#rectangle fire table

[wesellfirepits7]

Why a Rectangle Fire Table is Perfect for Entertaining

Anyone enjoying entertaining or just lounging beneath the stars must create a warm and attractive outside area. Including a bar-height fire pit table can help you improve your patio or backyard most effectively. Apart from providing warmth and comfort, this diverse piece of furniture is the central point for events. Your outdoor space can become a friendly haven with essential tools like a rectangle fire table and fire pokes. In this post, we shall discuss the advantages of these products and how they might improve your outdoor life.

The Appeal of a Bar Height Fire Pit Table

Perfect for Social Gatherings

A bar-height fire pit table is designed with entertaining in mind. The elevated height encourages guests to gather around, whether standing or sitting on bar stools. This setup creates an intimate atmosphere where conversations flow easily. Unlike traditional low fire pits, a bar-height table ensures that everyone has a clear view of the flames, enhancing the overall experience.

Multifunctional Design

One of the key advantages of a bar-height fire pit table is its multifunctional design. It is a heat source and a convenient surface for food and drinks. This dual-purpose functionality makes it an excellent addition to any outdoor space, especially those with limited room. The height of the table also makes it easier to serve snacks and beverages without additional side tables.

Stylish Addition to Your Outdoor Space

A bar-height fire pit table is not only functional but also adds a touch of style to your outdoor decor. Available in various materials such as metal, stone, and wood, these tables can complement any design aesthetic. Whether you prefer a rustic, modern, or traditional look, there’s a bar-height fire pit table that will seamlessly blend with your outdoor furniture.

The Essential Role of Fire Pokers

Why You Need Fire Pokers

Fire pokers are indispensable tools when managing an outdoor fire. These long, sturdy implements allow you to safely move and adjust logs, ensuring your fire burns evenly and efficiently. Maintaining a well-structured fire can be difficult without a fire poker, leading to uneven burning or dangerous situations.

Choosing the Right Fire Poker

Not all fire pokers are created equal. When selecting one, consider the material, length, and grip. A high-quality fire poker is typically made from durable materials like steel, which can withstand high temperatures without bending or warping. The size is also essential; a more extended fire poker keeps you safe from the flames, reducing the risk of burns. Additionally, the grip should be comfortable, allowing you to easily maneuver the logs.

Enhancing Safety with Fire Pokers

Safety is a top priority when dealing with open flames, and fire pokers are designed to help you manage the fire safely. Using a fire poker, you can control the intensity of the flames, ensuring that they don’t get too high or spread beyond the fire pit. This tool is handy when the fire needs to be adjusted or stoked without putting yourself at risk.

Rectangle Fire Table: A Perfect Fit for Your Space

Advantages of a Rectangle Fire Table

A rectangular fire table offers several benefits, making it a popular choice for outdoor heating and dining. The elongated shape provides ample seating space, making it ideal for larger gatherings. Unlike round or square fire tables, a rectangular design allows more guests to sit comfortably around the fire, ensuring everyone can enjoy the warmth.

Versatility and Style

With so many designs and materials for the rectangle fire table, you can pick one that fits your outdoor décor. Whether you prefer a sleek, modern design or a more traditional look, a rectangle fire table matches your taste. Some models even include additional features like built-in storage, adjustable flame settings, or a tabletop cover, making them even more versatile.

Functionality Meets Aesthetics

In addition to its practical uses, a rectangle fire table is a stunning centerpiece for your outdoor space. Its large surface area is perfect for serving meals, drinks, or snacks, making it a multifunctional piece of furniture. Its elongated shape also allows for better heat distribution, ensuring that everyone around the table stays warm and comfortable.

Conclusion

Turning your outside space into a friendly and helpful location is simpler than you think. Including a bar-height fire pit table, fire pokes, and a rectangle fire table in your patio or backyard can help you design a place ideal for dining, lounging, and outdoor enjoyment. These components improve the general utility of your outdoor space and provide warmth and flair. Whether hosting a lively gathering or enjoying a quiet evening by the fire, the right furniture and tools make all the difference. A bar-height fire pit table serves as a focal point, encouraging social interaction, while fire pokers ensure your fire is managed safely and efficiently. Meanwhile, a rectangle fire table offers ample seating and versatility, making it an excellent choice for any outdoor setting.

[wesellfirepits4]

Stylish Ideas for a Rectangle Patio Fire Pit Table

Installing a fire pit makes creating a cozy and welcoming outdoor area more accessible. Getting the correct fire pit is crucial to prolong the patio season or have a relaxing evening beneath the stars. There are many styles and designs, each with the advantage of meeting specific requirements. This article explores four popular options: the gas fire pit with wind guard, the rectangle patio fire pit table, the gas fire pit column, and the fire pit with moon and stars design. Understanding the features and advantages of each will help you make the best choice for your outdoor living area.

Gas Fire Pit with Wind Guard

A gas fire pit with a wind guard is an excellent option for anyone living in a windy area or looking to maintain a steady flame during outdoor gatherings. The wind guard, typically made of tempered glass or durable metal, surrounds the flame, protecting it from wind gusts. This ensures that the fire remains steady and adds a layer of safety, preventing sparks from escaping.

Benefits of a Gas Fire Pit with Wind Guard

Consistent Flame: The wind guard helps keep the flame steady, even in breezy conditions, allowing you to enjoy a warm and cozy fire without interruptions.

Enhanced Safety: By containing the flame, the wind guard minimizes the risk of accidents, making it safer for use around children and pets.

Improved Efficiency: With the flame protected from the wind, the fire pit burns more efficiently, conserving fuel and providing better heat distribution.

Aesthetic Appeal: The wind guard's clear glass or sleek metal offers an unobstructed view of the fire, adding a stylish element to your outdoor decor.

A gas fire pit with a wind guard is ideal for those who want a reliable, attractive fire feature that can withstand various weather conditions.

Rectangle Patio Fire Pit Table

The rectangle patio fire pit table is a versatile and practical choice for those who love entertaining. This type of fire pit serves a dual purpose: it provides warmth and ambiance while also functioning as a table where guests can place drinks and snacks or cook small meals. Its rectangular shape makes it perfect for more extensive patios or decks, where it can serve as a central gathering spot.

Why Choose a Rectangle Patio Fire Pit Table?

Multi-Functional Design: The combination of a table and fire pit makes this an efficient use of space, especially in outdoor areas where every inch counts.

Stylish and Modern: The rectangular shape adds a contemporary touch to your outdoor setting, complementing various styles of furniture and decor.

Ideal for Socializing: With its extended surface area, the rectangle table allows for more seating around the fire, making it perfect for gatherings with family and friends.

Gas-Powered Convenience: Many rectangle patio fire pit tables are gas-powered, offering clean and hassle-free operation without needing wood or ashes.

A rectangle patio fire pit table is the perfect choice for those who want to create a cozy and functional outdoor living space. It combines the warmth of a fire with the utility of a table.

Gas Fire Pit Column

Consider a gas fire pit column for a unique and elegant addition to your outdoor space. These tall, slender fire pits add a vertical element to your patio or garden, making them a striking focal point. The gas-powered flame is easy to ignite and control, providing instant warmth and ambiance with minimal effort.

Advantages of a Gas Fire Pit Column

Space-Saving: The column's vertical shape takes up less floor area, making it ideal for balconies, smaller patios, or garden nooks.

Sleek and Modern: The clean lines and contemporary style of a gas fire pit column add sophistication to any outdoor setting, enhancing your decor.

Portable and Versatile: Many gas fire pit columns are lightweight and easy to move, allowing you to reposition them to suit your outdoor layout.

Easy Operation: Gas fire pits are known for their convenience. They offer quick ignition and adjustable flames without the mess of traditional fire pits.

A gas fire pit column is perfect for those who want to add a stylish and functional element to their outdoor space without taking up too much room.

Fire Pit with Moon and Stars Design

If you want to add a whimsical touch to your backyard, a fire pit with moon and stars design might be just what you need. Moon and star formations etched into these fire pits let the firelight show through, making stunning patterns of light and shadow. This design enhances the overall beauty and also sets the mood for a mystical night under the stars or a peaceful evening spent outside.

Reasons to Choose a Fire Pit with Moon and Stars

Unique Decorative Element: This fire pit will be the talk of the town thanks to its whimsical moon and star cutouts, which will liven up any outdoor setting.

Cozy Ambiance: The patterns created by the cut-outs cast soft, enchanting shadows, enhancing the mood and making your outdoor space feel more intimate.

Versatile Design: Available in various sizes and materials, a fire pit with moon and stars can complement different outdoor themes, from rustic to contemporary.

Durable Construction: Many fire pits are constructed of steel or cast iron, guaranteeing their durability and the joy they will bring for years.

Anyone seeking to add a bit of enchantment to their outdoor space should consider a fire pit with moon and stars.

Conclusion

Choosing the right fire pit can enhance your outdoor living experience, providing warmth, ambiance, and a focal point for gatherings. Whether you prefer the practicality of a gas fire pit with wind guard, the versatility of a rectangle patio fire pit table, the sleek design of a gas fire pit column, or the enchanting appeal of a fire pit with a moon and stars design, each option offers unique benefits to suit different tastes and needs. Choosing the right fire pit to make your outdoor area more welcoming and comfortable depends on considering your needs and tastes. 

[machveil]

General König Headcanons

just some personal thoughts I have about him as a person

he’s very organized, everything he owns has a place and if it’s not in it’s place he throws a fit

why is his coffee table moved over an inch? who did this? it’s not lined up perfectly with the couch anymore >:( and his coaster is missing! ruins his mood for an hour

and it’s noticeable when he lives alone if something is off. he lives extremely minimalistic. he has the bare bones essentials, the only decorations are things he’s super interested in (a bookshelf absolutely bloated with original copies of historical and military books, a display case with antique weapons, etc)

that changes if he has a pet, but I talked about that already here

as much as he likes to keep his home organized and neat, he’s artificially clean I’m so sorry

yes, his home looks spotless… that said, if he wipes up a little spill with a paper towel he’s definitely the type to rinse it under the faucet, squeeze it out, and let’s it dry if the spill wasn’t ‘that bad’. yes, it’s gross, but “look, I can use it again, Maus.”. you have to keep an eye out for him when he cleans stuff because he cuts corners sometimes

only dusts things he specifically uses - his desk, the coffee table, the cabinet by his front door. he neglects to clean his bedside table. coated in a lining of dust except for a rectangle patch where he keeps his latest book. forgets that he should definitely clean his computer keyboard and phone screen. complains about allergies but it’s “only in my house” - denies that the dust is the problem. is pleasantly surprised his allergies magically went away after you dusted everything for him… still denies the dust was the problem, his immune system ‘just kicked in’

always forgets that his vacuum doesn’t have infinite storage. the first time you went to empty it all the lint and dust in the cage didn’t come out because it was so compressed. he’s broken at least one vacuum before because the cage broke (yes, all the gross contents spilled out onto his floor, he was pissed for a week)

if you ever become his roommate prepare to be cleaning. it’s not that he doesn’t clean, it’s just that’s his version of clean is… “look, everything is spotless— don’t open the closet”

that said, he always changes the batteries in the fire alarm, always makes sure the fire extinguisher under the sink is within it’s expiration date, and double checks all doors and windows are locked at night - cleaning he’ll side-eye, safety he’s dead staring at

if you, for any reason, get wigged out because “König, I think I saw something move outside :(“ he wouldn’t hesitate to buy a security system. it’s not for him, he’s built like a behemoth, it’s entirely to ease your mind

definitely buys a ring doorbell so he can talk to you when you’re coming in (“don’t forget to lock the door behind you, Maus.”)

[idksmtms]

'tis the damn season (Modern!Aegon Targaryen x reader) - evermore series

A/N: Hiiiiii! I am finally back after way too long omg! While I am still stumbling my way through getting back into my writing, please enjoy this next instalment of the evermore series! I will slowly be coming back and trying to post a lot more often, but just bear with me while I navigate my writing journey. Enjoy!!!

Summary: Three years ago you left home behind to pursue university. You left Aegon. Now, you’re back and faced with not only the destroyed relationship you had once run from, but all the thoughts and feelings you have been dwelling on and refusing to face over the years you’ve been away. 

Word count: ~3.9k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, angst, post-breakup, Aegon being heartbroken (past), breaking up, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of rehab, rehab recovery, breakups, heartbreak, just painful and difficulty reunions, owning up to your mistakes and too-late realisations, angsty but hopeful (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

The smell of mulled wine wafted gently across your face, carried by the warm air blasting from every heater in the manor. Cinnamon, and close, star anise and a hint of cherry, Mrs. Targaryen’s personal twist that made the recipe oh so coveted. 

The door was unmanned, a rather surprising thing given how much Mrs. Targaryen loved to flaunt the servants and security guards. Perhaps you really had been gone too long. 

You deposited your clutch on the little side table and divested yourself of your coat, first one arm, then the other, a quick pat of the pockets, a little fling onto the coat rack so the heavy black felt thing was situated just enough not to topple the overflowing rack over. You brushed the hem of your dress down, fingertips catching on the glistening red sequins before brushing over your black tights. 

You picked up the clutch again, a matching red sequin rectangle, and turned to the ornate mirror hung on the wall above the end table, gold edged and running the length of the wall. You took up only a sliver the size of you, and clasped your hands around the clutch to press it to your stomach. You straightened up, shoulders back and spine relaxed. You stretched your lips here and there, weird grotesque smiles and pouts and bared teeth to check for the millionth time that the slash of red lipstick had not strayed. You batted your eyes at yourself before turning away and beginning a gentle walk down to the splash of light in the hall from which a daunting array of chatter, clinking glasses, and soft instrumental seasonal tunes emitted. 

When Mrs. Targaryen heard (from the mouths of your parents no less) that you had finally returned after three years of university (“not even one visit during all that time?!” she had inquired to your mother - who then promptly explained that they went up North to you instead), she had impressed upon your mother that if you declined to attend her annual holiday party that she would take it as a personal affront. 

So here you were, fashionably late (only due to the almost clinical level of overthinking you had engaged in from the moment you began to dress to just a second prior) and ready to show your face in what you and Helaena had affectionately dubbed ‘high society’ once more. 

It’s not like you had cut off ties with everyone when you left. Almost everyone who had followed you on instagram was still there, nestled in your private profile (except the select few that were occasionally pruned on days you were bored). You still responded to messages, were still in the group chats (despite never once contributing), facetimed friends, et cetera, et cetera. Just because you didn’t return didn’t mean anything (except, of course, that it did). 

You stepped into the room, slow but steady, and took a moment to gaze around the ballroom. You were unsurprised at the continuing theme of green. Dark green curtains cinched back at each bay-style window, sashes and bows of the same fabric framing the tops. Dark green, satiny, tablecloths draped carefully over the standing tables dotted all around. The Christmas tree near the back towered over everyone, glowing with yellow lights and gold, silver, and phthalo green baubles. You still remembered how Mrs. Targaryen said that coloured tree lights were tacky, one of the more posh things you had heard from her in your early teen years. 

You dropped your gaze to the people. You could see some familiar faces, girls you hadn’t spoken to since the end of school, but whose instagram stories still diligently kept you up to date on their lives. Other people who had dropped off your radar completely and now brought vague and somewhat touching memories to mind of moments shared in classes, laughs and jokes once given and received. 

You caught glimpses of Mrs. Targaryen’s auburn hair through breaks in the crowd, a delicate hold on a flute of glass filled with non-alcoholic cider. Since you had known her she had refused to partake in drink, something that had earned your respect once upon a time. Before… 

You caught sigh of Aemond in the corner, a shiny black suit doing well to blend him into the shadows. He was gently grasping a flute glass in long elegant fingers, and his eyepatch was a perfect match to his suit, pressed perfectly to his face and over his neatly combed man bun. 

His ever watchful eyes caught you quickly, a spark of recognition, a little lift of the brow, the careful deposit of his glass on the table as he began rounding it. You smiled, lifted your hand in a little wave and waited for him to find you. 

His progress was interrupted, though not halted, by his sister gliding into view and smiling brightly as she gently grasped your arms for a moment before pulling them away. The most hug she could ever give you with her aversion to physical touch. You had never once minded, you had grown up with Helaena just the way she was, gentle Helaena as you often called her. 

Though she couldn’t handle touch, she stood as close as possible without it and beamed at you, the most unabashed grin you had ever seen from her. 

Her cheeks were rosy and her beautiful hair was gathered into a beautiful braided knot at the back of her head. She wore a dress of green and silver, emphasising the pale silveriness of her skin, no doubt a mutated form of the gown her own mother was wearing. 

“I can’t believe you’re back!” She said in an excited little voice, husky and gentle. You resisted the urge to clasp her hands in yours and instead held tighter to your clutch. 

“Me neither, it's been a long time,” you sighed. You could see the touch of seriousness twinge Helaena’s face, but you looked over her shoulder and beckoned Aemond closer before she could voice it. 

“Hello Y/n,” his soft whispery voice had not changed since you’d been gone. “Finally returned?” 

You smiled at him, pulling him into a little side hug before threading your arm through his and pulling yourself tight to him. It felt familiar, homely. You had been forcing the poor boy into cuddles since your families had been connected. 

“Yes, Mr. Dragon,” a teasing but rare nickname that made his remaining eye twitch in annoyance. “Back for now.” 

“I’m your elder, you should show some respect,” he gritted out, trying to shake you off his arm halfheartedly. You simply clung on and pressed a quick teasing peck to his cheek. Though it was technically true that you were younger than him (though only just about), you had been at just the right age to gain all the siblings’ friendship rather than becoming a patronised younger hanger-on. 

Aemond huffed but stopped his attempts to detach himself from you. You had always been a little too loving for his tastes. 

Helaena leaned her elbows on the standing table the three of you had gravitated toward and gently began fiddling with the clasp of your clutch which you had thrown down at the first opportunity. Your eyes drifted to the crowd again, as if you were looking for someone, and Helaena cleared her throat. 

“Have you seen him yet?” She asked in that quiet halting way of hers. You snapped your eyes back to her, felt Aemond stiffen a little in your grip. You wanted to think of something witty and gently humorous to say but there was the hint of a lump in your throat so you just shook your head with a pathetic little smile. 

“Ah,” Aemond nodded and then pursed his lips, swallowing and then gazing down at the table. 

“I’m a little scared to,” you whispered, now fiddling with the other end of your clutch. 

“Because you broke his heart?” 

“Aemond!” Helaena exclaimed, glaring at him as you took the glass out of his hand and sipped from it. 

“Because I’m scared I regret it,” you blurted out, exhaling long and slow. Helaena smiled sympathetically and reached forward to awkwardly pat your hands twice. 

You could see Mrs. Targaryen over her daughter’s shoulder, making her way closer and then setting her eyes on you. She smiled that polite and reserved smile she always used, then pulled you into a gentle hug when she got to you. She issued you on the cheek then lightly grasped both your arms to look at you properly. 

“How are you, my dear? It has been far too long.” You smiled and nodded, brushing a piece of your hair from your face. 

“I’m alright, thank you, Mrs. Targaryen. Just trying to relax for a little while right now.” SHe nodded along to your words and smiled softly, the way she had once done when you were little and thanking her for letting you stay over for a sleepover with Helaena. 

“Congratulations on your graduation, dear. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you could achieve great things.” You felt the bashfulness burn under your skin and bowed your head in thanks. 

When you looked up, you caught sight of him in the distance behind her. He was talking to someone, one hand grasping a drink and the other safely tucked into his trouser pocket. His hair was a little shorter than before, slicked back so it only flicked up at the ends by his neck. You could see an earring, his constant, and an array of rings on his hand. You wondered if he still wore the one you got him all those years ago. He was smiling, chuckling at whatever the other person had said, and you felt something clench somewhere inside of you. 

He looked… clean, well put-together, comfortable in his skin. You hoped he felt that way. His eyes flicked towards you and you turned your attention back to Mrs. Targaryen, nodding and smiling as she filled you in on all the changes about the place before she ultimately found another person that needed to be met. 

“I’ll just go say hello to Daphne, but I’ll find you again soon, dear.” She kissed you on the cheek and paused just as she was about to leave. She looked you right in the eye and gave you the most sincere smile you had ever seen from her. “It;s very good to see you again.’ And then she was off once more. 

You turned back to the table with Helaena and Aemond and motioned for one of the waiters to come over. You grabbed a drink off his tray and instantly began taking quick little sips from it. The side of your face burned and you couldn’t tell if it was because he might be staring at you or because you were simply aware he was on that side of the room. 

Suddenly the sting became agitation and you knew you needed fresh air right at that moment or you would start blabbering whatever words popped into your head and you were not interested in handling that particular panic symptom. 

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” your voice was abrupt, curt, as you began reaching for your clutch and picking it up. 

“You don’t even smoke,” Helaena exclaimed quietly. 

“There’s always time to start,” you mumbled as you turned away and walked out of the room, heading back the way you had come only such a short time ago. 

The air was brisk, like cold palms being laid flat against your skin as you shivered on the doorstep. 

You could just leave now and go home. You had shown your face at the party, there was no need to stay. You also knew that if you left before dinner, Mrs. Targaryen would be annoyed beyond belief. And leaving without telling Helaena felt like a betrayal anyway. She would understand you needing air for however long you wanted but she would expect you back in at some point. 

For now, you could just shiver on the doorstep, gulping in the lungfuls of icy air and thinking deep philosophical thoughts. 

The door opened a moment later and you turned toward the sound. He was a silhouette in the golden backlight, like a sign from god. You just stared at him as he slowly came outside and shut the door behind him. Your arms wrapped tighter around yourself. 

He didn’t say a word, just continued looking at you as he lifted his arm and held it out to you, your coat proffered in his hand. You gently took it from him and he watched you slip it on. 

“Y/n,” he said your name so evenly, no emotion, no indication of his thoughts. You sort of hated that you could no longer tell what he was thinking. His voice had not changed, you thoguht, then scolded yourself because why would it have? 

“Aegon,” you whispered, chewing on your lip as you glanced toward him then away then back again. You could only accept him in small doses right now. 

“You’re back,” he responded, showing his hands into his pockets as he looked out onto the gravel drive then back to you. You could see his truck parked by the garage on the far side, near the hedges on the property line. It was just as garish and hold as it had always been. Just as full of memories. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip a little harder until it stung. 

“You didn’t say,” and he sounded almost offended, as if you hadn’t just ignored him for the past three years. 

“Should I have?” You mumbled, glancing back at him then away again. He was staring, unabashedly, at your face. 

“No,” he shook his head slowly, back and forth, then popped his lips. “Nope.”

In the silence that followed, you felt the pressure of the air on your brain. Your eyes stung and your throat clogged and you could do nothing but let the waves wash over you. You turned to him, stared at his blurry outline through the tears and felt your lips begin to shake with the sobs threatening at your throat and tongue. He was quick to pull you in, to wrap his arms around you and tuck your face in against his neck. 

He was so warm, as he had always been, but leaner now, less soft and more defined muscle. He smelt clean too, like fresh ocean-scented laundry detergent and cold cologne and his weird spicy shampoo. He clung to you tightly and gently hushed you and you wanted to hit him, to pummel him on the chest and slap him across the face. 

How dare he be so nice? How dare he comfort you when you deserved none of it? How dare he be so kind when all you had done was break his heart when he deserved the pain the least? You sobbed harshly against his shoulder, wrapped your arms around him and clung tightly. You could feel the damp fabric under your face. You only pressed closer until the sobs became quiet little blubbers and you could feel the drip of a tear against the back of your neck, the press of his pursed lips against your hair. 

You pulled away quickly, turned your back to him as you began hurriedly wiping at your cheeks and praying your waterproof mascara worked. You could hear him sniffing behind you, and you paused, closed your eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then whispered, 

“I’m sorry.” He waited for a beat. 

“For what?” 

“I-” you swallowed, turned back around, looked into the bright, shiny, achingly beautiful blue of his eyes, the little line of water balanced precariously behind his eyelid. “I don’t know. A lot of things.” Your voice was clogged and pain-filled and you swallowed again. 

“Let’s be specific then,” he breathed out, smiling the joking little smile when he was feeling sarcastic and teasing, but a sadder, waterier, version. 

“For leaving when I did, for not explaining properly and maturely, for not calling.” You paused. “For letting myself believe I didn’t love you that much. For thinking that leaving also had to mean leaving behind.” You brought your hand up and began chewing on the side of your finger. He was quick to bring your hand back down, a gentle press on the forearm to force your arm back to your side. You cleared your throat and wrapped your arms around yourself. You looked off into the distance, into the black night by hedges. 

“Helaen told me you got out of rehab last year.” You began chewing on your lip. He cleared his throat. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “one and a half years sober now.” 

“Congrats,” you whispered. “You look good, sobriety suits you.” You paused. Gulped. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. What does that even mean…” you glanced at his face and the smile he was trying so hard to repress, the mischievous glint in his eyes. A breathless laugh escaped you, a pitchy little giggle that was most likely insanely unattractive but made you feel freer, a little lighter. 

The sudden bursting wish that he would kiss you was blinding. And sobering. You cleared your throat and looked away again. 

“It’s ok,” he finally said in a sigh, strolling closer. “Well, I mean, as ok as getting your heart broken by the girl you thought you would marry can be.” You shot him a glare. 

“Don’t joke about this.” 

“Why not? I’m the one that got heartbroken if I remember correctly.” “Aegon.” 

“Alright, sorry,” he hugged, but the smile said he really wasn’t. You clenched your hands together. 

“I was wrong,” you finally blurted out. 

You hadn’t been expecting to do this tonight. You had sat in your bedroom a week after you had returned and thought about how you would get in contact with him. A text message perhaps, a letter passed through Helaena if you were feeling old school, something to let him know you wanted to talk. And then you would meet him at a coffee shop, or maybe at the park where you used to force him to take walks with you so he wouldn’t sit in his room thinking about all the drugs he could be doing. 

But then Mrs. Targaryen had bumped into your mother and you had been forced into attendance, and you suppose the unavoidable is as the name suggests… unavoidable. 

Aegon didn’t say a word. 

“I was wrong in so many ways that I actually don’t even know where to start now…” you shifted a little, fiddling with a coin you had left in your coat pocket.

You could almost see the argument play out in your mind’s eye like a movie. The university acceptance letter crumpled in your hand as you both stood in his room. You were looking at him apprehensively, at the darkness in his eyes as you told him how excited you were, how you had to start packing and booking flights and… You could hear him asking what would happen between you two, what would become of the beautiful budding little thing the two of you had cultivated in the midst of all the troubles of your lives. 

“I don’t know,” you had said hesitatingly, looking down at the paper in your hands. You were young and irrational then. Though you had only grown three years older since (a blip of time in the grand scheme of things), so much had changed since. 

You could remember the way you had said you were going, as if he had ever mentioned stopping you. How defensive you had gotten when there had been no attack. 

“What about us?” He had asked. “What about me?” And the stupid, angry, words you had said. How you weren’t going to let anything hold you back. Not even this. 

It had felt so right at the time, to tamp down the feelings you had for the chance at an exciting, independent life. Not knowing… Not knowing what he had been going through. Not knowing that he hid those dark, struggling, parts of himself from you so you would only ever see the sunny side of life. Not knowing that he was just sitting there and taking all that shit from you because he would do anything to make you happy. 

And you, spoilt and ignorant you, had just up and left and taken three years to realise that while you enjoyed your life away from home, it could only have been better with him still in it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the drinking and the drugs? Why did you let me say all that shit to you?” You looked at him, feeling the tears burn again but ignoring them as you reached out and grasped his hand between yours, gently running your fingers across his own. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled in return, bringing his other hand to do the same across the back of your hand. 

You supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you knew, even if he didn’t say it. And it didn’t really need to be said anyway. 

You moved even closer, gently cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, nuzzled his face into your palm and took a shaky breath in, then out. You ran your thumb across his cheekbone, back and forth, feeling the barest hint of stubble come in. 

“Aegon,” you mumbled, pressing a little closer so that more of you touched him, so that more of you could nuzzle into his warmth. “I can’t promise that I’ll stay here,” you began hesitantly, “but if I leave again, will… will you come with me?” 

Aegon opened his eyes and looked at you. Deep into your eyes as if he could see to the very dark core of your soul. 

He could see the first time the two of you had kissed, awkward and gentle in the darkness of the Targaryen manor kitchen when you were getting water late at night during a sleepover with Helaena and he was sneaking back in from a party. 

He could see the text messages where he had shyly asked you out on a date despite already having kissed you. The quick response you had sent, eager and unafraid. 

He could see all the little dates between the highs and the drunken stupors. He could see the times you had sat in his room, studying at his desk while he lay on his bed, still a little buzzed, thinking about the next party or dwelling on the way his mother had yelled and called him a failure, compared him to you, only a few hours prior. 

He could see the years of silence. The news that you had packed and gone off to university, left him behind like he always knew you would. Your number, still in his phone, left untouched. Radio silence. 

He looked at you now, teary eyed and so pained, so apologetic. At your shiny and sparkly red dress. At your lips. 

He pitched forward and pressed his mouth firmly to yours. He kissed you like he was drinking water. He kissed you like he had not taken a breath in three years… and you were air.

[semperama]

maxiel, hurt/comfort, just a little something I threw together to comfort myself after today.

Somehow, Max ends up following Daniel back to his motorhome. His mouth is still going a mile a minute, but Daniel isn't hearing distinct words anymore, only a low and comforting hum. He's tried to remember to nod every now and then. To smile. Otherwise Max might stop.

"Don't you have a ton of shit to do?" Daniel says when he can find a gap. He digs his phone out of his pocket with his good hand, glances at the absurd number of notifications he has, then tosses it down on the table. He can deal with that later. Or never.

"Huh?" Max says, and when Daniel looks up at him, he seems legitimately perplexed, like he's completely forgotten where--and who--he is.

"It's your home race, mate," Daniel says. "Don't you have a fuckton of press or whatever?"

"Oh." Max looks at his watch, frowns, then shrugs. "I don't really care. They can survive without asking me the exact same questions for the hundredth time, I think."

Daniel snorts. Max is probably right. What are they going to do, fire him? "As long as you don't get me in trouble," he says. He turns and flops down onto the couch, then winces, hisses, when it jostles his hand. "Fuck."

"Careful," Max says, rushing closer, his hands hovering. His voice is so...it's like something he'd use with his nephews, admonishing and gentle, and Daniel feels his throat close up, his eyes burn.

"I'm fine," he says, flapping his free hand at Max. "They have me wrapped up so tight, you could whack me with a hammer and I'd be fine."

Max frowns at him. "Let's not test it, alright?" He sits down next to Daniel, gingerly. It's awkward, sort of. Daniel hates visiting with people in this cramped space--sitting on the miniature sofa, nothing to look at but the kitchenette, the tiny window filled entirely by a rectangle of the wall of the motorhome next door. And now, he's too exhausted and in too much pain to be entertaining.

Still, he doesn't want Max to leave.

"Did they give you good pain meds?" Max asks.

Daniel lets his head tip back, and he closes his eyes. "Yep," he says, "but I'm just on Tylenol right now. The other stuff makes me feel sick." He takes a deep breath in, blows it out slow, focuses on the way his chest rises and falls. He can feel Max next to him, the heat of him. He knows how much he'd have to lean sideways for their bodies to be touching. "I'll take something stronger before bed, maybe." Then, because it's Max and Max is safe, he adds, "I wish I could just go home."

Fingers--warm and gentle--on the side of his face, first, and then on his neck, then gripping his shoulder, squeezing carefully. "I can leave, if you want," Max says.

They aren't like this with each other. They touch each other, sure--fist bumps, shoulder pats, hugs if they haven't seen each other in a while, all carefully platonic--but they don't touch like this. Daniel can feel Max's thumb on the skin just above the collar of his shirt, and it's hard to breathe, suddenly. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

"You can stay," he says.

What is this? Pity? He wants to look at Max's face, but he's too fucking scared. Scared he'll burst into tears or--or something even worse than that. Things have been so good. He didn't even realize how much he missed Max until he was seeing him this much again, laughing with him all the time, catching his eyes from across a room or across a table or across Checo's oblivious head and feeling...at home. Feeling like someone understands him and wants him around and--and wants him. Just him. Just as he is.

But Max has his own shit going on. His own life. His own friends. A fame Daniel won't match in his wildest dreams. Sometimes it feels like their roles are reversed from when Max first came to Red Bull. They have a similar rhythm, but Max is slightly out in front.

And now Max is touching him, and Daniel's not sure he can catch up.

"Or you can go," Daniel adds, quieter. "Whatever you want. I might pass out soon anyway."

Max's thumb slides along his collar and dips underneath. Daniel sucks in a sharp breath, anticipating it when Max slides his hand back up to his jaw and tugs it carefully toward him. Daniel's eyes are still shut when Max's mouth presses against his.

It's weird how much it doesn't feel weird. Max's mouth is so familiar against his that, if it weren't for his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, Daniel could swear they'd done this a hundred times already.

"I don't want to leave you," Max says, his lips soft against Daniel's cheek, then pressing again to the corner of his mouth, like he can't bring himself to put even an inch between them again. And yeah, Daniel gets it. He does.

"Fine by me," he says. If it weren't for his stupid fucking busted hand, he'd have pulled Max closer already. "Just be gentle with me."

It's a joke, kind of. He's not sure why he has to reach up and thumb a tear away from the corner of his own eye.

"Of course," Max says, and kisses him again. Again. "Of course."

[duhshereadz]

Timebomb but in college:

The art studio was quiet, save for the low hum of a fan spinning overhead and the gentle scratching of pencils against sketchbooks. The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows, casting golden rectangles across the hardwood floors and catching on the vibrant streak of blue in Jinx’s hair as she leaned over her sketchpad.

Jinx was anything but conventional. Her style was chaotic, a mess of doodles and scribbled phrases scrawled in every direction. But there was a charm to her chaos—a story hidden in the erratic lines and overlapping colors. She chewed on the end of her pencil, her leg bouncing under the table. Her combat boots tapped against the chair leg rhythmically, breaking the silence.

Across the room, Ekko sat at his own table, head bent over his work. His dreads were pulled back into a loose ponytail, a single strand hanging rebelliously in front of his face. He was meticulously shading a cityscape, every detail in the foreground and background placed with intention. His style was the polar opposite of Jinx’s, and yet they fit together in a way neither could fully explain.

He glanced up, his dark eyes catching on the figure across the room. Jinx, deep in thought, looked like she was concocting something in that chaotic brain of hers. Ekko smiled faintly and shook his head before going back to his sketch. But a few seconds later, his pencil stopped mid-stroke.

“Hey, Powder,” he called, the name slipping out naturally, teasingly.

Jinx’s head shot up, a smirk already forming on her lips. “Don’t call me that, stopwatch,” she fired back, her voice carrying easily through the quiet room.

Ekko chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What are you working on over there? Another masterpiece?”

Jinx held up her sketchpad, turning it around dramatically. It was an explosion of colors and swirling lines—figures and objects barely distinguishable from one another. Somewhere in the chaos, he could make out the faint outline of a figure mid-leap, surrounded by jagged bursts of energy.

“Wow,” he said, leaning forward with mock-seriousness. “I think that might be your best yet. Totally screams ‘I didn’t do the homework.’”

Jinx laughed, loud and unapologetic. She dropped the sketchpad onto the table and leaned her chin in her hand, her blue eyes sparkling. “What about you, huh? Still drawing buildings like you’re auditioning for some boring architecture firm?”

Ekko spun his sketchbook around to show her. The cityscape was breathtaking, with towering buildings and intricate shadows cast by streetlights. But in the corner of the page, there was something new—a tiny figure sitting on a rooftop, her hair whipping wildly in the wind. The detail was unmistakable.

Jinx blinked. “Is that…?”

“Yup,” Ekko said, grinning.

“Me?” she asked, leaning forward as if to get a closer look. Her voice was softer now, her usual sharpness replaced by something almost shy.

“Who else would it be?” Ekko shrugged, trying to sound casual. But the slight flush on his cheeks gave him away. “You’re always on my mind anyway. Figured I’d sneak you into my city.”

Jinx stared at him, her usual snark momentarily failing her. Instead, she tilted her head and let a genuine smile tug at her lips. “You’re such a sap, stopwatch.”

“And you love it,” Ekko shot back, closing his sketchbook and standing up.

He walked over to her, pulling a chair next to hers without asking. Jinx didn’t protest; instead, she scooted over slightly to give him room. He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her sketchbook again.

“You know, it’s messy, but it’s got heart,” he said, tapping the page lightly. “Just like you.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, but her cheeks turned pink. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d punch you for that.”

“You can punch me anyway,” Ekko said with a laugh, nudging her shoulder.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, their sketchbooks forgotten. The golden hour light bathed them in warmth, and the hum of the fan became a soothing background melody.

“Hey,” Jinx said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah?” Ekko turned to her, curious.

“You ever think about how weird this is?” she asked, gesturing between them. “Like, you’re all… grounded and smart and stuff. And I’m—”

“Brilliant and unstoppable?” Ekko interrupted.

Jinx froze, then laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re incredible,” he said, his voice softer this time.

For a second, the air between them changed. Jinx’s usual bravado faltered, and Ekko’s confident grin softened into something more earnest. He reached out, hesitating for only a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“You’re really something, Jinx,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For once, she didn’t have a sarcastic reply. Instead, she leaned forward, her forehead pressing lightly against his.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she murmured before closing the gap between them.

The kiss was gentle but electric, like a spark igniting something long overdue. It was messy, like Jinx’s sketches, and deliberate, like Ekko’s cityscapes. Perfectly them.

When they pulled back, Jinx was grinning, and Ekko couldn’t help but laugh.

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me now,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes soft.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ekko replied, resting his forehead against hers.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the room in shades of orange and pink. Their sketchbooks lay abandoned on the table, but neither of them cared. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of them—and the beginnings of something extraordinary.

[reina-petrova]

Save The Last Dance for Me ・❥・ Elejah

↳Elena likes to dance, and Elijah likes to watch.

↳Smut, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, light sub/dom tendencies, possessive!Elijah

↳4.4k words

↳ unabashedly based on the song "Save the Last Dance for Me" by Michael Bublé

↳ Read on AO3

Elena feels his eyes on her all night long. 

His gaze is warm and heady, which is just how her body feels as the tequila courses through her veins, igniting her from the inside. Her muscles are loose and her laugh is free as she tips her head back mid-spin, her white skirt fanning around her hips.

Her dancing partner keeps a firm but gentle grip on her waist as he spins her again, and Elena delights in it as she steps smoothly in her heels. 

The club is a hole in the wall tucked away between the streets of the city, one of a few littering the neighbourhood. A two storey-building with a club on the first floor and a modest restaurant upstairs, with a balcony overlooking the street and flowers draping over the veranda. Inside, the dance floor is the main attraction, a huge rectangle of worn, creaking wooden floors that expand the entirety of the room. The bar is tucked away in the corner, almost in complete darkness under the warm, dim lighting, with chairs and tables lining the perimeter. Empty shot glasses and wine glasses and whiskey glasses litter almost every flat surface, extinguished cigarettes left in ashtrays or sometimes crushed beneath dancing feet. The room is full of smoke and perfume and summer air, swirling its heavy haze overhead. Several live bands make their rounds during the summer weeks, and this one is a particulate favourite of Elena’s, with their sensual Latin energy mixed with a hypnotic beat. 

Light and music and laughter and people spill from its open doors all night, sometimes well into the dawn. Elena never feels more at home than within the walls of the club, and most when she takes to the floor, the energy of the crowd imbibing her, making her body sway uncontrollably. 

She returns to her partner’s arms and smiles at nothing in particular, her head lazily falling back, and he returns it, thinking it is for him - they often do. His hand slightly tightens around her body, but it remains careful and unsure. Elena hardly notices, so enraptured is she in the beat of the music as it crescendos. He leads well, on beat and rhythmic, if a little stiff, but she is the fire, and she has no problem keeping up. She dances like she was born to it, and to anybody with eyes, it is clear she was. 

Elena allows herself to be spun once more before he collects her in his arms again, and she feels him try to become bolder. 

“What was your name again?” He asks, leaning towards her slightly to hear over the thumping of the music. 

“Elena.” She responds with a smile, not offended at him not remembering her name as she’d long forgotten his. “And yours?” 

“I’m Matt.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt.” 

Elena’s gaze travels over Matt’s shoulder to see if he’s still watching. He is. Reclining in a wooden chair, back pressed against the wall, a drink held lightly between two fingers. He paints a tall, dark figure, clad in a dark suit with a white dress shirt, the top buttons undone from the heat of the club. His legs are long, one bent casually, and the light catches the sliver of his cuff links and the silver ring on his finger as he tips the drink between an amused smile. His features are classically handsome, a strong jaw and straight nose, and dark eyes with a particular hunger in them. A sharp contrast as her attention returns to Matt’s earnest ones. 

“You’re a great dancer.” He says. 

“Thank you, it’s what I love to do.” The music swells, ringing triumphantly in Elena’s ears, then finishes with a flourish. Matt’s hands drop reluctantly from Elena’s body, the pair of them applauding the band as the players took their brief bows and began to prepare for the next song. The other dancers chat briefly, swap partners, or go to sit and enjoy their drinks. Elena is tied to the dance floor in every way, especially as the night begins to wane, and the moon begins to rise. She could not imagine missing a single moment.  

“I hope we can dance again soon.” Matt says, his courage slipping with the end of the song, and Elena smiles with a slight nod as he disappears into the crowd towards another table on the far side of the club. 

It isn’t but a moment later that another hand gently taps against her shoulder, and she whips around to see a black haired man standing in front of her, a smooth smile on his face. “I’ve seen you out there. Mind if I try my luck?” He offers her a hand. 

The drummer taps his sticks, and the guitarist joins in a blaze as the drums kick in. Elena takes his hand, and she’s whirled away into the crowd. She feels the weight of his gaze follow her even as her back is turned, and she pulls back to not disappear too closely into the throng. She wants him to see. 

The man, Damon, doesn’t seem to notice, as he already whispers his name in her ear and coaxes hers from her lips. He dances much differently than Matt, who was respectful and traditional. Damon is all passion and fire. She immediately feels Damon’s arm pull her closer to him, but she pays it little mind. The music has taken root inside her, and nothing else can reach her now. 

The beat picks up, and Damon keeps up with her as well as he can. Elena’s hips gyrate as she raises her hands in the hair, brushing her hair and whipping it around. Damon’s fingers press into her skin, and she lets it spur her body, the feeling of the alcohol simmering hotly in her veins. She sees desire in Damon’s eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, but it does not spark in her own.

“I like the way you move.” He praises with a soft murmur. Elena smiles, though doesn’t commit to a response. Damon lifts an expectant brow at that, a curious grin painting his features as he moves his hips against hers. Elena’s head swims; she can almost feel the club falling away around her. 

“I’ve seen you here before, you know. It takes a lot for me to notice someone, but you… I noticed right away.” Damon manages to keep his words soft and sultry despite the volume of the music, craning his head towards her left temple to whisper in her ear. It brings her back and distracts her from the music.

She takes the opportunity to look over to see him, finishing his drink and ordering another. He adjusts his jacket and she wonders how he can stand it in this thick, summer heat. But he never looks unkempt or uncomfortable - simply content, in control. Once the fresh drink comes, she sees the ice cubes rattle in the glass gently as he sips at the fine whiskey. Nothing but the best. 

“Did you?” Elena remembers to respond. Her eye lingers just another moment on him, noting the way his long fingers touch the glass, the ease in his posture, before returning to the dance floor. She spots another man looking at her a few feet away, a tall dirty blonde man leaning against the wall. 

“Mm. You know how to laugh.” Damon’s hands released her long enough to spin her, faster and more abruptly than Matt. It worked; a laugh erupted from between her pink lips at the suddenness of it. Elena’s feet expertly turned to the beat. 

“And you know how to talk.” She smirks up at him as the band amps up the tempo. “I noticed that.”

Damon chuckles wryly. “That I do. It tends to get me what I want. A dance, to start.”

“Mm, that it did.” Damon waits as Elena opens her mouth again. “But I’m afraid I can’t give you any more than that.” 

To Damon’s credit, he nods with a slight smile, finishing the dance with as good a grace as any. Elena’s laughter escapes her once more as Damon’s spins her for the final time. 

“I hope you have a lovely evening, Elena.” He presses a chaste kiss to her hand before disappearing into the crowd, a dark shadow among the parting crowd. 

The night is waning, the crowd slowly thinning, and the band is belting out its choice hits as the final songs for the night. Elena feels she has only one or two left in her, and the heat starts to become oppressive as her dress sticks to her skin. 

“Excuse me.” 

The dirty blonde man appears in front of her and extends a gentlemanly hand. “Can I get you a drink?” 

Elena hesitates for just a moment, but as the warmth begins to flush from her neck into her cheeks, she nods with a small, grateful chuckle. “Maybe just a water.”

“Come on then.” He doesn’t touch her but lifts his arm to gesture towards the bar and Elena follows, picking up a glass off the side of the bar and flipping the tap of the ice cooler mounted to the side of it to fill it up. She drinks it down greedily.

“So, what do you think? Have you danced to every song in their discography by now?”

Elena laughs quietly as she swallows another mouthful of water, crunching an errant ice cube between her teeth. “Pretty sure they only have about six songs, they start repeating them around midnight when everybody is too drunk to notice.”

“I knew I wasn’t going crazy.” 

“But they always save the best for last. They’re about to play my second favourite now.” Elena finishes the rest of her water and places the cup onto a nearby rack. She recognizes the first few beats instantly, excitement colouring her features. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way. I’m Stefan.” 

The crowd thinner now, there is no denying the viewpoint he would have of them. Elena’s eyes search for him as Stefan takes her hand and her waist, and she pictures them as his. Soon. 

She spots the table again, but he’s gone, several empty whiskey glasses left behind. She tries to hide the disappointment in her eyes as Stefan moves her body along the dance floor, though happiness infects her soon again as the beat thrums in her chest. She dances her heart out as usual, and after a few minutes, the song begins to slow, and as the band trails off, they announce that the next would be their last for the night. Anticipation blooms in her chest. 

“Are you all alone?” Stefan asks between songs, genuineness in his voice. “Can I walk you home?”

In that moment, a figure appears in her peripheral clad in a white dress shirt, and she smiles shyly as her eyes fall upon him for the millionth time that night.

“No,” Her arms fall slack slightly from Stefan’s frame. “I’m not alone.”

Elijah walks up, inclining his head politely at Stefan before slipping his hand around Elena’s waist gently, markedly. Suit jacket gone, cuff links gone, and now he is only in his white dress shirt, sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his forearms. Elena believes that he’d even unbuttoned one more specifically for her, exposing the beautiful column of his throat.  

Stefan drops his head slightly in understanding at the sight of Elijah, a good-natured smile appearing on his lips. 

“I see. Well, I wish you good night, Elena.” He walks into the crowd, and the band begins. 

The soft, sensual tempo is a notable change from the frenetic songs played just moments ago. Elena slips into it as comfortably as a silk dress, into Elijah’s expert hands as he guides her towards the dance floor. She tips her head back to look at him, his tall frame dwarfing hers. Desire pools in her lower stomach at the feeling of his long fingers against her waist, pressing slightly into her hip bone. Finally. 

This had become something of a regular occurrence for them; though no stranger to the dance floor, Elijah is most content in watching Elena come alive on the dance floor, stepping in only to claim the final dance, and in a way, her. It’s her favourite song for a reason. 

She settles into his arms, one hand on his broad chest and the other gently cupped in his, raised between them. She can feel his silver wedding ring against her fingertips with the way his fingers bend down over hers. He holds her assuredly, his strength a comfort to her as she gives herself over to him. Her head rests for a moment against his chest, her cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt.  

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He murmurs, looking down at her, his voice a velvety rumble in his chest. Elena beams up at him, cheeks flushed and lips pink from the heat, hair mussed from the spins. She finally feels the ache in her feet, but it seems to disappear now that Elijah was holding her. 

“Yes, I always do.” 

Elijah directs her into a slow spin, capturing her body with practiced ease as he dips her down. She smiles again as he lifts her back to him again, rewarding him with a kiss. His lips are soft but hold a promise of something deeper. Her heart races at the thought, and he seems to notice, pulling her closer to his body.

“I’m glad.” He lifts one hand from her waist to brush over her hair, smoothing it gently before tucking a loose strand behind her ear. 

“Were you watching the whole time?”

“Yes. You certainly had an array of suitors tonight.” 

“Perhaps a few.” She laughs. “You don’t mind?”

“No. I like seeing you dance, Elena. I like other men seeing what they cannot have. I like knowing that you are mine.” 

Elena glances at her own wedding band, silver to match, on her left hand as her fingertips brush against his chest, and chuckles wryly.

“How is it they never notice my ring?”

“Because they want to believe they will be the ones to take you home tonight, darling. But only I get to.” The possessiveness in his voice sends delicious sparks down her spine. 

“Only you get to do a lot of things.” She responds, pointedly rolling her hips against his. She could already feel the trace of his desire through his trousers, and Elijah smirked down at her through lidded eyes for a beat. He lowers his head towards her ear, and only his words earn the shiver that others tried to coax from her. 

“I plan to do many of them tonight.”

Elena hums, tracing her hands along the slope of his shoulders, then against the nape of his neck. She feels the tension and anticipation mount between them as the song reaches the final few moments. She looks up at him again through her lashes, a demure gesture compared to the sinful way that her body is moving. 

“This is my favourite song.” 

“I know, darling.” 

Once the song is finished, the rest of the evening dissipates into a quick blur; the tab paid, Elijah grabs her hand and his suit jacket, and leads her back to the car. As Elena settles into the plush leather seats with the windows rolled down, she lets the warm summer breeze waft over her, heavy and sweet. Her body aches deliciously from the dancing, another evening of pure bliss. From her periphery, she sees Elijah glance over at her, then reach over to place his hand on her thigh, a quiet underlying promise. 

As they crash through the front door, a tangle of grasping hands and feverish kisses, Elena breaks free to kick off her heels and run to the bedroom, her laugh ringing out as she disappears behind the walls. Elijah quickly follows, dropping his suit jacket onto the floor and toeing off his shoes before catching up to her. 

Elena peels the white skirt and top from her body, feeling the lingering traces of sweat on her body. Elijah doesn’t seem to notice or care as his hands and mouth immediately descend on her, skidding across her ribs and cupping her breasts. Her own hands greedily finish unbuttoning his dress shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. His torso is well defined, lean and long, with a pronounced V-line disappearing beneath his trousers. Fingertips trace along his muscles teasingly as she reaches for the belt next, and Elijah laughs against her mouth at her eagerness. 

“Do you want something, Mrs. Mikaelson?”

She smiles triumphantly when the laughter shifts into a deep moan in his throat at the feeling of her featherlight touch against his erection. 

“I think you know I do.”

The pants are shed instantly, both left entirely in their nakedness. Desire floods Elijah’s eyes as he presses his mouth against hers intently, his fingers now digging gently into the curves of her hips. The kiss only breaks for a moment as he leans down to place his hands against the backs of her thighs, lifting her with ease. Elena hums in delight at the feeling of his strong arms around her, pressing a quick kiss to his neck before he lays her down onto the bed.

She snaps back up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his lean body firmly against hers, her legs thighs parting as he settles his hips between hers. 

“So eager for me, darling.”

“Only for you.” She hisses at the feeling of his knee between her thighs, and she shifts down along the bed, searching friction. “I only want you.”

“Do you like when I watch you dance with those other men?”

“I love it.”

“I know you do. I see you looking for me. You want me to see how you move your body under their hands.”

“I want you to see how they want me. I want you think how you get to take me, and show me exactly who I belong to.”

“I do.” He growls beneath his breath. “All I can think about is coming up behind you on that floor and slipping my fingers underneath your clothes, down into your panties. I know you get wetter every time you meet my eye.”

“It’s my favourite game.”

Elena shudders as his hands mimic his words, disappearing between the apex of her thighs. His fingers roll gently against her clit, and she whines, her hips chasing his touch, the pressure of them. He does not relent, instead tracing a single digit along her slit, collecting the wetness and teasing her entrance. 

“Please, Elijah, I need you..”

He chuckles darkly, using the wetness on his thumb to finally roll over her clit. Her muscles tense instantly, fingers gripping the sheets beneath her as a moan builds in her throat. He knows exactly how where and when to apply pressure. It takes almost no time for her desire to build after an entire night of anticipation, of picturing their bodies entwining, and just as she feels her orgasm begin to peak, moments away from falling over the precipice, his thumb drops.

“Not yet.” 

Elena whines louder this time, a fresh sheen of sweat covering her body. “Is this my punishment?” 

“No, darling. This is my favourite game.” 

His hand drops completely from her wanting entrance, and he gestures for her to sit up against the pillows and the headboard. Elena licks her lips in anticipation as he moves up the bed before kneeling on either side of her torso, cock poised at her lips. Elena settles the pillows behind her, and steals an upward glance at Elijah as she places her hands on his thighs, giving a light squeeze of his muscles there. Seeing him hover over her, the power in his body and his eyes as he smirks down at her, she feels her wetness grow between her thighs as he places his hand gently on the back of her head to lead her towards his cock.

Elena obediently parts her lips, taking the length of him with ease until her nose touches his stomach. Elijah’s head falls back with a throaty groan, spurring Elena to slowly drag her lips up and down his length in a tantalizing way. Elijah may have more self-control than she does, but even she feels him holding back, his hips giving the slightest thrust into her warm, inviting mouth. She squeezes his thigh again in silent assent, and as he gently rolls his hips against her mouth, her eyes flicker up in time to see him lick his fingers and disappear behind him. A moan hums from her throat at the combination of his cock in her mouth and his fingers inside of her. His thumb gives her a gentle roll of her clit, but his two fingers sink into her with ease, and she presses the top of her legs against his back, furrowing her brow.

His head tilts to the side as in taunting curiosity, hand still gently keeping her head in place as his hips keep up the same rhythm as his fingers. “Does that feel good?”

“Mm.” She murmurs around his cock, hollowing her cheeks, dragging her lips almost to the very tip then back down again, meeting his thrusts.

“Yes? Are you going to come with my cock between your perfect lips, darling? While my fingers touch your pretty pussy?”

“Mmph.” She nods slightly.

His finger presses and rolls against her clit pointedly, and Elena’s hips buck underneath him, trapped beneath his straddle. He pulls his hips back, and Elena takes a soft breath intermingled with a moan.

“Let me hear you.”

Elena’s orgasm roils through her body like a violent wave, and her moans pitch with the intensity of it. His name is a prayer and a curse on her lips. Her hips squirm beneath him, nails digging into his thighs as his fingers pump her through her climax. Her eyes are screwed shut, but his other hand comes under her chin to tilt her head up, and she opens them to see his dark gaze, narrowed in desire as he watches her come undone beneath him. His tongue darts out to brush against his lower lip, and she sees her pleasure mirrored in his own. As his hand slows, playing almost absentmindedly with her wetness as her pussy clenches around his fingers, she parts her lips to take him inside of her mouth again. Elijah’s hand drops, focusing momentarily only on his own pleasure as he thrusts rhythmically into her mouth.

Elena takes it, lifting her hands to his lower back and digging her fingernails into the skin.

“Good girl.”

He pulls away from her mouth once more, a thin string of saliva lewdly connecting her mouth and his cock, and in quick succession, lowers himself onto the bed between her thighs. It takes nothing for him to slide into her, her wetness sheathing his hardened member until he settles to the hilt, both of their stomachs pressing against each other.

Though she adored the feeling of his fingers inside of her, it was nothing compared to the sheer size of him, and she shivered at the feeling of being so full, her walls clenching around him from the sensitivity of her first orgasm. 

“God, you feel so good.” Elena whispers. “Nobody makes me feel like you do.” 

Elijah presses his forehead against Elena’s in a brief moment of tenderness, sighing at the feeling of them joined. Elena wraps her legs around his slim waist, and drags her fingernails along the length of his back, up to his hair where she gently grips his short locks. 

Their faces shine with the heat of the room, and Elena’s eyes flash as he looks down at her before capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Without another word, Elijah slowly rolls his hips against Elena’s once or twice, allowing her to feel every inch of him before settling into a consistent rhythm, his hips snapping against hers fluidly. 

Elena pushes herself back into the bed, turning her head to muffle her screams in the pillows. Elijah grips her hips harsher now, pinning her in place as he pumps in and out of her. She can already feel another orgasm beginning to pitch, a molten bliss spreading over her body emanating from the heat between her legs. 

“Yes, fuck, yes.” She chants.

“Whose are you, darling?” He asks, and she hears the slightest break in his voice as exhaustion begins to take over them both. His hips still for a brief moment when she doesn’t answer, immediately earning a sound of protest from her.

His hand slowly encircles her neck, his thumb pressing against the centre of her throat. He can feel her every breath, every quiet moan that slips through as she impatiently wiggles her hips beneath his, begging for him, for his cock.

“Please-“

“Darling.” Comes his low warning, and though she sees the restraint beginning to break on his face. He presses his lips against the shell of her ear, his hand a gentle brace against her throat. “Tell me.” 

“Yours, I’m yours… Elijah.”

Elijah presses a light kiss to her jaw, just beneath her ear. “All mine, my beautiful wife.”

Satisfied, his control snaps, and Elijah’s hands slip beneath her hips to pull her closer to him, and Elena gasps at the feeling. His last few thrusts are desperate and sloppy, and she lets her head roll back as she allows him to use her entirely for his pleasure. A particularly sharp thrust causes her back to arch sharply, a string of moans escaping her lips as her orgasm hits her again, sending shivers up and down her spine.

He grunts through the last of his thrusts before spilling himself inside of her, filling her with his hot seed. Elena’s breath escapes in heavy pants as her muscles turn to lead, heavy with satiation. Their eyes meet briefly as bliss and exhaustion overtake their bodies in totality, and Elijah presses another loving kiss to Elena’s lips before pulling out of her. 

Powerless to move, she allows Elijah to collect her into his arms and settle into the bed, pressing the stubble of his cheek against the top of her head. She hums quietly to herself at the feeling of once again being in his arms, her favourite place to be. On or off the dance floor.

“Will you come with me to the club again tomorrow?” Elijah chuckles at the hopefulness in her voice. 

“Yes, darling. Save the last dance for me.” 

fin.

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇷​​🇪​​🇻​​🇮​​🇻​​🇪​​🇸​​🇨​​🇪​​🇷​​🇪​—⦂❝

— 𝐓𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Notes: Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four! Or do whatever, it's up to you! This was going to be the final part, but you know how it goes :)

Warning/s: Canon Typical behaviour, complicated relationships, explicit language, couples counselling

Words: 2.7k

The night had been long, Wade somehow managing to sequester your couch for the night while you curled up in bed. Both of you felt like pure and utter shit, more than once Wade considered crawling into your bed just to hold you again and you fought the stray thoughts of going to join him on the couch. It was frustrating and you tossed and turned until three that morning. You had no intentions of going into work or calling in, luckily for you having your ex be an infamous merc meant they wouldn't fire you over it��they'd met him, they heard about the breakup. If anything they were more likely to file a missing person's report to the police.

Which would actually be annoying so maybe you should call in. You groaned, rolling over and searching for your phone on the nightstand—only to realise those fuckers had taken it. You slapped your hand uselessly against the wood with a whine, face falling back into your pillow as you added up the amount of paychecks it would take to replace it. God dammit. Fuck.

The door to your room squeaked open and you dragged your eyes across the room to spot Wade's baby blue eyes staring back at you, it almost made you jump up—seeing his eyes again. His expression was sullen despite the comical way it poked into your room and you rolled onto your back with a sigh.

"Come in Wade." You waved him in, your arm heavy and sore and you winced, your senses coming back to you enough for you to finally note how all of you was sore. You hadn't taken stock of the scrapes on your body or the rough treatment you'd be given yesterday, they hadn't done much besides tie you to that chair but they'd been anything but gentle getting you there.

Wade skulked in and sat himself on the very end of your bed, strong back to you—still in the suit. Of course. He didn't say anything and neither did you. You didn't know what to say and you figured Wade was in the same boat. Yesterday had been a lot to process. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled, all the tiredness from the month finally caught up to you and you felt like a used rag. You'd been cleaned up at the hospital but you still didn't feel clean.

You felt a weight on your lap and lifted your head, recognition flooded you as the thin rectangle caught your eye. Your phone. You glanced at Wade as his hand retreated, his bare face directed at the adjacent wall as you slowly reached down to grab it. It was dead and more than a little scuffed up, a crack now etched into the top right of the screen leading halfway down to the middle. Great. You fumbled with the charger and plugged it in, hoping it worked. Even if it was a bit more janky from here on out you did not want to spend any cash fixing it or getting a new one. If you were gonna spend your money it'd be on a damn vacation, you more than earned one.

You set the phone down on your bedside table to await the reveal of its fate and flopped back, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. Now back to your relationship issues. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, unsure of where to even begin, you felt stuck and you knew there were only two ways this could go. Both would be tough but in one maybe you both had a chance at being kinda happy again.

"Were you serious about the counselling?" You really did fucking miss him and despite yourself you couldn't see any way to get through this without him. Problematic details be damned, you had a lot of worse issues you could deal with in therapy first. You pulled yourself up and watched the back of Wade's head, the visible tissue and missing skin deforming between the rest of his marred skin. His shoulders rose and fell, the indication of a deep and heavy sigh.

"Yeah, don't blame me if it doesn't do nothin' though."

"The only way it doesn't do anything is if you don't try. Are you willing to try for me or not?" At your question Wade turned, facing you and matching your steely gaze with a sincere one, a deep burning flame in his pale eyes you never usually got to see. It kinda sent chills through you, at how serious he looked.

"I'd burn this entire universe to the ground for you," he paused as he took on your expression, "I can do the counselling," His tone smoothed into something genuine, easing up as he leant back. You didn't know what to say at first, your heart was trudging through a dance it usually did so smoothly and you were aching all over. This was a start.

"Now if they start talkin' about us separating for good, I might have a bullet with their name on it—"

"Wade." He could never let the air still for a moment, could he? You cut him off and he smiled, it was an almost easy smile—almost relaxed. He held his hands up in surrender and you bit down your own crooked smile. It felt so similar to how you used to be, just with an overcast of what had happened. An undercurrent of that pain that would be there for a while. But maybe you could get used to it and eventually it'd fade away. You could only hope.

"So uh, does this mean I can move back in?" Wade broke the silence again as he picked at some imaginary lint on your bed, flicking it away as you shook your head. You tried not to give in at the kicked-puppy look that etched into his face when you did.

"Not yet." You murmured, trying to soften the blow. It wasn't forever, just for now, just until you two really sorted this shit out properly. Maturely, if you were capable.

"Okay, but can you tell Al because man has she not been happy to have me back." He leant back and it was almost like you felt him putting back up the wall of comedy to save himself from drowning in—all of this. You wished you could do that as easily as he did, but you were still clawing at the surface with water in your lungs. You did find it within you to chuckle though, the thought of Al having to deal with him crashing in her apartment again was pretty funny. Not for her, Wade was a terrible roommate—before you set up some big boundaries and house rules anyway. And that apparently never worked for her.

"Maybe that's because you replace her sugar with salt and other dumb shit." You mused, pulling an extra pillow behind you so you could prop yourself up and lean back.

"She crushed laxatives into my mayonnaise, it's a free for all in there—she's not as innocent as you think." He wagged his finger at you and you actually laughed, a real laugh. You knew Al wasn't innocent, she was in her seventy's for fuck sake. She was also a riot, you'd seen her beef with Wade and the shit they got up to and it was a great show from the sidelines. Until they dragged you into it, then shit truly became a free for all. Wade didn't follow up to keep making you laugh like he usually did, he stayed quiet and watched you with a kind of smile that twisted your stomach into knots. It was so gentle, as if he was just enjoying taking you all in.

It was maybe too much for you right now.

You covered your mouth and glanced at your phone, seeing the two percent enough for you to pick it up and turn it on. You would deny it being a distraction, you had a good reason.

"I should call my boss so they don't sick a welfare check on me."

"Right. You do that, I'll get breakfast."

"You—Wade I don't—" You struggled, split down the middle with what you wanted and what you were ready for. Having breakfast with Wade would feel like you were just pushing everything under the rug and like you'd said the night before that is not what you wanted. Wade paused and nodded slowly, reading between the lines, your choppy protest and your eyes.

"Good point, I already promised Al waffles so I should get on that." He turned his back on you again and you felt your chest tighten, his tone deflating with each word. He stepped halfway out your door and stopped, turning to face the wall and visions of the night he came to see you dusted over your eyelids.

"Call me, for the uh, counselling thing." He sounded so awkward even talking about it and you could tell this was going to be hard for him. It was going to be hard for you too, that was the whole point. You both had to walk through the well of garbage before you got anywhere close to getting out of the sewers—and as long as he was willing to walk with you, you'd give it your all to make it out the other side.

"I will Wade, see you."

"See you."

When he disappeared from view you listened to his heavy, thudding footsteps and felt your heart matching his pace. It followed him out the front door, catching on the hinges at it shut. You deflated against your pillows, emotionally exhausted as you stared down at your contacts. Your thumb felt like lead as it hit your boss' number and your voice felt flat when they picked up and you gave them a very vague rundown of why you wouldn't be in. To your surprise they gave you a few days off and once you'd hung up you had nothing to do but lay back down and get some more sleep. You could worry about everything else later.

Six months later in fact; you found yourself walking out of your couple counsellors office.

Wade was hot on your heels, his hands stuffed into his sweatpants as he once again fell into step as your faithful shadow. He had a black mask covering the bottom of his face, cap pulled down far enough to hide the top half, and hood pulled over his head to guard the back. It was a whole other mask, the mask of Wade Wilson, and it was one you were getting well acquainted with. Your first session had been fucking awful, Wade did not cope with being counselled—not that either of you expected him to in the first place. He almost made it to the end of the hour before storming out after the counsellor asked some touchy question he felt was stepping over the line.

It wasn't great, but you'd chosen to let it go. It was the first session, and you were equally as uncomfortable answering many of the questions and hypotheticals they posed to you. The second session was a bit easier, the counsellor backing off the topic that had set Wade off and manoeuvring to another part of your relationship you could work on first. The mask. There was a lot of mumbo jumbo and therapy speak about how it was not only keeping him hidden from the world but keeping a wedge between the both of you and yada yada. You'd never considered it that way, it had always just been a part of him—but Wade had taken it to heart so maybe it had some truth to it.

The few times he was at your apartment after that he started taking the mask off, then the whole suit. You'd see him partly naked in the past, of course, but there was always some piece of Deadpool still clinging onto him. The mask, the boots, the gloves—he was never fully exposed. But that had changed. You were nowhere near having sex again, you still had barely touched aside from brushes of the hand and legs bumping into each other on the couch. But your counsellor had suggested small acts of intimacy, focusing on the emotional connection with nothing sexual to any of it. Wade had fussed about it and you hadn't been sure if it was another defence or if he genuinely had never considered non-sexual intimacy but you hadn't dwelled on it.

For your sanity and the hope of your relationship, you needed to let a lot of things go.

All of this led you to a few nights ago where you'd invited Wade to shower, no innuendoes, no wandering hands on his part—just a shower to get clean and be close. Your heart had been thudding in your ears when you asked, and the way he'd stared at you had made you want to take it back, but he agreed just before you did. And you were glad he did. It was the first time there had been nothing between you, just bare skin and steam from the shower. He was beautiful, all of him, all the jagged scars and bumps and divots—the contours of his muscles and shape of his jaw and width of his hands—okay so he'd touched you once. Just his hands on your biceps as you gently lathered him in soap suds, you hated that they'd been shaking and that you had tears in your eyes as your fingertips traced over his torso.

You thought you and Wade had been close before, you were inseperable and always touching—but that shower had been something else and it had taken everything in you not to kiss him and tell him you loved him a million times over. Afterwards you'd actually almost cuddled on the bed, side by side on the bed and holding hands. Wade had not said a single word through the whole thing and you had been dying to know what he was thinking.

You were hoping he would have said in today's session but he had been unusually quiet, letting you do a majority of the talking. When asked why he just looked at you, and what he'd said still had your insides fluttering incessantly.

"I don't know how I thought I could live without you, you are my whole fuckin' world. We can keep doing this," He had gestured to the counsellor without taking his eyes off of you, "but I'm gonna be stuck to your shoe like a mouldy piece of gum until the universe goes lights out or they figure out a way to kill me. As long as you don't give up on me—even if you do." He had grabbed your hand with such a strange mixture of gentleness and roughness, a perfect mix of him, tense as he held it to his chest so you could feel the thudding of his heart.

"I'm yours, no matter what or who happens, I'll always drag what's left of me back to you."

The elevator binged, pulling you back into the present and you stepped into the elevator with your heart in your throat. Wade had never spoken like that, never used that tone before—even in those moments where he was serious and genuine. This had been a whole other level of raw and real and it had shaken you off balance. The months and the counselling had been slowly putting back the pieces, scrubbing away at that anger and pain that was slowly becoming an unnoticeable simmer in the very back of your head.

Wade had been doing what you wanted; he'd changed. Made the effort to do better for you, for both of you. Fuck, he was even taking less jobs, he'd been dropping by your apartment and work every other day and everything was almost easing back into something akin to comfortable again. It was almost like the old days but so much better, no slamming doors and words muttered under your breath that you couldn't say to each other's faces. Your eyes could finally meet and your words could come out gentle and understanding, sometimes still rough around the edges but never enough to tear down the progress. Never enough to send that wall back up.

Things were better and now all that was standing in the way—was you.

End notes: Next one should be the final part just to wrap things up and get that much needed happy ending! See you then!!

[acesgarden]

A/N Christmas eve ‼️ yall will get more writing next year ‼️

MICHELANGELO has the perfect secret santa gift for you.

The last of the group had arrived. Rushed in from the flurry of stale and frozen air outside and into the warmth of a crackling fire and friends and laughter. [Name] shrugs off their coat, hanging it up along the others and hats and scarves and earmuffs.

“[Name]! you made it” they turned to be greeted by the youngest of the turtles—and their favorite—Michelangelo. Their arms wrapped around each other. Others began to appear in greetings, Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, Cassandra and Casey Jr, April and Splints. They all greeted each other with hugs, fist bumps, how are yous, did you have a safe trips, etc.

There was hot chocolate, cookies, candies, and snacks all spread out on the table for them all to enjoy. Blankets and pillows about, because today, today was secret santa! [Name] was so excited for it, they’d spent ages making sure their gift was perfect for who they had.

The night winded down and it was getting closer to giving out the gifts. There was a circle by the tree of pillows and blankets, and everyone began to take a seat trying to all guess who had who. Until it was time to actually pass out presents.

As each went giving out to who they had, loving the gifts whether genuine or joke. Until it finally got down to [Name], to which Mikey pulled out this thin rectangle wrapped present. Trying to make a couple guesses as it dipped down a bit near the center, there were ridges and divots too. Eventually giving up and began ripping it open.

Only to be met with familiar eyes, smile, nose, ears, hair- face. It was a painting, Michel-freaking-angelo painted a portrait of them. [Name] wanted to cry so bad, but instead they tackled him into a hug. They laughed when a piece of green tickled them. Above them was Leo! holding a mistletoe and the cheekiest little grin.

“You’re such a doofus.” Was all [Name] said before pulling Mikey in for a kiss.

Acesgarden © 2024 do not copy, plagiarize, translate, modify, repost my work on other sites without my permission.

[chocodilereplies]

Shelter (Part 2)

(Read Part 1 here!)

The snow was falling fast and thick as the four travelers made their way through the ruins. The town was old, a mixture of simple brick structures constructed soon after the fall of the Old Kingdoms interspersed with newer, larger buildings toward the center. Many of the older buildings’ roofs, weakened by moisture and neglect, had collapsed, leaving little more than rectangles of rubble half-buried in the snow. Other buildings were eerily intact--so much so that from certain angles they might almost look lived in, if not for the thick sheets of ice that had frozen them in time.

The snow was deep and the ground beneath was rough and uneven, making movement difficult. Alex, light on her feet, scouted ahead. She darted around, pausing at each building to peer through broken windows and blow-out doorways, her large ears twitching as she searched.

Ridge followed, only marginally encumbered by the heavy backpack slung over his broad, well-muscled shoulders. Behind him came Theo, trotting gingerly along the thick path the Shark's tail carved through the fresh snow. Trailing furthest back was Hyden, slow and uncertain, his walking cane nearly useless in the difficult terrain. Theo frequently darted back to guide him down a slope or hold his hand through an especially uneven patch of trail.

"I do not… hahhh… enjoy… being so far…. from civilization." the Rabbit panted as Theo helped him over a piece of rubble.

“This place used to be Stonebrook.” Ridge called from up ahead. “Old timber town. Built up after the Fall. Much of the wood for the Great Rail Line came from here.”

“Ya can still see it on old rail maps. But ‘round, oh, thirty years ago, the cold got to it. One by one, people started to leave. Buildings closed up, boarded up. Brook froze up. You couldn’t farm. Couldn’t use the roads.”

“For a few years, loggers came out here in the summer. Place ran seasonally. But even that stopped after a while. Don’t think anyone’s lived here for oh, 10 years? Judgin’ by the state of things.”

Ridge paused, glancing back at the stragglers with a grin. “Funny how that works. Destroy the world and they stop maintain’ the roads.”

Suddenly, Alex stopped. Whatever mysterious criteria she was measuring had been met. “Here.” she said, gesturing towards the large double doorway of what appeared to be a hotel. One by one, the group made their way into the boarded-up husk.

Inside, the foyer was very much intact. Icicles hung from cloudy, dirty light fixtures like some sort of crystalline fungus, and a few leaky holes in the roof had transformed into great pillars of ice in the years since that the building had been abandoned.

But other than that, the room appeared much the same as it would have a decade ago. Stools and tables were piled densely in the corner, thick with debris and sprinkled with a sugar-dusting of frost that glittered in the lantern light. A curved front desk dominated a corner of the room, its polished wood soft and bloated in places, its drawers empty. Faded wallpaper peeled from the moisture-rotted walls like dead flesh, revealing cracked plaster and lathe bones beneath. Though shabby and dilapidated, it was no trouble at all to imagine people living here.

"Once upon a time, this here was some kinda highfalutin hotel with warm, cozy beds. Bet there'd be a big fireplace where you could rest 'n' put your feet up. Maybe even have a bar with some fine-looking barmaids… oh, if only things were different, eh?" Ridge nudged Hyden, shooting him a sharp-toothed grin. The sour look on the Rabbit's face confirmed his jabs had successfully found their target.

"Oh, not all this again!" Hyden snapped. "’Destroy the world,’ ‘If only…’ Gods! Let the topic die, Belov. Your meandering ill-faith accusations exhaust me, and I am exhausted enough at present.” He cast a scathing look Ridge’s way. But the fire seemed to leave him quickly, flickering out into smoke, replaced with a deep weariness. “Now, I shall excuse myself. I must find someplace to sit before my knees give out.” Cane in hand, he hobbled stiffly toward the desk.

"Well then. What, pray tell, is so special about this location?" asked Theo, eager to pick up the snippy disagreeable mood Hyden had left behind. "It was quite the arduous trek. We passed a number of intact structures along the way."

"Hotel means guests. Guests mean hot water.” Alex was wandering the perimeter of the room, peering down the dark hallways. “Several boilers in the basement, I’d bet. Best chance we have of finding a spare part for the Prowler." She cocked her head, ears angled toward the spiraling black. “Basement door’s this way.”

From the other side of the room came Hyden’s voice. "What is a 'boiler'?"

Alex and Ridge ignored Hyden's question and began unpacking their camp. (Theo, of course, set about explaining it when it became clear nobody else would.)

(Read Part 3 here!)

[mossyfernhugger]

Eating at this little pitstop mall situation in the middle of nowhere. I recognise this place. There’s something off about it; tiled floor, tiled ceiling, panelled roof, white paint, white paint, white paint. The lights—buzzing rectangles fitted to the ceiling—are on in the middle of the day. A strip of glass runs around the roof, showing a cloudy, cartoon-blue sky. Everyone looks gloomy. I think I’m being watched. Subway, KFC, some obscure coffee bar and diner. Next to said diner is a little out-of-place phone accessories pop-up, and on the other side is a tacky little sign I’m sure I’ve seen before—though I don’t know where.

The bathrooms are a long, thin hall of a few too many stalls. All of them are locked. A few are out of order. The paper square taped to the wall outside reads, ‘no drink bottles in the toilets or cups’.

Eight rows by five of identical four-person tables. There’s too many security cameras. A hazard sign in a little hallway off to the side. A power outlet on the wall, much too high, with one switch on. Below it is a soap dispenser, of all things. Illegible symbols in marker on the fire alarm. At least, I think it’s a fire alarm. My head feels foggy. Kids run around screaming. The sounds echo off the walls. It’s like being underwater.

Something dark is splattered on the windows. Dead bugs, maybe? It’s too high up to tell. Cobwebs in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling. Mysterious brown substances smooshed into the floor. An outdated claw machine in the middle of the room, against a thin metal pole. Do you get what I mean? The red restroom sign is spelled with a space between ‘rest’ and ‘room’. It’s not warm in here, but very stuffy.

[wesellfirepits7]

Stylish Designs for Round Fire Pits and Rectangle Fire Tables

Demand for elegant and functional elements like round modern fire pits, rectangle fire tables, and essential accessories like the fire pit wind guard rises along with the trend of outdoor living environments. These components improve the look of your backyard and provide a comfortable setting for events. In this article, we'll explore the benefits and features of these fire pits and accessories, offering insights to help you make informed choices for your outdoor space.

Why You Need a Fire Pit Wind Guard

What is a Fire Pit Wind Guard?

A fire pit wind guard is a crucial accessory designed to protect the flame in your fire pit from being extinguished or disrupted by the wind. Typically made from high-quality tempered glass, these wind guards provide a transparent barrier around the fire, ensuring a steady and consistent flame. Anyone wishing to optimize the safety and enjoyment of their circular modern fire pits or rectangle fire tables must have this attachment.

Benefits of Using a Fire Pit Wind Guard

Enhanced Flame Stability: A fire pit wind guard mostly protects the flame from wind gusts, preserving a consistent and even burn.

Increased Safety: A wind guard reduces the risk of accidental fires and injuries by containing the flame and preventing sparks or embers from escaping.

Improved Efficiency: With less wind interference, your fire pit's fuel burns more efficiently, whether you use wood, propane, or natural gas.

Aesthetic Appeal: Wind guards add a sleek, modern look to your fire pit setup, complementing round modern fire pits and rectangle fire tables.

Choosing the Right Fire Pit

Round Modern Fire Pits

Round modern fire pits are a favorite among homeowners for their contemporary design and versatility. Their circular shape promotes a communal atmosphere, perfect for social gatherings. Here are some factors to consider when choosing a round fire pit:

Design and Material: Modern fire pits are made of cast iron, concrete, and stainless steel, among other materials. Each material offers different benefits regarding durability, heat retention, and aesthetic appeal.

Fuel Type: Decide between wood-burning, propane, or natural gas. Wood-burning fire pits provide a traditional experience with crackling sounds and a smoky aroma, while gas options offer convenience and ease of use.

Size and Placement: Consider the size of your outdoor space and where you plan to place the fire pit. Ensure enough room for seating and safe clearance from structures and vegetation.

Rectangle Fire Tables

Rectangle fire tables combine a fire pit's functionality with a table's utility, making them perfect for entertaining. These tables provide a central spot for guests to gather, place drinks, and enjoy the fire. Key considerations include:

Design and Material: Like round fire pits, rectangle fire tables are available in various materials. Choose one that complements your outdoor decor and meets your durability needs.

Table Height: Fire tables come in different heights, such as coffee table height, dining table height, and bar table height. Select one based on your entertaining style and seating arrangement.

Fuel Type: Rectangle fire tables can be fueled by wood, propane, or natural gas. Gas options often come with easy-start mechanisms and adjustable flame controls, providing a hassle-free experience.

Maintaining Your Fire Pit and Accessories

General Maintenance Tips

Regular maintenance is essential to keep your round modern fire pit or rectangle fire table in top condition. Here are some tips:

Cleaning: Clean your fire pit regularly to remove ash, debris, and soot. Check and clean the burner ports for gas fire pits to ensure proper flame distribution.

Covering: Invest in a weather-resistant cover to protect your fire pit from the elements when not in use. This prevents rust and other weather-related damage.

Inspecting: Check your fire pit and wind guard often for wear or damage. Replace any worn-out parts to maintain safety and performance.

Specific Care for Wind Guards

Cleaning the Glass: Use a non-abrasive cleaner and a soft cloth to keep the glass clear and free of soot and dirt.

Checking the Stability: Ensure the wind guard is securely in place and the mounting brackets are tight. This will prevent the wind guard from tipping over or shifting during use.

Conclusion

Creating a perfect outdoor space involves more than selecting a beautiful fire pit. A fire pit wind guard enhances safety and enjoyment, making gatherings more comfortable and visually appealing. Whether you opt for round modern fire pits or rectangle fire tables, these elements transform your backyard into a cozy, inviting haven. With the proper maintenance and care, your fire pit will provide warmth and ambiance for years to come, making every evening spent outdoors memorable.

[wesellfirepits4]

Why Every Fire Pit Needs a Fire Table Wind Screen

A cozy outdoor space is incomplete without a fire pit, providing warmth and ambiance for gatherings or quiet moments under the stars. However, wind can interfere with the flames, making it difficult to enjoy your fire pit fully. This is where a fire pit windscreen comes in handy. Whether you own round firepit tables or a rectangle, selecting the proper fire table windscreen is crucial for your outdoor investment's safety, comfort, and longevity. If you want to know how to choose and keep up with the best windscreen for your fire pit, this article has you covered.

Why a Fire Pit Wind Screen is Essential

A fire pit windscreen serves multiple purposes beyond keeping the flame steady. Here’s why investing in one is an intelligent decision:

Safety: A windscreen reduces the risk of sparks flying out of the fire pit, which could otherwise ignite nearby objects or cause injury.

Consistent Flame: Wind can cause the flames to flicker or even extinguish, making it hard to enjoy the fire. A windscreen ensures a steady flame, providing a consistent source of warmth and light.

Extended Fire Pit Life: A windscreen protects your fire pit from wind and debris, helping to maintain its quality and functionality over time.

Whether you’re dealing with a rectangular firepit or round firepit table, the benefits of a windscreen are undeniable.

Selecting the Right Fire Table Wind Screen

Choosing the correct fire table windscreen involves considering several factors, including the size, shape, and material of your fire pit or table.

Size and Shape

The shape of your fire pit plays a significant role in determining the type of windscreen you should choose.

Round Firepit Tables: A round windscreen is ideal for a circular fire pit. Ensure that the screen matches the diameter of your fire pit for maximum effectiveness.

Fire Pit Table Rectangle: A rectangular windscreen is necessary for rectangular fire pit tables. It should be long and wide enough to cover the entire fire pit area and offer complete protection from the wind.

Material

The material of the windscreen impacts both its durability and aesthetic appeal. Here are some common materials used in windscreens:

Tempered Glass: Many people like tempered glass because of its durability and visibility. It can withstand high temperatures and allows an unobstructed view of the flames. This versatile option works well with both round firepit tables and rectangle designs.

Stainless Steel: Stainless steel windscreens are known for their durability and sleek appearance. They provide a modern look, though they may partially obstruct the view of the fire. This material is particularly suitable for those who prioritize longevity.

Mesh Screens: These are lighter and easier to handle. While not as durable as glass or steel, mesh screens effectively reduce wind impact and are easy to install.

How to Install Your Fire Pit Wind Screen

While installing a windscreen for a fire pit is not difficult, you still need to pay close attention to detail to ensure its success.

Measure Your Fire Pit: Before purchasing a fire pit windscreen, measure your fire pit’s dimensions accurately. This ensures that the windshield fits perfectly around your fire pit.

Choose the Correct Screen: Depending on whether you have round firepit tables or rectangle firepit tables, select the appropriate windscreen that complements the shape and size of your firepit.

Place the Screen: Position the windscreen around your fire pit. Make sure the edges align with the fire pit’s borders for a snug fit for glass screens.

Secure the Screen: Once in place, ensure the windscreen is stable and doesn’t wobble. A well-secured windscreen will block wind and provide a safer fire experience.

Maintaining Your Fire Table Windscreen

Regular maintenance is critical to prolonging the life of your fire table windscreen. Here are some tips:

Regular Cleaning: Clean the windscreen regularly using a soft cloth and mild soap. Avoid using abrasive cleaners that could scratch the surface of tempered glass screens.

Check for Damage: Inspect the windscreen for cracks or dents, especially after a windy day. Replace any damaged parts immediately to maintain safety.

Store When Not in Use: If you don’t use your fire pit year-round, consider storing the windscreen during off-seasons to protect it from the elements.

Conclusion

Anyone concerned with their outdoor fire pit's security, practicality, and visual attractiveness should have a windscreen. Picking the correct windscreen for your fire table is essential for keeping your fire stable, safe, and pleasurable, regardless of whether your table is fire pit table rectangle. Size, shape, material, and ease of maintenance are some of the most important considerations when shopping for a windscreen to ensure that your outdoor area remains comfortable and welcoming all year round. 

[fairiewines]

୧੭ closed starter for @prythiaens

as snow tapped against the windows alaric finished the rather uninspired wrapping of aeryn's first present, a bulky square that was now resembling a melted rectangle the more he looks upon it. "cauldron bless me", shaking his head in dismay the high lord lifts the gift from the kitchen table, crackling embers from the fire punctuating his movement into the living room of his second home. their first solstice together, their first holiday as mates. he simultaneously could and could not believe it. "i .... i come bearing gifts", attempts to make it seem much more graceful than it looks, handing it toward his mate with a bashful smile. it had been difficult to find, or part of it had been — there were countless talented artists in velaris, yet only a select few were capable of painting what he had required, her human home. alaric was still unsure if aeryn would actually like the gift, but at the very least he consoled himself with the knowledge this was only the beginning of his gift giving.

[peterspinkrobe]

Creature Comforts - Drabble

W/C: 1,575 (I know drabbles are supposed to be shorter but I have no self-control)

Warnings: mentions of male nudity, injury/blood, hurt & comfort

A/N: Happy (early) birthday to me!! NSFW version of cover image here @Ejpuki on Twitter is amazing and I’m commissioning another priest!Miguel piece from them for chapter 5. Go support them! I hope you enjoy this piece. As you can tell from my user, Peter’s robe is very dear to me ❤️👚

Once again forgotten by its usual wearer and not being used for its intended purpose, it splayed out across the boss’s command center. It observed without seeing and listened without hearing on the platform above the large, empty office of the arachno-humanoid-poly multiverse HQ. Unaware that its normal temperature from resting on the shoulders of Peter B Parker had long seeped into the cold surface of the table it sprawled on.

The new father had tossed the pink robe aside earlier that night after unstrapping his daughter Mayday from her restraints and unintentionally pawning her off on ‘Uncle’ Miles. A meganomily had been discovered ravaging an Earth who’s Spider-Man had yet to have their leap of faith. This type of distress signal called for the more trained, or at least in Peter B’s case the… older, Spiders to respond. Certainly not the time to have a toddler strapped to your chest.

They had returned from the successful yet grueling mission nearly an hour ago. The lack of sleep from keeping up with a spider baby and the intensity of the mission left him entirely drained. He only stopped by HQ before heading back home to MJ to pick up his daughter and some of those fancy 2099 epidermal patch bandages for his bruised and scratched body. The robe out-of-mind as he cocooned the spider baby in webbing to get her back to their dimension.

The soft hum of neon monitors is the only noise for a long while. The screens cast colors across the fluffy fabric of the robe. Suddenly the platform begins to lower.

Below it, Miguel O’Hara gathers his things for the long night of research ahead. The slow pace of the platform allows him plenty of time to pour a mug of much needed caffeine and collect himself before pouring into his work. It takes a lot of concentration not to limp around his office for the crew really took a beating, himself included. His body is covered in already blackening bruises and lesions that have only just started healing after patching himself up in the bathroom. No amount of super healing could so quickly mend the wounds he’d received from the emergency response mission.

He can’t help but wince when he looks up towards the floating office space coming down to meet him. He rubs his neck and knows that if he feels like this now, tomorrow will be hell. His overstimulated senses made it so that he stood bare below the declining platform. With it being so late, his doors locked, and Lyla on DND for the evening, he figured his naked figure shouldn’t be an issue since he wouldn’t be disturbed. He couldn’t even handle the lights of his digitized suit or be bothered to try and put clothes on his marked body. His blood felt as though it were on fire in his veins.

Any attempt at keeping his composure melted away in the shower he had taken earlier. The scolding water ran over cuts and mixed with his blood before draining at his feet. Finally alone, he cursed himself for putting the team in danger the way he had. He couldn’t help the tears fusing with the water droplets that fell onto his face. Mayday almost lost her father and Miguel could blame no one for himself.

The thought makes him wince again, but no tears. He only feels anger now. How had he not seen the blatant traps they were being led to by that particularly sadistic Doctor Octavius variant? He knew somehow that the Spiders were on their way to stop him and nearly killed them. Doc was now being held in a secure cell instead of the laughable rectangles the other variant villains waited inside for their turn on the Go-Home-Machine. Miguel needed answers, and intended on paying him a visit later.

After having dealt with the Spot, Miguel wondered just how many others out there knew how easy it was to alter the fate of the multiverse.

The analytical anger turns to annoyance as he steps onto the platform. Peter left that stupid robe laid over his desk again. The manchild knew nothing of boundaries and personal space. He grabbed it to toss it over the side of the platform, having to consciously keep his claws sheathed to not rip through the silly piece of attire. The only reason it’s not in shredded at this moment is because Miguel knows it helps Peter’s shoulders with the baby carrier. He also thinks of how she’ll rub the robe on her cheek when her eyes start to droop drowsily.

Miguel considers the image of the sleepy child nuzzling into the fuzzy robe and, instead of throwing it over the edge, brings the fabric to his own cheek. Hands hesitantly hold the pink coat against his face. The robe does not respond to the tightening grip as Miguel holds it against his chest.

The brooding man brings the bundle to his face and buries into the billowy housecoat. He inhales the various smells that stick to the coat: A blend of Peter’s cologne and MJ’s perfume waft towards him as well as a sourish scent that was no doubt the result of Mayday spit up. It smelled lived in. It smelled like family.

He allowed the material to unravel from his hands and he looked at the robe in its full view. He couldn’t tell the last time it had been washed, if ever. Upon closer inspection, he saw stains of different foods and drinks. It would be impossible to tell if it was Peter or his baby that made those messes. A small hole could be seen at the bottom of the robe’s hem, perhaps from the wear and tear of a mission. Miguel mentally cursed Peter for never taking care of his things but he knows that Peter B shows his love in different ways. Peter accepts the muck and stick, bathes in the imperfections of things.

Before Miguel can understand what he is doing, he starts to put an arm into one of the sleeves. Despite the mated bits on the coat, the inside is velvety on his heated skin. The feather-like material glides across his shoulders as he puts the robe on fully.

Miguel stands awkwardly beside the armchair on the platform as it ascends slowly back into the air above his office. His face burns hot thinking that someone finding him like this would be more embarrassing than if he was just nude. But the comfort of the robe softly fights back against his woes. The shaggy cloth hugs his skin in a way that doesn’t make him want to claw at himself.

Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia washes over him. He turns to his computers and looks for the file that flashed in his mind. He opens the file named “Christmas 2090 - Bike” and presses play. As the title suggests, the video opens on a zoomed in image of snow outside a window. It zooms out and slowly a Christmas tree and the furniture of a living in the future pan into view. The one recording shows the piles of presents under the tree and the decorations no doubt created by the child who darts into view. The video records her expression at the sight of the gifts and her running up to hug the one videoing. The child is smiling from ear to ear and her hair is still matted from her sleep that Christmas Eve.

Miguel takes a seat on the armchair and watches as Gabriella opens her gifts. He smiles softly at her enthusiasm. There is no sound, but Miguel can hear her bubbly laughter when she unwraps a large box containing her first bicycle. Tears threaten his eyes when the camera pans around to show himself looking into the camera. He is wearing a plush, plaid robe of his own in the video. Gabriella runs up to him and kisses her father on the cheek. A ghost of his former self watches through blurry vision at the family he used to have.

The videos begin to autoplay and Miguel huddles into himself watching the memories of his daughter dance across the screens. The robe unknowingly comforts the crumbled man on the couch, embracing him in unspoken softness. Fluffy pink patches of fuzz caress his skin when his body shifts slightly to lay back in the chair. The bathrobe holds him in a way he hasn’t been held in a long while and his eyes grow heavy in its embrace. Any semblance of a night of research is long gone as Miguel slumped into the chair, homemade family videos playing to an audience of a snoring man and a particularly soft, yet unaware, robe.

Even if Lyla is on Do Not Disturb, she can still see all. As an omniscient AI assistant it’s in her programming to bypass safewalls and get info she shouldn’t. She smiles at the scene of her large boss sprawled out in the chair, sleeping soundly. A sight that she hasn’t seen in the past few nights as he usually catches cat naps during his busy work days.

She may not be able to disturb Miguel, but she does send a message to Weaver - a Spider-Man whose hobby is tailoring. She includes the blueprints of a secret sewing mission for him:

A blue robe with a specific Spider logo embroidered on the chest.

[frozensunflowersandlilies]

Arendelle Castle Rooms: Part 1 | Analysis

I've been meaning to make clear posts based on the rooms in Arendelle Castle featured in Frozen, Frozen Fever, Olaf's Frozen Adventure and Frozen 2 because I love the designs in each room and am super fascinated to know where each one goes and so why not? I have tons of references so I'm going to use them to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Let's begin part 1 with Elsa and Anna's room.

1. Elsa's bedroom

(Ref: Concept art | End of 'Frozen Fever')

Elsa's room used to be both Elsa and Anna's room when they were small but right after the incident that led to their 13 year long distance, Anna was forced to move to a different room. Elsa's room is mainly purple with pink accents. She has a big queen size canopy bed held back around it, on the left side horizontally upon entering her room. She has chairs around the room and a triangular window with a seat in front of it where she can sit and look out of. Next to her bed, in the left hand corner is a big fire place. Below her bed she has a long rectangular rug stretching out to the other side of the room and in front of her fireplace, a circular rug is placed. Anna's room has the exact same layout but in the opposite direction so though we can't see the other side of Elsa's room, we can assume what is there. Along the wall the door is on, there are 2 tables and in the right hand corner is a dressing screen. Opposite the bed is there is a table that has the two pots of flowers.

In Frozen Fever however, when Elsa is seen back in her room when Anna feeds her the cold remedy, it looks like the bed is on the other side, given you can't see the fireplace and the white rectangles on the wall are shown. This could be a continuity error as the headboard too isn't decorated with the designs it would normally have on it. So that would mean Elsa's bed is in the same position as seen in the concept art.

2. Anna's bedroom

(ref: Concept art | Elsa goes to Anna's room in 'Olaf's Frozen Adventure' | Beginning of "Making today a perfect day" in 'Frozen Fever' | 'All around Arendelle' book)

Anna's bedroom is mainly pink and much warmer in terms of colour tone as a contrast to Elsa's cooler purple/ pink tone. Anna's room has the exact same layout as Elsa's as I mentioned above but in opposite directions. So the bed would be on the right hand side, upon entering her room, the dressing screen in the bottom left corner, the fireplace on the top right hand corner, 2 tables alongside the wall the door is on, and the table of flower pots alongside the left wall.

Side fact:

In Frozen Fever one of those flower pots are of sunflowers and the other one of the 6 petal pink flowers that Elsa uses for her dress which are called rain lilies or also known as Zephyranthes or the Cuban Zephyr Lily. When Elsa uses these flowers on her dress, she gives them an icy touch and adds a simple snowflake on top of the flower to freeze them onto her dress. However, Anna's sunflowers that Elsa puts onto her attire and hair don't have that snowflake effect meaning she probably just used her telekinesis (the power of lifting things up) and frosted them onto her attire without changing the colour.

In Olaf's Frozen Adventure we learn that Anna has an attic above her room however it's filled with trunks of Elsa's stuff such as satin gloves and Elsa's crocheted toy penguin. In the room itself, it seems that the room has had a layout change. The bed has moved across the other side of the room and the rectangular rug isn't there. Instead the circular rug has moved down in front of the bed. That would mean the dressing panel and the table of flowers is moved to where the bed was in Frozen Fever. However the long painting or embroidered wall piece has been kept in the same place alongside the dressing tables too. Bearing in mind that Olaf's Frozen Adventure takes place before Frozen Fever, it could be that the bed and rug misplacement is just a continuity error and in fact the bed is just in the same place as in the concept art above.

The book, 'All around Arendelle' shows that the sisters rooms are the side top two panels of the front of the castle, as shown below but that is proven wrong in Frozen 2.

In Frozen 2, as Iduna finished her song, "All is found", she carries young Elsa to the triangular window. As the camera zooms out of the room, we start seeing structure from outside the castle. The structure shows that Anna's room is the top main front triangular window as circled above. There's the same window at the back of the castle suggesting that Elsa's room is directly opposite hers and at the back while Anna's at the front of the castle. The front has two triangular windows on the right while the back has two on the right and Frozen 2 showed the tips of the two windows on the right confirming Anna's room at the front. Remember that Anna and Elsa's shared room is actually Anna's room now and it was Elsa who was forced to move out of their room then.

Part 2 will go into the other rooms of the castle starting with the hallway out of Anna's room.