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wooataes · 1 year

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Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part One)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst, Hanahaki AU, mentions of death, mentions of infidelity, reader cries, Seungcheol and Jeonghan being the cutest couple

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: Just a little warm up post to ease myself to getting back into writing. I’ve had this idea in my head for a few years now, and finally decided to get it up and running. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy it! - Taelor ☺️✨💜

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You believed in soulmates. It wasn’t something that could be debated on in your world - someone out there was literally chosen and designed to cohabitate in perfect harmony with you, and only you. To love and cherish for the rest of your lives. Once you come into physical contact with your soulmate, it’s said that all the dull black and whites you see explode into a beautiful display of more colours than you could ever think of, and everything you feel is intertwined with what your other half feels. You have spent all 21 years of your life dreaming about what that would feel and look like.

You’ve seen soulmates meet before your very eyes. You saw it when your older brother, Choi Seungcheol fell for Yoon Jeonghan, literally, in your first year of college. You saw it when Jeon Wonwoo, close friend of your brother, caught Kim Mingyu into his arms just weeks prior.

You saw how much your mother loved her soulmate, your father, before he decided to leave her for a woman half his age when you were only 11 years old, and your brother 13. You saw your mother’s true love for your father seal her fate, falling ill to the dreaded curse of your soulmate not loving you back - watching life leave her with every flower petal she coughed up until there was nothing left. You saw it in your best friend Kwon Soonyoung’s parents, who took both you and your brother in until you both were of age and left for college.

You definitely weren’t a stranger to the phenomenon of soulmates, but you sure as hell were a stranger to knowing the beauty of colours and feelings of another. It’s something you craved and wanted so desperately to feel, you never knew when you would get to experience it.

In a way, you wished your soulmate was your best friend. Soonyoung knew everything about you; how to push your buttons and how to make your worst days feel like the best. Why couldn’t he be the one made for you? You spent most of your days together, being in the same Theatre and Dance majors at your college as well as the Theatre Club. In a realistic way, you two made perfect sense. But alas, Soonyoung’s soulmate came in the form of Lee Seokmin, the third in your best friend trio. You know that most of the time you’re the third wheel in your group, but you’ve grown to accept that fate over the previous 2 years.

Not having a soulmate never stopped you from living your life as you had intended, though. Living with your brother and best friend, along with the additions of their soulmates in a large 4 bedroom house inherited to you and Seungcheol by your mother in the city of Seoul, conveniently only a short commute away from your university. It wasn’t bad, on the contrary, you loved the company of your closest people who you call your family. There were the days when you often missed your mother and longed for the love only a soulmate could give, but those days are rare to have for you. You were more than content in your little bubble of existence.

“Choi Y/N!” You groan at the excited tone of your older brother calling you from the kitchen.

“It’s 6am, Cheol.” You grumble, snuggling into your knitted hoodie wrapped around your body as you slump against the breakfast bar, taking a piece of fruit from the basket on the bar. “Why are you so chirpy?”

“Good morning to you too!” He chuckled, reaching over and fluffing your hair up as you whined. “Don’t you think this green shirt makes my eyes pop?”

Seungcheol and Jeonghan had devised the perfect plan; wear an obnoxiously bright coloured shirt with the goofiest patterns and shapes - and once you found your soulmate, they would easily know because you would be so horrified that you would have to tell them what your thoughts were on the colour clashes.

“Ah, yes,” You hum, waving your banana around in the air. “They make the grey’s in your eyes really stand out.” You huff in a monotone voice, resulting in a laugh from the top of the stairs.

“It’ll happen eventually, Bug.” Jeonghan smiles as he passes you, giving you a peck on the forehead. “And we’ll be the first to know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, waving the couple off. “I’ll see you guys when I get home tonight. Don’t worry about dinner, it’s Working Bee tonight. Our sets won’t paint themselves.” You pull your backpack over your shoulder, umbrella in hand as you walk to the front door. “I’ll be home at around 8?”

“Sounds good, Love Bug!” Seungcheol smiled - Love Bug being a loving nickname from your mother. “But call us if you’re going to be home any later. We’ll wait up.”

“Will do! Love you,” you sang as you closed the door behind you.

It’s late in the day when Lee Jihoon hums quietly to himself as he strolls through the hallway of the Music Building, tapping his fingers on his sides as he attempts to get the chord progression in his head correct. His eyes scan the bland black and white scenery in front of him, a blank expression matching the blank scenery.

“Hoonie!” A voice called, making Jihoon smile.

“Hey, you.” he hummed, pressing his lips to Kang Ji-ah’s temple, taking her into his arms.

He knows what you’re thinking. Why the hell would he be with a girl who wasn’t his soulmate? Well, why would he tell you? He doesn’t have to explain it to anyone, him and her are the only ones who know, anyway. It isn’t harming anyone. He didn’t even know if he believed in soulmates at this stage. And it’s not like anyone assumed any different. On the outside and to everyone else, Jihoon and Ji-ah were soulmates. They didn’t have to know it wasn’t real.

“I’ve got dinner with my parents tonight, Hoonie, but we can rain check our date until next week, right?” She smiled as Jihoon’s hands rested delicately around her waist.

“Of course, babe. I have to stay late for the Theatre Club anyway. Gotta get the orchestra prepared for rehearsals.” He lets her hands wrap around his shoulders as she pulls him in for a tight hug.

“Thank you, my love!” She cooed, giving him a final kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?” She happily spun around and proceeded to go back from where she came, waving to Soonyoung and Seokmin coming towards Jihoon hand in hand.

“You two are sickeningly cute.” Soonyoung grimaces as Seokmin only grins.

“Oh stop it, Soonie. You know for a fact that Jihoon thinks the same about us.” He smiles as Jihoon only nods his head in agreement.

“Is there a reason you’re blessing me with your presence?” He raises his brow.

“Surprisingly, yes.” Soonyoung nodded quickly. “Jihoon-ah, you know you’re my best guy friend, right?”

“I am?”

“Don’t sound too shocked.” He pouted, making his soulmate giggle to himself. “I came to ask a favor of you.”

“Okay..?” Jihoon tilted his head.

“Are you able to walk Y/N back home tonight after the Bee? Min and I can’t make it and Cheol doesn’t want her walking home alone when the sun is just going down. I’ll shout some dinner for you next week to make up for it.”

“Oh, is that all?” He nods thoughtfully. Of course he knew you. You were Choi Y/N, top of your classes in Theatre. You were well known for your powerful vocals and bubbly personality. You were also a shoo-in for the lead role for Mamma Mia this year, and Soonyoung’s adopted sister. Your paths have crossed a few times, and Jihoon never had a problem with you; he even thought you were a cool girl. “Yeah that’s fine, it’s on the way home for me anyway.”

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver, Jihoon-ah! Thank you!” He grinned, clapping him on the back as he squeezed Seokmin’s hand. “Min and I have to go do a last rehearsal for my Hip-Hop final, but shoot me a text when you get home yeah?”

“Can do.” He nods, waving his hand as he makes his way to the campus band room to meet with the orchestra.

When Jihoon arrives at the auditorium two hours later, he’s surprised when he’s only met with you, covered in small splotches of paint, and a halfway finished set piece that is meant to look like the pavements of Greece. Your hair is disheveled and tied in a lopsided ponytail on top of your head and your glasses sitting on the tip of your nose with no one else in sight.

“What happened to the Bee?” Jihoon made his presence known to you, causing you to jump as his voice echoes across the empty stage, the only other sound being heard coming from your small Bluetooth speaker by your side.

“Ah, it’s just you, Oppa.” You smiled as you held your hand over your chest, calming down your wild heartbeat from the fright. “The guys all left about half an hour ago. They all had to study for auditions and all that.” You lean down as you speak, painting over the wooden set. “But it’s fine. I work better alone anyway.”

“Doesn’t mean you should.” He frowns, walking up onto the stage and setting himself down on the other side of the large set piece, a blank canvas on the other side. “Why didn’t you finish when the others did?”

“Cheol isn’t expecting me home until later, might as well fill in my time helping the team out.” You shrug, smiling to the confused man as he watches you paint. “I gotta say though, being only able to paint the black and white parts of the sets is boring as hell.”

You intrigued him. According to Soonyoung, you suffered through a fair bit as a child and yet you seem so content with your life as you hum and paint away. After a brief moment, he sighs and picks up a paintbrush, dipping it into the paint.

“Woah, woah, woah.” You try to stop him. “You don’t have to help, really. I know Soonie put you up to walking me home, you don’t have to do this too.” You smile softly to him, and he just looks back at you with an expression you can’t decipher.

“You said it yourself,” Jihoon mumbles, painting the wood in front of him. “Might as well help out.”

After thirty minutes of quiet but hard work of painting, you take a deep breath before lifting your head to the older boy who sat across from you, his long dark hair tucked delicately behind his ear as he worked.

“Oppa?” You ask quietly, only receiving a hum in return. “What’s seeing colour like?”

A beat of silence passes as Jihoon pauses his painting mid-stroke. “I wouldn’t know.”

“What?!” You drop the paintbrush on the newspaper covering the stage floor. “Ji-ah isn’t your soulmate?!”

“No?” He laughs incredulously, like it was the silliest question he had ever been asked. “I just like the girl, is all.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” You gasp. “Why are you even with her if she isn’t your soulmate?”

“It’s not like It’s a secret. No one ever asked, they just assumed. So I never told. Why does it bother you so much?” He frowns, feeling his cheeks grow warm.

“It doesn’t,” You counter, picking up the paintbrush again. “But.. like, aren’t you curious to meet the person literally made for you?”

“Made is a bit of a stretch.” He laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, it isn’t that big a deal. So we haven’t found our soulmates yet. We are just having fun with each other right now.”

“And what if you found your soulmate, what would you do then?” You ask cautiously, lifting your head and pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose once more.

“I don’t know?” He laughs again - a nervous tick of his. “They’d just have to accept that I really like this girl? We have a really good thing going on and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that because the ‘universe’ says so.” He lifts his fingers into a quotation mark. “At this point, I don’t even think soulmates are a real thing. I mean, sure, our friends are happy together with their fun, colourful lives but I’m quite content with Ji-ah. We just get each other.”

“Well, Mr Debby Downer,” you pout, putting your paintbrush into the bucket of water by your side. “I appreciate your thoughts on the situation, I’ll be sure to rub it in your face when you eventually meet your soulmate and fall in love and never want to leave their side.” You smirk to yourself.

“Yeah, like that’ll happen.” He huffs, putting his paintbrush down as well. “Soonyoung was right, you are a hopeless romantic.”

“Well of course I am,” you beam and if Jihoon didn’t know any better, your eyes almost seem like they’re sparkling. “I can’t wait to see colours and meet the person I’m destined to be with. There’s nothing wrong with having dreams, Lee Jihoon.” You smile, packing up the paints on the floor as you speak.

“Sure.” He hums again, standing up as you pack up the auditorium and collect your things. “Ready to go?” He asks as you nod, pulling your hood up over your head.

“You seriously didn’t know it was going to rain tonight?” You keep your hands stuffed in your pockets as your knitwear keeps you dry from the drizzling rain that falls from the sky.

“I don’t check the weather websites like an old woman.” Jihoon frowns, holding your umbrella over his head as he walks alongside you.

“You’re weird, Lee Jihoon.” You giggle quietly to yourself.

“Uh huh. I’ll be sure to let my soulmate know that when I meet them.” He remarks with a laugh as you walk together, letting the comfortable silence take over the both of you, the only sounds behind the rain pattering against your umbrella.

It takes the both of you 20 minutes to finally make it to your home and by the time you arrive, the rain has slowed to a light drizzle, the setting sun attempting to peak out behind the dark clouds.

“Well, thank you for walking me home, and the interesting take on soulmates, Oppa.” You smile as you step through the front gate, Jihoon still holding the umbrella over you so you don’t get wet. “I wish your soulmate the best of luck whenever you meet.”

“Likewise.” Jihoon laughs as you pull your hood off your head, getting ready to climb up the small staircase leading to the front door.

“I’ll see you for auditions, yeah?” You smiled as Jihoon nodded.

“Sure will.” He smiles, closing your umbrella as you turn to face the front door. “Oh, wait, your umbrella.”

“Oh, right.” You laugh, turning back and reaching out to take it from his hands, only for it to slip from his grasp at the last second.

“Crap, sorry-”

“Oops, sorry-”

You both reach for the umbrella on the pavement, fingertips brushing against each other gently. You let out a gasp as you look up to Jihoon’s face, his eyes changing colour right before yours, unexplainable colours starting to burst in all speckles of your vision. Your eyes widen as his face, clothing and the scenery around you lights up with multiple colours and shades, the now forgotten umbrella drops to the ground with a thud.

Jihoon is staring back at you with an unreadable expression, eyes mirroring yours as his hands shake. He feels dizzy as the sickeningly bright colours flood his vision. You’re staring at him in awe as the rain starts to grow heavier, coating the two of you with water.

“Oppa?” You ask quietly, so quietly that if Jihoon wasn’t looking at you when you said it, he would have missed it.

“…”

“Oppa, please say something..?” You ask shakily, and he shakes his head quickly. He can see it. You’re already imagining all the possibilities of your future. A future with him.

“… Don’t think this changes anything from what I told you at the Bee, Choi.” He grunts, not caring about the rain soaking his clothes. “I-I stand by it. You need to accept that I’m with Ji-ah, and nothing will change that.”

He pauses and waits for your response, growing more and more impatient as you just stare at him.

“W-well, if you don’t have anything more to say, then goodnight, Y/N.” Jihoon turns away, starting to head to the gate before feeling a sharp pain inside him. Wincing and reaching to hold the left side of his chest, he lets out a soft hiss. “Ah… what the hell?” He mutters to himself, turning back to look at you. He wishes he didn’t.

When you’re standing still, hand on your chest as the rain drenches your clothes, tears now falling freely down your cheeks is only then when Jihoon knows what he just felt; the only other side effect to having a soulmate.

He just felt your heart break.

“Y/N?” Jihoon asks cautiously.

As if snapping out of your trance, you blink a few times before whispering out “Don’t worry, Jihoon. No one will ever know. Just like you want.” You quickly turn and run up the stairs, opening the door to the house as Jihoon steps forward.

“Wait-” the door slams in his face as he reaches it, leaving him soaked, alone and feeling the pain of his soulmate’s broken heart.

“Hey, Bug! How was the Bee?” Seungcheol steps into the entryway from the kitchen, your eyes immediately falling to the multicoloured button up shirt he had on. “What do you think of my- Y/N?” Cheol stops as he sees the tears on your face, your chest heaving as you struggle to take a breath.

Without another word, you quickly run upstairs and into your bedroom, deep sobs leaving your chest as you curl up into a corner of the room and bury your face into your knees. Seungcheol followed you quickly, stepping into the room cautiously.

“Y/N? Love Bug, what has happened?” He asks quietly. “Are you hurt?” He sees you shake your head no, and he sighs with relief. “Let me turn the light on to check, just in case okay?”

“No.” You hiccup, your face staying buried in your knees, your stomach twisting in pain. “Please.. I d-don’t want to see it. I hate it. Don’t make me look at it!”

“Bug? Look at what?” Cheol asks worriedly, his hand resting on the top of your head.

“Colour.” You sob, your body slumping against your brother. “I hate colour, I hate soulmates, I hate it!” You cry harder, your tears soaking into his stupid colourful shirt.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen #woozi #woozi x you #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon #woozi angst #woozi fluff #seventeen fanfic #jihoon x reader

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devildomwriter · 1 year

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Their Natural Forms React to Your Touch | Lucifer x Reader

The first time you’d seen Lucifer's demon form, you’d been a little scared. After all, he only took that form to yell at you, Beelzebub, and Luke.

So your first time seeing his form didn’t exactly go well or leave any good memories. These days, however, you were more in awe when you saw it.

Black horns protruding from his head, four black feathered wings splayed out behind him, and his fancy outfit with peacock feathers to top it off, along with a small black Diamond on his forehead that complimented his blood-red eyes.

Lucifer noticed you seemed to be admiring his form whenever he was in it, even if it was to scold you about something.

Because of this, Lucifer decided to take this form more often. It put his brothers on edge, but you thoroughly enjoyed it. Your eyes would light up at the rare sight.

As a human, it was only natural something so foreign to you sparked interest, but Lucifer was also your biggest crush despite his dramatic behavior, and thus you were more attracted to his form than you would’ve been otherwise.

He knew of your crush, and he enjoyed teasing you, but when you discovered what teasing him did, you absolutely couldn’t help yourself.

You’d visited his room late one night, and he was surprised to see you. You noticed his four black wings straightened out immediately, but Lucifer didn’t seem aware of this himself.

You walked closer to him and leaned in.

“Yes, ___? How can I help you?”

“Your wings.”

“What about them?”

“Did you notice they flap whenever you see me?”

Lucifer paused and nearly dropped his pen in surprise. You noticed a light blush across his cheeks, but he ignored it and answered calmly.

“Of course they do. It’s as simple as raising my head to greet you.”

“They don’t do that with your brothers.”

“Because I have no interest in seeing them.”

“So your wings flap because you’re excited to see me?”

Lucifer silently cursed himself but played it off, “of course, I’m excited to see you. You don’t cause me nearly as much trouble as everyone else. It’s only natural-“

He was cut off when you placed your hand into his soft feathers, and his wings fluffed up.

This time he couldn’t deny the redness in his cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

“They’re fluffy.”

“They’re always fluffy; they’re feathered wings, ___.”

“They fluff more when I touch them; why is that?” You gave him a wicked grin, and he knew you were teasing him.

He pulled you into his lap, away from his wings, and held you there firmly.

“So you only like seeing my form so you can tease me, is that it?” He interrogated, not upset with you but disappointed it wasn’t because you thought his form was beautiful.

“Mmm…maybe?” You teased and reached for his wings, wanting to watch them fluff up again.

He gave you an annoyed look but smiled playfully, catching you off guard. “___, if you want to play with them so badly, we can just move things to the bed. Would you prefer that instead?”

#obey me drabble #obey me fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #omswd Lucifer x reader

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lxdymoon0357 · 1 year

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Hello I was wondering if u did crossovers bc I got a crazy idea. What if u did a cross over with the villainess is a marionette, villains are destined dj die, and the way to protect the female lead? Like she is Penelope’s sister and she keeps getting transported in other worlds by mistake? And they’re all Yandere fore her? U obviously doing have to do this but this is just a e crazy idea 😅

(cool idea, but it's just blood.... Also Ashil passed his test and lived because I wanted him too!)

Crossover:

Villains are destined to die X Villainess is a marionette X The way to protect the female lead's older brothers X Reader HCs

※You were the only sister of Penelope, you both were extremely lucky and grateful to be taken in by the Eckhart family, they treated your sister nicely as well, but unlike your sister, you had a special power that is to move between three world where you’re meant to make people meet destiny, or something similar to that, your mother explained it to you, but you were very young to understand anything.

※ You grew up being a beloved child by your mother, sister and the people of the Eckhart duchy, you were seen as the kindest, prettiest and a gifted child by all.

※You met many people, including the royal rat with rubies for eyes, Vinter Varnandi, Yvonne and Ecklies, you quickly managed to form a dear companionship with each of them and quickly making them yanderes for you.

※You were quite close with your sister and hated the people in the manor for treating your elder sister badly, often triggering your power and transporting them somewhere and when they would come back they would either be dead or badly hurt.

※You formed a big companionship with Callisto, the crown prince who later on fell for Penelope and kept her close with him to keep you near him as well.

※You grew up healthy and grifted loved by your trashy brothers, you father, your annoying servants, your lovely sisters and many more people.

※When you grew up, the Eckharts learnt about your power and all your family loved you, then it was time to train your power, upon moving to one of the places you ended up bruised and fainted in a huge garden, when you woke up there was a beautiful man sleeping in a chair next to you, he looked extremely regal; He had short blonde hair with blue eyes and pretty lips with lashes, as you sat up in bed someone held your shoulder and slowly fluffed up your pillows, it was a girl who looked similar to the man sitting in the chair, she was one of the prettiest lady you had ever met, she had long blonde hair with shining blue eyes with pretty lashes and red lips.

※You later on learned their names, Cayena and Rezef Hill, they both were half siblings and the next emperor and princess in line for the throne

※You quickly managed to befriend them both, those two would spoil you rotten and also tried to keep you with them for as long as possible, you also met Cayena’s fiancée and half-brother, Raffealo Kedrey and Ethel Hill, both of whom you also happen to quickly befriend.

※They quickly became big yanderes for you, and upon learning how you got here and your power, they decided to slowly teach you about it, but not let you leave them, which was a big thing. They thought to keep you with them, while letting you visit your family for a few days every five months.

※So, once when Rezef was training you, you accidently ended up in a large, bloody field in someone’s arms, as you as you fell in their arms you fainted from exhaustion, but before you fainted you saw black grey hair with red eyes.

※As you woke up, you were in a huge red room completely bandaged, as you sat up you saw the door open, with three people entering, the man whom you saw before with a younger version of him and a gorgeous lady with blonde hair and ruby red eyes, with plump, red lips and a sharp face. The man who caught you was named Lant Agriche, his younger version was his son, named Dion Agriche and the lady was his beloved daughter, called Roxanne Agriche, you had ended up in the manor of Black Agriche.

※Lant had saw you falling from the sky and quickly caught you before you fainted in his arms, he saw your face and was mesmerized by it?...You don’t understand but that’s what Roxanne said, he brought you back to the manor carrying your princess style shocking everyone there, seeing the head of the family holding someone so tenderly, even more a beautiful person.

※You quickly took over the head’s heart as a dear child and he decided to make sure you were kept as safely as possible only letting a few people see you when you were knocked out for the days, them being only Sierra and Ashil, and maybe Roxanne on days when Lant was in very good mood.

※Ashil would describe you to Roxanne, Roxanne when she first got to see you was mesmerized by you, you were very pretty. She would constantly try to make Lant happy so he would let her see you.

※Sierra on the other hand would look after you, along with Ashil who would try to find some books on how to cure you fatser.

※Everybody in the Agriche manor wanted to see you, the lucky servants would tell about you to other servants who were asking them about you, everybody was curiously waiting for you to quickly heal so they could also see you and meet, including Grizelda, Fontaine, Maria, Jeremy, Charlotte, Dion and many more, I mean who wouldn’t be if they saw Lant carrying someone so tenderly.

※Now back to the present, as you sat up and saw the three come in and take a seat on the chair near your bed, Lant immediately put his hand on your shoulder and laid you back on the bed, while the other two sat on the other side.

※As the doctor came and checked up on you and gave you shots, Lant held your tiny hand in his, often using his other hand to stroke your hair and warm face with tenderness, which shocked the other two more.

※You quickly became the favorite between the Agriches, Dion loved you so much, you got gifts, sweets, treats, party invites and much, much more constantly.

※But you were also kept locked up in a room for hours on end, unless Lant would visit you with a beaming smile on his face, you were kept like this in the Eckhart manor as well, so it didn’t faze you.

※You would then by taught by the three family how to use your power and learn about it, so they can make a place where you power won’t work so you can’t teleport away from them anymore.

※Other than this type of behavior, you loved your families very much, you introduced everyone to each other, Roxanne, Cayena and Penelope got along very well always talking shit about someone they don’t like, Rezef, Callisto and Dion also became good friends often teaching each other if they tried to get to close to you their favorite torture methods, Jeremy and Reynold made a normal companionship and Sierra and Ashil became very close with Yvonne and Vinter, they would be the kindest to you and the most patient with you as well.

※You would often unknowingly cause arguments between the families, especially Rezef, Ashil, Callisto and Dion when you said your favorite brother was Ashil, he became a bit cocky for some time to the others people of his new found families and his own family.

※Everyone accepted each other, mainly because they all enjoyed blood, you would mostly be in the eyes of Lant, Dion, Ashil or Callisto, no one else because they all fall prey to your puppy eyes.

※They all end those people’s life in the most horrific way, the ones who tried to hurt you or get you away from them in any way.

※They love you so much, aren’t you happy having such a large family!!!

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nikethestatue · 3 months

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A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XII

The Moan

“I want buns of steel. But also, buns of cinnamon,” Elain Archeron muttered, as she pulled out a pan of cinnamon buns from the oven. It was a strange choice, but this was Feyre’s favourite treat, and Elain felt that she owed it to her sister on her birthday.

Elain was running late. But there was a lot to do.

Feyre had changed her mind at the last minute, and they weren’t going to a Moroccan restaurant anymore. Instead, the restaurant was catering, the party was at Feyre’s loft, and Elain was tasked with making desserts. And there were thirty people invited, though with Feyre’s friends, it was quite possible that many more would drop by.

Now, Elain was running behind. She had to make a cake too, because Feyre requested her cake, and not one from a bakery. Elain was pretty proud of the cake, though she had no idea how she was going to transport it and carry it, but she wasn’t concerned about the logistics right now.

“Piglet, you are being very rude,” she told her pug. Predictably, she received no response.

As she mixed icing sugar, lemon juice and double cream for the icing, she continued, “That’s fine. It’s entirely up to you if you want to play introvert today. However, don’t expect treats then. You can’t be a glum introvert and still want treats.”

To that, Piglet expanded a mournful moan.

“No,” Elain said. “I don’t even know if you’ll get your Advent Calendar treat today. Unless daddy wants to give it to you, don’t count on me.”

Piglet looked sadly at his calendar, sniffling and barking weakly.

In about ten minutes, he raised his head, but didn’t get up. But Elain knew why–because in the next moment, the doorbell rang.

God she was running really, really late!

Wiping her hands with a towel, Elain fluffed up her hair–she wasn’t even sure why she was doing that–and went to the door.

When she opened it she was faced with not one, not two, but three men.

Three giant men. They looked wild, and dangerous, and beautiful. Not the men of this age or this time. They seemed ancient and powerful, like the warriors of old.

Not to say that they were dressed in armour or anything.

In fact, all three were wearing identical black suits, which probably cost as much as a downpayment for a house, and white shirts, open to various lengths on their brown, muscular chests.

Elain whooshed out a breath.

Her lady parts did a funny squeezie-squeeze, especially at the sight of Azriel Night, whose dark golden skin contrasted gorgeously with the white shirt and the black tattoos that snaked from under the collar of his shirt.

“Gentlemen,” she said at last. “Please, come in.”

“Ready for us, beautiful?” Azriel smiled and winked at her.

“Yeah, all three of you…”

Initially, Azriel self-invited himself to be Elain’s date to the birthday party. That was followed by him telling her that he’d be bringing Rhysand as well, since Rhysand needed to be introduced to Feyre. But, apparently, Cassian was also ready to party, since he was standing right here, smirking and looming over everything and everyone.

“Brothers, let me introduce you properly,” Azriel announced, once they were inside. “Lady Elain Archeron, my future wife and the future mother of my children.”

“Ohmygod,” was all Elain managed to breathe, her eyes wide and her cheeks red.

Cassian chuckled under his breath.

“Az is mental. Don’t mind him,” Cassian waved his hand, as he shouldered his way in.

He was strikingly handsome in a rough, lumberjack-chic kind of a way. Big. At least 6”6. He was probably a Viking or something like that in the past life. A Fae General. A chieftain, who’d smear himself in paint and fight the enemies with all sorts of terrifying weapons. He looked mighty fine in his bespoke suit, but it seems like all these modern trappings were little more than a nuisance to him, and he’d be just as comfortable in some fighting leathers.

“Hi Elain!” he boomed, looking around and whistling softly. “Nice digs, Lady. I’ve seen castles that aren’t as fancy as this. Is it too late for me to become a matchmaker?”

Elain smiled and he pulled her in for a quick hug.

“You are my future sis-in-law apparently!”

“Oh god, Cassian, not you too!” she moaned.

“Step aside, Lothario,” Azriel hissed at him and Cassian laughed.

“I’d be worried too. He knows I am irresistible to the ladies,” he announced proudly.

“I am positive that Lady Elain can resist you.”

With that, the third man, a lithe, tall, slender, muscular specimen, with an aristocratic bearing, a bit of a posh sneer, and an impressively beautiful face, pushed past Cassian and then gently took Elain’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Lady Elain Archeron. Allow me to introduce myself. Rhysand Darling.”

“Just Elain,” she told him, but curtsied nevertheless, adding, “Lord Darling.”

He smiled. He reeked of elegance and good breeding.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who’s bewitched my surly brother.”

“I am not surly,” Azriel threw with a frown.

Elain reached for him and then took Azriel’s hand in hers.

“He is alright,” she approved, smiling at him. “He’s grown on me.”

“I believe you know my mother and my sister,” Rhysand commented, as he clasped his hands behind his back and circled the formal living room and the parlour, admiring the art on the walls.

“Kandinsky,” he muttered to himself.

“I do,” Elain confirmed. “Lady Selene and the Duchess are members of the Women’s Institute, as are my sisters and I.”

“Wait, what?” Cassian gaped at the two of them. “You know each other? You know Selene?”

“We circulate in the same places,” Elain said vaguely.

Scowling, Azriel growled, “Yeah, with the Queen, right?”

“Her Majesty was a member of the Institute as well. The Sandringham Chapter to be precise,”

“You met the Queen?” Cassian gawked at her like she suddenly started juggling fire balls.

“Elain is a Lady,” Azriel said with a sigh, looking somehow depressed about it.

Elain held his hand in hers and gently rubbed her thumb over his pulse. When Azriel looked at her, she was smiling at him and that smile managed to calm him down somehow. Like Elain didn’t care about the difference in their upbringing, and she liked him for…him.

So Azriel smiled back at her and then whispered, “you aren’t even ready yet.”

“I’ve been baking.”

Azriel smiled excitedly and said, “I can’t wait to eat it! You know, matchy….Ours, is a match baked in heaven.”

“You are so ridiculous, I love it!” Elain stared at him, but then couldn’t help but laugh.

“I am not ridiculous! I am right,” he argued.

“Where is the little beastie with the bows?” Cassian looked around, seeking out Piglet.

Azriel frowned and also twisted his head this way and that way.

“Where is little matey?”

Elain pursed her lips and then pointed to the sofa in the family room.

“There he is. Being dramatic.”

And after a pause, added, “and RUDE! We have guests, and you are being absolutely rude!”

Azriel rushed to the pug.

Piglet was still dressed in his onesie, laying on the sofa arm, unmoving.

Depressed Piglet

“Pinky, my lovie, what’s wrong?” Azriel cooed, stroking the pug’s back.

Piglet didn’t move and just lay there listlessly, his little short legs draped over the sofa arm. Azriel nosed into his back and whispered, “what’s wrong? Daddy is home. I’ll take care of my boy.” He then picked Piglet up and cradled him to his chest.

“He is depressed,” Elain threw, while Rhysand watched Azriel fuss over the dog with amusement.

“Depressed?!?!” Azriel gasped. “Why? What made him depressed?”

Elain crossed her arms on her chest, and said, her voice laced with disappointment.

“We went to the vet today: to get Piglet’s longevity shots. It was a substitute vet–not his usual one–so he gave him a check up too.”

“Is he okay?” Azriel exclaimed in fright. “Is he sick?!”

Rhysand snorted a laugh at Azriel’s reaction. Azriel didn’t even look at him, while flipping him the bird.

“Whoa, is the doggo okay?” Cassian also asked, worried.

“He is fine. But the vet said that he is,” she took a piece of paper off the counter, and read out loud, “mildly anxious, highly spirited, overweight, overall well-adjusted, but with an extreme case of separation anxiety.”

As she repeated the diagnosis, Piglet released a tragic howl, before burrowing into Azriel’s neck.

“And he’s been like this ever since we came back.”

Azriel rocked Piglet back and forth in his embrace, kissing the top of his head.

“Don’t listen to the stupid vet. You aren’t overweight. You are just plump. And that’s okay. You are built for feed, not speed.”

Rhys laughed again, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the scene.

“And it’s okay to have separation anxiety. I am anxious every time I am separated from Ellie. And from you.”

“What exactly are longevity shots?” Rhys asked, cocking his head.

“They are illegal!” Elain announced proudly.

“Illegal?”

“Yes. They are stem cell shots. Not legal here. But I am not having my dog die–ever. So he gets his longevity shots every six months.”

“Must be a pricey enterprise?”

“It is. Three thousand a pop. And I don’t care. It’s worth it.”

“Worth it,” Azriel agreed, and then gently pulled Piglet away from his neck and looked into his big, sad eyes.

“Baby boy, do you want to go to a party?” he asked. “Do you want to be the star? You'll wear the nicest outfit and you’ll have so much fun there. Everyone will be loving on you. What do you say?”

Piglet sniffled, clearly needing more encouragement.

“There will be snacks,” Cassian added.

“Yes. And cake. And maybe chicken nuggies! They are your faves!”

“He likes chicken nuggets?” Rhys asked, chuckling.

“They are chicken meatballs, but we call them ‘chicken nuggies’,” Azriel explained.

And then, he started signing. And dancing. With Piglet dangling in his hands, Azriel sang to the tune of Jose Feliciano’s ‘Feliz Navidad’:

Please feed the dog

I am so hungry

I don’t wanna starve!

I want a bucket of chicken nuggies!

And a slice of meatloaf

Everyone stared at him, slack-jawed.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Rhys whispered in horrified awe. “Do we need an intervention?”

“Don’t get in between a man and his dog,” Cassian warned.

The dog meanwhile, bobbed his head to the song, finally coming to, and returning to his normal self.

“Did he get snacks today?” Azriel asked Elain. “He looks a little thin.”

“Yeah, he lost 5 kilos because he didn’t have snacks today,” she threw tartly, still displeased with Piglet’s attitude and behaviour.

“Okay, can we at least do the Advent Calendar?” Azriel pleaded, while Piglet slipped from his hands and then trotted happily to the huntboard and got on his hind leg, waiting for his daily treat.

“Oh, really? Now he is ready?” Elain asked dryly, staring Piglet down, who turned away from her and towards a much safer Azriel. And he even sweetened the deal with a smile, grinning at his dad, and showing a full row of his tiny little crooked teeth.

“He is ready!” Azriel announced excitedly, and then there was a whole argument between him and Cassian over who is going to break the slat and take out the treat. Cassian won, because he declared that he ‘never gets to do it, but Azriel gets to do it all the time!’ With that, he broke the seal, took out a small chewable treat shaped like a bone and broke it in half, before Azriel could stop him.

“Oh no!”

“What?” Cassian asked, alarmed, while Piglet crunched on half the snack.

“You don’t understand…it’s dog maths,”

“What?”

With a deep sigh, Azriel explained, “If you break a treat into two, that actually means zero treats. Or, for example, when dinner is at 7 pm, but you serve dinner at 7:02 pm, that means that you are two hours late. Though if you serve dinner at 6 pm, you are also two hours late.

“Anything that is human food is also dog food, but dog food is only dog food. In addition, human food is not counted towards food or snacks, therefore, it could be consumed in unlimited amounts.”

Rhys was shaking with laughter, while Cassian was clearly doing some complex calculations in his head, as he listened to Azriel. He fed Piglet the second part of the treat, and then confirmed, “So this means he did not receive a treat at all?”

“Exactly. A broken treat does not count as a treat.”

“I am adopting dog maths for all my maths,” Rhys decided right then and there.

Elain was watching the brouhaha with a shake of her head, before she asked, “May I count on you three, gentlemen, to undress him, put this tie on him, and then put his coat on.”

She handed Azriel a brown chequered tie and a Burberry jacket for the dog, but he in turn handed it to Cassian and said, “I am going to go help my girl out.”

It’s not that Elain needed help exactly, but she didn’t mind it either. Cassian looked at the dog attire uncertainly, gnawing on his lip, and then told Rhys ‘you are helping’.

“He likes to escape,” Azriel offered helpfully, as he ran after Elain up the stairs.

The moment the other two men were out of sight, he lifted her in his arms and pressed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply.

“I’ve missed my girl,” he murmured, dragging his nose over her jawline, up her cheek, kissing her softly and slowly.

“Azriel,” she moaned into his hair, grabbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s fuck off and not go to the party, send Cass, Rhys and pug, and stay in and fuck?” he proposed, hope shining in his eyes.

She laughed softly and said, “I think my sister might be a bit affronted if I didn’t attend her 25th birthday so I could stay home and fuck, as you put it.”

“Who, Fey? Fey wouldn’t care!” he blew his cheeks, “she is our shipper!”

“What?”

“She ships us hard. Wants us to be together!”

“Is this your dark romance lingo?”

“You should join the dark romance revolution,” he suggested. “You can join our Book Club,”

“Wait, you have a book club?”

“Yes, we do. But shit, you can’t! No girls allowed,” he shrugged apologetically.

“You have an all-men Book Club where you read dark romances?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah. We are not sexist or anything. We read romances and smut.”

“You just said that no girls are allowed in your Book Club. That’s the definition of ‘sexist’.”

He frowned, thinking, while he deposited her on the floor in their bedroom, and plopped down on the bed himself.

“Oh yeah. Oh, well, a little sexist. But not super sexist.”

“Oh, well, phew. As long as you aren’t super sexist!”

Rolling on his side, and propping his head, he gave her a heated, lascivious look and said,

“Come on, strip, baby. Show me what you are wearing!”

“Since when did our relationship include stripping?” she pondered, as she disappeared in the walk-in closet.

“Not yet, but it should include plenty of stripping,” he decided. “I am all stripping-ready and if you’d like me to, I can strip right now.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Elain didn’t seem surprised.

Downstairs, it seemed that the two humans lost control of the situation pretty quickly. There was banging, suspicious crashing, curses and little claws clacking frantically on the floor. Cries of ‘hold him!’ and ‘shit’ and ‘why is he so fast’ peppered the commotion.

Azriel was smiling, listening to the chaos. He did warn them.

“This? Or this?”

When he glanced at Elain, his jaw dropped. Everything was forgotten.

If the house was on fire, he wouldn't have cared.

Because his naughty Elain came out, holding two hangers in her hands, and wearing nothing but a tiny, lacy, baby blue lingerie set. It hugged her generous form very deliciously and was basically see-through, which made Azriel swallow audibly. He asked for stripping and well, here they were. He could clearly see her full breasts and the pink nipples beneath the gossamer-thin material. And the way her knickers wrapped around the round hips just so…the firm, but ample thighs…

“Nu!” she pressed.

“What?” he asked, looking dazed.

At that point though, Piglet tore through the bedroom. He looked a proper state. Half of his onesie was hanging off his body, and he zoomed wildly around the bedroom, diving under the bed, before emerging and repeating his frantic circle.

From downstairs, they heard Rhys’s disgruntled holler, “What is this dog on?! What’s in the longevity shots? Cocaine?! I bet it’s coke!”

Elain stood there, almost naked, laughing, while Azriel devoured her with his eyes.

Piglet stopped his zooming and gave the situation an assessing gaze, looking whether any serial killers needed sorting out. Having not found any, he gave everyone a victorious bark and then bounded out the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Hold him on the right!” Cassian shouted.

“He is too fast!” Rhys screamed back, “how’s he so fast when he only has three legs!”

“Bribe him with a strawberry or a piece of cheese!” Azriel yelled in turn, not taking his eyes off Elain.

She grumbled, “how many men over 6”5 does it take to dress a three-legged pug?”

Azriel sat up on the bed and whispered, “Come here, baby.”

“Why do I feel like if I do, then we might not be leaving here at all?”

“You might be correct, but maybe, just maybe, if I touch some of these fleshy soft bits,”

“WHAT? Fleshy soft bits??” she gasped incredulously, while Azriel’s very long arm wrapped around her hips and he pushed her closer.

“Such,” he kissed her, in fact, soft belly, “fine,” another kiss right below her breast, “fleshy,” and his lips landed on the side of her waist, where it curved sensually and where he licked a path down to her hip, “soft,” and he lightly bit the spot just above the lacy band of her underwear, “bits,” and he inhaled so hard with his face against the mound of her sex that a satisfied, raw groan of pleasure reverberated deep within his chest.

Elain almost fainted, when suddenly, he wrapped his mouth over the lips of her pussy, biting them gently through the material of the underwear.

“My god,” she gasped, not knowing whether to push him away, or to pull his face closer and into her slit.

He dragged his tongue against the seam of her folds, and muttered hoarsely, his voice rough and harsher than usual, “do you know how much I’ve dreamt about eating your pussy? How much I want to watch you coming on my tongue?”

“My god, Azriel,” Elain managed to growl out, while he filled his huge palms with the flesh of her round ass cheeks. His thumbs stroked her skin, while he kissed her thighs, around her belly button, before gladly sinking his teeth into her breast and biting her nipple.

“I will be your god, my beautiful Elain,” he promised. “Once I make you come, you’ll understand the definition of ‘my god’.”

“So confident.”

“Oh I am.”

He pulled back a bit, and told her, “Gotta confess. A nice bare pink pussy is my kryptonite.”

“I suppose I fit the bill then?”

“You do. You always do.”

She picked up the two dresses that she had dropped on the floor and showed them to him again.

One was a wintry, knit dress, which no doubt, would look mighty fine wrapped over her form. The other, was a much more formal dress, in some ways sculptural, made of some type of heavy satin. It was cream, tailored and spectacular.

“This is more practical,” Elain said, lifting the knit dress. “I can wear it with tall boots and I think it would look nice,”

“No,” he said flatly.

“No?”

“You aren’t going to look ‘nice’. You’ll look stunning. ‘Nice’ is not for Elain Archeron. It’s not for my girl.”

She bit her lip adorably, considering his words, while he was watching her like a hungry hound.

“I do have these shoes that I’ve been dying to wear, but they are open and it’s December.”

“Bring the shoes,” he ordered simply. “You’ll put them on there.”

“Okay,” she agreed, though it didn’t seem like she needed a lot of encouragement.

…Downstairs, Cassian had Piglet in some kind of MMA headlock, while Rhysand was attempting to put the jacket on the pug.

Small wins: they succeeded in taking the onesie off. And Piglet had a tie around his neck, even if it was all skewed.

The jacket was proving to be a challenge.

“You two seriously cannot be trusted with a dog,” Azriel lamented, watching the pathetic display.

“Fuck, Elain,” Cassian gasped. “You look…wow. You look really beautiful.”

Azriel immediately wrapped a possessive, proprietary arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Thank you, Cassian,” Elain smiled and then snapped her fingers.

With frightening ease, Piglet broke out of Cassian’s hold, showing that he was just indulging them and that they never stood a chance. He also grabbed the jacket out of Rhys’s hands and trotted to Elain, handing it to her.

“Are you going to be a good boy tonight?” she asked, as she dressed him in about 47 seconds. “It’s Aunt Fey’s birthday and you have to be nice to her. She’ll want to give you hugs,” at that Piglet sighed, “and you have to give her hugs.”

Piglet led the charge, and when he saw Dev and Dev asked to ‘shake’, he shook with him. Azriel was carrying the birthday cake, internally freaking out. That was a heavy responsibility. Rhysand was charged with carrying the cinnamon buns and the pastries. Somehow, Cassian ended up without a task, however, once they piled into the car, he was responsible for holding Piglet in his lap. Elain carried and touched nothing other than her purse.

“Camden then?” Dev confirmed with Elain.

“Yes,” Elain nodded, sandwiched between Azriel and Rhysand, and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the amount of testosterone in the car. The most amorous sensations came from Azriel’s side, whose scent she wanted to drown in. The heat of body, the muscular arm that pressed into hers, the very sight of his gorgeous throat which she wanted to kiss and lick and bite had her squirming in her seat, pressing her thighs together. Azriel gave her a side glance and smirked.

“You feeling okay, baby?” he asked lightly.

“Oh, just splendid!” she assured him tartly.

“You sure? You seem a bit squirmy there,”

“Oh, quite positive. Just setting in,” she offered him a fake smile.

“Anything I can do to help you? Settle in, that is?”

“Doing okay on my own,”

“It would seem so. Perhaps you’ve been doing it on your own for a bit too long…and might require a helping hand after all?”

Cassian squinted at them, stroking Piglet’s head, looking absolutely and hysterically ridiculous holding a dressed up pug. Elain kept averting her eyes from the two of them, because she knew that she was about to burst into laughter.

“Is this some kind of sex talk?” Cassian asked suspiciously.

Rhys smiled a brief smile, and it occurred to Elain that nothing much escaped this man.

“Ellie doesn’t do sex talks,” Azriel told him.

“Hmmm…sounds like sex talk,” Cassian insisted. “Will there be girls at this party?”

“Quite a few,” Elain nodded.

“Okay, maybe I’ll hook up with someone.”

“You are not going there to hook up!” Rhys warned him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not an American frat party where you are going to be shagging someone in an empty bedroom. We are going to a birthday party. And we weren’t even invited!”

“I was invited,” Azriel argued.

“Technically, you weren’t,” Rhys argued. “You are going as Elain’s date.”

“Oh.”

“Then what am I?” Cassian wondered.

“Piglet’s date,” Elain joked. “Listen, it’s fine. You were all technically invited. Feyre wanted to meet everyone. She is quite taken with Azriel already. I am sure you’ll impress her as well. Now, impressing my older sister Nesta might be a little more difficult.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassian instantly leaned forward, as if the challenge of impressing Nesta intrigued him.

“Nesta is…complicated,” was all Elain said.

“Is she as beautiful as you?” Cassian queried.

Elain got all adorably pink and flustered and Azriel gave his brother an unimpressed look.

“Nesta is very attractive,” Azriel growled, stroking the side of Elain’s neck with his thumb. “But no one is as beautiful as Elain.”

Elain lit up like a Christmas tree at his words, blushing and smiling and trying to hide, but he only kissed her temple and held her closer.

When Rhysand heard ‘Camden’ he did not expect this. He wasn’t exactly a Camden type of a person, so he wondered if he’d stick out like a sore thumb in the Camden crowd. He was an Old Etonian. But when they arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and reminded himself that the Archerons weren’t exactly poor. They stopped next to a sprawling refurbished industrial building. It was old London brick–dark and dirtied with age, which gave it character. There were a couple of huge windows, now brightly lit up, and behind the house was a canal and a little dock. This was nice.

Cassian got out first, and Piglet confidently trotted to the door and barked, announcing his arrival. Azriel was last, holding on that cake like his life depended on it. Rhysand smiled. Azriel was such a good boyfriend. Who would’ve thought? But he turned out to be the exemplary boyfriend, who was utterly obsessed with Elain. To an unhealthy degree, in Rhys’s opinion. Azriel already marked his body permanently with all things Elain. If this didn’t go well and ended in a way that Azriel wasn’t expecting, well…it would get messy. Hearts would be broken. Dreams would be shattered. Tattoos would have to be removed or covered up…

The door opened and a tall, very slim woman stood in front of them. That she was Elain’s sister was obvious. But her face was sharper, the eyes a steely grey-blue, long golden brown hair tied into a no-nonsense chignon at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple pearl-grey dress, well-tailored, but without frills, and a huge diamond and emerald brooch, a la the late Queen.

For a moment, she just stood there, assessing them all with an unflinching gaze.

“Are you Nesta?” Cassian suddenly stepped forward, his attention wholly on the willowy, busty beauty in front of him.

“You are late,” she said instead, ignoring him.

“We aren’t!” Elain argued. “The party doesn’t start until six and we have plenty of time to prepare.”

Cassian wasn’t deterred and announced, “I am Cassian!”

“Congratulations,” Nesta said. Then, she asked Elain, “What is this? A reverse harem?”

Before the confused Elain could answer, Cassian asked excitedly,

“Oh, a fellow reverse harem lover?! Very nice. What’s your favourite book?”

Nesta gave him a puzzled, but intrigued look, while he continued, undeterred,

“Mine is “The Kings’ Wife’! What’s yours?”

“‘Forget-Me-Not Bombshell’,” she answered flatly, surprising everyone. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Behind Nesta, they heard an excited voice, and an exclamation, “Elain, this cake!!! Oh my goddess! It’s crazy beautiful!! Piggy! Come…Come! Give me hugs! Come to me, my good boy.”

Piglet muscled his way between the sea of legs, and hopped towards the birthday girl, being a good boy, just like he promised.

She sat on the floor and accepted him in her arms, taking off his coat.

“Welcome everyone!” she said loudly.

“Thank you for having us,” Rhys said ahead of everyone. He wasn’t sure why.

And then, her eyes landed on him.

Feyre. What a name.

A gently lovely girl, with blue eyes and brown hair, and a scattering of visible freckles all over her nose and cheeks. Not a beauty like Elain. Not as striking as Nesta. And yet…

“I’ve heard your voice,” she suddenly said, her luminous eyes firmly planted on Rhys’s face.

“Pardon?” he stuttered.

“It was like you called me,” she continued, “and I heard you. Your voice. Across the hills, calling me. I think it was in a dream,” she laughed nervously. “But your voice was very distinctive.”

“Well, then I am glad that I am the man of your dreams. Literally.”

At that, Feyre laughed, but it was nervous, as if there was a grain of truth in his voice.

Rhys continued,

“Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”

She got up from the floor, still holding the pug. Piglet looked between the two of them with a smug look on his squished face. Like he knew something they didn’t.

“Are you Rhysand?” she asked shyly.

“I am Rhysand,” he confirmed. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I have. Apparently, I’ve also heard you. Welcome.”

Like her sisters, Feyre also wore a plain dress, of deep dark blue velvet. It was simple, but form-fitting, exposing her elegant neck. She didn’t wear any jewellery and at that, Rhys smirked and reached into his jacket pocket. He stepped closer to the birthday girl, ignoring all the curious stares from his brothers and her sisters, and then took out a flat black box and handed it to her.

“For you.”

Feyre blushed prettily and looked up at him from under her long lashes.

“A gift? For me?” she repeated, taking the box from him.

“A pretty gift for a pretty girl,” he smiled, smoothly opening the lid and suddenly taking out a…crown. A diadem.

Nesta stared at the gift, and so did Cassian, and even Azriel, with complete astonishment.

It was a delicate band of white gold, shaped like a branch, studded in places with tiny diamonds and lapis lazuli.

“A crown for the lady.”

Rhys smiled at Feyre, whose eyes were as big as saucers and then gently placed the diadem upon her head, effectively crowning her.

“Well, now it’s perfect.”

“I…my…I can’t…” Feyre began to babble frantically, but Rhys only offered an indulgent smile and said, “of course you can. Now, did you know that Piglet loves me and allowed me to dress him?” he lied.

“Oh no way! Really?!” she exclaimed, totally falling for his bullshit. “He could be so standoffish. And if he wants to zoom…well, then you can’t even catch him!”

“No?! You don’t say?” Rhys pretended to be shocked, while offering her his arm.

She took it easily, still clutching Piglet to her, her eyes never leaving Rhys’s face.

“May I tell you something?” she requested.

“Well, of course! What is it?”

“I think that you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she gushed. “And I thought that Azriel was handsome,”

“Well, he is another pretty face for sure. But not as pretty as mine,” Rhys winked at her, and they disappeared inside the huge loft, joking and laughing.

“Did he just give her a tiara?” Nesta questioned in disbelief.

“Yeah…who needs soup when you can just get a tiara,” Elain agreed.

Turning abruptly to Cassian, Nesta said, “Help me please.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned.

“I’ll let Elain take her coat off, but please bring the cake into the kitchen,” Nesta commanded, picking up the boxes with buns and pastries, while Cassian lifted the cake.

“Be careful with your bear paws,” she warned him sternly.

“Well, don’t stress me out!” he threw back, and they also disappeared inside the cavernous house, sniping and bickering playfully.

“Well, I don’t know what just happened there,” Azriel twirled his finger in the direction of his brothers, “but something did.”

Feyre’s place was wonderful, though very different from Elain’s. The floors were dark, old wide planks, the walls–exposed brick, shiplap, stucco, there were beams above, and soaring ceilings, impressive windows and all sorts of interesting industrial touches.

“I like our house better,” Azriel decided easily, after he looked around.

Elain smiled at his bluntness, finally taking off her coat. She sat on the arm of the sofa, and unzipped her boots. They were in a small sitting room, where Feyre usually watched TV. Just behind the wall, they heard laughter, clinking of glasses, and the arrival of more guests. Excited compliments of ‘Feyre, look at your tiara!’ ‘Fey are you wearing a crown?!’ ‘Feyre, you are a proper high noble lady’, ‘Should we call you Lady Feyre?’ and so on. They also heard Piglet squealing and galloping around, yelling wawabawa akwakwaka which was his usual call for snacks. Since he was ‘depressed’ earlier today, his snack consumption was quite low compared to his daily snack load.

It was only when Elain turned her head that she gasped and recoiled.

Because Azriel…

He was…

Well…

He was on one knee in front of her.

“Hi,” he smiled at her, seeing her shocked face.

“What…what are you…ohmygod…what are you doing?!”

She was literally hyperventilating.

Clutching the front of her dress, she was gasping like a fish, her face flushed.

“Elain, will you,” he began asking solemnly,

“YES!” she cried out, eyes wild. “Yes,”

“Give me your pretty foot,” he continued nonchalantly, smirking to himself.

“Wait, what?”

“Your foot, pretty girl,” he extended his hand out.

“You don’t want to…” her voice faded into a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I am sure,” she hissed.

“So, you don’t want me to ask you to marry you?” he confirmed, while he took her foot and then pulled out her fancy high-heeled open toe pumps from the bag, and slid one on.

“No!” she shouted.

“No need to yell, beautiful,” he told her, working on the complex tie and clasp of the shoe.

On his knees

“I am not yelling,” she pouted.

“So you didn’t get excited when you saw me on one knee?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think that maybe, just maybe I’ll pull a ring out?”

“No!”

“Hmmm. You seem a bit upset, sweetheart.”

“I am not upset,” she folded her arms on her chest, as she bit her lip aggressively, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to fall.

“So you don’t want to marry me?” he pressed.

“No!” she repeated yet again.

“Hmmm,” he gave another annoying hum, and then took her left hand and squeezed her ring finger, before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “And you don’t want a big diamond ring on this pretty little finger of yours?”

“No!”

“Okay, I am a little sad, as I was planning to stop by Cartier, but if you aren’t interested,”

“You are not going to do it!” she argued petulantly.

He shrugged, “who knows…But seeing as you aren’t interested anyway,”

Quickly she amended, “I am not not interested…”

“Oh no? Because I did think that you looked a bit devastated when you didn’t find me proposing.”

“I am not devastated. I was just surprised,” Elain insisted stubbornly.

He tied her second shoe and then bent to kiss her ankle.

“And if I did, propose that is, what would my Cinderella say to her Prince?”

He wrapped his big, warm hands over her bare legs, rubbing the backs of her knees slowly, as he waited for her answer.

“I don’t know! Can I say ‘yes’ after knowing you for 2 months?”

“You can say ‘yes’ after knowing me for two hours,”

“You called me a cow, and a prissy bird or something like that in the first two hours of our meeting,” she glowered at him.

“You implied that I couldn’t get it up,” he reminded her quickly.

“Ergh, I didn’t mean it,”

“Because I can certainly demonstrate–me getting it up pretty well,” he offered.

“So you keep saying.”

“And you keep denying me the opportunity,” he scolded, before kissing her hand again. “Look at me,” he ordered, and then lifted her chin, so their eyes met. “The truth is, at the end of the day, you are the one person I want to come home to. You are the only person who I want to tell about my day. You are the one who I want to share my happiness with, my sandnes, my frustrations. So, I’ll ask you, Elain Archeron. And you better say yes. Because there is no getting rid of me.”

Elain wiped her tears with her first. She didn’t even know why she was crying. Probably because she loved him. And the thought of him not asking her to be with him forever did in fact, devastate her.

“Why are you crying?” he asked gently.

“I dunno,” she admitted, wiping her tears again.

“You don’t have to cry. I am yours. I am.”

“You don’t have anyone else?”

“Nah…” then he stopped and looked at her guiltily, adding, “Well, I do…” he paused mysteriously and Elain gasped in silent horror.

“You do?!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah…”

“Who is she?”

“Oh, it’s a he,” he said immediately, grinning at her. “He is furry, likes snacks a lot, has three legs, snores and zooms,”

Through her tears, Elain smiled and then pushed him.

“Are you just going to traumatise me for the rest of the night?” she demanded, finally getting up.

“Do you like me on my knees in front of you, Miss Archeron?”

“That’s the least you can do for putting me through all this nonsense,” she looked down at her legs, her sexy shoes, and sighed.

“You are gorgeous. A girl of my dreams,”

“Apparently, that’s Rhys–he is in Feyre’s dreams,” Elain said dryly.

“Yeah, he is the girl of her dreams,” Azriel nodded and then rose up, while Elain laughed.

Cassian sat in an armchair, observing the revelry in front of him. He swirled his whiskey lazily around the tumbler, feeling mellow. He wasn’t exactly drunk, but he was under the influence for sure. It was a good feeling. The party-loving pug had arrived about fifteen minutes ago, definitely also under the influence of something, because he yawned widely and then raised his front paws, asking Cassian to pick him up. It looked like Piglet had decided that Cassian could join his secret and exclusive pug-pack and Cassian was only too happy to oblige. Now, Piglet was snoring blissfully, his head resting on Cassian’s thigh. Taking his pug-protector duties very seriously, Cassian scowled at anyone who attempted to disturb the sleeping pup, and considering his size and general appearance, no one dared to contradict him.

“Hey Nes,” he called out. “Come sit with me.”

Nesta, who was walking by, gave him her typical icy look and snapped, “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Nes?” he smiled playfully. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

He patted the seat next to him. It would be a snuggly fit for the two of them, since he took up so much space.

“What do you want?” she demanded, but he noticed that she didn’t exactly walk away.

“Come, sit with me. I’ll tell you a story.”

“I don’t want stories,”

“Sure you do, my prickly rose.”

“You are overly familiar, Mr. Night,” Nesta sipped her white wine, but Cassian reached out and held out his massive hand to her. And Nesta…Nesta…took it. He pulled her to him gently and she stepped closer, before he wrapped his arm around her waist and to her utter dismay, placed her next to him. Piglet moved onto his side, but didn’t wake up.

“The little beastie is tired,” Cassian murmured, his expression soft.

“What do you want, Mr. Night?” she tried again.

“You remind me of Elain,” he noted simply. “She is mad formal as well.”

“I don’t know you at all!”

“You can find out more. Whatever you want.”

“What do you do?” Nesta asked, squirming next to his massive, muscular body. God he was handsome. Azriel was handsome, hands down maybe the most handsome one out of the three–and that was saying something. Rhysand–not her type, but undeniably beautiful. But this one–objectively, he was probably the least classically handsome, yet to Nesta, he was simply stunning. Everything she didn’t know she liked he possessed. This size of his, the muscles, the strong features, the jet black silky hair tied into a haphazard bun.

“I am a sports agent,” he answered. “What about you?”

“A barrister.”

“I should’ve guessed. Here is what I think, Miss Archeron,”

“What?”

“You are a very successful, very beautiful, very lonely and very misunderstood woman,”

Nesta jolted in her place, her pale face colouring angrily, her brows knitting together at the audacity of his words. His expression remained calm, almost placid, though, unlike Azriel, this wasn’t a placid man. Undeterred he continued, “And I am guessing that you are knocking on 30 pretty soon, and you aren’t very happy with where you are in life. It should’ve been different, right?”

She attempted to get up, but he held her down, and tsked,

“Before you storm away, let me tell you something,”

“Leave me the hell alone!” she snarled. “You uncouth, rude bastard,”

He chuckled.

“Uncouth, huh? Cute. The Archeron girls are adorable. Now, look at them,” he jerked his head towards the crowd. Reluctantly, Nesta followed his gaze, and watched Elain and Azriel seated next to each other on top of the radiator cover, eating what looked like ice cream. Well, he was holding the bowl, but he was feeding Elain, who was licking the spoon, before he dunked it back into the ice cream, and took a swipe himself. She rested her head on his shoulder, both of her hands wrapped securely around his upper arm, holding onto him like she couldn’t let go.

It struck Nesta then–how relaxed Elain looked. Elain was always a little bit tense, unless she was with Piglet. She was especially tense around Eris, always worrying about his opinion, always desperate to please him, always seeking his approval, or a rare compliment. Elain worried about her figure, having been told by their mother that she was chubby and that she’d never get married, because men wanted a slender wife. Elain was insecure, old-fashioned, but bold and entrepreneurial, which made for a confusing combination. But never did Nesta observe Elain looking so…content. Happy. At ease. She held on to that big, tattooed, striking man and only had her eyes for him. It didn’t look like the rest of the world existed for her, because he was the centre of it.

“She is in love,” Nesta breathed, the realisation slamming into her like a hammer.

Azriel was in love, for a long time now, and of that she was sure. But Elain? Elain had fallen too.

Turning abruptly to Cassian, she found him with his hands clasped behind his head, looking mighty satisfied, with a proud smirk on his lips.

“What are you so happy about?” she demanded.

He tsked and said, “I set them up.”

“What are you on about?”

“Without me, they wouldn’t have met! I was the one who contacted her. I was the one who dragged him to meet with her. I was the matchmaker. And look how well I matched them. Now, obviously, this extends to Feyre and Rhys now. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have met either,”

“Hold your horses with them! They just met tonight,”

“And yet he crowned her like she was his lady,” Cassian reminded her.

“Which was weird,”

“Rhys likes big gestures,”

“Alright, fine, what do you want? To quit your job as a sports agent and work with Elain as a Junior Matchmaker?”

At that, Cassian laughed, and woke up Piglet. The dog stretched, yawned and then rolled over and quickly located his ma and dad in the crowd. With a happy yip, he jumped off the chair and ran over to them.

Nesta turned away from Cassian, watching Azriel scoop some ice cream into a soup bowl and let Piglet slurp it all with messy gusto. Nesta knew how much Piglet loved a pup cup, and this was a pup cup on steroids. Elain and Azriel cooed and laughed over their dog, holding hands, watching him, commenting something to each other, and Nesta was struck by another revelation–they were a family. Somewhere along the road, somehow, the three of them formed a family of their own. And Elain was no longer just an Archeron. For almost thirty years, Nesta had her two sisters, and the three Archeron sisters were an unshakable, even somewhat notorious unit. They were regal and beautiful and available and wealthy. They were the Three Sisters. And now…She glanced at Elain again, who was back on the radiator cover, seated with her legs crossed and placed on Azriel’s lap, who held them tightly. Whatever he was saying, was making Elain laugh loudly, her head thrown back. The grouping of empty glasses near her probably played a role as well. But it stung Nesta somewhere deep in her chest. Her beloved sister was no longer hers. Her beloved sister was now beloved by someone else. Elain’s light and softness were well and truly melding with the untamed intensity of Azriel Night.

“The only one I want to matchmake for, is you,” Cassian said firmly. His tone was steady, but he said it in such a manner that Nesta turned to him, looking into his lovely luminous hazel eyes.

“And who are you setting me up with exactly?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Me.”

“You?”

“Me. You and I are going on a date.”

“Excuse me?” she almost choked on her wine.

“Why are you surprised, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetheart. What do you say? Walk on the wild side? Me and you?” he winked at her.

“You are mad,” he concluded simply.

“Perhaps. Doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

She stood up from the chair, and he didn’t stop her this time. He just looked at her expectantly.

“Fine,” she said tersely.

Cassian smiled.

“I knew you were a smart girl.”

“I am already regretting it,” she warned.

“You won’t have any regrets. Once I am done with you, you’ll be asking for more and more dates.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’ll prove it.”

She threw him a withering glance, and added,

“The only reason I am saying yes to you is because,”

“My blinding handsomeness? All my bulging muscles? My mighty height? Wicked sense of humour? Winning personality?” he offered.

Nesta rolled her eyes and moaned, “Help me Lord. No, ridiculous man.”

“What then? What secret weapon do I possess that totally made you want to go out with me?”

“Piglet trusts you,” she shrugged, like it didn’t mean much.

“Oh…”

“And he doesn’t trust many people. I’ve been watching him. He trusts no one like he trusts Azriel. He even trusts Azriel with Elain! Which is unheard of. He is actually capable of leaving her with Azriel and not hovering like he is surgically attached to her. And when I saw today that he actually sought you out and slept next to,”

“That was the turning point?” Cassian chuckled. “The beastie trusting me?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s good to know. He is my wingman. Now, where the fuck is cake?! Are we cutting or what?”

“It’s a birthday, not a wedding,” Nesta reminded him. Cassian took her by the hand, soliciting a small girlish gasp of surprise from her.

“Yeah…not yet.”

Elain was standing, eating birthday cake, chatting with her old classmate Lucien, who was also one of Feyre’s closest friends. Lucien was also distantly related to Eris, which only confirmed yet again how incestuous their circle actually was. Azriel teased her about it, but he was actually correct in his observation.

Lucien’s been throwing confused glances in Azriel’s direction most of the night, as if trying to figure out who he was to Elain, and what the nature of their relationship was.

But he was too polite to ask, so instead, he joked, “So, when am I going to be set up with someone sexy, smart and successful? What am I, a wet herring?”

Elain laughed.

“All herrings are wet by default,” she told him, “I thought you weren’t interested in matchmaking?”

“I wasn’t. But seeing how well you are doing, I am eager to have you change my mind.”

“Are you ready then?” Elain asked seriously.

A year ago, Lucien was in a very serious car accident, where he lost his eyes in the aftermath. His longtime girlfriend left him shortly afterwards. He’s been devastated ever since, and wouldn’t venture out in any social situations, let alone dates. This was the first time that he decided to attend anything that had more than three guests, and only because he and Feyre went way back.

“I might be. I want to have someone looking at me the way you are looking at him,” and he nodded towards Azriel who was talking in a group of men.

Elain squirmed a bit and blushed at his insinuation.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Eris. Not my business,” he told her quickly.

“Thank you. But Eris hasn’t been in touch for weeks now. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“His loss. Maybe mine as well,” and he looked at her with a longing that made her almost uncomfortable. “But I don’t think it was ever meant to be–you and I.”

“I don’t think so,” she agreed. “We look good on paper. But maybe we don’t work so well as anything but friends.”

“The friendship is good,” Lucien decided, sipping some of his champagne. “Let’s do that. Let’s be friends.”

“And there might be someone of interest who could be a good potential,” Elain murmured thoughtfully, clearly thinking about something.

“Oh yeah?”

“But you’d have to be a client. Formally.”

“At least tell me her name!” he laughed. “What if she has a horrible name!”

“Nuala. How’s that? Can you live with that?”

“Oh. Nuala. I like it!”

“So, if you are serious, then ring me up after New Year’s and we’ll create your profile and will get to work.”

“And you think that this wouldn’t be an impediment?” he asked awkwardly, pointing to his face.

Elain looked at him and said seriously,

“For some, yes. For others, no. If they can’t see beyond the surface and not understand what you bring then it’s probably not a good match. Or a good person.”

Suddenly a familiar, very muscular, very big hand smacked Elain on the ass.

She whipped and hissed at the grinning Azriel. Piglet was at his feet, looking up, also grinning smugly.

Before she could unleash, Azriel quickly explained, “It’s my burden, beautiful. Every man’s burden–the need to smack his lady’s juicy rump whenever we are near it.”

“Oh, is that so!!” she exclaimed, while Lucien hid his smile in his champagne flute.

“Listen,” Azriel said somberly, like he was being serious. “It’s not easy. It’s not easy to have these…urges. You think I want to walk around, see your gorgeous arse, and be overcome by an intolerable need to slap it? And then I have to trudge and actually, you know, do it! Slap your yummy buns.”

“Yummy buns?!?!?”

“Oh goodness…” Lucien laughed. “I think I shall leave you two alone to discuss!”

“Not until you tell her that it’s an uncontrollable urge that all men suffer from?” Azriel insisted, wrapping his arm around Elain’s waist.

“Most of us do,” Lucien confirmed. “Not everyone acts on it though,”

“See, not everyone acts on it!” Elain elbowed Azriel and he bowed dramatically.

“I think it depends on the arse. Yours is too tempting not to smack.”

Once Lucien moved on to another group of guests, Azriel grabbed Elain by the hand and dragged her after him, with Piglet hot on their heels.

“You are not having messy sex with me in the closet!” she warned.

He didn’t answer, but threw her her coat and her boots, while lunging at Piglet and taking him by surprise before he could escape.

“Are we leaving?” Elain asked, looking around and at her coat in confusion.

“No. But put it on. We are gonna go out for a sec.”

She frowned at his abruptness, but took off her heels and pulled on her socks and then her boots, before tying her coat with a belt. Piglet was wearing his jacket too, though he looked unamused and put off by the fact that he wasn’t chased around. Azriel even pulled on Piglet’s knit hat, while he dressed himself, and then taking Elain’s hand, he had the three of them sneak out quietly.

The moment they were outside, Elain gasped softly and threw her head back.

The world had turned white.

Snow.

Thick, fluffy piles of snow had fallen in the past few hours and now covered everything in pristine brilliant whiteness. It swirled in the lemony light of street lights, falling silently all around them.

Piglet looked up, awed.

This was a new and beautiful thing that he didn’t remember from before. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he caught snowflakes on his nose, licking his lips loudly. Then, with a happy howl, Piglet burst forth and galloped through the snow, rolling in it and screeching joyfully.

Elain bounced on her heels, clapping her hands excitedly, laughing and also trying to catch some snowflakes on her tongue.

“This is better than sex in the closet!” she giggled, spreading her arms wide.

Azriel came behind her and wrapped his arm across her chest.

“Fuck sex,” he whispered into her ear, his lips warm and tender on her cold skin. She shivered at the proximity, because of how good he smelled, and because he enveloped her in his warmth and his bigness. He continued, his cheek scraping against her own.

“I am trying to be your home, you know. Your safe place. Your go-to person for happy and for sad. I am looking to be the reason you smile, and laugh and clap your hands.”

“Az,” she breathed and turned in his arms, looking up at him. Her chocolate-brown eyes were filled with tears. Tears of love. They rolled silently over her cheeks, while Azriel smiled down at her and whispered,

“We're still gonna have rough sex though.”

Before she could answer, he gently took her jaw in his fingers and tilted her face so it lined up with his.

“I want to kiss you, Elain,” he said seriously, his breath fanning over her lips.

“Kiss me then,” she permitted. Thick, white clumps of snow fell on Azriel’s black hair, his eyelashes, her hands that clutched at his shoulders. Her tears dried up and she breathed heavily, disoriented and aroused at once.

And then, Azriel kissed her.

His lips were heavenly.

Soft and light at first, tentative and gentle.

She tensed against him, the bulk of his body shielding her from the world. And in this world, in her world, there was only him.

His kiss was tender, but firm, luxuriant and dominant at once. He gripped her face in his massive hands, squeezing tightly and holding her in place, but his lips were soft and loving on her mouth. He didn’t hurry, but tasted her thoroughly, enjoyed the scent of her sugar- and wine-tinted mouth. She tasted delicious–like he always thought she would. Butter and honey and pastry and everything nice. Everything that was Elain. She was sweet and homey and familiar, and he felt like he’d kissed her a million times before.

His tongue parted her lips at last, and he continued his exploration, but it grew hungrier and more urgent as the kiss progressed. A groan of primal, animalistic pleasure escaped his throat, reverberating against her lips and Elain trembled in his arms, growing hot and needy, despite the falling snow and the sharp wind.

She felt consumed by him, and yet, worshipped at the same time. Just like always. He ignited feelings in her which she’d never experienced before–didn’t even think that she was capable of them. It was raw and hot, and left her feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed. Elain didn’t care about anything at that moment, nothing but Azriel Night, the man she came to love so desperately and completely.

She arched into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding the back of his head, while he cupped her head and delved deeper into her mouth, licking and sucking on her tongue. His other hand fell away from her face and slipped down her back, before pressing into her hip and pushing her closer to him.

Elain was well aware of his general size and how he was big everywhere. But feeling him now, thick and hard against her belly, definitely aroused–finally made her feel like a woman. She felt desired. Needed. Wanted. Big, strong, powerful, towering Azriel, and she was his undoing right now. Little Elain, whom no one took seriously. Azriel Night was kissing her. Panting for her. Growling in his chest like a beast because of how she made him feel.

She didn’t know that she needed this kiss until his mouth took possession of hers. To say that she’d never been kissed like this before was an understatement of the century. Azriel licked and sucked on her mouth, nipping on her lips, biting them until they were swollen beneath his. It was then that she released a ragged, pitiful moan of pleasure, because he ground himself between her legs and her breasts rubbed into his solid chest, intensifying her pleasure, making her feel everything.

“This is the sound I want to hear when I am inside of you,” he murmured into her mouth, kissing her lightly, before clamping his teeth over her jaw.

Elain felt his heart pounding against her own, and she howled into the night when he bit her neck, sucking in on the delicate skin and marking her as his anew. He sucked and bit her and she staggered back, almost falling out of his arms. He didn’t let go of her, but only growled like a beast, panting into her skin, his lips and teeth working themselves deep into her flesh, while his arms banded around her. Elain gasped from the pain and the sublime pleasure, because hearing him grunt and growl like that might have been the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he whispered, returning to her lips and kissing her hard and sloppily. She loved this untamed, wild side of him, where he lost his control and revealed the true nature of him and his utter obsession with her. “To me. You belong to me,” he chanted. “Mine.”

“Yours,” she nodded, kissing his lips, kissing his eyes, then his tongue, then his lips again. She was the one to lose control of the situation just as well. If he wanted to fuck her against the wall of her sister’s house, she’d let him. She was achy everywhere, tense and wet between her legs, and when he boldly thrust his hand under her dress, and between her damp thighs, he smiled.

His thumb brushed against her slit, and between kisses he asked, “all for me?”

“All for you,” she nodded, biting his neck hard and leaving teeth marks on his skin.

“I guess you want me to be yours as well?” he joked, and then pulled his hand away from her pussy and licked his thumb. Before she could answer, he kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers and allowing her to taste her own essence. It felt forbidden and scandalous and not something that Elain’s done before, but she liked it. She liked everything. And this kiss…it was unreal. It was unreal in its intensity and its pure eroticism. Who could even kiss like that? Apparently Azriel Night could. She was buzzing. Head to toe she was shivering, her fingers and toes were tingling, her tongue couldn’t get enough of him, of his taste, of how he felt against her own tongue.

Once they pulled apart to get some air into their lungs, Azriel smiled at her and rubbed his cold nose against hers.

“Can I kiss you now any time I want to?” he asked.

“Yes!!” she just about yelled. “And I will be kissing you!”

He clasped his hands on the small of her back and kissed her again, “well, that’s brilliant, because I really, really like kissing you.”

He then reached between their bodies and said, “Now, look what I have!”

“What?”

From his pocket, he took out a…carrot.

“Stole it from Fey,” he said conspiratorially, as if it explained something to the very perplexed Elain.

He grabbed her hand and said, “come on! We are building a snowman!”

“Now?”

“Well, of course now!” he said, looking at her like she was silly. “Next year we might be building one with our baby. This year, we gotta build it with our fur son.”

“What baby?!” she gasped, as he tugged her along, to the clearing where Piglet was burrowing through the snow, rolling in it and howling with excitement.

“You know–son, daughter. Baby.”

“We are having a baby now?”

“Starts with kissing, ends with a baby. That’s how it is.”

“I wasn’t planning on having any babies,” Elain argued feebly, but he only said, “plans change’.

The snow was thick and wet, but there wasn’t heaps of it, since it was London, after all.

“You do the head, I’ll do the base,” Azriel instructed, assessing the situation and figuring that they’d have enough snow for a small, modest snowman.

Turned out that Elain sucked at making a snowman. She wasn’t wearing gloves and her hands kept getting cold, so Azriel needed to continuously interrupt his own work, so he could blow into and kiss her freezing palms, which only descended into more kissing…mouth kissing. Meanwhile, their stupid pug kept destroying the round snow mounds that they managed to construct by jumping into them and rolling around happily. Elain’s boots were soaked through as well, so by the time Azriel finally managed to roll a decent base, he had to give his girl a piggyback ride, because she was freezing and shaking, while laughing uproariously. She was also filming his work on her phone, while Piglet hopped around them, trying to understand what was happening. Hanging precariously off Azriel’s back, Elain finally managed to roll a decent-enough ball, which they hefted together and carefully placed on top of the other ball.

“Pink, we need a stick,” Azriel instructed, and Piglet took off before Azriel even finished talking.

“Whoa,” he breathed, as Elain laughed, her arms wrapped around his neck, and her lips constantly making contact with his face. “I guess he really wanted that stick.”

Piglet returned with a stick, tossed it to Azriel, who fashioned one arm out of it, before sending the pug to fetch another. Soon their snowman had two arms, a couple of coins for eyes, and then, with great fanfare, Elain pushed the carrot into the head.

She barely managed to take a few photos and a short video for Piglet’s Insta account, before he began to circle the snowman curiously, barking and growling at it, and then attacking it viciously.

“Why are you so mean?!” Elain cried. “You are supposed to be gentle with it! Don’t eat it!”

Oh yeah, he was gonna eat it.

Piglet savagely munched on pieces of the snowman, licking and pulling clumps of snow, smacking his lips.

“Fucking animal,” Azriel laughed, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Elain. “Are you cold?”

“I am,” she nodded. “But I don’t want to go back inside. This is so much fun!”

“Yeah? What else is fun?” he teased.

She drew her knuckles over his cheek, his now-wet hair and then stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cold mouth. He didn’t have to be asked twice and quickly took over, capturing her sweet mouth with his and eagerly coaxing her plump, buttery-scented lips apart. She whimpered against him, especially when his hands boldly slid to cup the curve of her behind, slipping beneath the coat and making her shiver from the cold. She didn’t care. She sighed warmly and deliciously into his mouth and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her cold, wet fingers tangling in his hair. Caressing his tongue with her own she opened up eagerly to the kiss, and Azriel responded in kind, deepening the caress of his tongue, kissing her filthy and hot, his lips both teasing, and dominating at once. It was dirty and open-mouthed, her kisses loud and maddeningly sticky, rendering his brain to almost naught–all he saw and felt was his gorgeous girl, finally, nearly all his.

Elain moaned against him and Azriel…pulled away abruptly and yelled, “Piglet! The fuck, you weirdo?!”

Elain turned around and gasped in shock, not knowing whether to scream, cry or laugh. So she did all three–laughing so hard, that tears sprung in her eyes.

Because Piglet burrowed into the snowman and successfully pulled out the carrot, which he was now crunching on, though it looked like he was making out with the snowman.

“Dr. Hannibal Piglet Lecter,” Azriel muttered. “Fucking savage pug.”

Azriel grabbed her phone and filmed the carnage.

From Piglet's Instagram: The carrot is no more

“This should pay for his upkeep for a month,” he said, knowing that the video will garner a million likes and comments.

Gripping the half-eaten carrot in his mouth Piglet rushed to them and demanded that Azriel pick him up.

“That’s it? You just give up?” Azriel laughed, as he grabbed the dog and pulled Elain closer to him.

When they returned to the house, the first thing they were greeted by was Nesta and Cassian, glaring at them and arms crossed on their chests.

“We saw you making out!” Cassian declared like he was Mother Superior at a convent.

“Guess the two of you failed as chaperones!” Azriel shrugged indifferently, while he helped Elain out of her coat.

“We didn’t fail!” Nesta bristled. “You two are out of control!”

Little did she know.

The next day

Dev arrived around 11:30 am. He hadn’t asked Azriel this yet, but he had wondered where Azriel planned to live once he and Elain got married. Elain’s house made much more sense for a family, not to mention that her office was here as well. But if Azriel was going to move here, Dev needed to consider where he was going to move as well. Russell Square, Holborn, Fitzrovia were really out of his budget. Azriel paid well, but these were some prime locations, and he’d have to rob a bank to afford something nice. Shame that he wasn’t a footballer who grew up with a billionaire duke, or a little heiress who inherited a damn mansion just because. Considering her sister’s place last night, Dev definitely thought that it was better to be born wealthy and healthy, than poor and ill.

The pug came out first, dressed in a full on morning suit, with a pale blue silk tie no less. He barked his greeting and headed for the car.

“Shake?” Dev asked, extending his hand. Piglet gave him his paw. Then Elain and Azriel came out of the house, holding hands like teenagers. No doubt about it, his old mate Azriel Night, the quiet, scarred boy whom Dev met in a group home when they were around eleven was in love. Azriel, who didn’t say much, leaving the talking to his rambunctious brother Cassian, but who possessed incredible speed, the ability to appear and disappear like a ghost, and a mean left hook that could fall even a grown man in a few seconds–that Azriel was now all grown up. And Dev was proud of him. Azriel deserved something good in his life. Something nice. Something pure and genuine. And this sweet little matchmaker of his, this fancy noble Lady and her posh pug somehow, amazingly, fit the bill.

Azriel opened the car door for Elain, and just as she climbed inside, he slapped her arse.

“I am a gentleman, baby,” he announced. “Always a man, not always gentle.”

“You can’t be like this in front of my father!” she warned.

“Oh, meeting the family?” Dev chuckled. “You ready for that, big man?”

“I’d have to meet him one day,” Azriel shrugged. “Guess today is the day.”

“So, where to? Kensington Palace? Buckingham?” Dev joked. Would he be terribly surprised of Elain said ‘yes’? not really.

“Mayfair,” she said. “Mount St.”

Of course. Dev wasn’t even surprised. An ultra posh street with Balenciaga, Rubinacci and exclusive jewellery stores, a caviar and champagne restaurant Scott’s, as well as the luxury Connaught hotel where basic rooms went for 1,000 quid a night.

“We usually go to Annabel’s for all of our birthdays,” Elain explained, and both Azriel and Dev shook their heads.

“Let me guess. Dad is a member?” Azriel chuckled. Annabel’s was an elegant private club with a dance floor for the famous, the dressed-up and the well-heeled.

Elain pursed her lips, indicating that he was.

“So why not today?”

“Feyre texted and said that we should go to dad’s,” Elain said. “Said to bring you,”

“Oh boy. I am getting somewhat nervous,” he joked, but Dev, who knew Azriel for a long, long time, noticed a note of worry in his friend’s voice. Azriel was all jokes and nonchalance and elegant swagger, but he was going to meet the father of the girl he loved. And that meant something. It was important.

It wasn’t a long drive and Dev soon parked next to a massive, three story Edwardian mansion. It was red brick with white trim and actual columns. Piglet barked excitedly, recognising the place.

“You’re going to go see grandpa?” Elain asked, stroking his head. Piglet barked again, raring to go.

“Whenever I have to leave him with my father–especially if I go on a holiday–I come back, and it’s basically ‘I shall require organic vegetables three times a day with freshly churned butter. A pup cup of the finest double cream delivered daily and milked from a prized cow in Oxfordshire. For dinner, I shall dine on a lightly seared steak, a bit of duck confit and a brioche toast. Oh, and a couple of mini cannoli straight from Naples’.”

“Somehow, I am not even a little bit surprised,” Azriel admitted and Dev nodded in agreement.

“The level of spoiling that he receives from my father is criminal.”

Azriel told himself that he was not nervous, when Elain took his arm, and they walked under the portico, the doors opening as if by magic.

There was a butler, who greeted them and called Elain ‘Lady Elain’. They walked through wide marble hallways and sitting rooms, Azriel feeling decidedly out of place even if he wouldn’t show it. Piglet tore through the house, howling happily, unconcerned about anything, and by the time they saw him next, it was in the dining room where a middle-aged gentleman was cooing and hugging the pug, rocking him like he was a baby.

To Azriel’s surprise, Nesta was here too, but also Cassian–which was unexpected, to say the least. Cassian raised his shoulders, indicating that he had no idea why he was here, though it didn’t look like he was greatly burdened by the company.

“Daddy!” Elain went to her father and he smiled at her.

“Good morning, pumpkin,”

Pumpkin? That made Azriel smile. But the nickname fit. She was his little pumpkin.

“Please meet Mr. Azriel Night,” Elain introduced them. “My father, Sir Charles Archeron.”

“Arsenal captain,” the older man nodded knowingly. “My girls are Tottenham fans. I am an Arsenal man myself. Though I do enjoy rugby a lot as well.”

“I am slowly pulling Elain and Piglet to my side,” Azriel teased.

“Oh, I saw all the photos on that Instagram that Elain has for the pup. He looked like a Gunner born and bred.”

Azriel laughed, “You follow him too?”

“How can I not,” he squeezed Piglet lovingly. “Barring my girls giving me actual grandchildren, this is so far, my only grand-pup,” he said dramatically.

Nesta rolled her eyes. Elain rolled her eyes.

And both groaned.

“This is what happens every time I mention grandchildren,” Mr. Archeron complained.

Just as he said the words, Rhys entered the room, holding a champagne flute, with Feyre on his arm.

“Oh, you’ve arrived!” Feyre exclaimed with a wide smile. “I was just showing Rhys around.”

“Why are we all here, by the way?” Nesta asked impatiently. “I was looking forward to Annabel’s.”

“Forgive the change of plans,” Rhysand said breezily. “We’ll be sure to go to Annabel’s soon.”

“Well then, what is it?” Nesta sipped her mimosa, while silent servants circulated around the room with trays of champagne. “We are all here now.”

“I am curious myself,” Mr. Archeron agreed, while he gave Piglet a piece of cheese. “And I am pleasantly surprised to see my three daughters with such fine gentlemen. All here together, today.”

Nesta was about to protest the implication that she was here with Cassian, but Cassian put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, effectively quieting her down.

Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a glance, and then he said,

“Feyre and I got married earlier today. She is now Marchioness Feyre Archeron-Darling, Lady Darling. My wife.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #A Match Baked In Heaven #elriel fanfic #Elriel Fanfiction #my writing #acotar fanfiction #Three Brothers and three sisters #THe Bat Boys and the Archeron sisters #my fanfic #new chapter

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mikalara-dracula · 6 months

Note

omg !! loved ur ruki turn on n offs ! 😫 idk if ur taking requests rn but may we get one w reiji instead ? if not its k but those hcs were so good thx for the food 😭🫶

💙 Reiji's turn-ons & turn-offs—

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with slight NSFW. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

Hi there, Anons!

Thank you so much for requesting! It looks like you all requested the same thing. I'm very sorry about the wait! I hope you all enjoy reading it. Feel free to request again anytime. :)

Turn-ons:

Intelligence—If there’s one thing we know about our tea-loving vampire, is that he loves intelligence. He’s quite intrigued by this and finds it to a lethal trait on a woman.

Curly hair/Fluffed hair—Reiji has a thing for curly hair, or old-fashioned hair-styles on women. He finds that they exhibit a lot of class and look particularly lovely on women as well. Particular hair styles @liannelara-dracula and I think Reiji would love on a woman are the ones Shalom flaunted in the 90s in some of her most famous catwalks. For example: (1), (2), (3), (4).

Height—There’s something about a tall stature on a woman that Reiji finds attractive. It might be because he’s tall-ass himself and may want a partner that’s around that height, but this isn’t something he’s super set on, please bear that in mind.

Red bottom heels—These absolutely seduce our bae Rei. Wear these, and he’s all yours. ;)

Tight, but also loose dresses—Reiji just loves this look on a woman, where some of her curves are highlighted, but not entirely either. It’s something he really finds attractive. These are some examples: (1), (2).

Defined waistlines—Let’s face it, all of us girls have waistlines. If a girl manages to define her shape a lot in this area, Reiji’s very turned on by it.

Backless dresses—I forgot to mention this earlier haha! But yes, Reiji absolutely loves backless dresses on women, preferably red or black. Like, that amount of nudity is enough to send him over the edge, especially since such a vulnerable part of the body is being shown.

Charming lingo—A girl who has a charming way of speaking, to the point where she can flatter but also spit diplomatically. He’s all for it because sophistication’s a big thing for this classy vampire.

Red lipstick—He finds this to be very attractive on a woman, something that really completes her look altogether. Plus, Reiji has secret desire of having a woman leave her lipstick imprint on his cheek.

Tidiness—This is one thing that Reiji loves and in which, his brothers lack—heavily at that anyways. He just loves the idea of everything being perfect and in place, hence, his lab being a perfect example of this habit.

Cleanliness—Another obvious thing his brothers lack. Reiji finds cleanliness to be a great but also necessary aspect since he likes everything to be spotless, so having an s/o with this trait is something he considers ideal. Poor Yui being victim to his rigorous cleaning methods.

A woman’s walk—It’s actually canon that Reiji is strict when it comes to sitting/standing/walking postures. So the way a woman walks, he considers it to be a way that she displays herself. So, if she has a k!ller walk, he is d-e-a-d. xDD

Turn-offs:

Ignorance—Reiji honestly hates this because he doesn’t find there to be any excuses for it. He’s very on top of things and finds it incredibly stupid if someone doesn’t know better when they can about a certain subject.

Laziness—Ah, it’s no wonder Shu and him don’t get along. Reiji absolutely loathes being lazy. There isn’t one day where Reiji just decides to sit back and do nothing for no apparent reason. He only rests when he feels that his mind and body need a break, other than that, he does not sit and laze around like a certain blonde vampire. Apart from this, he constantly points out how much he hates Shu’s laziness, so he wouldn’t dare engage in it himself.

Curiosity—If there’s one thing Reiji hates, it’s the curiosity of others regarding his life. As a vampire prince, he’s very used to people wanting to meddle in his life, and he absolutely hates it since it’s not genuine at all—it’s just for other’s gain and nothing else.

Uncleanliness—Reiji, in general, hates cleaning up after his brothers since they just trash the place and leave it that way. He absolutely hates when things are out of place, let alone dirty, so uncleanliness is definitely a turn-off to him when it comes to both people and romantic partners.

Loudness/Outbursts—He’s not a fan of yelling. He much prefers to talk things through with people. It may be snappy, but it’s classy and he deems it to be better than raising his voice at someone, unlike some of his brothers tend to do. It’s canon that Reiji has raised his voice before, but he was beyond enraged and it took A LOT to get him there, so it’s quite rare if he does this. In general, he doesn’t prefer to get that far and keeps things pretty calm when he’s debating or arguing. As mentioned before, it’s quite rare to see him behave that way.

Imperfections—They can be of any sort, and if ya’ll have seen the anime adaption, he literally explains to Yui that he hates imperfections and “[w]ill not tolerate them.” Reiji’s kind of a handful at this point, but he’s Reiji.

Accepting things as they are—It’s canon that Reiji cannot accept reality for what it is when things don’t go his way. He seriously has a hard time with this and in one of his game routes, he pointed out that Yui taught him how to look at the brighter side of things when something didn’t go right.

Bad manners—Oh geez, this is probably Reiji’s biggest pet peeve and something he can’t look past. He finds it discordant when people can’t behave politely. He’s not even asking for kindness, but as long as someone conducts themselves with respectful mannerisms, it’s enough for him. After all, we’ve seen him scold his brothers countless times for it. That dining scene tho.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #reiji sakamaki #sakamaki reiji #diabolik lovers reiji #anime #anime requests #anime headcanons #diaboys #dialovers #diahell #diabolik brothers

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zillasvilla · 10 days

Text

BEYOND THE LIGHTS

Chapter VII: Rocket a/n: Re-edited.

Warnings: Minors DNI. 18+ only. Smut, dirty language. All things smut

Summary: Soraya’s next appearance, and new found status surprises everyone, while dealing with the drama from Dame.

Pairings: Jey Uso x Black Original Character

Disclaimer: All pictures, music and lyrics used are credited to the original creators. All original characters and plot lines are my one. Do not copy, or repost my work.

The gifted necklace sits pretty around her neck, the only piece of jewelry she wore other than some silver rings on her fingers. Soraya pulled off the little cape she used to cover her clothes while doing her make-up. The drama that broke months ago frustrated her to no end, she wanted to retaliate. Yet, her sister’s legal advice to go through a lawyer to release the documents was better. One less thing on her plate.

Special Delivery had become the number one album in the world. Her best-selling album since CTRL . Soraya’s production and pen skills, changes the way the industry sees her as an artist. She was enjoying the heighten success of her career, but still dealt with the heat of Dame’s dick-riders. But the light in all of her turmoil was her man.

Joshua. Big Papa as she started calling him. Since, the mention of her name in several court cases and unwanted media attention. They agreed to come out when she was ready. This strengthen their relationship, letting her be spoiled his attention on her. Their privacy allowed their solo careers to grow.

Soraya was booking meetings with major companies, photo shoots, concerts. People were calling her name. Jey was living on the high of being the world heavy-weight champion. His push, putting his name in every topic. The pop he gets after winning the all gold title from Damien Priest at Backlash was a moment she would never forget.

“They’re done setting up.” Athena, her mother interrupts her thought process, peeking into her childhood home. Their relationship had improved. Her mother learning to let her daughter grow up and do for herself. The multiple trophies show-casing her daughter’s talent. It was hard not to go into mama bear mode when her cub is attacked.

The blue and purple painted walls littered with posters of her favorite artist, brought her a sense of calamity. A place she can always come to when she wanted to feel like a kid again.

She nods, fluffing out her curly hair before deciding to finally get up, tossing her phone on the once slept in bed.

Athena joins her daughter’s side as they descend down the stairs. “Ready?”

Soraya nods watching the technical and production members come in and out of her parent’s home. The black and white lettering of the company name on the chest of the director. Tiny Desk. They had invited her to do an appearance. She agreed under the condition she does it from the comfort of her parents home. The atmosphere brings in a homey feel, giving her all creative control over her performance.

“We’re ready when you are.” Mark, the director tells her. She waves to her friends, pleased they were able to make it despite their hectic schedule. She had hoped he could make it, however, appearances in New York, kept him away.

She nods her head at the director, acknowledging his statement. Soraya takes a sip of the water handed to her by sister Shiloh. She smiles up at the older woman who stood over her in the beige six inch heels. Shiloh was there through it all, offering her shoulder to cry on.

Her sister had been a big help. She became the bridge between her and their brothers, keeping them at bay from killing Dame. Soraya was sure they would do with a quickness if she gave the go ahead. Shiloh’s focus was ensuring her name stayed cleared and it was something Soraya will forever be grateful for.

“I talked with Fredrick. Your attorney.” Shiloh adds, wanting her to know the details, before it all comes to light tonight.

”What did he say?” She trails her gaze to the sitting area, where her family and friends conversed amongst each other.

“He looked over everything you had on the drive, even contacted the private investigator you had during all of that.” She rambles. It was a lot for her to remember, so she let Shiloh deal with it, coordinated with her partner Fredrick, who was the best in the states. His price showed that.

“He’s going to speak with several news channels, and take it to a Judge. You could file a civil suit against him if you wanted too, if not the courts will likely press charges based on the evidence you provided.”

“If we could avoid court again, that would be great.” She drops her water bottle in the trash, looking at her sister. “I want him to suffer.” Shiloh nods in agreement. Her little sister had been through enough as it is. She would make sure, she never had to step into a court room again. She watches Soraya stand behind the mic, turning to the production team.

“You guys ready?”

Receiving thumbs up, she begins her introduction. The slow electric sounds being played from the guitars behind her, mixing with the brass instruments.

The smooth sultriness of her voice gained her crowd’s attention. She sways slowly, hand grabbing onto the mic for support. Immediately anyone would know that it was her first hit single off the hatred album she wrote before her disappearing act. Rain on me.

This concert was her way of releasing so much trauma. Her way of telling the people she loved about the turmoil she went through with Dame. Her body relaxing as she felt the negative energy dissipate from her mind and body, her singing flowing into one her all time favorites. You. The background vocalists singing Keyshia Cole’s part. She would be hitting her up for another song. A hard transition from her singing to rapping being translated through the music.

“You picked the wrong one, now you pick the right one, got no love left and I ain’t even tryna fight dumb.”

The words fly smoothly out her mouth, her own twist on the cadence, making eye contact with the camera. Everyone and the mama could immediately tell who she was directing it to.

You know what you did and honestly I been type done How you getting hoes take 'em home then you wife them It's really no comparison 'cause I ain't nothing like them Bestie said fuck him, I'm like don't get me hype 'cause At one point would had been gun point on site bum Now I look at it like owww, that something light hun I'm happy that it's over yeah you only had a slight run I can be a foul bitch fuck your whole life up I might spend the night with your bro out of spite 'cause you a fuck nigga

Her brothers watch from the back, a proud grin on their faces, as their baby sister devours him without mentioning his name. They had watched the growth from her being too shy to rap, to now placing her self up there with the greats. A part of their personalities rubbing off on her. Zyaire’s lyrical guidance, Duke’s raspy growl and Dennis vulgar language rubbing off on her. He nods along, face turned up, bopping to her unique style, emoting what she was feeling with her facial expressions and hand movements

So lost into the song, she hadn’t realized Jey was coming in, nodding with a smile. The loose-fitting shirt, that was probably his, showing off the traditional necklace. She never took it off, even gifting him a leather bracelet to match. He gets lost in his woman’s presence, loving how free she was in her element.

She steps back to vibe with music, making eye contact with him. A wide smile on his face as he stood in the back with arms crossed. The black shirt clinging to his muscles as he flexed. His brown eyes staring her down with a knowing chuckle. Mark signals to her that she had time for one last song. Deciding to switch it up when the music winds down.

“This is a song that I wrote in the heat of personal moment.” She smiles, standing in front of her soundboard. it’s called "The way and well let’s get to it.”

The only thing being used as background music was the sound board, producing her own beat, and having the recording of her vocals on a continuous loop. Soraya was always shy when it came to expressing her feelings to Jey. So she would write songs for him, leaving them around his place, in his bag. In his car, Not realizing his love language was words of affirmation in anyway. Her singing to him had to be one of his favorite methods.

You so damn important Everything you do shows me you know it Behind it all you are the motive Don’t tell you enough, but baby I'll show it, show it He say the king where he come from Take a young queen just to know one So, baby, I’ma drive it like it’s stolen I’ma fix it like it’s broken

We could catch a flight out to London Go to the mall, spend a lump sum They could try to catch up to us But they’re too busy making assumptions

She starts, swaying side to-side, snapping her fingers to the beat with her eyes closed. His own breath hitching in his throat. The way she made him feel like it just them two in the room, knowing the song was about him..

Boy, you know all I do Is stay up all night losing sleep over you All I do Is drive myself crazy thinkin' 'bout my It’s the way you walk, the way you talk, babe

It’s the way you love, the way you fuck, the way It’s the way you are, you're a star, babe It’s the way you, it’s the way you

Her hazel-brown lock onto his deep brown ones. She’s singing slowly to him. The intense staring contest they had aroused him. The noticeable tent in pants, she smirks, relishing in the fact, she caused that with just her voice. Her brothers follow her gaze to him. A surprised look on their faces. Zyaire, feeling like a dumb ass for the way he talked to her months ago about Dame. He goes to talk to him, stopping in his tracks when his baby sister rapped another verse. He could wait till she was done.

This thing we got is crazy Only thing I know is you’re my baby Forever down, I am your lady Always for sure, never a maybe Never met someone who spoke my language Never met a nigga done with playin’ You the type of nigga make me lane switch Hand me the brush and say “paint it” Give me your heart and I hold it Show me your soul and I'll mold it

Baby boy, you gotta be the dopest Gotta be to fuck with the coldest

She closes out the concert slowly fading out the music, turning her attention back to the cameras. Soraya thanks everyone for coming, allowing production to pack up their things.

She takes a sip of water handed to her by Shiloh, watching everyone come her way while he hangs back in the kitchen with his twin. He’s sitting on one of the many barstools, arms resting behind him on the large island. She wanted to be wrapped up in them, but that would have to wait.

“I swear you get better every time.” Bianca tells her, giving her friend a hug. She would make a note to set up a girl’s day at the spa to catch up.

“Whatever you decide. We got your back.” Bianca refers to the yellow mailing packets she had her mom put on their seats. Which included a detailed affidavit on the abuse he put her through.

”Yeah girl. He ain’t gonna get away with this.” Trinity hits her fist into her palm, showing she was ready for a fight. Before meeting with a lawyer, and and after the release of Special Delivery: her family, friends and industry connections had constantly left messages on her phone, extending their hand of support while doting on her new album.

It wasn’t long before Dame and his bitch were trying to release their own album or diss towards her. It was a flop. That still didn’t mean she wasn't going to ruin his life. He tried to ruin hers and it was only fair she ended his. No mercy she thought, looking towards Jey, her vision is blocked.

She pouts, when an older buff man pulled her in a hug, kissing her face. “Daddy.”

“I’m proud of you baby girl.” He pulls back, grabbing her hands in his, thumbs rubbing over the back soothingly. A soft grin on her face at her father’s praise. “Yeah. You're not a wrestler, but this is close enough.” He jokes.

Her father was a wrestler. A big one for his era at the time. Known as D-von Dudley. One half of the Dudley Brothers. He had long retired, but was now working alongside his former boss, and her god-father Paul, or Hunter as she liked to call him. His kids being a part of the business was his father’s only dream and he got it. With her brothers.

He had hoped his daughters would join too, but instead he enjoyed having a daughter that was a lawyer and one as a musical prodigy.

“We do need to have a serious conversation.” She dreaded the day he would ask her to talk, especially now knowing in full detail the abuse she went through. He just wanted to make sure his baby girl was okay.

”Okay dad.” She groans, finally locking eyes with Jey. Production had left, leaving their family and friends to snack on the food her mom prepared. However, Soraya wanted nothing more than to be up under him. “Don’t think I won’t pop up on you at the studio.”

She hoped to god he didn’t. Athena pats his shoulders with a soft laugh. “Honey, she’s not going anywhere again.”

Soraya wasn’t planning to either. She was done running from that man and she’ll be damn if he believes he still has a hold on her.

“Hey dad. Come here a sec.” One of her brothers shouted, mentally thanking him as she slipped away. She quickly rushed through her band of friends straight to him.

Shiloh watches her baby sister fall in love for the first time. The way she gets shy in his presence. She was happy her sister decided to tell everyone this way. It gave her control over her the life that he tried to take from her.

“Hi.” Soraya breathes out, stopping a few inches from him. He had a way of making her shy and he loved the reaction he got from her every time he was around.

He reaches out his hand. Her freshly manicured fingers come in view. The sky blue french tips, with the letter J on the pinky nails made him groan. His hand envelops her own, pulling her into his arms with a soft giggle.

“Hey pretty mama.” He whispers in her ear, placing a soft kiss to the side of her head. His raspy voice raises goosebumps on her skin. She steps closer, his legs instantly opening to let her in.

Soraya sighs softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. She feels the light squeeze from his arms and the resting of his chin on top of her head. “Thought you couldn’t come, papa.” She tilts her head up at him. Even when he was sitting, he still towered over her.

He technically couldn’t but his affairs in New York, ended early and he was able to catch the red-eye flight to make it on time.

”I’m a champ baby.” He pecks her lips. “I do what I want.” He kisses her again, moving his hands back to grab her sides. The loud whistles, and shouts break them apart. Soraya hides her face into his chest.

“About time. Damn.” Jimmy shouts, making Jey laugh. His hand rubbing her back.

”You ate today?” He looks down at her, ignoring everyone that where asking them a million questions. She had gone quiet and he felt the low rumble in her belly.

“No.” she whispers, moving her arms around his torso, wanting to be in his skin. She hadn’t realized how much of a safe space he was.

“Go get your stuff. We’ll go eat.”

She pulls back, walking through the chatter boxes once again, fake laughing and joking with them, mostly saying her goodbyes, jogging up the stairs to her childhood bed room. Her man was here and she was ready to go. He stands up quickly, seeing her brothers make their way up to him.

”Main-event Jey USOOO.” The twins, Duke and Dennis mock his ring entrance, laughing causing everyone to watch. The twins were super protective over their baby sister. That and they couldn’t stand Joshua for some reasons. They felt like he wasn’t good enough for her. Jimmy clocks the animosity in their tone. He joined his brother’s side, ready for a fight.

“I should’ve known it was you. I mean she is attracted to bi-“ Duke stops when a hand pushes him back. Zyaire shakes his head at his shocked expression. This wasn’t’t the time more the place. He wasn’t one for the fighting in his parent’s home. Especially over his sister’s relationships.

Zyaire learned the hard way dealing Shiloh’s fiancee. Joseph. In honesty, he had no problems with Joshua. He took care of her at her lowest and brought back the fire in her eyes. This was a different Soraya than before and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that. Not even their dumb ass twin brothers.

”Chill.” He turns back to Jey. “Be good to her man. She deserves it.”

He nods in understanding, seeing his her come down the stairs. “I got her Uce.”

“Everything okay here?” Soraya questions, finally joining Jey’s side with her purse and phone. Her hand instantly went down to his, fingers linking together slowly. She looks up at her older brother.

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. “All good Raya, maybe we’ll see you at the shows now.”

Soraya rolls her eyes at the comment, she avoided those shows for several reasons. “Bye” She waves to them quickly, dragging Jey out the house with her.

Soraya was over it at this point, wanting to be alone with her man. He tugs her arm slowing her down. “Slow down baby.”

She lets him pull her closer in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.

After becoming champion at Backlash, he was able to take a long break before the road to SummerSlam.

“m’sorry. Just missed you.”

He grins, pulling her into his chest. He tilts her chin up with his fingers, thumb rubbing the space between her lips and chin. Soraya’s needy eyes stare at him, making him groan. Soft wet lips press against her mouth “Miss you, too pretty mama.” A soft moan leaving her lips.

”Let’s go get you fed.”

It became a common occurrence to be at his place all the time. He was closer to more eating places, the bigger couch and bed. As soon as he opened the door for her, she made herself comfortable, taking off her shoes, slipping her feet into the fuzzy uggs next to his own slippers.

”Might as well move in.” He jokes locking up for the night. She was over so much, her belongings, mixed in with his. Some days he found her clothes mixed in with his travel bag. He keeps them in there, letting her natural scent mix in with his. He had a piece of her every time he went on the road.

Soraya joked to herself a lot that she would move in if he asked. He just has yet to ask her and didn’t want to impose. What if he got tired of her and kicked her out. She grabs his hoodie off the couch, turning to him. “Don’t tempt me with a good offer.”

She slips into the hoodie, putting her head and arms through the designated holes while watching him toss the keys on the entry table. He was studying her, mentally drawing the image in his brain at how she looked in his clothes; especially his merch. The necklace he gifted her was peeking through the hood asking him smile. she never took it off. Unless she was in the shower.

Her phone suddenly connects to his home audio system, letting him know she was here recently. He relished in the fact she proffered his place over hers.

Her smooth, sultry voice sings sweetly through the speakers. She was singing to him again, only this time a little more seductive. The strides he made towards her filled with passion and determination.

She moans at his hands grabbing her face, pressing a hot kiss to her mouth. His own working against hers, licking her plush bottom lip. He sucks the soft flesh between his own.

Soraya trembles, gripping the front of his shirt. She tries to press herself closer. The needy kiss trails upward along her warm cheeks, moving her arms around his neck, her eyes flutter close, tiny moans from his teeth sinking into her neck, tongue soothing the sting.

”Jey.” She mumbles.

”Mhm?” He rubs his hands down her sides gently, pushing under the hoodie. Teasing her skin with light grazes from his fingers. A soft hum leaves her mouth. The lyrics speak for themselves, getting shy all over again from his passionate gaze.

If you like it you can touch it, baby. She leans up, kissing him slowly, setting the pace she wanted.

He smooths his hands over her thighs, going behind her, his large hands gripping the cuff between her thigh and ass. Ooh, grab a hold, don’t let go. He slips his tongue in her mouth at the sudden gasp she lets out.

Her legs wrap around him, his erection straining in his briefs, pressing firmly between her supple cheeks. He can’t help but give it a light slip, groaning at the sounds of her tiny whimpers. He rubs gently using this time to carry her up the stairs into his room.

The soft glow of the sun setting illuminated the room. Her back hits the soft sheets, crawling up on her elbows towards the middle of the bed, He removes his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room.

Faintly the song fades deeper, igniting a different light of passion behind his eyes. He grabs her ankle, pulling her down with a giggle.

Jey stands between her legs, massaging her thighs as he leans down, pressing soft quick quicks on her neck. “You want it princess?”

A sweet sigh fills his ears, her hand resting on the side of his neck, feeling the cool metal of his Cuban link beneath her fingers. “yes.”

Their lips meet again, she’s falling into mush at his dominance, letting him bruise her lips, his breath hot against her skin with each kiss on her neck and shoulders. His hand rubs into her thighs, trailing up to hook his fingers in her bottoms, tugging them down and off.

His hands felt hot against her skin; rubbing in places other than where she wants to be touched. He slowly pushes the top over her head, her ample breasts sitting pretty for him.

He palms one softly, watching her shy away from his face. Jey uses his thumb and pinky finger to pinch and roll the nipple. “Look at me.”

The huskiness in tone mad her rub her legs together. Her slick pools into a small puddle beneath her. She wills herself to make eye-contact.

His right hand, slipping between her legs, teasing her arousal. “Good girl.” He gives her a sloppy kiss, spreading her folds with his index and ring finger; using his middle finger to slide up and down her center.

Her soft moans covered by his mouth. She manages a soft pant. The hand still palming her breast rubs up her neck, enough pressure to make her lie flat against the mattress.

”Open for me, baby.” He coaxes, pushing the finger into her slick hole. Her legs spread open, exposing her body more to him.

He stills watches her closely, learning each expression he made with the curve of his fingers, adding another one, mouth slightly parted. He knows he found her spot. She pushes down on his hand. A delicate squeal leaves her lip. He knows Soraya can get louder.

Jey has made her squeal several times before; he stops wanting to make her come just from his mouth.

He lowers to his knees at the side of bed. Jey pulls his fingers out slowly, hearing the soft whine of loss from above.

His wet lips, leave a trail along her thighs; avoiding her dripping sex. Jey nipped and sucked on the meaty flesh, teasing her in the best way possible. His hands, pushing her thighs back, felt her lower half roll with his tongue on her clit.

Jey flicks her clit in slow circles, urging her to cry out in desperation. The warm like flesh, trails down. She clenches around nothing with a needy whine. “Jey..” She knew that’s not what he wanted to her.

“Relax.” He mumbles, giving her thigh a soft squeeze of reassurance.

He lets a dribble of saliva leave his pursued lips on to her dripping cunt. “I got you mamas.”

He presses his mouth to her folds, leaving soft kisses. He looks up at he, allowing her thighs to close around his head. Jey hums lowly, coaxing a loud moan out of her.

He licks and sucks continuously, not letting up on her trembling body. Her hands tangle in his hair, pulling on the soft curls.

His groan vibrates against her, grinding down on his mouth. The bubbling feeling in her belly rising. He takes notes of her tightened grip, and squeezing thighs, ears softly popping from the pressure.

Joshua plants his hands on the underside of her thighs, pushing them back on the bed; flattening his tongue against her, shaking his head side to side.

The burning sensation in her thighs only adding her to intense pleasure Josh was putting her through. He closes his mouth around her dripping heat; sucking harshly to elicit whiny moans from her.

The fervent licks lapping at her dripping juices.

“Baby.” She squirms, tugging at his head with each hungry lick he gives her. His cool breath blowing with on the nub, a strangled cry filling the room as her body shakes, a wave of relief crashing over her.

His mouth kissed a pathway up her quivering body; fingers grazing over each mark he left on her rich skin; her fingers tracing along his arm pulling him down closer, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. An aroused moan at the taste of her essence on his tongue.

So into the kiss, Soraya didn’t feel him push off his own briefs, tossing them on the floor. His hand guided her leg around his waist, pressing his arousal against her folds. She bites his lip with a needy moan.

”More.” She mumbles into his mouth. He rocks down. The tip of him inching its way inside her heat.

Jey watches her eyes roll to the back of her head,, adjusting to his size. A cocky grin on his face he bottoms out. He kisses along her slacked jaw. He grinds his hips, using both hands to hold her thighs on his torso.

A low, rough grunt, with every squeeze of her pussy around his dick. Her essence coating his erection making the slip easier with each long stroke.

His weight against her body forcing her body to take it; rolling them on his side. His hand grabbing at the pliant flesh of her ass. He grips harshly while bouncing her down on his thighs.

The smell of sweat and sex filled the room. Josh leaves tender kisses along her shoulders. His hips curve upwards, tapping the sensitive bundle of nerves.

”oh fuck.” She gasps clenching around him to make him stop. A harsh slap to her thigh makes her look at him. A dangerous glare on his face.

”You can take it.” His length and girth stretched her so much. When she doesn’t let go, he pulls out, putting her on her stomach.

“Josh-.” The sting from his hand on her ass stopped her. He rubs it softly, using both hands to spread her cheeks apart. She flinches at his wet tongue eating her from behind.

”who-?” He grits out, prepared to smack the bouncing bottom again.

”Daddy.” She rocks back, hearing a pleased hum leaving his lips. He had wanted to make love to her, yet the sight of her ass in the air changed his mind. His own arousal covered in her dripping cum. He places a pillow under her hips, leaning down to kiss up her spine.

Her arms spread out next to her head, he rubs his hands up her arms, linking with her own, to pin her to the bed. His front pressed to her back. He plunges forward in a sharp thrust. Her falling back against his shoulder with a whine.

He circles his hips, lips pressed to her cheek with sweet kisses. “Feel good hm?”

She nods, words caught in her throat with each move he makes. His large, veiny dick filled her in the best way possible. She turns her head slightly, his own coming down to kiss her.

The once playing music drowned out by the sounds of her moans and grunts; skin slapping against skin. It was erotic the way she melted under him. He frees a hand to grip her throat, pulling her up on her knees making her plant her hands firmly.

”So close baby.” Jey groans. His nose pressed into her cheeks whispering praises in her ear, light kisses adding to the throbbing sensation that joined them together.

A familiar fluttering in her belly, she clenches and he grunts in her ear. “That’s it.” He comes, hitting that spot over and over again that had her screaming his name softly.

“Good girl.” He staggers his thrust, timing it with his own orgasm. “gonna cum for daddy?”

Unable to form coherent words, she squeaks instead when his right hand reaches around her, using his fingers to rub her sensitive clit. Soraya jerks forward at the feeling of his hand squeezing her throat and the other on her tender flesh with every stroke of his thick dick.

“Words mama.”

”mhm.. Yes.” She whimpers, taking all of him like the good girl she was. His hand around her throat moves to her right cheek squeezing softly.

”Cum for daddy princes.” He kisses the back of her shoulder, letting her bounce back against him.

Soraya feels the orgasm build up. Her arms shake, going weak as she falls flat against the bed. A helpless sweet little cry echoes of the walls when her release finally overcomes her senses. She closes her eyes, letting him use her.

Jey’s movements don’t stop, her core overly sensitive. The mixing of her shaky breathes and his thick growls only intensify when he snaps forward, pressing his hips into hers. His load painting her walls.

“Fuck.” He hisses when he pulls out slowly. The juices connecting from her cunt to his tip.

This wasn’t how he expected their first time together would go, but he would take it. Jey slides out of his bed. The once bright sky now littered with stars.

He turns on the light, smiling at her relaxed form. Her body littered with his teeth marks, and hickies. Joshua kisses up her back.

“No more.” she mumbles. He lets out a deep rumble laugh from his belly.

”Let’s get you cleaned up.” He rolls her on her back and cradles her body in his arms. A quick kiss to her nose getting that shy smile he fell in love with.

His bathroom, just as spacious as his bedroom, was her favorite room in his house. The dual head walk in shower was the best thing there; comfortably fitting the both of them.

The steam quickly filling the room; they clean their bodies. Jey steals tiny kisses here and there. It was a quick shower; not wanting to get dry skin and soaked heads. She took the wig off, placing it on a wig head she had one his dresser. She had accumulated so much stuff over here, that she might as well move in. Her clothes miso mixed in with his, she just grabs whatever touches her had first.

The random shirt, being one his old merch shirts; it swallowed her frame.

“Hungry?” The goofy grin on his face does nothing to persuade her that he was only talking about food; he could only hope she was just as hungry as him.

Soraya looks down, laughing at the giant bright word in her chest. . “Yeeet.”

Jey’s head shakes with a smile; his heart swelling at her genuine laughter.. “I’ll order in. Whataburger? The usual?”

“I was thinking we could cook.” She loved when Jey cooked, he loved cooking for her and with. He had begun teaching her some of his favorites.

He was in the mood for traditional food tonight. “Maybe your famous chicken.” She hints, reaching in the drawers to pull out the matching lavalava set he got them.

The lavalava fit snug around her waist, bringing her a deeper sense of connection with him. Their hectic schedules made it hard to incorporate their culture in the relationship. However, any chance she got, she would take it.

Akhara’s Patrons: If you would like to be added, please comment on the master list. I will try to frequently update it as much as I can.

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#jey uso x black!reader #jey uso x black!oc #main event jey uso #black oc #original character #black tumblr #fanfic #jey uso #jeysuso #roman reigns #wwe #music fanfic

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saintsir4n · 6 months

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1. fast girls

thank you for 1k views

WARNING: VIOLENCE

"GIRL, we live together and you still arrive late, what is wrong with you?" Keelie stressed, seeing her close friend speed walk through the nail salon, from her post.

To say she was mad was an understatement.

Carson huffed, "'Cause you be usin' up all of the hot water."

"Just shut up and pick up the phones," Keelie nodded to the counter where the phones had been ringing throughout the hour.

"Sorry," Carson winced, rushing over, greeting the other workers and customers, before dropping her bag by her station and picking up the blaring phone, "KeKe's nail salon... oh hey girl..."

Carson worked at the nail salon as a receptionist. She didn't do people's nails, but she never passed up the opportunity to be pampered whenever her close friend offered to do it for free. She loved sketching out designs, sometimes for customers, but when she had time for her passion in life she spent hours shading for cars for other drivers. A girl's gotta make a buck somehow. She loved her car – a black Dodge Charger Hellcat – a gift from her recently deceased father Daniel Baker. The car was her baby, but like a child, it needed nurturing. She was obsessed with pink, everything she wore was pink, so she wanted her car to match, whether it was small patterns, leopard print or stripes. She just wanted it done and dusted. New parts were expensive, so she worked at her best friend's establishment.

Throughout her shift she did her rounds, checking in with the regulars, laughing and joking about the things going on in their lives and ranting about the stuff that provoked their problems. Most of it was all the same cause... men.

Luckily she didn't have that problem at the moment.

Carson was known for having the brightest smile and it went with her eccentric style, which was where she copped her nickname; Summer. Very rarely was the racer sad and if she was, everyone was out for blood, especially her godbrother Dom and the team.

Around town, there were a lot of rules, especially for the different street racing crews, but in Dom's, it was; Do not piss off Summer. And everyone listened, if they didn't, wrenches would rain from the sky.

"Summer," Keelie's voice made her head snap up from her most recent design.

Taking the cherry lollipop out of her mouth, Carson asked, "What?"

"You can go, it's your break."

An hour for lunch, Keelie was an angel for that. Sure, it was blatant favouritism, but Carson didn't care. She was already packing up her stuff and throwing it in her bag.

She did the bare minimum at work, but she was always exhausted.

"I'll tell Mia you said wassup!" Carson teased, stepping out from behind the counter, and receiving a scowl from her close friend.

"Girl, I'll beat ya ass," Keelie warned, pretending to put up her braids.

Carson giggled, "With them slow legs, try me."

Everyone laughed, knowing damn well Carson wasn't a fighter, but she damn sure would cry until she got her way.

—

Carson pulled up to the auto shop and cafe, fluffed out her relaxed hair and applied some lip gloss. The sound of her engine attracted a pair of familiar blue eyes.

When she stepped out, she readjusted her denim skirt and started walking, after blowing a kiss at her car.

The sun smooched her skin and she let it. She hated looking pale and ashy, and summer in LA was insane, but at least she tanned easily.

She lowered her sunglasses when she came closer, whistling at the young Toretto girl who worked behind the counter.

Mia smirked at the sight of her friend and she wasn't the only one.

"Lookin' hot Mia," Carson winked, purposefully not making eye contact with the blonde sitting on her left as she sauntered around.

"Feelin' it too," Mia chuckled, running a hand through her sweating hair, "but you look good," she always does, "Dom!" she yelled attracting her brother, but Carson was already behind the counter, going into the back and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You on a break Summer?" his deep voice drew the daze of the blonde whose eyes darted between the two.

"Would I be here if I wasn't?" she retorted, gaining a deadpanned look.

"Yes," he replied, taking a sip of his corona.

"Yeah yeah," she playfully nudged him and went back to the front, hearing the end of Mia's conversation.

Dropping her bag on the floor, Carson approached.

Mia leaned over and whispered, "He's been askin' for you."

"So has Keke," Carson grinned at the blush appearing on the Torretto girl's face.

"Shut up Summer."

Carson giggled and leaned against the counter where Brian had stopped eating and half-heartedly skimmed through a magazine, though his sparkly eyes never glanced away.

"Still eatin' that stank ass tuna?" she asked, nodding to the half ate sandwich.

Brian shrugged, "It's good."

"And you're a liar," now that made him smile.

Damn his smile, Carson needed to snap out of it and one nudge from Mia did just that.

"Oh, am I?" Brian asked, pushing the plate and his magazine to the side.

"You are, I don't know why you eat it," Carson mused, just as Mia started to clean and listened to every word.

"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you," Brian said, tilting his head to the side, grinning when gulped at his confidence.

"Sure," she drawled, not knowing what to say after that.

He was making her feel hotter than the sun.

"A good sandwich and a beautiful girl, not a bad way to live," his compliments were doing things to her.

He couldn't get enough of her smile, her eyes that rose-tinted sunglasses concealed, her style – he never thought pink looked so good – the silver little cross that hung from her neck and he knew for sure that she could drive.

"You're stupid," Carson murmured and he just chuckled. She started playing with her nails, trying to change the subject, eyes landing on his plate again, "No crust as well, what are you five?"

He raised his hands in defence, "It's a preference." He couldn't stand the crust, it tasted like dirt to him, but the tuna he would tolerate, just for the chance to see the pink-obsessed racer.

"Oh I know, a stupid one."

"Well, I like what I like."

She pursed her lips, "You should be open to anythin'."

"Maybe you should show me," now that made her breath hitch and turn away, much to his amusement.

Mia was laughing to herself, then received a kick from the Baker racer.

Brian only stopped smirking when the sound of cars speeding towards the shop neared.

The blonde silently cursed himself, only five minutes of her time, yesterday was longer, he realised.

Carson finally recovered from the flirting and tried to find a distraction, her bag was over by the corner where she had her sketchbook and pencils, but she was worried if she went over to retrieve it, she would trip and possibly make a fool out of herself in front of Brian's fine ass. Why did he have to be called Brian? Why not something sexier, to match his face?

"Summer!" Leon's voice snapped her out of her haze, "How's my Barbie doin' today?"

Carson frowned at his joke.

"She's a Bratz doll, fool," Jesse even pointed to her top before leaning over and hugging her.

"And that's why Jesse's my favourite," Carson laughed at the look on Leon's face, just before he went to the back.

"That's rude girl," she heard Letty say as she walked past.

Carson winced, "...favourite after you Letty."

Mia waved at the rest of them, taking out some of her schoolwork. "What's up, guys?"

"How you doin', Mia?" Leon asked from the back, just as Jesse and Letty joined him.

Carson peeked at Brian, and they both exchanged another smile before Vince loomed, glaring at the sight, making her sigh, knowing how the macho man was about to behave.

He sat down, ready to antagonize the blonde, who didn't care to look his way, he just kept staring at Carson, who finally took off her shades and placed them on the side.

"Vincent, when you stop pervin', compliment me okay?" Carson heard the snickering from behind her but gained no reaction from the man.

So Mia had to jump in, "Vince," she cleared her throat, "Vince!"

"What?" He looked between the two girls, one frowning and the other irritated.

"Could I get you anythin'?"

He looked her up and down, "You look good."

Mia scoffed, tired of his constant advances towards her.

"Damn, I guess I'm invisible," Carson mumbled.

Brian didn't like the look on Vince's face when he stared at her.

"You always look good Summer," Vince replied, to which she smiled.

He was more of a brother figure than anything but that didn't mean he was blind to the fact she was one of the most stunning girls in LA.

Mia caught the look on Brian's face, was it anger or jealousy?

But she had no time to figure it out, because he suddenly stood up, retrieving the money from his pocket, and placing it down on the counter.

He nodded towards Mia then shot Carson his winning smile, "Well, thanks a lot, Mia. Carson, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, maybe," Carson called out, watching him take his magazine and walk away.

A sly smirk graced Brian's lips as he walked out of the shop, a smirk that Vince wanted to wipe off his face so he stood up and followed after him.

"There he goes," Carson sighed.

"Try Fat Burger from now on. You can get yourself a Double Cheese with fries for 2.95, punk." They heard Vince spit out.

"I like the tuna here," Brian said, walking to his truck, whilst subtly admiring Carson's car.

His answer made Vince angrier.

"Bullshit, asshole," he scoffed. "No one likes tuna here."

"Yeah, well, I do," Brian said.

And he was suddenly pushed into the side of his truck, face first. Brian swivelled around and swung a fist at Vince.

Mia gasped and immediately alerted her brother, whilst the rest of the crew stood and watched, the guys were highly amused.

"And there goes the neighbourhood," Carson muttered, then turned to bang on the wired wall alongside Mia.

"Jesus Christ, Dom," Mia said, frustrated. "Would you get out there please?"

"Dominic, come on!" Carson stressed, seeing the two men tussle on the ground.

Dom finally got up from his seat, to see the scene.

He looked unimpressed, "What'd you put in that sandwich?"

"Ha, ha, real funny," Mia said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, whilst Carson stifled a laugh.

"It's that shitty tuna Amelia," that earned her a smack to the arm.

"Dom!" Letty said, gesturing towards the men, who were now on the ground.

"Alright." Dom huffed, speeding to break the fight up. The crew followed him out and Carson couldn't help but find a riled-up Brian more attractive, so she took out her cell to text Keelie.

white-on-white crime at the cafe, SEND!

Dom pulled Brian off and pushed him into the car they were beside, luckily it wasn't the Baker woman's or everyone would receive an earful.

Brian raised his hand in surrender, panting as he stared at Dom, "Hey man. He was in my face."

"I'm in your face," Dom retorted. Vince tried going after Brian again but was pushed back. "Relax!" Dom yelled. "Don't push it, you embarrass me!" He then looked towards Jesse. "Jesse, give me the wallet."

When did he get that? Carson's face scrunched up but when she turned back to Brian she could see the sweat coating his angry face. Sexy.

Jesse threw Dom the wallet.

Dom opened and inspected it for a few seconds after finding his ID, "Brian Earl Spilner." he read, making Crason cringe.

It couldn't be sexy if it tried.

"Sounds like a serial killer name," Dom remarked, then pointed the wallet towards Brian. "Is that what you are?"

"No man," Brian immediately shook his head.

"Don't come around here again," Dom stated.

"Dom," Carson whined, but one look from her god brother had her averting her eyes.

Vince shot her a disapproving look too.

Letty threw an arm around her, whispering "He'll be back."

Brian took his wallet as Dom started to walk away.

"Hey, man you know this is bullshit," Brian called out angrily.

Dom turned around, "You work for Harry, right?"

"Yeah," Brian answered. "I just started."

"You were just fired," Dom said definitively before he walked back into the auto shop.

"Or not," Letty chuckled at the look on Carson's face.

Brian didn't look any better, watching as the crew steadily followed Dom, before his defeated gaze landed on Carson who sent him a weak smile.

What were they gonna do now?

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a/n:

i know, hellcats didn't come out until 2015, but they look so futuristic it reminded me of the second fast and furious movie, so i picked this one. plus i love how carson's and dom's cars are similar, both dodgers but made in different years. I'll be describing hers a lot more throughout the book.

how did you like the first chapter? carson is different to my other oc's, she's so much more bubbly and not tormented by any past trauma. family means a lot to her, but she also loves love, not just that, she adores attention and brian gives her so much of it.

i had to show mia some love and it would be cute to see her with keelie since most of her scenes in the first film do show her interacting with brian a lot.

*sigh* all my edits for this story have flopped because of my reposts about world issues, so you might have to visit my account to see any updates guys

- liv

#wattpad #fanfic #black reader #racer #brianoconnerfanfic #brian and sonny #brian o’conner x black!reader #sonnybaker #carsonbaker #pink #y2k #2001 #brian o’conner x reader #brian o’conner

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punkharryp0tt3r · 5 months

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Regulus Black Headcanon

(Sorry that I suck at writing btw)

When Regulus was younger, him and Sirius cuddled whenever they could. Usually, right after Walburga went to sleep after putting the two brothers to bed, Sirius would sneak into Regulus’ room and slide into his bed. And Regulus was usually awake, waiting for Sirius. Unless he had gotten super tired that day and had already fallen asleep.

Sirius would slip into Regulus’ bed and cuddle up to him, and sing him to sleep, or tell him a story. And on the nights Sirius couldn’t sneak into his room, Regulus realized he hated sleeping alone.

In Regulus’ Hogwarts years, Regulus obviously slept alone. Pandora, when told by Regulus that he hated sleeping alone, had stared at Regulus in disbelief. “What?” He had said, getting a bit nervous that Pandora hadn’t said anything. “You don’t have any plushies?!” She had finally said, exasperated. “Well…No, that would look silly in the Slytherin dorms.” But inside, Regulus had actually been quite interested by the thought..

And that day, was the day Regulus got his first plushie, and there were many more to come.

Regulus had a favorite plushie, but he would never say it out loud. (In case his plushies could hear him) And it was a plushie of a fluffy black dog, that was his favorite. (He felt bad about it though, like the other plushies might’ve felt left out) It was his favorite because..

Because it reminded him of his brother.

The dog plushie was a grim, and it reminded him of his brother because the grim seemed big, and fierce, and dogs were protective, and kind, and dogs were amazing.

Like his big brother.

So yes, even through..everything. That plushie was his favorite. Because it reminded him of his brother. And he felt an almost nostalgic comfort by cuddling with the dog plushie, like he was cuddling his brother again.

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reasoningdaily · 8 months

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At age 17, Donnell Drinks was one of many young men in Philadelphia who went to prison for life without parole. Today, the city has resentenced more of those prisoners than any other jurisdiction.

Published Aug. 15, 2023Updated Aug. 18, 2023

Donnell Drinks woke up one morning to banging on his door in the projects of North Philadelphia. It was the late 1980s, and Mr. Drinks, who was 15 and the oldest of three boys, had nodded off after taking his youngest brother to school. He should have been at school himself, but he had stopped going earlier that year. It wasn’t a truant officer at his door, though — no one had ever come knocking about that. Instead, sheriff’s deputies were waiting outside. They were there to evict his family.

The officers told him to get out, not bothering to ask if there was an adult around, which there wasn’t. Mr. Drinks’s dad had abandoned the family a decade earlier, and his mom was in the throes of crack cocaine addiction. For years, Mr. Drinks had been raising his younger brothers, and he had just become a father himself. He’d dropped out of school to support his family by selling drugs, a transition that felt so natural he hardly remembered how it happened.

Groggy and panicked, Mr. Drinks scanned the apartment for essentials, stuffed a shopping cart with clothes for his brothers and wheeled the cart up the road to his grandmother’s overcrowded rowhouse. The officers never asked where he was going.

“There was not one adult that said, Hold a minute. We need to call somebody,” Mr. Drinks said. “Not one adult said, That’s a child.”

At the time, Black teenage boys like Mr. Drinks were being treated less as children in need of help and more as if they were threats to society itself. Crime was rising nationwide, particularly in Philadelphia, where, in 1990, the city recorded 500 murders in a year for the first time. It was a terrifying period, especially for people living in poorer neighborhoods where the violence was worst. But the rhetoric, perpetuated by public officials and overheated headlines, suggested that a new morally depraved generation of teenagers — particularly Black teenagers — were to blame. This idea gave rise to the “superpredator” era and a raft of laws cracking down on juveniles that followed.

Mr. Drinks, now 50 years old, is a small man with a stocky frame and a warm, gaptoothed smile. He keeps his salt-and-pepper beard meticulously fluffed. An animated storyteller who is quick with a metaphor and a motivational quote, he becomes guarded when describing his upbringing — not just because it’s painful, but because he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s trying to justify what happened next. “This is context,” he said, “not excuses.”

In February 1991, when he was 17, Mr. Drinks and his 22-year-old girlfriend, who was a police officer, tried to rob a man named Darryl Huntley. They staked out Mr. Huntley’s house and forced him and his fiancée inside at gunpoint. That violent act led to others. Mr. Drinks stabbed Mr. Huntley, fatally, and was shot himself. Mr. Drinks was arrested while he was in the hospital recovering from his injuries.

By the time Mr. Drinks was brought to trial for Mr. Huntley’s murder, Philadelphia had a new district attorney: Lynne Abraham, a former judge who went on to hold the office for nearly two decades. Pennsylvania law already made life sentences mandatory for first- and second-degree murder convictions, but Ms. Abraham responded to the era’s surge in violent crime by aggressively pursuing the death penalty, an approach that once earned her the moniker the “deadliest D.A.”

She also called for tougher punishments for juveniles. In 1994, she pushed for legislative changes to give prosecutors more power to charge juveniles as adults. “You don’t get any bonus for being under a certain age,” she told The Philadelphia Inquirer at the time. The next year, the state passed a law that required prosecutors to treat children 15 and older as adults when they were charged with certain crimes.

Though Philadelphia had already sentenced many young people to life without parole, under Ms. Abraham’s watch — and with the city’s murder rate remaining high throughout the ‘90s — the number getting that sentence in Philadelphia rose quickly. For some, it may have been a deal worth taking to avoid the death penalty.

Mr. Drinks was tried as an adult and initially sentenced to death. In 1993, his sentence was reduced to life without parole. (His then-girlfriend, who received the same sentence, remains in prison.)

He most likely would have died in prison, but while Mr. Drinks was behind bars, a national effort began to rethink the culpability of young people in the eyes of the law. In the 2005 case Roper v. Simmons, the Supreme Court struck down the death penalty for minors, leaning heavily on new scientific research that showed — “as any parent knows,” Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote — that young people are not like adults. They are more impulsive, reckless and susceptible to persuasion.

The court did not question that minors should pay for committing heinous crimes, but in banning the most severe punishment, it affirmed the possibility “that a minor’s character deficiencies will be reformed.” Real change, Justice Kennedy suggested, was possible.

Mr. Drinks had been in prison for more than a decade when the Roper decision came out. Then one day, a Philadelphia lawyer named Bradley Bridge traveled to the upstate Pennsylvania prison where Mr. Drinks was locked up, and explained to him and the other men who had been given life sentences as boys what the ruling could mean for them.

Striking down the death penalty for minors was only the beginning, Mr. Bridge said. Soon, he predicted, the court would apply the same logic to outlaw mandatory life sentences for juveniles too, potentially giving Mr. Drinks and others serving such sentences a shot at freedom — and giving the city of Philadelphia a chance to rewrite its legacy.

A long list of friends

Mr. Bridge had been delivering his speech inside prisons throughout Pennsylvania for months before Mr. Drinks heard him speak. Mr. Bridge worked for the Defender Association of Philadelphia and had spent nearly three decades representing prisoners who were appealing their sentences. When the Roper ruling came down, he was involved in the case of a teenager facing a mandatory sentence of life without parole. He understood immediately the opportunity that the Supreme Court’s ruling presented not just for his client, but for scores of prisoners.

For Mr. Bridge, it meant pursuing a novel legal theory that might help dismantle what he viewed as a particularly unjust part of the justice system. “Children are children, and they make mistakes,” Mr. Bridge said. “But they grow and change.”

Mr. Bridge began the enormous undertaking of compiling a list of all the prisoners in Pennsylvania who were sentenced to life as minors. No one in the state had ever kept track of this group, who came to be called “juvenile lifers” in the courts and “child lifers” by some of the inmates themselves.

He expected the list to be long. He didn’t expect it to eventually include more than 500 names, nearly one-fifth of the more than 2,800 child lifers in the country. More than 300 of them had come through Philadelphia’s system, making a city with less than 1 percent of the country’s population responsible for more than 10 percent of all children sentenced to life in prison without parole in the United States. No other city compared. Even more glaring: More than 80 percent of Philadelphia’s child lifers were Black. Nationally, that figure was roughly 60 percent.

Racism “undoubtedly occurred in every phase of the criminal justice system,” Mr. Bridge said. “This created an opportunity to try to fix things that had been broken.”

After the Supreme Court outlawed the death penalty for minors, Bradley Bridge started encouraging inmates sentenced to life as children to prepare for the possibility that the court would eventually revisit the constitutionality of their sentences, too.

His partner in this work was Marsha Levick, who had co-founded the Juvenile Law Center in 1975 as an idealistic young graduate of Temple University’s law school and gone on to become one of the nation’s foremost experts on juvenile sentencing.

Mr. Bridge and Ms. Levick began traveling the state, arranging meetings with the people on Mr. Bridge’s list and adding names as they went. Mr. Bridge’s first stop was Graterford, a maximum-security facility outside of Philadelphia that, at the time, held more child lifers than any prison in the state. Dozens of men crowded into Graterford’s chapel to hear what Mr. Bridge had to say.

“People wanted to know what was coming down the pike,” remembered Kempis “Ghani” Songster, who was in the room that day. “Is this a ray of light flickering on?”

At age 15, Mr. Songster stabbed another teenager to death in a crack house. Both were runaways working for the same gang. He was given a life sentence for his crime, but it wasn’t until that meeting in 2006, nearly two decades after he went to prison as a scrawny kid who couldn’t grow a beard, that he realized how many other lifers at Graterford had also arrived as teenagers.

“It was like, Whoa, he’s been here since he was a kid, too?” Mr. Songster said. “A lot of us who were child lifers didn’t really know that we were in a distinct class.”

There had never been a reason to talk about age. The courts had treated them as adults, and if anything, being marked as a child in a violent adult prison would only have made them more vulnerable. Now, there was power in the identity.

The child lifers inside Graterford began organizing. They quickly formed a committee called Juvenile Lifers for Justice, which met weekly to discuss the evolving law and science around adolescent development. They drafted pamphlets, circulated newsletters to other prisons and their family members, and kept one another motivated around their common cause.

These conversations also started to change how some of the men thought about why they had committed such serious crimes.

Mr. Songster said he never felt “entitled” to be free. “I can’t wash the blood off my hands that’s on my hands,” he said. But the emerging research, which showed brains aren’t fully developed until people get into their 20s, gave him new understanding. “It made me curious about myself,” Mr. Songster said of the research. “I knew I was a good person, but I couldn’t reconcile the person that I became and I know I am with the person that committed that horrible act.”

The child lifers were also reaching out beyond the prison walls. They invited politicians to visit Graterford and partnered with nonprofit organizations to distribute supplies to local schools.

“We were always trying to break that wall down so people could see we’re humans,” said Don Jones, who was also sentenced as a minor and was the president of Graterford’s N.A.A.C.P. chapter during this period.

Mr. Bridge and Ms. Levick became frequent fixtures at the prison. At each of these visits, Ms. Levick was struck by how the men — imprisoned at such a young age and last in line for any prison edification programs because of their status as lifers — had mastered the nuances of the law and were orchestrating a statewide grass-roots movement from inside prison. “Their desire to come home was real,” Ms. Levick said. “It was palpable, and it made you want to do more.”

“We were always trying to break that wall down so people could see we’re humans,” said Don Jones, who was locked up at Graterford and has since been released.

Mr. Drinks had spent 10 years at Graterford, but after he was transferred upstate, newsletters coming out of Graterford and messages passed along from old friends became his lifeline. Without a lawyer of his own, he kept his case alive by adapting draft legal petitions circulated by Mr. Bridge. And he documented his accomplishments in prison — articles he’d written, certificates he’d earned, thank-you notes from the nonprofits he’d raised money for — until he had three manila envelopes’ worth of records illustrating all the ways he’d grown.

Still, he never quite let himself believe that Mr. Bridge’s prediction would pan out. He wanted to be prepared, but he was also prepared to be let down.

“It’s like throwing water out of a boat that’s sinking,” Mr. Drinks said. “You’ve got to do it anyway, because if you don’t, the water’s going to get you.”

Throughout this period, lawyers around the country, including Ms. Levick and Mr. Bridge, were bringing new cases, trying to apply the rationale in the Roper ruling to other kinds of sentences for juveniles. At the national level, a key leader in this work was Bryan Stevenson, founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, a nonprofit.

Mr. Stevenson saw a connection between the superpredator era and the overwhelming number of young Black boys who had been locked away for life.

“You had these criminologists going around saying that some children aren’t children. Some kids look like kids, but they’re really, quote, superpredators,” he said. “That narrative was so prevalent, so persuasive, that you see states all over the country lowering the minimum age for trying children as adults.”

In 2008, the Equal Justice Initiative found 73 children who had been given sentences of life without parole when they were 13 and 14 years old. And all of the people who received those sentences for crimes other than homicide were children of color.

“It just said something about the way in which race was a proxy for a presumption of dangerousness, this presumption of irredeemability,” Mr. Stevenson said.

Then came a series of breakthroughs. In 2010, the Supreme Court abolished sentences of life without parole for minors charged with crimes other than murder. Two years after that, Mr. Stevenson appeared before the court on behalf of two young men who were sentenced to life without parole when they were 14. In its decision in Miller v. Alabama, the Supreme Court struck down all mandatory sentences of life without parole for juveniles. Four years later, in a case called Montgomery v. Louisiana, for which Ms. Levick served as co-counsel, the court made that decision retroactive, fulfilling the prediction Mr. Bridge made in the Graterford chapel a decade before, and giving more than 2,800 child lifers across the country the right to have their sentences revisited.

Mr. Drinks remembers the first time he got a look at Mr. Bridge’s list. It was filled with the names of people he’d known for years, but had never known were child lifers. There was Abd’Allah Lateef, the soft-spoken guy he’d always admired at Graterford, even when he griped about Mr. Drinks’s loud music. There was Luis “Suave” Gonzalez, a big talker whom Mr. Drinks had encouraged to lead one of Graterford’s Latin American cultural exchange groups. And there was Don Jones, a friend so close, Mr. Drinks said, “my brothers call him brother.”

“That was my tear-shed moment,” Mr. Drinks said. “I knew I was on the list, but going down the list and seeing genuine friends?” Now, they might all have a shot at freedom — a shot, but not a guarantee.

A block in North Philadelphia. Donnell Drinks sold drugs in the area as a teenager and was convicted of homicide at age 17 in a robbery gone wrong.

‘The election changed everything’

The Supreme Court’s rulings in Millerand Montgomery marked an important rethinking of culpability when it comes to children who commit the most serious crimes. But the practical implications of the rulings were limited: the court hadn’t abolished all life without parole sentences for children — only ones where state laws made the sentences mandatory.And while child lifers now had a chance to make a case for their release, prosecutors could still seek new life sentences. In other states with high numbers of child lifers, including Michigan and Louisiana, as well as some parts of Pennsylvania, that’s just what they did.

In Philadelphia, however, all of the list-gathering and planning that had been taking place for more than a decade began to pay off. Most of the state’s child lifers had been prosecuted in the city, and it was up to its district attorney’s office and court system to move hundreds of people through the resentencing process. “Philadelphia was bad, and everybody recognized it was bad,” Mr. Bridge said.

Ms. Levick added, “In a way, the whole world was watching.”

Philadelphia soon began resentencing and releasing child lifers, starting with those who’d been in prison the longest. But while R. Seth Williams, Philadelphia’s district attorney, initially committed not to resentence anyone to life without parole, he stuck to strict new state sentencing guidelines, which meant that Mr. Drinks and others who had been swept up in the ’90s, would most likely spend many more years in prison.

Marsha Levick, an expert on juvenile sentencing, visited inmates. “Their desire to come home was real,” Ms. Levick said. “It was palpable, and it made you want to do more.”

Mr. Williams viewed this approach as the only way to honor the Supreme Court’s ruling, the Pennsylvania government’s consensus and the rights of the victims. “People often only look at the factors for the defendant. I understand. But they often forget there was a victim,” Mr. Williams said. “Someone was murdered. We just can’t just sweep that under the rug.”

Then came a twist that no one predicted. In March 2017, a little over a year after the Montgomery decision, Mr. Williams was indicted on charges including bribery and extortion and later sentenced to five years in prison. Almost as surprising was who was elected to be his successor: a sharp-elbowed former public defender and criminal defense attorney named Larry Krasner.

Whatever Ms. Abraham, the former district attorney, had been to the city in the 1990s, Mr. Krasner swore to be the opposite. (Ms. Abraham did not respond to requests for comment.) He had run against the death penalty and mass incarceration, and vowed to decriminalize marijuana and end cash bail. One of his first moves after taking office in January 2018 was to fire 31 prosecutors in a purge that became known as the Snow Day Massacre.

When it came to juvenile lifers, Mr. Krasner was more open than his predecessor to considering how people had changed in the decades since committing their crimes. Chesley Lightsey is a former assistant district attorney who worked on Mr. Drinks’s case and others under both administrations. “It took time for me to wrap my head around it: ‘Okay, now we can have much more of a conversation about this,’” she said about the change when Krasner was elected. “It was just a different perspective.”

Under Mr. Krasner, prosecutors paid special attention to reports drafted by mitigation specialists. Those specialists, who are essentially professional storytellers for defendants, interviewed juvenile lifers, their families and anyone else who could offer context. They asked questions about how the inmates had been raised, the trauma and pain that had influenced their actions, what they had done with their time in prison and what they planned to do upon release.

By the time Mr. Krasner took office in January 2018, Mr. Drinks had spent hours spilling his soul to a lawyer and mitigator named Rachel Miller. Over the course of countless calls and several in-person visits, Ms. Miller wove the story of Mr. Drinks’s life into a memo, complete with a two-inch stack of documents highlighting his accomplishments.

The memo covers the most painful moments of Mr. Drinks’s childhood: being abandoned by his father, his mother’s struggle with addiction, getting evicted. It describes how Mr. Drinks would skip school to collect the family’s food stamps before his mother could pawn them for drugs and how, when his mother turned violent, he would take the brunt of her beatings in an attempt to spare his brothers.

But the memo also tells the story of a grown man who spent his time behind bars trying to atone for the crime that put him there. Among the stack of documents is a community college transcript filled with A’s and B’s, an agenda for a workshop he organized with victims’ rights advocates and a photo of him beaming behind a giant check made out to Big Brothers Big Sisters of America. Perhaps most meaningful to Mr. Drinks were the letters he received from other incarcerated men who were members of a youth group he founded attesting to all the ways the group, and Mr. Drinks, had saved them. “I did not know the child that committed the crime he is in here for,” read one of the letters, “but the man I do know is not that same person.”

Before Mr. Krasner’s election, Mr. Drinks was offered a deal of 35 years to life, which would have made him eligible for parole in 2026. Shortly after Mr. Krasner took over in 2018, Mr. Drinks got a new offer: time served.

“The election changed everything,” Mr. Drinks said, referring to Mr. Krasner’s victory.

“I’m always conscious of the emotion, the hurt, the disappointment, the disdain, all those negative emotions that my actions led to,” Mr. Drinks said of the murder he committed. “I’ve got to live the rest of my life counteracting that.”

Mr. Drinks’s case was not unique. Researchers at Montclair State University have found that, under Mr. Krasner, prosecutors began offering child lifers new sentences that were, on average, 11 years shorter than the ones offered to those same people under Mr. Williams. Crucially, the researchers found that child lifers’ release had a negligible effect on public safety. Seven years after they started coming home, the rearrest rate for Philadelphia’s child lifers hovers around 5 percent. That’s small compared with the national rate, where 40 percent of people with past murder convictions are rearrested within the first five years, according to the most recent data from the Bureau of Justice Statistics. As of early this year, only three of the city’s child lifers who were rearrested have been convicted (for marijuana possession, contempt and robbery in the third degree), according to the Montclair State researchers.

For Mr. Krasner, these numbers reveal as a lie the idea that some people are so incapable of change that they should never be offered a shot at it. “It was always wrong to believe that people are either saints or they’re sinners,” Mr. Krasner said.

At his resentencing hearing in April 2018, Mr. Drinks read aloud from a letter before a gallery filled with friends and family, as well as the loved ones of Mr. Huntley, his victim. He apologized to Mr. Huntley’s family and said he knew he had no right to ask anyone in the room for forgiveness, and so he didn’t. But he did promise to spend the rest of his life making amends.

Mr. Huntley’s family members also made statements to the court. In a handwritten letter, Mr. Huntley’s sister described her brother as a loving and giving person. She explained how his murder had crushed her family, derailed her own education and deprived her children of ever knowing their uncle. “My mother still is deeply hurt and our family find it difficult to celebrate Valentine’s Day,” she wrote, “because these horrible, horrible actions took place that evening leading into his death.” She told the court that she did not want to see Mr. Drinks released.

Mr. Huntley’s sister did not respond to an interview request, but Suzanne Estrella, who runs the Office of Victim Advocate in Pennsylvania, said that many victims’ families “flat-out just do not” agree with the resentencings. But she said there were also many families that understood and accepted them. “You have survivors who have lost loved ones and survivors who have loved ones who are incarcerated,” Ms. Estrella said. “So you see all those perspectives coming to the table at the same time.”

As painful as it was, Mr. Drinks said he appreciated Mr. Huntley’s family’s honesty. “I felt it, and I understood it,” he said. “I’m always conscious of the emotion, the hurt, the disappointment, the disdain, all those negative emotions that my actions led to. I’ve got to live the rest of my life counteracting that.”

Three months after the hearing, having won the approval of the parole board, Mr. Drinks met his brothers as he walked out of prison for the first time in nearly three decades. Mr. Drinks remembers his sense of disbelief and being a little carsick as they drove the four hours back to Philadelphia, where he would move in with his brother Damon. The whole way home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following close behind. “I didn’t want to look back,” he said, “so I kept looking ahead.”

Donnell Drinks married Shekia Drinks two years ago. But he hasn’t been able to get the approval needed to move out of his brother’s home and in with his wife.

A return to the 1990s?

Of the more than 300 child lifers who became eligible for resentencing in Philadelphia in 2016, all but about a dozen have been resentenced, and more than 220 have been released, the majority of them on lifetime parole. That’s nearly a quarter of the roughly 1,000 total child lifers who have been released across the country. These numbers make Philadelphia, once an outlier in imprisoning minors for life, now an outlier in letting them go. By 2020, the city had resentenced more child lifers than Michigan and Louisiana combined.

What set the city apart, said Mr. Stevenson, of the Equal Justice Initiative, was not just the buy-in from local officials and public defenders, but also the community of child lifers who became their own best argument for release.

“It was the way they organized, the way they cared for one another, the way they modeled a kind of readiness to contribute to society,” Mr. Stevenson said. “These young people had been told they were going to die in prison. Some of them just never accepted that.”

Since the Supreme Court decisions, more than half of all states have outlawed life without parole sentences for children altogether, reducing the number of child lifers left in the country to fewer than 600, according to the Campaign for the Fair Sentencing of Youth, a national nonprofit. Mr. Stevenson’s organization is now working to raise the minimum age at which children can be tried as adults in 11 states, including Pennsylvania, where there is no age floor. Other states are considering abolishing mandatory life without parole sentences for people under 21.

While life without the possibility of parole sentences for juveniles are now rare, they are not unheard of. The now solidly conservative Supreme Court has issued a ruling that could lower the bar for judges to apply the sentence to children in states where it is still allowed. A prosecutor in Oakland County, Mich., is seeking life without parole for a mass shooter who was 15 when he killed four students at his high school in 2021. A judge will have to weigh the horror of his crime against the possibility that, over time, he could change.

The United States is still the only country in the world that gives courts the discretion to send children to prison without the chance of proving themselves later in life at a parole hearing. And the tough-on-crime rhetoric of the 1990s is making a comeback, thanks to a spike in violent crime that began at the outset of the pandemic. In Philadelphia alone, the murder rate has surpassed the record set in 1990 two years in a row, with young people emerging as both victims and perpetrators.

Mr. Drinks and Mr. Jones started an anti-violence group in Philadelphia and sometimes walk the streets handing out pamphlets.

Just as they did in prison, child lifers have come together to create a buffer against an outside world that often feels hostile and unwelcoming.

Though this uptick in crime is showing signs of decline, it has prompted a nationwide backlash against progressive prosecutors, including Mr. Krasner, whose comparatively lenient approach has become a lightning rod in local politics. Mr. Krasner was recently the subject of an impeachment effort by Pennsylvania Republicans, and even some Democrats raced to condemn his record during the city’s mayoral primary in May.

Those who were released have become some of the loudest voices for building upon the fragile gains they fought for while on the inside. Their fight now is about abolishing life without parole for everyone, getting young people out of adult prisons and addressing the underlying causes of the violence plaguing Philadelphia and other major cities.

“If you would have dealt with a lot of my issues,” Mr. Drinks said, “they probably would not have escalated to crime.”

It’s not that Mr. Drinks and his fellow activists believe juveniles convicted of murder should not be held accountable. “When we talk to legislators, we don’t say: Throw the doors open, and everybody’s coming home,” Mr. Drinks said. “Our conversation is always that everybody deserves an opportunity to show they’re worthy of coming home.”

Today, Mr. Drinks coordinates a network of former child lifers through the Campaign for the Fair Sentencing of Youth. In any given week, he might be found with two cellphones in hand, flying to Alabama to urge progressive prosecutors to stay the course, organizing retreats for formerly incarcerated men and women, or canvassing city streets through an anti-violence nonprofit he co-founded with Mr. Jones, his friend from Graterford.

Mr. Drinks and other child lifers know that they embody for the public what all the research said about a young person’s capacity for change, and they are keenly aware that their example could help secure other people’s freedom. But they are also wary of being used to suggest that the system works, or allowing it to conceal just how difficult their re-entry into the outside world has been.

While several of Philadelphia’s child lifers have gone on to become an Ivy League lecturer or nonprofit executive, many more are working minimum-wage jobs or are unable to find work. Some are in bad health. Four have died. Nearly all of them are on lifetime parole, with the possibility of being sent back to prison forever looming.

Mr. Drinks credits his brothers, Damon and Kareem, for making his homecoming easier. Throughout Mr. Drinks’s incarceration, the three brothers had remained as close as the prison system would allow, keeping up visits even when he was transferred far away. Often, Damon Drinks would bring along Mr. Drinks’s son, who was just 3 when his father was arrested, and is now a grown man with a family of his own. It is thanks to his brothers, Mr. Drinks says, that he was able to maintain a relationship with his son at all.

Mr. Drinks, in Fairmount Park, said his brothers visited him while he was in prison and have helped him readjust to life on the outside.

Damon and Kareem Drinks’s support continued once their big brother was released. They took him shopping, kept him housed and partnered with him to start a local printing company not far from the city courthouse. Mr. Drinks has not had to struggle to survive, but that doesn’t mean he has not struggled. Five years after he left prison, the terms of his parole still prohibit him from leaving the county of Philadelphia without permission. He got married two years ago, but he has yet to get the approval needed to move out of his brother’s home and in with his wife. And he lives with the constant fear that one act of violence by any of the state’s other child lifers could spell the end of his own tenuous freedom.

This fear is part of what keeps Mr. Drinks connected to the men who were once boys with him on the inside. Just as they did in prison, child lifers have come together to create a buffer against an outside world that often feels hostile and unwelcoming. These bonds are as much a product of their shared experiences as they are a defense against their shared vulnerabilities.

“We’re each other’s co-defendants,” Mr. Drinks said. “We see people want to stray, it’s like, No, come on. We’re going to get to this finish line together.”

Mr. Drinks hugs Michael “Smokey” Wilson, another former child lifer.

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