cheek, doesn’t tell you she thinks hell is this. but she almost does. she almost does. on your way out, you just sob and hope she’s cursed. hope god is angry. think god is her.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #abby anderson smut #lesbian #the last of us fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x you #abigail anderson #dykells works #wlw fiction #abby x fem!reader

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writingsbychlo · 10 months

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 02

summary; after an awkward breakfast and some clarification, you and azriel take the next step in your agreement.

word count; 8091

notes; y'all I hope you love this, it's pretty much just 8,000 words of pure fluff, it's adorable. I love this series so much.

When the sunlight first hit your eyes, you groaned, twisting your face to bury deeper into the pillow. It wasn’t usually the direction that sunlight came in through your dingy window, warmth cascading across the wrong side of your face, and you dragged your hand up to cover it.

Some day, you’d be able to afford curtains to properly block it out. That little indulgence just surged up a few places on your mental list. Before your hands reached your face, however, cool darkness blocked it out, your hand skimming across the mattress lazily, and one eye cracking open.

Before you, like a swirling mass of darkness, was a tendril of shadow. Twisting slowly in the morning light, dancing between golden sun-rays and blocking it from your field of you. Your body jerked, a slight shriek falling from your lips as you scrambled back across the bed, bracing yourself to fall over the edge and hit the floor.

You never did. The plush mattress seemed to stretch on and on, your body aching and protesting the sudden movements from where you’d still been on the cusp of sleep.

The shadow looked almost amused, dancing along the streams of light and closer to you, meeting the mattress and slithering its way across the comforter towards you. At the first cold brush of it across your knuckles, the fog cleared, and your memories all seemed to come flooding back. It was some kind of blur, sweet smiles and towering wings and the taste of berries and warm spices like a memory across your tastebuds.

Hauling your legs up to your chest, you bent forward, until your forehead could press to your knees, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. Your toes curled in the bedding, still warm, the smell of mist and fresh earth lingering around the room, like the smell of the air after it rained, calming and soothing and cool. When you finally lifted your head again, you could take it all in.

There, still sitting atop the chest of drawers was your dress, folded neatly just as you’d left it. The tray of tea and cookies had been cleared from the stool at the end of the bed, but the plush cushioning still held a slight imprint of where it had sat all night.

The shadow was back, splitting into two and whirling around each side of your face, the touch of them light like a ghost, smoothing over your skin like a feather, and your lips twitched a little at the edges.

“You scared me, y’know.” The spiral they made around your fingers when you lifted a hand was like a silent snicker, and you watched them form ever-changing patterns across the surface of your skin, playful and sweet. “I’m not used to waking up and finding the shadows moving.”

The windows were shut, no gust filtered through the room, but the shadows in the room all seemed to sway once, like a breeze through curtains, shimmying back into place, and a gasp held in your throat.

“Am I supposed to leave now?” Your heart clenched a little at the thought, and though Azriel was nowhere to be seen now, you knew he must be somewhere, he wouldn't have just left you here in his bed. The shadows banded around your wrist, the darkness in the room seeming to pulse for a moment, and your brow inched up. “No? Am I supposed to stay?”

The flicker of shadows seemed like a far more empathetic yes, and your smile stretched more.

“Well, then, where is your master?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d have sworn the shadows bristled at that, a sense deep within you telling you that they’d give a disgruntled huff if capable, and your chuckle blew them like powder on the wind. Detangling from our arm, they blew across the air, before reforming from mist and hovering in a swirling column near the bedroom door.

The carpet was plush underneath your toes as you stood, stretching your arms high above your head, feeling your joints ease happily into the day after sleep on such a comfortable mattress, nothing like your own. One step after another, you seemed to inch silently across the house, no creaking or cracked floorboards, and the door clicked softly out of place as you twisted the knob open.

The shadow moved, darting away from you like a flash of black, and you glanced around the corridor, tracking each direction. Nothing seemed to give away where you should go, the maze of corridors and doorways looming along each direction was dizzying, and you wished you’d paid at least a little attention last night when Azriel had guided you through the house, instead of staring at his back muscles and blushing. That same blush played on your cheeks now as you thought about it.

Hovering at the end of the hall to your right was the shadow, bobbing almost impatiently in the air, it's twirling like a ballerina’s ribbon increasing in speed as it hurried you along, and your footsteps were rushed as you chased after it before it disappeared again. By the time you reached the end of the hall, though, it was gone, and you peered around the corner just to be met with more halls.

Hovering by an open-arch doorway, your guide traced the patterns on the wood, playing in each dip and rivulet, and the rest of the shadows along the hall fluttered towards it, encouraging you to keep going. As you neared, the smell of bacon hit your nose, warm and salty and enough to make your stomach grumble, and you licked across dry lips at the thought of it. That same shadow darted down, smacking across your forehead lightly and bouncing off, spinning through the air toward a set of stairs at the end of this room.

You followed them down, down, down, until the carpet gave way to cold wooden floorboards, and more shadows seemed to slither along the bottom floor of the house, like lazy puddles that barely dared to shift or glance up as you passed by.

The first few you tried to avoid, hopping around and past them, before it was impossible, and you were stumbling through clouds of darkness that merely shifted around your ankles, reforming on the other side, entirely unaffected by your presence.

At last, you found the kitchen, a room you knew, following the shadow, and the faint humming of a deep voice, accompanied by the popping of oil in a pan. Standing before the stove, miles of tan skin and dark leathery wings on display, Azriel stood before the stove, shirtless as he cooked, and leaving the few pale scars across his back exposed to you to observe. They were nothing like the ones on his hands, the uncontrolled and swirling flesh he’d been branded with. These were precise and clean, nicks from blades and arrows, even a few slightly puckered that seemed to mark the lashings of a whip, almost faded into the depth of golden skin now.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” A deep voice uttered, even more so than it had been the night before, and you felt the slight tremble of your legs with the rasp of it. Throaty and thick, his morning voice still hadn't cleared, and you wondered once again how this man could possibly be single, could need to resort to making a deal with you; the absurd deal he likely regretted once the sun had risen.

“Good morning.” You mumbled, watching as he turned, a wide smile on his face as he put out the flame on the stove, the sizzling of the bacon slowing without heat. When he moved, you could see the contents of the pan then, your mouth watering. Not just bacon, but sausages too, and eggs. He stepped toward you, revealing more of the counter, a plate of toast and butter, ready to go.

“You hungry?” He teased, shifting to grab for the kettle, and pouring some tea into an empty mug, before adding a dollop of honey into it. Making his way over to you, you could only nod, watching all the stacked, towering muscle of him closing in on you, until your back was pressed to the doorframe, head tipped back to look up at him. The teasing grin faded to a smile as he pressed the warm porcelain into your hands. “I cooked for you.”

“Very kind of you.” Your whisper was shared in the space between you both, and he raised a hand to tuck some stray hair behind your ears, before stepping back. His eyes flickered across every inch of your face, observing, analysing, and you hoped what he saw was what he wanted.

“You feelin’ okay? How’d you sleep?” The words were thrown over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen island, tugging out a stool and tapping it, a silent order to take a seat. Your feet were moving before your brain had even caught up, sinking down onto the tall stool and bracing your elbows on the counter, still clutching the mug.

“I slept better than I have in a long time. Maybe ever. You have a very comfortable mattress.” Words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, words that made you feel like an idiot, a fool— until he laughed, a soft chuckle under his breath, eyes sparkling as he turned to face you.

He passed over a plate, piled high with more food than you could possibly eat, before his own followed to the seat opposite you, and he sunk onto it. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Cutting into the meat on your plate, you could only offer a smile in response, choking back your embarrassment to cater to the hunger growling within you, and focus on your food.

Several moments passed in silence, nothing but the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, the scraping of cutlery on the plates, and the occasional rustle to break the tension. Eventually, it was all too much.

“We should probably talk about… it.”

“By ‘it’, do you mean our deal?” Azriel grinned, smirking a little as he popped another forkful of toast and egg into his mouth, chewing and staring at you, like you were supposed to start this conversation. Putting down your knife and fork, you crossed your arms over the marble countertop in front of you, settling the nerves quelling in your stomach that was almost making you nauseous.

“Look, Azriel. I really appreciate everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much it all means to me. You’ve been like some kind of guardian angel, sent to me when I needed you most, before I forced myself to do something I’d never be able to forgive myself for.” The smile slipped from his lips slowly, a more serious look taking over his face, and you rolled back your shoulders, willing yourself to be strong, and taking a deep breath. “However, I’m not the sort of person to take advantage of you, of any of it. So, I’m giving you an out. I know how bargains work in this court now, so surely I can give you a way to undo it.”

He stared for a second, chewing his mouthful slowly, and his gaze upon you seemed to narrow as he swallowed. Then, he took a sip of his tea, still staring at you across the rim of his mug, and your whole body felt electrified. Reaching up, you rubbed slowly across the back of your neck, feeling nothing of the mark that had formed there last night, and making a mental note to look for it later. “I don’t accept.”

“What?”

“I do not accept your out. I don’t want it.”

“You— You have to!” You burst, and he only shrugged, cutting off another piece of toast and dragging it across the juices on the plate, before stuffing it into his mouth.

“Well, I’m not.” He spoke around his food, and you stared at him helplessly. “Now, eat up. I know you’re hungry, and I can make more if you still want something else after.”

“Azriel,” You started, and he stared pointedly at your food, like this conversation wasn’t going any further until he saw you eat. You’d barely started your meal, and he was halfway through his. With a grunt, you cut off a large chunk of sausage and bacon, shoving it into your mouth less than gracefully, and wiping at the droplet of grease that was making its way down your chin. He only grinned at you.

“I’m not accepting your out, because I don’t regret making that deal. Not even a little bit. I will give you an out of our deal, but only after you let me talk. Will you?” You were still chewing, slightly regretting your passive-aggressive portion, because you could only nod in response. “I don’t regret our deal, because when I woke up this morning, I was happier than I have been in a long, long time. That’s because of you. Do you know what I woke up to this morning?”

You could still only shake your head, wincing as you tried to choke down the mouthful with at least a little decorum.

“I woke up to the sound of your heartbeat. You were lying in my bed, one hand still around me, and my head was on your chest. I lay there for a good fifteen minutes just listening, and feeling, and loving it. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been alone for?” A shot of pain sliced through your chest, aiming straight for your heart and hitting its mark, your gaze softening as you looked at him. “I have not woken up in somebody’s arms like that before. I’ve— nobody ever stays the night. I don’t let them, and they don’t want to. They take what they want, and they go. By the morning, it’s cold and empty all over again. This time, I fell asleep in your arms, and I woke up to you.”

“Az…” Your voice was hoarse, and you ran a hand down the side of your face, stopping to rest trembling fingers over your lips gently, trying to process.

“I’ve never slept so well either. But, it’s not just about that. Do you have any idea how nice this is? To cook for someone, and get to talk, and know someone else is here? I want this. I want it all.”

“But it would be so unfair to you.” Your words shook, and you reached out, taking one of his hands gently in your own, and smoothing your thumbs across the marred flesh, staring at the movements to avoid the weight of his gaze. “You’d be letting me live in your house, providing everything for me, you’d be changing my life, and—”

“And you’d be changing mine too. You know this.”

“But I can’t give you enough! I can’t make it even.” Sadness welled in your throat, a lump that made it hard to breathe. The selfish part of your mind was beating you for turning down everything you needed as it was handed to you on a silver platter, because your heart was in control right now.

“You don’t mind my hands?” He said after a few moments of silence, and your motions stilled, eyes snapping up to meet his own.

“What?”

“My hands. You don’t mind them?” His fingers flexed in your own, and you squeezed a little tighter.

“Of course not!”

“And what about my wings? My shadows. Do they scare you?” He pressed, and a deep sense of longing, to comfort him, to hold him, rushed through your veins like a drug taking hold.

“Your wings are beautiful, Az. Every part of you is beautiful. From your golden heart to your pretty golden eyes.” His cheeks flushed with a little colour, and you smiled despite yourself, loving that you could dot hat to him. To the infamous and terrifying spymaster of the Night Court. “Your shadows are adorable and playful, and I like them very much.”

“Do I scare you?” His voice was a whisper now, strained like he didn’t want to ask at all but just had to know the answer.

“No.” You replied, just as small and delicate.

“Then why can’t you see, that it has to be you? There’s something special about you. I don’t want anyone else. If you don’t want this deal, then I will let you go, without question or pressure. But I don’t want anyone else, I won’t offer it to another.” He held your hand properly now, lacing his fingers with your own and holding tight. “You have no idea how much you’d be giving me by being here, how much I need you already. By staying, you’d be giving me everything, I’d be the one unable to ever repay you. I want it to be you, I want you here with me. Please, stay.”

You worried your lower lip, your heart beating so hard it almost hurt, and your mind warred with the organ in your chest. You wanted to, you wanted so badly to stay here and be with him. It was surreal and wild and nothing like anybody had ever prepared you for. It was confusing, and different, and so strange. But despite every concern, it felt so right, like somehow, you’d stumbled to exactly where you were supposed to be, with whom you were supposed to be.

“I have so much… so much to give, and nobody to give it to. Let it be you, please.”

“I think I would like to stay too.” You finally whispered, a shot of adrenaline surging through you as the words slipped free. Happiness followed, an overwhelming burst of it at the smile that Azriel gave you, dropping his forehead to your clasped hands.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, I have the easy part here.” You chuckled, taking your hands back to pick up your knife and fork when he finally freed them for you, still beaming as you as he resumed his own breakfast.

“Not true. All I do is let you move into my house, and live with me. It’s no great struggle. You have to…” He trailed off, shrugging a little, and your face flushed with heat, much like his own.

“I hardly think you’ll be a difficult man to love, Azriel.” Your words were whispered, hanging in the air for only a second between you both as he stared, before you cleared your throat, shattering the moment. “What do I do? What would you like? We should probably talk about that.”

He was silent for a few minutes, contemplating your question, and you resumed your eating, trying to get the spinning whirlwind of your thoughts back under control. You’d seen less chaotic sandstorms in Dawn than this felt.

As you finished your plate, somehow managing to finish off all the food that was there, a proud look passed across Azriel’s face as he watched, pleased with himself, it was clear.

“We do… whatever you want. I’ll follow your guidance, you tell me where your line is. If all you want is to be roommates, then that’s what we will be. I want everything, and anything you want to give.” He finished his food, stacking your plates together with a satisfied nod. “You make the rules, you set the boundaries. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Should we make another bargain of it?” You pondered aloud, reaching for your lukewarm tea, and your companion was full of simple amusement.

“Don’t ever make a bargain of something where the terms could change, or you’ll never be able to get rid of your promise mark. If I teach you only one thing about the Night Court, I will teach you about deals and promises.” Your hand flew to the back of your neck again, eyes widening.

“They can go?”

“Of course, once a promise is fulfilled, they disappear.”

Your gaze flickered down to his chest, across swatches of strong and taut muscle that was decorated with ink. “You’ve got all those promises currently?”

He sat back, arms stretching a little, and looked down at himself. “Some of them. This one,” He traced his fingers across a splotch of intricate ink just to the right of his heart. “is a promise to my brothers. We all made a promise, to be there for one another no matter what, always. It hasn’t been always, and so the mark remains.”

It made sense, and you looked for more, picking out a blooming pattern across his left shoulder. “What about that one?”

“That is a mark gained by becoming a warrior in the camps. Illyrians wear these tattoos like medals of honour, the more tattoos, the more honour you have. You see how they look ever so slightly different to the promise brands?” He beckoned your clothes, and you rounded the island to observe them with more detail. A shimmer of starlight passed through the promise marks, hardly visible to the naked eye unless you really looked for it. The Illyrian swirls, however, were ink-black and ominous.

“Will you tell me about the rest someday?”

“Happily.” He whispered, muscles jumping under his skin a little as you raised a hand, not daring to touch him but tracing the air over his skin, looking at the beautiful designs that covered so much of his shoulders, arms and chest. “There’s a lot, though.”

“We have time.” You offered, and he swallowed thickly, only nodding a quiet response.

“Yes, we do.” Quiet hung between you both again, dragging on, until you finally stepped away from the magnetic pull of his space, putting a healthy amount of distance between you both. Finally, you could meet his eye again, and finally, you could take a lung-filling breath. “We should go to your apartment, and get your things.”

“I can do that.” You waved a hand, and he scoffed, slipping from his stool to deposit the used dishes into the sink to be tended to later. You made a mental note to make sure you got to them before he did, it’s the least you could do after he cooked.

“Let you go back there alone, are you crazy? Not a chance.”

“I’ve been living there for weeks just fine.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grumbled, wiping his palms across the front of his sleep pants, and shaking out his wings. “Wait here, I’ll go get dressed. You can go in that.”

His words were final, and he disappeared through the kitchen archway into the mass of shadows looking far less sleepily now. You stood no chance of following him through the house without getting entirely lost, and so you only huffed, glancing down at yourself. It would do, you supposed. It wasn’t exactly a classy part of town anyway, and your dress was far worse.

You contemplated putting your heels back on, having just about found your way to the doorway once again, taking the jacket he’d loaned you last night and shrugging it on, heels in hand as he came back. Just the look of them made your feet ache already, and you decided against it, barefoot it would have to be, even if the thought made you cringe.

When Azriel reappeared, it was in black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs, and a hoodie just as dark to match. He’d tamed the messy bed hair he’d been sporting, and donned a glowing blue siphon across the back of each hand.

He looked so normal.

“How does that work?”

“How does what work?” He asked, dropping down to begin doing up the laces on his boots, and you felt under-dressed and embarrassed, feelings you were rapidly becoming accustomed to.

“Your hoodie and your wings.” He raised a brow, straightening up as he finished tying his laces.

“They have slots of my wings that fasten underneath, just like this t-shirt and jacket.” Sliding his hand around your back, you gasped as he slipped his hands through the gaps, calloused fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back for just a second.

“I get that, I meant, do you have to get them custom made, or is there… y’know, a store. Wings R’ Us.”

He paused, staring at you in pure shock, before bursting out with laughter, and his hand tightened a little on your back, tugging you a fraction of an inch closer to him before he slipped his hand free.

“What? It’s a valid question!” You mused, but your laughter mixed with his after only a few seconds, his hand retreating to hold your arm instead. You were still laughing as shadows flocked around you, darkness consuming you both, before you were re-emerging on the street outside of your apartment building only a few seconds later.

It was even worse in the daylight, and your laughter fizzled out as you looked up at it. Broken windows, glass covering the sidewalk, dead grass and mysterious puddles all over the pathway. The door was busted in, some windows border up entirely, graffiti and gang signs and burned patches of grass. One patch still had embers flickering. Running down the steps in a disgusting stream was a fresh upchuck of vomit, the tang of it lingering in the air, threatening to turn your stomach.

“You should stay out here. I won’t be long.”

“What? I can come up with you.” He took a step towards you, and your hand pressed to his chest, fingers spreading, and your head shook softly.

“It’s fine, you just wait here.” You didn’t want him to see your apartment, the broken window you’d tried to cover yourself that let in the cold, the mould on the walls, the broken furniture and door that didn’t look properly. You weren’t sure you’d survive that humiliation, having seen his house now. Your new residence, you supposed. There was no need for him to see this.

He didn’t look too happy, gaze moving to the building when voices trickled out from inside, unpleasant curses reaching both of you through the broken windows. “Fine. But, be quick. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I know you will.” That seemed to satisfy him a little at least, and you didn’t look back at him, not as you weaved up the stairs, being careful to avoid all substances in your bare feet, and slipped through the broken entry.

The stairs were cracked and splintering as you made your way up, you wouldn't miss them even slightly, and as the shock of it all settled into acceptance, a secret smile just for yourself formed. It still felt somewhat selfish to be having what Azriel offered you, you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it, but it didn’t stop the relief, the overwhelming flood of warmth that filled you, knowing that soon enough, you’d be out of this building for good.

As you slipped through the unlocked door of your squalid apartment, you hoped to never see it again once you left.

Dragging out the solitary trunk you’d been able to travel with from under the bed, you hauled it up onto the squeaky, stained mattress. Undoing the latch, you flicked it open, dust and dirt forming in the air as you swept your hand through to clear it. Below your feet, shouting started, voices beginning to raise from a couple below who seemed to do nothing but fight through all day and night, and you sighed. You certainly would not miss them.

Slipping off Azriel’s jacket and laying it across the box, the first thing you did was find some socks, and a real pair of shoes. Finally, with them laced up and secure across your feet, you felt a little more secure with every footstep you took, no longer dodging splintered wood or hurtful shards.

After brushing your hair and washing your face, you were finally beginning to feel more like yourself again, a small back of rapidly dwindling cosmetics sitting on your broken bed. Below you once again, the fighting got even louder, before something heavy crashed, and the impact of it reverberated up the walls and shook the floorboards under your feet. You paused, the sprinkling of crumbling drywall falling to the floor as the cracks in your walls expanded.

Darkness flashed across the room, exploding out to all corners so quickly you almost missed them. Shadows darted to observe as Azriel spun in place, calculating gaze taking in everything, a dagger in one hand, shoulders squared and braced for a fight. When he deemed the space clear of immediate threat, he turned to you, shocked and shy, mortification creeping in until the edges of your vision was blurry.

“I heard a crash, and I panicked. What the Hell was— are you okay?” He was on guard again, stalking across the room to loop an arm around your waist, crushing you to his chest, and you gasped a shaky breath.

“I told you to wait outside!”

“I know, but I was worried!” A tear threatened to break loose from your eye as your body heated from head to toe, humiliation making itself known. “Let me help you pack. The sooner we get you out of here, into a place with a door that actually locks, the sooner you’ll be safe, and I’ll feel much better.”

The words echoed across the front of your mind, and you stepped away from him, emotions overwhelming as he looked at you in confusion. “How did you know about the door not locking? Did you send one of your shadows to spy on me?”

“No! Of course not.” His shoulders slumped a little, and you almost felt guilty for the accusation, his shadows coiling tighter around his body now. “They just told me when we got here, and I think some of them came with you. They kinda’ have a mind of their own sometimes. You asked me to wait, and I respected that, but I thought you might be in danger. This place is…”

Your chest felt hollow, fiery emotions pulling back and leaving you utterly drained, and you looked away from him to wipe at your cheeks and blink back tears. “This place is all I could afford. It’s not much, but it was good to me, for what I needed. I know it’s not great, I wish I’d had a chance to…” You waved a hand around the awful space, a wet and self-deprecating laugh leaving you, “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see this—”

“I grew up in a dungeon.”

“You what?” The words best out of you on a shocked breath, your upset was temporarily forgotten as you looked up to him, and he grimaced at himself just slightly. Tucking his knife back away safely behind him, he scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t… that wasn’t the best way to say that. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t judging you. I grew up in a dungeon, literally. The dark and the cold were my only friends. I would have gone crazy for a place like this as a kid, it would have been a luxury. And don’t even get me started on the trainee dorms and cabins at the camps. I don’t think I knew what it was to not live with illness from the damp or cold until Rhys’ mother took me in. I had my first ever hot bath with Cassian on one side of me and Rhys on the other.”

He reached out, taking your hand much like you had done not so long ago at breakfast, and running his thumb reassuringly over your knuckles. It took several deep, steadying breaths before you were back in control of your emotions. “I hope you don’t still bathe like that.”

“Only on special occasions.” He beamed, lifting his other hand to smooth his thumb over your cheek, before letting the both drop back to his sides. “Let me help you pack?”

“Okay.” You headed back to the bedroom, the room that undoubtedly had most of the items in, and he followed. You’d hardly brought anything with you when you travelled, moving fast and light, hoping you’d escape your meaningless life in Dawn only to end up worse here, until last night. “There’s not much to pack…”

“Then we’ll be home in no time.” Home. The word sparked through you like the ember that lit a fire, your smile beyond your control as you nodded. Azriel moved his jacket out of the way of the box, throwing it onto the dirty bedsheets, and rubbing his hands together. “I assume you’re not bringing everything.”

“Definitely not.” You shook your head, staring at the bed you’d been sleeping in, your skin crawling a little. His shoulders sagged with relief.

“Good, I have guest rooms with all the basics, you can pick any to make your own.” Once again emotions welled within you as you stared at Azriel, who had his hands resting on his hips, glancing around the room, a blue glow cast over it all now. You watched him move, taking in the space, moving towards the wardrobe on the far side of the room and swinging it open.

You were content just watching him, truly believing he wasn’t judging you now, your heart thumping in your chest as for the first time in your life, you felt supported.

He pulled back from within the wardrobe, clearing his throat and letting an item dangle from his fingers. Your jaw dropped open, everything in your head clearing out as he stared at you with wide eyes. Hanging by lacy straps was one of the items you’d bought in preparation for your new job, a garment that was nothing more than netting and threads, and barely enough to cover you from nipple to thighs. “Uh, how exactly do you put this on?”

You flew across the room, faster than you’d ever moved before, snatching it from him with wide eyes and scrunching it between your hands. There was so little fabric to it that it almost disappeared between your palms as you did so. You turned, shoving it into the corner of your case where you hoped he couldn't see it anymore, practically feeling his breathy laugh wash over you as your nerves fired on ends.

“No?” You turned back to him, a strangled sound leaving your lips as he lifted out some red mesh, waving the bodice in the air like a flag. “What about this one?”

“Stop!” You coughed, taking it and throwing it over your shoulder, not caring where it went, as mischief shone in his eyes. He didn’t look away from you as he reached in again, clearly enjoying being able to get this reaction, but you weren’t sure you could handle any more. Snatching his hands up into your own, you clutched his much larger ones tightly, pulling them to your chest and scowling up at his gleeful expression. “Stop pulling out… those items!”

“Those items are all that’s in there!”

You could only groan, and he flexed his hands in your tight grip, his knuckles brushing your collarbone lightly, and you gasped, releasing him immediately, unsure your blush could get any worse as his hands fell away from your chest. You sank to sit on the edge of the bed, covering your face in your hands, muffling another distressed groan.

Azriel took a knee before you, his fingers firmly prying your hands from your face. “Where are your real clothes?”

“In the drawers.” You sighed, waving to the rickety dresser against the far wall, and he nodded. Rising, he opened the top drawer, scooping out your folded clothes carefully and laying them in the trunk on your bed. He returned, opening another drawer, and another. “What are you doing?”

“Where are the rest?”

“That’s it.” You sighed, his brows raising high as you stood, finally retrieving the red corset from the floor and folding it neatly, before placing that inside too.

“That’s it?” He echoed, disbelief in his voice, and you only shrugged, pulling the final few items free from the wardrobe. A few more clothes, two more pairs of heels, and a single old coat you’d managed to buy here for a few coppers at a second-hand store.

“I didn’t have much to start with, I had to travel light, only what I could carry. I bought a few sets of clothes, some books, and my savings.” He retrieved said pile of books, holding them carefully and arranging them amongst the clothes, making sure not to look at the items from the wardrobe you’d carefully laid inside. “I was naïve. I thought I’d get her, to the Court of Dreams, and all my dreams would come true. I thought I’d find a job, buy more clothes, and live happily ever after. I was an idiot.”

“Hey,” He muttered, lips pursing, hand resting over your own. “You’re not an idiot. You’re optimistic, and hopeful, and that’s how it should have been. That’s the reputation this place has, it’s not your fault. You’re supposed to come here to find better, I’m sorry you didn’t.”

He spoke with such conviction on behalf of his court you almost felt like you had personally offended him, until he offered you a small smile.

“After paying the rent for this crappy place and being unable to find any other job, I invested what little of my savings I had left into those stupid clothes.” You rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on if you didn’t leave the stress of this place behind soon. “Luckily, before I ran out of money, I bought some ridiculous little baskets and a throw blanket when I first arrived, to cheer myself up. Stupid decision, really, but they were colourful, and they brightened this place up a little, and made me happy to come back to.”

You wouldn't call this place home, it had never been, and Azriel left to the rest of the cramped space, wings tucked tight. You sealed up the box again, brushing your hands across the top of it now that it held everything you owned, and lifted it to the floor. It was barely any heavier than when you’d first arrived.

He returned, clutching your two baskets in hand, and he throw-rug rolled up neatly and placed inside of one. They made you smile, the first purchases you’d made upon getting here that were purely for indulgence. “They’re kinda’ tacky, I know, but—”

“I love them.” Azriel left no room for argument on it, his tone final, and you pressed your lips together to hide the size of the grin you wanted to offer. “Is this truly everything?”

“Everything I want to bring.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.” He jerked his chin, motioning you forward, his arms full but you freed a hand to settle on his arm, and darkness wrapped around you both again to move you through the shadows.

Back to safety and comfort, it was an effort to step away from Azriel’s side, even when you were within the walls of his home once again. Your home now, too.

Putting down the baskets and the blanket, Azriel took the trunk from your hands, motioning to the stairs with his free one. “Let’s get you settled in, huh? Before you decide to back out on me again.”

“Oh, shut it.” Your scowl only made him laugh, following you up the stairs towards the upper level of the house. He took over, guiding you down corridors you vaguely recognised from this morning, and you knew that you’d either have to ask him for a tour or do some serious exploring before you knew this place properly, but you’d have plenty of time for that.

Azriel had paused before a smaller door, solid wood frame and a panelled white door, closed currently. He tapped his knuckles on the frame, before twisting the knob and letting the door swing open. Inside was spacious, natural light flooded in from all corners, and if you’d thought the wide halls and floor-to-ceiling windows were grand, this was something else. Decorated much like the rest of the house, with simple tones of cream and beige, this room was one of the most beautiful.

A bed the same size as Azriel’s sat against the far wall, accessible from both sides with no cramping, and delicate gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze. Through one archway was a whole walk-in closet, with endless empty racks and drawers for you to fill, a whole wall designed for shoes. Through the other cracked door, you could see tiles and a tub, an ensuite bathroom for your personal usage, just like Azriel’s room.

There was a desk, a wall of bookshelves with a few trinkets and half-burned candles on, and a small armchair sitting just beneath them.

“This is your guest room?” You sputtered, and Azriel only leaned on the doorway as you stepped inside, taking it all in, from the paintings hung on the wall to the ornate faelights.

“Sometimes Mor stays over, she prefers this room. Cassian prefers the other guest room, he says it has a better view of the mountains.”

“Mor?” You echoed, tracing your fingers over the silky bedsheets and biting back a smile, that same feeling that none of this could be real coming rushing back, with force.

“Morrigan.” The name flashed through you from his stories last night, and your back straightened a little.

“She won’t mind if I use this room, though?”

“Mor hardly stays over, and she never stays the same time as Cassian. She can use the other guest room, you seem to like this one.” His tone got lighter toward the end, and you couldn’t agree more, barely containing your expression of joy.

“I do like this room.” You let go with a dreamy sigh, and Azriel placed your case just inside the door, sinking into the soft carpet. Your gaze moved back to him, from the flicker of a smile on his lips, to the spark in his eyes, to the casual slump of his wings behind himself. Shadows were slipping in around him, exploring this room too and dancing around your legs. Striding back to him, you clasped both of his hands in your own, searching his eyes once more, just to be sure. “Are you certain about this, Azriel?”

“There are very few things I ever say I am absolutely certain of, I am not a man of exaggerations or hyperbole. I value statistics, and realism, and honesty.” Azriel squeezed your hands when your throat bobbed, “But I can say with total confidence that this, that you, are one thing I am sure of.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He squeezed once more, before letting go, and standing back from you. “Unpack your things, and then meet me downstairs when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut behind him when he went, leaving you alone for a while to admire your new bedroom. It was bigger than your whole apartment had been, luxurious and ornate and beautiful.

It didn’t take you long to unpack your things, putting each different item in a different drawer one for shirts, one for pants, one for pyjamas. You hung your coat up on a stray hanger, and placed your few pairs of shoes into the first of the many cubbies lining one whole wall, already picturing how beautiful it would look when it was full.

Stacking your few books on the bookshelf, you arranged them alongside Morrigan’s half-burned candles, sniffling each one, and approving each time. You re-fluffed the pillows of the armchair, and then the bed, the shadows watching you explore the whole room with excitement.

Lastly, you toed off your current shoes, setting them neatly by the door, before padding into the ensuite bathroom.

Pale brown stone tiles lined the floor, white tiles lined the walls, with exposed wooden beams just like the rest of the house, pulling it all together. A few soaps and oils sat along one shelf in the shower, with more stashed in a cupboard that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling. Neatly folded towels filled a rack in the corner, the cotton warm to the touch as it was coated in golden sunlight, with bounced from every mirror and made the room glow.

Half sunken into the floor, entirely separate from the shower, was a large bathtub, big enough to accommodate anyone with wings even if they spread them out, and when you sat in the empty tub, you could hardly reach the sides with your arms stretched out.

Your cheeks almost hurt from grinning so much by the time you got control of yourself again, beginning your exploratory mission throughout the house to try and find your way once again.

It wasn’t as hard this time, the third time you’d made the journey, all of it finally starting to feel a little easier. Even if you did cheat a little, following the floral smell of whatever tea Azriel had busied himself with brewing while he waited. He wasn’t in the kitchen when you found him, though.

He was in a room you hadn't seen before, the living room, a space somehow even bigger than your bedroom and his. Combined. The fireplace was crackling to life, the quiet pops of logs sounding through the space, and another tray of tea sat out on the table. He was sitting in one of the many armchairs that were designed to accommodate wings, low-backed couches and loungers filling the room, making it look cosy and inviting.

All the books on these shelves were lined up neatly, arranged in groups with ornaments and trinkets splitting them up, the kinds of things you’d never seen before, surely mementoes from his travels all across the continent and beyond. Hanging over the fireplace was a portrait, snow outside the windows and a Solstice tree full of presents, with what seemed to be Azriel’s entire family gathered around, smiling happily. Even the infant heir was present, little Lord Nyx as a baby, sitting on his mother’s lap.

“Feyre painted it, it was a gift for my birthday last year.”

“When is your birthday?” Your attention moved to Azriel as he stood, smirking and moving to pour a second cup of tea. He told you as he moved, and you stored the information away for later, making sure you’d do something special for it. He asked for your own, information which you happily offered in return for the mug he left on the table for you.

As you stepped closer to the chair beside his own, you spotted your baskets, sitting in a neat stack beside the fire. Decorative and perfectly imperfect in the space, a disbelieving laugh on your lips. On the back of the couch was your blanket, thrown artistically over the cushions, and a squeak left your lips as you saw them.

It was the final drop, the bit that sent every other emotion overflowing within you until tears of happiness were lining your eyes. Seeing them here, so simple but it meant so much to you, and you raced to him, until your arms circled his middle, face pressing into the centre of his chest. You nuzzled in close, overwhelmed by your emotions, overwhelmed by him, and letting out a shaky sound that was muffled by his hoodie.

“Is this okay?” You mumbled, twisting to the side, to press your cheek over his heart instead, the same way he’d fallen asleep on you last night, and the stiffness of his body melted away. His arms wrapped around you, so tight you swore he’d never let you go as he hauled you even closer to himself.

“Yes,” His response was breathy, just as timid as your question had been, but laced with so much emotion it practically lanced right through you. His cheek came down to rest atop your head, kissing your hair before he was hugging you just as desperately as you were him.

“Y’know, this is really nice,” You sniffed, laughing through the tears that were going to break free any second, and relishing the affection he was giving to you. “I think we’re going to work out just fine.”

“I think so too, sweetheart.”

#SLS #sweet like sugar #azriel/you #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar/you #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar x reader #acotar

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gogolatte · 1 month

Text

Rises the moon.

✧ pairing. Doa3 x gn!reader

✧ word count. 2k.

✧ contents. fluff, ooc doa3, relationships are not specified (this is not necessarily romantic, take it as you please <3), mostly self-indulgent. if I missed anything, please tell me.

✧ author's note. it's been so long since i posted anything,,, i hope this is good enoughwaaaaeuxjwunxsk

It was past midnight and the apartment was enveloped in silence. You couldn't hear anyone talking in the living room, meaning everyone was asleep.

To be able to enjoy a quiet rest in this place was rare. Midnights are the most bustling hours, when everyone gathers to discuss “important” business until early in the morning, before leaving for whatever they have to do.

Considering this, you could have had a nice sleep for once… if it wasn’t for the rain storming outside.

A sudden thunder crash caused you to abruptly wake up in the middle of your dream— Your heart thumping quickly against your chest and your breath coming out in heavy gasps. You felt disoriented for a few seconds until you eventually calmed down.

Usually, storms don’t scare you, in fact, they’re quite enjoyable along with a lecture or a movie, but not now when you're alone in your room and in the middle of the night, surrounded by the darkness and with your vision barely helping you to perceive your surroundings.

Among the dark, shadows shape into tall monsters lurking from the corner of your room, seemingly waiting for the right moment to lay their ghostly hands on you before disappearing after each lightning. The brief second of luminance makes you realize that those shadows are just that, no one was going to actually hurt you.

Yet, going back into the land of dreams was difficult under these circumstances.

You tried by closing your eyes, ignoring the “monsters” and the loud rumbling of the thunderstorm, and taking deep breaths to calm your unsteady heart but you just couldn't fall asleep. The unsafe sensation wouldn't go away, perhaps until the sun rises again.

However, you had some kind of idea that could help you sleep.

You sat on your bed for a while, contemplating the storm through the window that doesn't seem to end anytime soon and trying to gain the courage to leave your room.

Maybe this idea wasn't the best one you could have, but it was the first thing that came to your sleepy brain, and it's not like you were in the mood to think of any consequences due to what you were going to do.

With a light groan, you leave the comfort of your bed and grab your fluffy pillow in between your arms. The wooden floor cracks under your feet as you make your way to the door of your room then carefully opening it, peeking through the small gap, making sure no dangers are around before stepping outside.

Luckily, the hallway was slightly illuminated with one lamp that hung from the ceiling— The old wooden floor cracks under your deliberated steps as you make your way to his room. Once you stand in front of it, and just as you place a hand on the knob, another sudden thunder makes you jerk in surprise.

Was that a sign from God to not do this?

Without properly rethinking —also too tired to think of any potential risks— you twist the knob, and immediately your eyes land on his sleeping peaceful form; almost completely wrapped with a blanket but letting you see his face. His lips barely parted and his eyelashes rested over his cheeks.

It's not every day when you see Fyodor sleeping on a comfy mattress…

Until now, you had always seen him working day and night underground, sitting in front of his bright purple monitor screen and typing away weird codes or messages that seemed impossible for you to deceive. And if he was not working underground, instead, he was taking a stroll through the city or drinking tea in some restaurant that picked his curiosity.

But sleeping didn't seem to be like a normal activity for him to do.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, hm?”

Fyodor's groggy voice makes you snap out of your thoughts. Now he’s looking at you with a gentle smile as you stand on his doorframe, gripping your pillow awkwardly as you wait for some type of permission— And almost as if he’s reading your mind, he motions for you to come closer with his hand.

The mattress sinks under your weight as you get into the bed and place your pillow just beside his. Wasting no time, Fyodor wraps his blanket around your frame. And it takes some time for you to realize that he's gladly sharing his personal space, which adds to another unusual thing he's doing tonight.

“I couldn't sleep.” You mutter, as he pulls you closer.

“Why's that, dearest?”

“The storm…”

A small chuckle escaped his lips, finding adorable the fact that you needed company just because of a mere storm. Though, he knew the answer even before you said it.

One of his hands —usually cold— is now warming up your cheek, cupping it and rubbing small circles with his thumb as if to soothe you, to tell that he’s there for you without any words needed, simply light touches and whispers shared in between the two.

And for a small second you return the gesture, gently tracing the dark circles underneath his eyes as you scan his features; his thin eyebrows, his purple eyes, and his nose before finally stopping at his lips— His lower lip a little bitten and red.

Unconsciously, your own lips twitch upwards as your mind clouds with the idea of kissing every inch of his pale skin, having him softly laughing underneath you.

To hide your smile, you rest your head against his chest, pressing your ear to where his heart is. The soft thud makes a gentle symphony, a calming sound, that allows any tension left in your body to slip away. Fyodor’s presence fills your senses, making you forget about the rain violently storming outside. Something pulls you closer as your arms wrap around him.

Fyodor doesn’t complain of the proximity, instead, his slender fingers play with your hair, twirling it around his digits or untying knots that were made while you were sleeping before the thunder strike woke you up.

It’s not a surprise that your eyelids eventually start feeling heavy, with all the sweet caresses and the warmth provided, your body is ready to resume your sleep, enveloped in the most comfortable shelter you could ever ask for—

“Oh…”

One of Fyodor's hands cups the back of your head tenderly, pulling you flush against him as if to avoid someone from snatching his most precious thing.

“…What’s wrong, Fedya?” You want to pull away, but a high-pitched giggle comes from behind you, accompanied by the sound of rustling the sheets.

Seems like we have company.

“What are you two doing sleeping without me? That's mean… Leaving a friend out is not nice, dovey.” Nikolai grumbles as he climbs to the bed, lying on his side and hugging you from behind, “Why not come to me when the storm startles your peaceful sleep, hm?

The jester seems not afraid in the slightest to have physical contact with Fyodor, or anyone really…

You can feel his hand removing Fyodor's from your head before he nuzzles against the crook of your neck; the tip of his nose brushes up and down your skin purposely to tickle you. Oh, how much Nikolai loved hearing your giggles as you squirmed around his bear hug, it made his heart almost beat out of his chest.

“I do not recall asking you to show up in my room, Nikolai.” By the tone of his voice, Fyodor doesn't seem pleased with the additional company taking space on his bed and ruining your peaceful encounter.

Nikolai’s hands trail up your ribs, and without any warning, he begins tickling you— not stopping even as you try to pry them away among laughs.

“Dove, you’re not gonna make me leave, are you?” He whispers against your ear, voice whiny and you are almost completely sure that he's pouting right now, hoping you at least feel pity for leaving him out, “Tell Dos that you want me to stay…”

But just by eyeing Fyodor, the answer is more than clear on his face. Refuting his words to let Nikolai sleep with the two of you is most likely ending with you and the jester being kicked out.

“C'mon, C'mon! You're scared of the storm, aren't you, birdie?” Nikolai pecks your cheek and pets your hair dramatically. “Poor baby! Shouldn't we help this frail dove together, Dos?”

“There's no need for that.” Fyodor's patience is going thin.

Nikolai clicks his tongue in annoyance, sitting up on the bed with his arms crossed like a child and glaring at Fyodor for a while, trying to convince him just by holding eye contact until he gives up, knowing there’s no room for negotiating.

“Fine, I'll leave… Gosh, you're such a killjoy.”

As he slips out the bed, muttering curses under his breath, Fyodor sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not the first —and definitely not the last— time he has to put up with Nikolai’s behavior.

God blessed him this time, it seems. He didn't need to make too much of a fuss to make Nikolai leave.

When the door opens and the jester intruder is ready to leave in order to resume the calming moment that Fyodor was truly appreciating, instead of leaving, Nikolai throws his arms up in the air excitedly.

“Dear Sigma! What a great surprise!”

The casino manager stands in the doorframe, rubbing one of his eyes. It appears like his sleep was interrupted as well.

“Uhm… Could you guys keep it down, please? I woke up because you're so noisy and I'm trying to—”

Sigma didn't have time to finish speaking before he was dragged by Nikolai, tugging on his sleeve and pulling him to the bed. Fyodor’s bed. Then pushing him down to the mattress as if he was nothing but another plushie added to the collection.

“Gogol! I didn’t come here to have a sleepover!” Sigma complains, rolling his eyes before meeting your gaze, and giving you an awkward smile.

Then meeting Fyodor's.

Something didn’t seem to add up.

“Am I… missing something?”

“This little dove needs our help, my dear friend! You see, the storm ruffled their lovely feathers so they needed to shelter in our embrace.”

Sigma raises an eyebrow at the jester’s words, and even if he's stuck in this —unwanted— situation it's not difficult to understand the message. He sighs, lying back on the bed and holding your hand, “It’s going to be okay, angel.”

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before bringing it to his lips and placing a soft peck on the back of it. He cares about you more than he hates having to deal with Nikolai.

The four of you managed to fit in Fyodor's bed with little space in between. Nikolai's head is now resting on your chest, him in between your legs, his arms around your waist. On the other hand, Fyodor and Sigma were lying on each side of you, either playing with your hair or stroking your hand. Any soft touch brings you closer to dozing off.

Fyodor mutters a small apology because of his "friends" behavior. His fingers graze your palm before he locks his fingers with yours as well. Silence slowly begins flooding the room; you feel perfectly safe with them around, so you close your eyes, letting your body relax.

“Oh! I have the greatest idea, how about we have a sleepover and do our nails and—”

“Nikolai.” The three of you called his name almost as if grounding a child; making the jester frown and pout.

You couldn't suppress your giggles, thinking that this might be the first —and the last— time you'll have the three men from the same dangerous organization sleeping together in the same bed only because they care about you, in their own way.

The storm slowly fades away, forgotten in the warmth of their embrace.

When waking up the next morning, you'll have to face the pain in your limbs from being entangled around them… And wondering how you and Fyodor ended up in between Sigma and Nikolai's hug.

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hellishjoel · 7 months

Text

seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.

---

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imaginesmai · 2 months

Note

could i request azriel with t (time) from your angst alphabet?

T for Time: you're ill and you don't have much time together, from my Angst Alphabet

Since I don't think fae can get ill, I changed this a little bit. This is sad and heartbreaking and please forgive me. Send in your requests if you have them!

Warning: pregnancy gone wrong, death during labor, descriptions of pregnancy injuries.

Time you take for granted - Azriel

2nd month

The night had brought an intense rain over Velaris, that had soaked the streets and threatened its villagers into their houses. Even cats and dogs had found shelter between the containers and hallways. Fires burned in almost every home, families laughing around it and sharing stories about their days.

Azriel could only guess their days had been better than his, than yours. There was no fire in your house that night, and he wouldn’t be lighting one. Not when darkness helped him disguise the terror stuck in his face, the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“We will have to talk about this, my love. Eventually” you broke the silence from your sitting place in bed, across from his couch. “You can’t close off”

He had been doing that since you two received the news hours away, when the sun still warmed the streets. When he thought his life was at his peak, with a loving mate who walked wrapped around his left arm.

He could do that for a little bit longer. Pretend Madja had just sent you off with some medical prescriptions for the nausea and two weeks leave for your job. Pretend Rhysand would grimace but allow him to disappear those two weeks with you.

“Please, Az. I’m scared too. I don’t want to do this alone” your voice sounded too at the brim of panic. “I need you”

Those words made him look up from the stain of the carpet. Azriel had been sitting in the couch, quiet and unmoving, for a long hour. Enough time to process the information, the fears and doubts. He guessed that was enough time for him, given the news were mainly about and for you.

It wasn’t about him.

Azriel rose up and took the few steps that separated you. The bed dipped under his weight, and you shifted until one of your legs was on his lap. Until you could wrap both your arms around his own and make sure he wouldn’t leave. He tried to give you a comforting smile, that came out crooked.

“I know we weren’t planning this. But it could be good. We can’t be sure it’ll be a problem, Madja can be wrong. She even said there’s a long way to go” you assured him.

“What about not starting it?” Azriel proposed for the first time, his fears getting the best out of him. “It can be a problem. We know how hard it was for Feyre and for Nyx, maybe we should… contemplate other options”

“No, Az. We’re going to have a baby. And it’s going to be alright”

Azriel would remember your determination for days, the confidence in your words watering down his worries and Madja’s warnings about a pregnancy in a non-winged female. He found in them the excitement to share the news with his family, to go through that first month by your side with an easy smile.

He even allowed himself to believe that his life was about to get better. Azriel let your words and confidence become his, and ignored the bad feeling in his gut.

3rd month

“What do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?”

Azriel didn’t bother looking at you, not when his whole body was touching some part of yours. You were laying in his arms looking up the sky, both your hands wrapped around your middle. Where, shortly, you would start showing signs of your pregnancy.

It was a sunny day, and the memory of the announcement and Madja’s words were far away. You had decided to have a picnic in the mountains. It was cold, and windy, yet looking up at the morning sky with his mate safe between his arms was beyond weather problems.

He thought about your question for a second, trying to decide what he wanted more. Cassian was a girls’ dad, and he wouldn’t stop trying for one until Nesta and him had at least three. Rhysand, though, liked to dress baby Nyx in the finest clothes and buy him the most elegant little-bowties.

“I don’t care. I just hope they look like you” he smiled against your nose that brushed his neck. “That they have ten little toes. Ten tiny fingers. Pointy ears. A button nose”

“Glad you want a baby and not a dog”

He chuckled and you laughed with him, and he was happy. Azriel hummed softly, with the certainty that he didn’t care about the gender. Either boy or girl would have him wrapped around their pinky – he or she already had, given the amount of stupid baby stuff he had bought in just one month.

Your face appeared and broke his thoughts apart. Pregnancy seemed to make you glow, not only your scent sweetened but your face brightened. Your cheeks were rosy from the cold, and while your head was covered with a thick hat, some locks fell over his face and ticked his nose.

He scrunched it and tried to brush them away.

Leaning down, you captured his lips on a kiss and his hands tightened on your waist. He let himself relax under your, years of training and feeling unsafe gone when you were in his arms. The kiss was slow, your lips moving against his lazily. Both your noses nuzzled each other, and you squirmed with a soft chuckle when he pressed his fingers against your ribs.

“I love you” you whispered against his mouth, not opening your eyes.

“I love you more. Both of you”

Azriel let his hands explore every inch of your body in that forgotten mountain, let his heart roar in happiness when you broke away and stared into his eyes with so much love his bones threatened to melt.

He pushed the lasts of his worries away before kissing you.

4th month

It wasn’t unusual for you to find your place on Azriel’s lap. He never complained about it, but lately he found a particular joy in it. With your bump showing, he could have both his worlds close to his soul.

You were just in that position when the first worrying question came through. After a game night where you had lost three times, you had declined the next round. Azriel was playfully biting your earlobe, loving how you squirmed on his lap. He couldn’t help the growing hardness in his pants, and like a growing teenager, found himself pushing you to move more.

He was minutes away from dragging you both to your rooms when he caught on the conversation between you and Feyre.

“It must be wonderful, knowing you’re so close to the third trimester” Feyre was saying, ignoring her own mate’s hand trying to sneak under her dress. “How is the nausea going? Mine never left”

“I’m doing fine now, at least I can have breakfast and keep it inside” you shifted in his lap when Azriel ran his tongue through your pulse point. “The worst part are the clothes. I can’t keep anything for more than a few weeks”

“I had a whole new wardrobe by the time I had that belly” she pointed with her chin to your bulge. “The sixth month is hard”

“I’m… it’s been four. Not six”

You smiled at her with innocence, but the whole room fell quiet and your smile dropped. Feyre’s own face paled a little as she looked at your belly. Looking down, you wondered what they saw that made them fell silent. You weren’t a big person, compared to fae’s and coming from the continent, where your kind were shorter than other people.

And sure, the belly looked big on you. But you were pregnant, and you thought that was normal.

Azriel tensed under you and, for the first time in two months, realized that your pregnancy was looking a little too different from Feyre’s. He always kept track on details, on things people didn’t usually notice. And when Feyre mentioned, he realized that you were far bigger.

His arousal and joy died down when he felt a rush of fear down the bond. It was normal, right? Different people, different pregnancies. Azriel was bigger than Rhysand, taller and broader, and his wings were certainly wider too.

Feyre ended up dismissing the mistake with a hesitant smile, and Morgan chipped in to ask for more wine. The conversation returned shortly after, but that time, there were no playful bites or kisses. You leaned back farther into his embrace and he let his shadows caress your hair, your belly, your fingers. Anything to erase the first spec of worry in that beautiful journey.

5th month

The news were hard to digest, and that time, Azriel didn’t let your cheerful words dig in. He smiled at your excitement, he held you as you jumped in joy and gleamed with the new information. Azriel didn’t say anything until you were asleep in bed, laying on your back with your belly on display.

Only when he was sure you wouldn’t wake up, he winnowed away to Rhysand’s office, when he and Cassian were already waiting for him. They both wore worried faces, and perked up at his presence. After all, it had been him who had asked them to meet him.

Azriel needed to share his worries, to acknowledge the risk, and he couldn’t do it with you, not when the pregnancy pains were already taking a toll on your days.

“Madja admitted she’s indeed too big for only five months. That she looks ready to give birth, not to be halfway a pregnancy” Azriel said, slumping down on the comfy chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face. He was exhausted. “We’re… having twins. A boy and a girl”

“That’s good news, Az. A son and a daughter”

Cassian’s words did nothing to subdue his worries. He tugged at the end of his hair, not knowing what else to say. Madja’s face had said it all – the tightness of her shoulders, the paleness in her face, the shakiness in her hands. Fae pregnancies were already rare, but twins? Azriel didn’t know any twins, let alone whose mother wasn’t winger and whose father was.

Madja had asked you to see her each week. She had sent you into mandatory rest for the rest of your pregnancy, and Azriel wouldn’t be leaving your side for that time. It wasn’t his job that worried him. Not even his training. If staying with you meant everything would be okay, he wouldn’t sleep nor blink.

“What about… other options?” Rhysand proposed, earning a wary look from Cassian.

“She doesn’t want to hear about them. Shuts down when she sees me coming. Since Feyre’s comment on her size, I’ve been testing the waters” he felts his eyes water at your negative. “Y/N wants to continue the pregnancy and I don’t know what to do anymore”

“It doesn’t have to go wrong, brother” Cassian knelt on his right and squeezed his forearm. Rhysand’s hand fell on his shoulders. “You can get through this, she’s a strong female. Don’t think the worst yet”

“I’m afraid”

Those words were the last thing Azriel said before breaking down in front of his brothers. He would be strong for you, would offer you kind words and support when you needed him because he had to. But he let himself drown in anguish at the bad feeling of his gut that was coming alive little by little.

That night, Azriel let his brother hug him and soaked into his fake comforts. There was nothing any of them could do about it, yet they tried to believe against it. When he went back home, he dried his tears and laid down in time to watch you wake up, a sleepy grin on his face.

Azriel repeated that routine many times in the months to come.

6th month

Entering the third trimester brought along the first problems.

Azriel didn’t let you get out of bed without him, only allowing what Madja called ‘stretching your legs for circulations’. You complained and complained until Azriel threatened to shut you up with a gag, and that led to other activities.

Through all of it, Azriel held himself back and refused to bury himself where he needed. Instead, he let his hands and mouth do all the work gladly. You slept soundly after that, and as Azriel followed you with a content sigh, he should have guessed it was too good to be true.

He was a light sleeper, so he couldn’t understand why he only woke up at the sound of muffled sobs in the bathroom. Sheets got tangled between his legs as he ran out of bed, crawling to you while his left foot dragged the whole night cloth with him.

You were sitting in the toilet with your nightgown bundled around your belly, now large enough to make you wobbly while walking. With a fist against your mouth, you cried desperately and looked between your legs, down to the toilet. Azriel didn’t need to feel the bond to know you were panicking and in pain.

“What’s wrong?” he hoisted himself up and stumbled down on his knees in front of you, until you met his widened eyes. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“I peed” you managed to hiccup against your closed fist. “I peed”

“You peed?”

You peed all the time. In the toilet, in the kitchen, in bed. He had found himself used to waking up with warm sheets, because you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. With two babies pushing your bladder constantly, he refused to let you feel embarrassed or clean the sheets.

Pee was normal, yet your face screamed at him with an urgency he couldn’t understand, that his soul was roaring for. His hands were uselessly trying to fight an enemy he couldn’t protect you from, that his power couldn’t destroy.

“I peed blood” you admitted quietly, looking down the toilet again.

Azriel followed your gaze and watched the few spots of blood inside the toilet. Inside, a reddish liquid lay. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of you bleeding, of you being hurt. His body went on autopilot as he gathered paper and cleaned you softly.

As you leaned against the wall, he gladly inspected for the origin of the bleeding. Madja had assured you that it was normal a little bleeding, but he listened to his inner voice and kept looking.

You ended up calming down in his arms, as he guided you back to bed with the promise of calling for Madja in the morning.

He tried to convince himself it was normal, as Madja had said. As you tried to tell him while you fell asleep, for your and his sake.

Azriel didn’t believe it, and didn’t sleep that night. When next morning you peed blood again, he just winnowed you to the clinic.

7th month

Madja’s words haunted him for days, and he only slept when he fell unconscious. If he wasn’t unconscious, he stared at you for hours or cried to his brothers more often than not. They were his support, his lifeline, and he was yours.

One winged baby was enough to cause damage to a winged-mother, threatening her life on a normal basis. One winged baby could kill a non-winged mother any day, during labor or during the pregnancy.

Two winged babies on a non-winged mother were tearing your body apart.

One of the talons had ripped through the womb and into your bladder, causing a small tear. Madja had fixed it, yet had deemed appropriate to move into your house and be within reach for the next occasions.

“There might not be any other problems, but just in case I want to be close” she announced, looking into both your eyes to make sure you understood. “We’ve been lucky the talons are still small. But they’re growing”

Two days after the first tear, the same talon reopened the same wound. You peed blood and Azriel held you close as Madja healed you, his own breaths coming in pants at your pain.

She took the decision to try and move the babies a little, which put you in so much pain that you broke two of Azriel’s fingers from squeezing his hand. He didn’t say anything as he switched hands.

That solution was temporary, as a week later, you puked blood. The other baby’s talon had caused an internal injury, and in just two days not even Madja’s protection was enough to keep the bruises off your belly.

Your huge, bruised belly that Azriel caressed every night along with your face.

“Please” he begged you with tears in his eyes, ignoring the pain he was causing you at his petition – he had to, when you suffered every breathing minute. “Please, consider it. I don’t want to lose you”

“There’s a chance they’ll make it, Az. I can’t ignore that chance”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t – You’re –“

His words always died down in sobs, and during that month, he wasn’t strong enough to leave to his brothers’ embrace. Azriel broke down in your arms, laying on your collarbone as he begged you to end the pregnancy, to ensure your life while you still could. Maybe you weren’t linked like Feyre and Rhysand were, but if you died, Azriel was sure he would too.

You didn’t change your answer, and he still begged every night.

8th month

Your body was too small, to fragile.

He watched his own children drain the life out of you, but he couldn’t hate anyone but himself. Hate his choices, his brief hopes that had made him careless and put you in that situation. There were no longer walks or laughs, just your body in a bed, with Madja by your side more often than not.

Azriel too was always by your side, so when it happened, he was there.

There was no way of knowing if it was the own weight of the babies, the lack of your strength or one wrong move. One moment you were leaning against him to reach the bathroom and the other you were screaming in pain as your knees buckled. He heard as part of your spine gave up under the weight, as you crumbled down.

Madja and the other healer were by your side in a second, pushing your body to the bed and yelling at him to move.

Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel listened to each and every cry that left your lips, smelt every tear that licked your cheeks, and felt every nail mark you left on his forearm. He didn’t bother begging or crying, he wouldn’t let his emotions leave its cage because then he would be gone too. He would be so far away no one would ever reach him, and you needed him.

Feyre’s presence was just a memory on the edge of his vision, the kind woman in charge of emitting those pointless comfort words he couldn’t get out. Azriel whined when your spine was put back together by four, five, or six healers.

He didn’t need to ask what would happen now, or why they had long faces. He didn’t have to try and change your mind, as you wouldn’t move. He only let another anguish cry.

Until birth, my lady. We can hold it until birth.

9th month

Azriel didn’t register the blood on his face. Maybe it was his, from how hard he had dug his nails against his face. How he had wanted to rip himself apart, and had almost done it. Maybe it was from Cassian, who had tried to avoid his brother entering the birth room. Or from you.

His throat was raw, there was no voice coming out of him. And his clothes were soaked. With tears, with sweat, with blood. With his own sick, that he had thrown over himself.

The sky had opened to cry with him that night, it seemed. Azriel would have been soaking wet if it wasn’t for the roof above his head. He didn’t know which roof it was, where he was. How had they gotten him out of the room once your heart stopped beating.

Once Madja stepped away from your broken body, blood still seeping to the floor. He could still hear the phantom of his own voice before your eyes rolled back. There was no point in trying, in begging, so he had just been there. Holding your body, praising you, swapping the sweaty hair out of your face.

I love you

You’re doing good, I love you

My beautiful mate, I love

How you’ve changed my life, I love you

I love you

He had cried the words but had made sure you had heard each one of them, because for nine months, he had known those would be the last thing you heard.

A rebel tear rolled down his cheek, down his jaw and the column of his neck. Another one hit the bundle, the tiny sweet bundle, that rested in his arms. He had been holding his daughter for three hours, and he wouldn’t be moving for a while.

Azriel stared at the only survivor of the birth, a baby-girl with floppy wings. With then little toes and ten little fingers. With pointy ears and a button nose. He couldn’t say yet if she looked like you or not, if she had your eyes or hair.

What she had, was the stubborn soul of her mother. She had survived the birth while her brother had died with you. Had survived being smaller than her death brother, who took most of the space. Had survived the first hours which Madja had said would be crucial.

He didn’t have more tears to share or more feelings to break over. Azriel felt void, vacant, like the part of his soul had been ripped. He wasn’t sure he was even alive, only the weight on his arms the constant reminder.

The rain hit the windows with an enormous strength, but the baby didn’t notice. She kept sleeping soundly in her father’s arms, unaware of the world she had just entered. Azriel had enough strength to stagger back to the couch before breaking down in a silent cry that shook his body.

The baby still didn’t stir.

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blueberryarchive · 8 months

Text

—the sketch and the smaller eye; kth

Lonely man Kim Taehyung leads a fairly stable routine in his life away from civilization affected by an infection without a cure. Stability ends the day you arrive, no one knows how you got there, but one thing is for sure: Taehyung won't let you go.

🌿pairing; Artist!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

🌿word count; 8.1k

🌿tw; widower!tae, post-apocalitic scenario, mentions of disease, weight loss and death, very brief mention of arms, age gap (21 & 30-ish), smut (manhandling, whiNY Taehyung, edging, spanking, oral (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talk), gruesome details of the virus.

🌿themes; strangers to lovers, slow burning, cottage-core.

🌿inspired by; ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ ᵖˡˢ ᵇᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walk all the way home was always one of his favorite things to do when it was hunting day, the way the wind danced between the dying leaves and made music inside the hollow trees, the sun setting with the most beautiful tones of pink. It always reminded him of the times he spent just drawing all alone until you came into his land.

The day was August 8th, the heat was overbearing and like all of the other days around the same time, probably four or five (he wouldn't know because his only clock died a year ago), Taehyung sat down in the shadow of an old oak tree that has been his only friend, besides his dog, since he came to this lonely and God-forgotten place, were he was blessed and cursed with solitude and the cruel nature.

He had a small tin box with all of his drawing supplies, broken pencils, a piece of eraser gum the size of a nail, and a reddish tint drying up in a baby food crystal jar. Every day he told himself that he was making more yellow with the few sunflowers in his backyard, but today of all days he actually stood up to look for the petals.

The flowers were right outside the kitchen window, the sun was going down, and they were hunched over, withered, and full of little flying butterflies. His calloused hands took a pair of petals, the most vibrant and alive.

The sudden sound of cracking leaves and the barking of his dog disturbed him.

Taehyung perfectly remembers the moment he saw your frightened eyes, the color of the sunset over your weak body clinging to a log, an improvised cane. Torn clothes, dry mouth like a corpse, wet hair for some reason. Did you cross the river?

The first reaction of both was primal, like two animals that didn't plan to meet. Taehyung only turned on the fireplace at night, only for a couple of hours, so as not to attract attention.

So what were you doing there? Were you lost? Impossible, he was too far from civilization. Were you infected? The wolves would've eaten you by now. Either way, he didn't like the idea of someone new.

The petals sweated their amber ink on Taehyung's hand, you tried to maintain your position, your gaze... almost afraid to blink. The man was not afraid to take action, hand already inside his overall pocket. Without much, his hand raised a pistol, sleek and silver. He was pointing straight at your face, your hair in a ponytail revealing your exposed forehead, like an invitation to explode it with a bullet.

"No, please." You muttered. So soft and yet, Taehyung got scared hearing someone else's voice. It wasn't a growl, nor the crash of stones from the river, nor the rain, nor the cawing of crows, nor his own grunts when chopping wood, nor the barking from his old dog. "I'll go." You begged again, letting go of the log. Taehyung tensed, even more, hearing you again.

So soft and sad. So delicate when the world around was burning.

"Are you coming with someone else?" he growled, getting closer and looking around. The forest seemed quiet, and his dog would have warned him.

"No, just me."

"If you lie it'll be worse for you."

"I know." You lowered your head to avoid the black eye of the gun.

"Are you sick?" the question was simple. Taehyung was trying to look for signs of infection. He hadn't felt this fear since the last time he lost his wife to that fucking disease.

You denied it, slowly.

"Show me," he said with a lowered tone, calm eyes as you undressed as quickly as possible. No marks. Elbows, hands, neck, eyes. All clean. With a sigh from both, the barking stopped.

"Walk to the tree over there, and if you try to do anything funny I'm going to put every fucking bullet in your head," he said giving a simple condition. He started moving with you in front.

Without saying anything else, you both walked slowly to the trunk. The afternoon was already turning blue, cicadas were playing a tense melody. Your bare back revealed your vertebrae, hard balls under your skin looking as if it was going to break. You hugged yourself, trying to keep the heat of your body, perhaps even your modesty.

With a whistle, Frank appeared: an old dog with red eyes and floppy ears. Seeing the naked stranger, he growled loudly. Your hands began to tremble, the weapon and the animal made a cry of pain come out of you, a plea with tears falling down your ashy cheeks. But you didn't see a drop of mercy in Taehyung's eyes, you knew that having this kind of loneliness was not achieved without having to kill several from time to time.

The eyes of the man in front of you were unbending and cold, lips pressed into a thin line, thick hands gripping Frank's chain and his gun. Stains of watercolors and charcoal on his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy," he whispered and the dog came closer little by little to sniff your body. "Bend down." You obeyed.

The animal took its time sticking its wet nose into your hair and skin until it snorted as it sat down. Taehyung lowered the gun.

That was the beginning of your recovery, long days lying between rough, thick sheets. Yellowed pillows that smelled of Taehyung's hair, hand-rolled cigarettes on the nightstand. Every morning he would get up before the sun came up and carry his hunting artifacts over his shoulder. Frank stayed with you while you tried to kill time in the cabin.

You learned how to garden and cook, roll the cigars, and dry the tobacco in the sun. The books were plenty, but reading was an activity you only did if Taehyung was the one reading to you, he did it every night. Even when the fever was so high you couldn't keep up with the story.

When you were at your worst, he held your head to put you in one of his sweaters, and even left the crackling fire all night to keep you warm in the cold.

Every night he started, with a rough and tired voice, around 8 o'clock, to read you a chapter from a book of poems or letters; or the list of lost people in the old newspaper.

"I do it to keep me sane," he said. "I went a long period without saying a word, and I started to forget how to say them, my tongue used to get jammed." He explained to you while drawing an empty cup of tea next to you.

You could only tell him a couple of questions each night, he used to get tired very easily. The first two weeks you couldn't even pronounce two words before he started to lose his patience.

"You don't have to know anything about me," his eyebrows locked in a frown. "When you get better, you can go and it will be like we never met."

But now it has been three months, you think. You recovered pretty well, and you can do the chores while he's out. You try your best every day so he notices that you won't be a bother if he lets you stay.

He doesn't ask questions about how you came to be on this side of the river, and you thank him for that. The memories blurred in your mind, like a sketch that's been erased again and again.

Taehyung get's home at sunset, you are outside breaking some newspapers into pieces. The notebooks he used to draw in were already full, so you decided to make him a new one.

You are wearing a dress he found in an abandoned house, it was a teen size but he loves it. He doesn't know your age yet, but he knows you're probably in your early twenties. He loves when the sun is scorching hot and your only choice is to let your thighs and shoulders out while you cook and clean. The hem flows with the wind letting him see your bare ass while you put the paper to dry.

You two haven't had sex, you never gave him signs, maybe because he looked a little bit older. He never felt like he had to hide an inexistent lust, until a few weeks ago.

Two, to be exact.

You were in the nearest river. A flimsy white t-shirt, wine-drunk, and talking so much. You were so irksome with your questions. The cold water sticking the fabric to your body like marble while you asked about Taehyung's boring routine. Your babble was such, you started asking about him jerking off and how sex works in solitude.

The way you laughed made him blush with anger. Sketches he was trying to make from the water lilies turned into ones from your eyes.

That day he had to take a cold shower in the river after leaving you by the fire in the house. His face was boiling red, tired of your babbling and hard as a log.

The idea of you making him horny made him mad for some reason; it made him feel like a high school boy, but it was natural. He had years without seeing a woman. And you were pretty. So pretty for no fucking reason.

He knew that being in his early thirties probably made him less attractive to you, he was a grumpy man, almost a caveman how he reacted to your ways. That's why he didn't try, not even think about it... not always.

Now you have him going to abandoned houses on the other side of the river, looking for things for you: like a small bottle of perfume, a broken mirror, and old photos of people who are probably dead by now. A way to show he cared without using words.

When he got to the rock path, the crackle made you turn around, you were smiling like always, and his heart felt warm.

"I told you to do that earlier. The paper won't dry today," He grunted, acting more tired than he was so you leave everything behind and get near him. You get a cigar from a basket near you and light it for him. You pass it to him after taking a puff.

"But you can draw on one piece of paper."

"That's not how it works."

"It'll have to work."

Taehyung pressed his lips together, he knew you enjoyed arguing with him, but more than those few words would not come out of him. You rolled you eyes going back to hang the wet paper.

"I'm making dinner tonight," he muttered like ten minutes later and then silence again. Another cigar, the old Frank by his side while he watched the sunset disappear.

The reading hours were around six to seven, right after dinner. It was the same routine when you first stayed, and it is the same now: After dinner, he gets comfortable in bed, takes a cigarette from the nightstand, and with the gas lamp he lights the tip. Book in hand.

The words he didn't say all day would overflow as he read chapter by chapter. In an appropriate tone, pauses at the commas, giving life to each character. A treat for the ears.

After looking for a book on the first floor, he entered the room and stood up, his eyes went to the corner where there was a broken mirror, and in its reflection, you were, combing your hair in a ponytail, so poorly done that it was better to leave it loose. But the strands that were floating in the air, in front of your eyes, made Taehyung's fingers tingle, wanting to take every strand and pull it towards him.

There was a heaviness in the air that early autumn night. The silence was thick, and the yellowish lamplight cast heavier shadows on every piece of furniture. Abrupt and defined as in a baroque painting.

The curve in which his eyes concentrated more were the ones that defined your waist and your stomach, how it bulged slightly like a hill stamped with the flowers of your skimpy dress.

"Turn around," you muttered, like you didn't care if he did it or not, as you started to remove your dress; snapping Taehyung out of the sketches he was drawing in his head. He went to open the window to let some of the heat out of the room, letting the smoke creep through the curtains.

"I think I know what I'm going to read to you today," he cleared his throat, looking down at his bare feet pacing anxiously across the room. The shadow of your silhouette moving on the floor, the bone-white nightgown falling on your curves, exposing one of Taehyung's weaknesses: the connection of your neck and your shoulders, subtle but lethal.

He wanted to press his face between and close his eyes, inhaling the scent of your skin. Rich and peachy, like when the trees have so much fruit that they start to ripen on the same tree.

"You haven't finished showing me the stamp book yet." You dropped on the bed.

"I'm already bored of it."

"Odd." you noticed, watching him bend down and open a suitcase under the bed. "And those?" As you approached you saw a collection of books.

They were small, wrinkled, and minimalist in cover. Some were yellowed papers seized by the red wax on the spine.

Taehyung snorted at the question and looked up, daring you to keep acting innocent. He knew that you knew every corner of the house.

"I want you to say it," you smiled.

"Force me."

"I want you to say that Taehyung, the hard-faced man, has a collection of erotic books under his bed."

"You already said it. I don't have the need."

"Why do you have it under the bed?"

"What are you talking about?" Taehyung moved the books until he found a small book in Spanish. The pink cover with a painting of a mischievous Renaissance woman smiling.

"Kept under the bed, in a suitcase. Like a secret."

"I'm not ashamed of reading erotica if that's what you assume." he closed the suitcase and dropped his body next to you. His head near your legs, yours lying on the opposite side.

"And why do you have it like they're illegal." you held the cigarette he offered you.

"Habits of a human who lived in a society, I suppose."

You inhale the cigarette while he searched for the short between his long fingers, the book opened softly. His thumb pressed down the middle of the pages.

The glass of wine had you sparkling, you still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol. You had not drunk in so long that you did not remember its effects. There was something on the tip of your tongue, a confession that couldn't wait, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Before you could speak, Taehyung let out a soft "Ah" as he found the story for the night.

"A man who came about five years ago translated this story by Anaïs Nin for me. When he found out that I painted, he told me that he had a story for me."

"What's it called?" Without realizing it, your hand began to caress Taehyung's leg.

"La Maja," he pronounced. "Like Goya's painting"

Your head fell back on the stacked pillows, Taehyung's lips moved as he read a homemade translation of the story.

"He pulled back the sheets that covered her and slowly lifted the silk nightgown. He was able to lift it over her breasts without her giving the slightest sign of awakening. When it was uncovered all over the woman's body, he contemplated it for as long as he wanted. Her arms were detached from her body; her breasts stretched out before his eyes like an offering. He was aroused by his desire but he did not dare to touch her. Instead, he brought paper and pencils, sat by her bedside, and took notes. As he worked, he had the sensation of caressing each of the perfect lines of the woman's body."

Taehyung's eyes would lift to yours after reading the paragraph, turning back to the page with embarrassment flushing his cheeks. The human habit of blushing when you want things so badly, he thought.

The smoke from the dying cigar between your fingers snaked through your hair and the softness of your chin. Taehyung was never more jealous of something so ephemeral.

He couldn't find where he had stayed and the silence became so loud that you could only do what was right.

"I followed you today."

"What?" Taehyung didn't understand, you had spoken so low that he almost didn't notice it.

"To the woods, when you left this morning."

When he closed the book, you knew that what little sweetness Kim showed you turned sour.

"I have told you that you must stay here, with Frank. Safe." You both got up at the same time, you followed Taehyung looking for his gaze which he averted.

"I'm not asking you to keep me safe, Kim" you replied.

There was a pause as he pricked at his bottom lip. Was that in his pupils the sign of an offense? Taehyung clucked at you, turning around.

"Kim," you tried to fix it by brushing against his shoulder. "It's not that I'm a helpless deer, I know how to protect myself." You laughed to lighten the mood. Bad idea.

A question, like a small forgotten flame, reappeared in Taehyung's brain. Out of courtesy when you got sick in the first few weeks, he didn't ask where you came from, why you were alone, or how you came to cross the wide river that divided a civilization almost thousands of kilometers to the left. When politeness turned to infatuation, the question was no longer so important. He felt that he could trust you and that he had a new purpose besides survival: to keep you safe.

Fallacies.

"How did you come to find me?"

"What?" the smile faded from your face.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes moved erratically in his gesture, a frown. Just like when you came in drenched that August. No trust.

"Don't know."

He just snorted denying, he didn't believe you, and that irritated you.

"Sure, of course."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't believe it, I know." His body moved from side to side, arranging books and picking things up off the ground.

Your flushed face and clenched fists. Boiling alcohol in your veins.

"Well, you can go to hell with your lonely man farce."

"OK." Taehyung sighed daring you to continue insulting him.

"You do know that things aren't as horrible as at the start of the pandemic anymore, right?"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"The infected are controlled and-," Seeing how he continued to feign interest, you pushed him aside and grabbed your dress from the floor, beginning to change. Tears accumulated without permission in your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled.

"Then you do know something about your past."

"Fuck you, Kim."

"No, because you lied to me and now you say things like how you know how to defend yourself in a forest full of wild wolves and that you traveled several kilometers by water and land to get here. And you want me not to ask questions about it." He moved closer to you so close that he could see the torment in your eyes.

"Exactly." You muttered putting on your garden boots.

"That request is absurd and you know it." his laugh was careless. He was drunk too.

"I know."

You both stared at each other, your hair was no longer tied up and its shadow hid both of your features under its shadow. Your lips parted at the sight of his.

"I don't remember how I got to this place," you whispered, a tear fell to your cheek and you cursed how sensitive alcohol made you. You saw how Taehyung's face softened in the presence of your pain. "I swear I would have told you if I knew."

Taehyung swallowed hard and looked out the window. He hated seeing others cry, he hated when his wife did it, and he hates seeing it now in your lost gaze. There was something in the way you were, in the quality of your emotions and your hope in everything that reminded him so much of her. His wife died at the same age you were.

Taehyung and her were both idiots and thought that living far away was all it took to escape the infection.

It was stupid of him to let her go hunting alone that day, he shouldn't have let a simple fever keep him in bed when she was out there.

He spent years waiting for her to come back. Waiting for some afternoon that he will hear her quick steps coming down the gravel road. Much later, he found a piece of her shirt floating on the bank of a river.

Taehyung closed his eyes and nodded. It was dangerous to let you stay, he still didn't fully trust you. But what was the use of being alone so much when he only waited for the next day and the day after until one day he could die naturally?

Your body tensed as his hand rose to sink into your hair and kiss your forehead. So delicate, without causing any noise.

"Sleep well," he whispered leaving the book on the table. His chest hurt with the immense amount of feelings you make him feel in one day.

It's overbearing and he loved it. But his poor soul needed time.

For the first time in all that time together, he decided to sleep on the first floor.

You didn't know what to say, you were already ready for him to just ask you to leave. So you were thankful he actually just…left.

When the door creaked shut, you let loneliness engulf you. You cried, glued to the pillow like a child. Of relief, of uncertainty, for that kiss.

The days are long when there is nothing to say. When you don't look at him, when you ignore him with your unsubtle ways: you leave your clothes poorly folded, you don't finish the dishes he makes for you, your cigarettes are badly rolled, and you punish him by wearing those shirts that reveal your cleavage.

If you knew what you did to him, would you take advantage of him? Would he hate it?

Taehyung can feel your eyes on his back as he tries to light the fireplace at night, the cold is cruel in the mountains, even crueler than the tension in the small living room. You find yourself sitting watching the flame grow and grow, Taehyung trying to appear as calm as possible as if he didn't have the gears of his brain fed up trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Apart from a 'what do you want for dinner?', a 'yes' or a 'no'.

He felt he talked more with poor Frank, who slept about eighteen hours a day.

He cleared his throat at the smoke and held up his hand for more newspaper. You gave it instantly. And suddenly, a miracle: for the first time in weeks, your voice.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," you said embarrassedly, arms crossed.

With a tight-lipped smile on Kim's mouth, he nodded and looked into your tired eyes.

Your voice was still just as sweet and calm, you wanted to try to sound weary. But he noticed every afternoon when he came home from hunting, the way you moved through the little orchard and sang while you bathed Frank. Your laughter was his antidote, it healed his tiredness and the ache of his soul.

"We should celebrate it." He proposed, but you instantly denied it.

"I want you to take me."

"What do you mean?" he blushed, looking deep into your eyes.

"Take me somewhere."

Taehyung dropped the newspaper on the fire. He sighed softly, (not in relief, but disappointed) and sat in the old chair in the corner, legs apart as he rolled a cigarette.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the house on top." you pointed east.

"How do you know there's a house on top?"

"Because I saw it in your drawings." your pupils let you see its shine for the first time in weeks. The cold made you look so beautiful. The little contact he had with you, he missed it so much.

Your cheeks took on color with the coming of winter, your lips like two slices of ripe fruit, red and full of juice. "And I found your binoculars in the warehouse."

"Mm," he couldn't even get mad at you and your insatiable curiosity. He was glad to hear you. Besides, who was he to deny you going up to that abandoned mansion, even when fear consumed him that they would attack you?

"Sure, we'll go." you let the corner of your lips rise, Taehyung feigned seriousness. "But it can't be tomorrow. We need at least two days of walking to get there, and we have to prepare."

You licked your lips and got up, letting the cloth that wrapped you from head to toe fall to your shoulders. You raised your arms, and Taehyung frowned, not understanding the gesture.

"Come here, it's almost twelve, and I'm going to be twenty-one."

Although they both knew that no clock gave them a certain time, Kim didn't care and you less. Leaving the cigarette next to him, he stood up and awkwardly let his strong arms swallow you, your head on his chest.

The hug was a thank you from you, but with just a few more seconds, you realized that Taehyung didn't want to let go. You opened your eyes, he could feel your confusion.

"Just-" he stammered, tensing his arms a little more to bring you closer to the warmth of his body. Silence.

Rich and peachy.

"What?"

"No, nevermind."

"Kim." you wanted to look at his eyes but didn't let you.

"I haven't hugged anyone in years." he murmured, a sigh of relief.

The confession made your chest sink. The breathing of the man in your arms was soft and ragged. As if he was nervous.

"Can you play with my hair?" he hummed, timid and needy, warming your shoulder with his breath; chills covering your skin.

You let your fingers explore his fluffy hair, the little ripples covering your palm and fingertips. You heard another sigh from him and felt how his arms slid to hug the sides of your waist.

"Feels good?" you dared to ask, breathing the musk on his jacket. He just nodded longingly, closed eyes and brows knitted; the crackle of the fire in the fireplace melting his heart.

Your throat was dry, and your lips parted, God knows you wanted to enjoy that hug, how Taehyung bent his body slightly to hide his head in your neck. Perhaps it was the lack of contact or the fire in the fireplace, but your body bubbled over a slow fire with each exhale that collided with your neck.

"Tae-" you swallowed and grabbed his shoulders so he could see you.

The drunkenness in the eyes of the man in front of you was so short but so sweet. Discovering his attitude, he pricked the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, don't worry about the trip. We can start packing tomorrow."

"I think I remember some of what happened to me."

"Oh." His eyes widened, gesturing as he tried to ask you to explain. You loved the gestures that came out of Taehyung when he didn't know the protocol of conversations. It wasn't 'thank you', but a tightening of the lips into a brief smile; no 'Don't move' when he painted but a little grunt and a deny.

You both took a seat on the furniture and got as close as possible, there was no one around, but this was how both of you got used to talking to each other. Whispers, watching each other's lips and laughter, when it was intended, with the hand on the mouth.

"I remember a boat, I remember several women and two men," you murmured, your eyes tilted into the fire. "A group came on another boat and threw us on the shore, they beat the men so much that they died and left the women to suffer."

Kim bit the inside of his cheek, he knew the day you would remember your past would be difficult. The beginning of the lethal virus was so surreal for him.

"I don't remember their faces much, just their hair. I remember…one feverish night, the women covered me with a blue coat that they had taken from one of the men." your hand trembled, and Taehyung took it without hesitating. "When I woke up, they were all in stage two."

Stage two of the virus was when their bodies began to slow down, sleep being the main activity, even at times when they needed to urinate. Your body didn't feel like getting up.

Taehyung remembers how one of his college classmates slept fully for two days, he opened his eyes when called but closed them instantly.

"When I saw them I thought the same thing was going to happen to me, apparently they killed an infected animal and ate it among themselves without giving me a piece. I don't blame them. I also thought the fever was going to kill me that night," you shrugged. "When I woke up I found trash, fruit, and headless bugs on the floor. The virus searched for everything it could to feed before going into coma…, and then, um-"

Your gaze drifted away, as if you saw the women sprawled on their backs with their mouths open and sunken eyes on the cabin rug.

"Their bodies started to swell, their chests and stomachs and throats. The eggs-" you denied and Taehyung felt chills. "They began to grow and incubate, I cried for hours and hours in silence, sitting on a log." your voice quivered. "I crossed the river at low tide, and stayed on the rocks to wait."

"You were sent to explore the area. You were the same as I was years ago." Taehyung bit his lip, squeezing your hand.

"I don't understand."

"I thought they didn't send scouts to this area anymore. The infection is so old I thought they wouldn't need any more information."

"What do you mean when you say you were the same?" You frowned and stared at him.

"I was a soldier, my family needed money, and the doctors found a way to make us think they could save my dad from the virus." the memories made his tense neck move involuntarily. "They sent me to this side to find information about the virus, the source."

"You and how many others?"

Taehyung shook his head with a sad smile. Maybe he was even making up the story of his father getting sick, who knows at this point?

"I still don't remember. I just know that I kept walking and walking wit this girl by my side,until we found this hill, and even she disappeared."

They both fell silent. Taehyung had already told you about the disappearance of his wife, unlike other topics, this was the one that seemed like a fable. There were no traces, like smoke that vanished on a sunset.

You can see on his eyes that ache every time he mentions her; you wish you could lick his old wounds, not to cure them, but to soothe the pain.

The way he was holding your hand and the fire trembling on his tan skin made him look like an angel. An untamed one leaves instead of feathers, strong arms to carry the world around him.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Taehyung," you called, and he didn't have to move because your hand took him by surprise. Guiding him to your hungry lips.

He moaned lowly, making his free hand into a fist to control the euphoria that was running through his body. The wet sound of your mouths devouring each other, he didn't know how much he needed that, the warmth of your tongue licking his lips, the little pant coming out of your strawberry lips.

Oh, how much he hated the fact that he was getting hard just from a kiss, but how couldn't he, good God? You were so delicious.

He snatched his hand from yours and took both of your hands to squeeze above your head. Your back arched, and you mewled as you felt his hand squeeze your wrists.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to your face. Was he doubting what he was doing? Did you do something wrong?

"If you want to stop-"

"No," he growled desperately. With ease, his free hand grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, clashing teeth.

"Slow down, Kim." you gasped as he devoured your neck, covering in saliva the fabric of the coat that covered you, almost tearing it apart.

Your hand explored his corduroy pants until it reached the tight bulge against his thigh.

"No. I don't want to," he screeched as he watched what you were doing. "Please, I'm too sensitive right now." It was a plea for you to let him enjoy touching you for a few more minutes, his glassy eyes and red lips.

You were cruel, and God, how he hated you for that. You chuckled low and spread your legs to climb into his lap. The sudden movement knocked the air out of him, hands on either side of the couch.

In one sitting, you were pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

"Oh no, please. Let me-," his hands went to his mouth, squeezing it hard, the words coming out muffled.

With so few moans he had you addicted to his susceptibility. To his droopy eyes and his angelic whimpers over every little thing you did.

"Please," he asked again but it was in vain when you started moving back and forth and licking his neck. "Fuck me, i can't. Baby-" he mumbled rolling his eyes, reaching heaven with so little. The 'baby' scaped again and again from his lips until it died out.

It was embarrassing, but so sublime.

You loved it. No. You became obsessed.

When he finished, you could feel the wetness on his thigh. You laughed again, taking his face in your fingers; he hung from your fingertips like a puppet. His chin resting on them.

"You look so cute when you're sweaty in the middle of a blizzard," you said. He closed his eyes, enjoying the compliment.

Without saying anything else, leaving a wet spot on top of his zipper and his mouth open; you got up and went up the rustic stairs.

You were going to be the death of him.

The morning arrives quietly and with the sun coming in gently through the windows, you are grateful that the snow has stopped as you get up to put on your socks. Frank was sleeping between woolen sheets in the closet. When he heard you calling him he opened his eyes and lazily moved his thick tail.

The bed was made on Taehyung's side. Last night you hardly slept thinking about what you two had done in the living room, you waited anxiously for him to go to the room to finish what you had started, but you fell asleep waiting for him.

Maybe he was upset because you rushed him or he was embarrassed. Either way, you could still feel the moisture your pussy had let out just thinking about his face coming. Like a broken record, just as his pelvis raised to make one last contact with your clit.

You sighed and let the cool water calm your arousal. The small mirror showed your reflection, you were pale. Since the sun doesn't rise so often, you feel like you're withering. The tinting of your cheeks was already disappearing.

Your eyes were guided to the small photo pasted on the mirror, it was an ID with your face. The ink on the image was fading, with your name and date of birth right next to it.

It was the only thing you had for sure, maybe your face wasn't even that one. You returned to your reflection and began to notice every little detail: the dark circles under your eyes and the dry lips from biting them so much, the slightly yellowish teeth, and the eye that was smaller than the other.

That's new, you thought. Only if you looked hard enough could you see how your right eye involuntarily closed a little more than the other, the more you looked at it in the mirror, the more obvious it was.

The sound of a pot falling followed by a grunt made you snap out of your morning exam. You walked quickly to the stairs going down in a hurry.

You were surprised to see Taehyung in the kitchen, his hands covered in whipped cream and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. A small tight smile apologizing for waking you up.

"Uh," he wiped his hands clean and leaned closer to you, placing an awkward kiss on your forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." You smiled softly, his hand found yours to guide you to the rustic table that he had made years ago, it was heavy and robust. It combined with everything that was seen in that kitchen, small details you had done here and there, but the smell of oak and the thick fabric of the curtains and the tablecloth were essentially Taehyung.

"I made you breakfast. You must eat it all or I'm really going to stop talking to you for a month."

As if he could.

"Because?"

"I spent all night trying to make whipped cream, found a book in the stack and it took me almost a dozen eggs to get it right."

"That's where you were last night." You smiled and he tensed, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. "Did you need a book to know how to follow our...?" You made an obscene gesture that made Taehyung turn to finish breakfast.

"You are so intense in the mornings."

"You've stopped smoking in the morning, have you noticed?"

Taehyung frowned. "It's true."

"I annoy you so much you don't need the nicotine to wake up."

"If that achievement makes you happy, go ahead." He crossed his legs as he sat down next to you. "Bon appétit."

You looked in front of you, on your plate was a piece of freshly baked bread toasted in the color of the sun. The whipped cream was smooth and slightly eggy, with peach slices decorated on top creating an attempt at a flower. The smell was intoxicating and your mouth watered from it.

Taehyung's chest swelled with joy as you took the first bite and inhaled. You looked at him tenderly. That human habit of food being the perfect language to show love without touching.

"It's good," you agreed taking another bite. "Did you try it?"

Taehyung denied raising his hand to ask you to continue tasting.

"I have something else for you," he said before you took another bite. You could see and hear in the silence of the kitchen how his foot bounced with eagerness to show you the other things.

Taehyung took a paper bag from his jacket hanging on the door and put it on your lap. His hands didn't let you open the material, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"Slow down, Kim. For God's sake." you laughed looking at him. He imitated you.

"Sorry, it's just that I've been saving this for a long time."

You couldn't stop seeing him, it was impossible how much you loved him in such a short time. You looked down at your lap as he lowered your chin with his hand.

Inside the paper were many trinkets, colorful and very varied. Buttons, an old lighter with a rose carved on it, a ring in the shape of a butterfly, a deep red dried ink, and underneath it all the pale lace of a lingerie set.

You smiled as you put everything else aside and looked at the pieces in detail.

"Isn't there a more subtle way of saying you want to fuck me?" you joked

Taehyung didn't laugh, again he was looking at you with nervous eyes.

"I want to give you a portrait."

You put the lingerie on the table and looked at him. You knew that his painting materials were becoming more and more scarce. You denied it instantly.

"Don't worry, I'll use some oils that I have saved, they are in perfect condition and I want to use them with you." he rose clutching your face in his hands, like something ethereal. How could he see you in the morning and make you feel so lovely?

"I want to paint your lips," he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, "And your eyes."

"Even when one is smaller?"

He chuckled slightly at your sweet question.

"Especially the smaller one."

His hand grabbed the last bite of toast and opened your mouth with his thumb, delicately inserting it. "I told you to eat it all." his face was serious.

His thumb began to smear all the cream that remained in the corners of your mouth, pressing your lips while your tongue tried to lick his fingers.

"That is my girl." he hummed cocking his head at you.

Your toes tensed when you heard him say that.

"Open up," he commanded and you obeyed, opening your mouth to remove the sticky cream from his finger. He swallowedwhen he saw you lick every drop.

Your beautiful face, your messy hair, and your mouth covered in peach juices and whipped cream. So sweet and erotic that it made his stomach clench with the urge to eat you.

"I would like you to paint me in the summer, though."

"Because?"

"Because that way I could return the color to my cheeks, to see myself more..." you didn't know what the word was.

Taehyung could have cared less.

"Fine." he sighed and tossed the plate to the side with a crash. Suddenly, you were in his arms, he laid you down gently on the wood of the table.

"Tae?" a squeal came from you when you felt the cold in your pussy, Taehyung ripped your panties and began to rub his digits on your clit with such delicacy.

"Shh," he responded, grabbing the chair to walk over to the table and sit down. With one hand he brought your body closer to his face and began to run his tongue through your folds.

This is what he wanted to do last night and you didn't let him.

Your legs began to shake and he looked up through narrowed eyes. Your surprised face was so funny, it almost made him want to let you cum as fast as you let him.

"Spread your legs, let me see you." there was something so obscene about the way his voice deepened. He embarrassed you. "Aren't you going to let me eat you?"

You didn't know what to say.

"What happened that pretty girl who wouldn't shut the fuck up, huh?" His wet lips kissed your entrance with each word. "Where are your smart answers and the fucking questions about how I jerk off?" With one hand he hit your clit and you whimpered. "There it is." he smiled.

"God," you moaned so loud trying to get your nightgown down, it hurt so good. Taehyung squeezed your wrists with one hand and started devouring you again, your juices flowing on his nose and his tongue and you knew how much he liked it by the way he growled and bit the inside of your thigh.

It hurt but you couldn't stop moaning, your hands turning into claws from the tension wanting to grab his tangled hair, to see his face covered with it in a transparent and shiny layer.

"Atta, girl," he inhaled, snapping back. "Look at you," he smiled at you as he licked the edges of his lips. "The color is returning to your cheeks."

"What?" You stuttered before you felt how his hand collided with your ass. You screamed biting your lip.

"Come here."

His hand carried you to help your weak legs. With his hands under your armpits, he led you to the nearest wall.

"Get naked, pet."

"It's cold."

"Still?" Taehyung asked confused and piled the fabric of your dress in his hand until he found your wet pussy again. Without saying much, he inserted two fingers, curling the tips.

"More," you whispered, you were short of breath and you felt like you were in another cosmic plane with the long fingers of the man behind you.

His other hand began stroking your tummy until it reached your neck, squeezing gently. Hearing your sweet request, he laughed.

"You're a mess and I haven't even fucked you. Are you sure?"

You nodded awkwardly, your head pressed against the wall. A third finger was unexpected and burned.

"You're so wet, it's not fair." Kim sighed. "I want to do everything for you but you won't let me with that little body of yours."

"Mm," was all you could answer, your tongue was heavy and the knot under your stomach had you seeing stars.

"Those short dresses and the laughter and the erotic books and your perfect tits." he moaned turning you around to remove your dress.

Seeing your face again, Taehyung made up his mind; he couldn't take it anymore. Whipped cream decorated your cheek and your open mouth.

"Are you still cold?" His eyes saw you straight into your soul. You denied hugging his neck, hitting your lips with his.

If you didn't kiss him you felt like you were going to implode. His furrowed brows and his broad shoulders, the way he'd talk dirty to you but he'd kiss your shoulder calming your nerves.

There it was again, that tickle in your throat of saying things at the wrong time.

Shut me up with kisses, you thought, shut me up by sealing your lips with mine.

"More." Now it was Taehyung's turn to ask, moaning as he felt how your naked body hung from his waist.

He quickly lowered his pants until he took it off completely. Then his coat.

"Down," he murmured kissing you one last time crashing your body into the wall.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and started to move your hand. A cry came from him and you both nearly fell to the ground in a crash. Taehyung's legs failing from the sudden touch.

You laughed at Taehyung's irate gesture.

"In four. Now," he barked, after kissing you softly. "I want to fuck you, I don't want games anymore, 'kay?"

You nodded drunkenly at the way he spoke to you.

You stopped smiling when he repositioned you like a doll on your knees and hands.

You arched your back as you felt the tip stretch your entrance, you closed your eyes in pure pleasure. The sting was unbelievable, perfect.

"Mmhm," Taehyung ran his finger down your back, "Let me listen to you, love."

How can he call you that without melting?

You pushed yourself into him until your ass touched his pelvis. You both moaned each other's name.

"Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing both sides of your waist to guide your movements. The sounds that filled the kitchen were indecent, your cream accumulated at the base of his cock and your moans drove him crazy.

Yes, he was like a schoolboy when it came to you, he couldn't see your cleavage without wanting to touch himself or look at your lips without wanting to bite them so badly that they bled. You were in addition to his antidote, his new favorite morbidity.

"Atta girl, squeeze me more," he hissed at you slowing his pace down. His moans turned to whimpers as you began to feel the cum dripping down your thighs. You were about to cum and he could feel it. "Let me feel those walls, baby. Cum for me."

You lifted your upper body so you could move against him and with two brushes of his fingers on your puffy clit you began to scream his name letting your face fall into your hands.

You both panted hard, abruptly, Taehyung pulled his cock out, revealing how his cum came out of you. God, he prays that this is the one that knocks you up.

Getting up, he grabbed your delicate body and took you to the sofa, lit the fireplace, and left you alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a blank canvas the length of his forearm and a couple of charcoal pencils.

The afterglow had your cheeks with the most beautiful tint. Flushed and plump lips from biting it so much. You let your hair do what it wants, just how he likes it and you smiled at him when he sat down in front of you. You squinted your eyes when you smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Stay still, please," he whispered while he took a pencil in his hands.

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