#Does anybody care for bastard

[mylifeisruined69420]

wtf i missed this their modern fits go hard asf tho

[cressidagrey]

Unknowing

Summary:

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

This is the Inner Circle finding out about said consequences. Azriel is very good at keeping secrets

Warnings:

(This is a doozy.) Mention of Sex Work, Unexpected Pregnancy, Mention of Faerie Genocide, Mention of Faerie Wings being used as leather, Mention of Sex

Note:

This was a thought experiment that kinda started to grow a life on its own.

(super pretty divider by @saradika-graphics)

Azriel slid into the Dining Room of the River House nearly on the cusp of being late. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to pull himself away from what he had been doing that afternoon. 

Nobody in his situation would have wanted to leave. 

It had involved his wife and the flower field in their backyard… their daughter sleeping peacefully in her willow basket a few paces away, cradled in a bubble of her mother’s magic that would keep her asleep and safe from anything that could happen to her. 

Fed, changed and as happy as a clam to fall into her usual milk-induced coma, he knew that she would only wake up if she wanted more milk. 

Which meant that her parents had some quality time for each other…and they had made the best out of that. 

The result was a little shimmer of magic all over Azriel that he couldn’t get scrubbed away. Not that he had tried particularly hard either. He liked having that proof of his wife’s pleasure all over him. 

His wife, his mate, the mother of his child…his fucking sanity . There were many words he had for Embelia. 

She was the bright spot of his life, untouched by the darkness that leeched around him. A secret he gladly kept.

And if the glimmer of her magic followed him and showed everybody that he was hers…well, then that was the case. Azriel didn’t particularly care what anybody else thought of it. 

Azriel was out of fucks to give, to be honest. Had been, for the better part of two years…ever since that Solstice. 

He was pretty sure that something inside him had splintered apart at Rhys’ order. 

That fucking order had been the reason why he had ever even met Embelia though. He had taken Rhys literally. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her. That had been Rhys’ words. 

Her had been Elain. 

Azriel had listened to Rhys. He had followed the order to the fucking letter, giving the High Lord of the Night Court to complain about. He had left Elain alone…who had figured things out with Lucien. Both now happy and ensconced in Day Court, with Helion, Lucien’s actual father. 

And he had gone to that pleasure hall.  He had asked for any female that wasn’t afraid of him…and then Embelia had claimed his hand with hers. And that had been that. 

 Granted, he hadn’t known her name then. For months, all he had known her as had been Blossom. That’s who she had been to him for months . 

Just Blossom. Every Thursday, he had gone to that pleasure hall and paid for her company. 

And then she had gotten pregnant. 

Not quite what either of them expected. 

He hadn’t even bothered with a contraception draught and while she had, apparently it hadn’t stood up to Azriel of all faes. 

He should probably thank the mother on his knees for that . 

But Embelia had told him about the pregnancy and had been very clear from the start that while she wanted the child, she wasn’t going to ask anything of him. Which was simply unacceptable. 

He had grown up a bastard. He was not going to put his child through the same if he had any choice in that matter. 

And he had been a little bit in love with her then already. So taking her from that pleasure hall and making her his wife…moving her into a cottage he found and making a life with her…that had been the easiest decision he had ever made. 

They had just fit together…

She had come to live with him, and had given up her job, though that wasn’t something that bothered her all too much. More than anything she was happy that she no longer needed to do that to keep alive, to make a living…

And he got to hear the story of how she had come to Velaris and to the pleasure hall.  

Embelia was a Floresco Fairie. One of the few survivors of that breed of Lesser Fairies. The rest of her family had been slaughtered in the Spring Court Centuries ago. 

She had escaped and had ended up in Velaris of all places, traumatised and alone. Still half a child to her people, not having a trade or anything of that sort. The natural ability of a Floresco Fairy made it possible for her to grow flowers and life wherever she stood but none of that particularly lent itself to a well-paid job. 

So the pleasure house it had been. With a glamour, of course. 

The first time he had met her, she had left the glamour fall away, showing him a pair of iridescent pink wings sprouting out of her back. 

Even then he had thought that she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. 

That opinion had never changed. If anything…after the birth of their daughter, after the mating bond had snapped for both of them, sometimes between cutting the cord and pressing a kiss to their daughter’s blood-covered head, covered in downy black curls…and he had watched Emmie cradle the baby against her chest, watched her coo to her, not caring one bit about blood and sweat and anything else, because there was their little girl that they had hoped and prayed for…somehow at that point, love seemed such a weak word for what he felt for them both. 

Somehow…somehow they had become the light of his life, the only guide he needed. And he protected that ferociously. 

Maybe even more than was necessary. 

He kept them away from his job and from anything and anybody that may would know him as the terror of the Night Court. 

They were his. His. His . 

The first thing in his long life that was his and his alone . 

And maybe that was too possessive, but…he had never wanted to listen to anybody else’s opinions about his and Embelia’s relationship. 

And everybody would have had their opinions. 

He knew that.

Instead…he had kept them a secret. 

To this day, nobody knew. Not Rhys, not Cassian, not Mor, not Amren…not Feyre or Nesta. 

Though of all people, sometimes he thought that maybe Nesta suspected something. 

But even if she did…that was fine too. 

He had made Embelia his wife, and his mate and the mother of his child and nobody could take her away from him. Nobody but herself, and she was gloriously happy in their little flower-covered cottage, where she was…content to dabble at being a housewife. 

After the life she had, he could understand it. She revelled in the normal, in doing nothing but dote on their daughter and try and cook him dinner, which had started as absolutely disgusting but these days often turned out at least mostly edible…to tend to her garden of flowers, which were all she ate anyway…

To just exist there, in that little slice of paradise they built. 

And instead of being with her…he attended a family dinner at the River House that evening. He would have gladly just stayed at home, made himself dinner, or maybe let Embelia try to feed him, which never quite worked out and then walked their daughter to sleep. 

It would have been perfectly fine to him. To press a kiss to their daughter’s black curls and stroke her iridescent purple sparkling wings that were carefully folded and laid over her back…her heart-shaped mouth would open into a perfect o and she would yawn and he would fall in love all over again. It wouldn’t just be perfectly fine. It would be everything he had ever wanted. 

And then he could lay her in her crib and he could walk the few steps to their bed and crawl into it next to his wife, and she would give him that smile…and he could cocoon both of them in his wings and fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that she would be there the next morning.

Maybe kiss her some more and hear very perfect noise that left her throat and feel her warm body against his, skin like silk and small warm hands that could take him apart in seconds. 

But no. Rhys had ordered him. Like he was sometimes prone to be doing these days. Maybe because he didn’t know how Azriel spent his free time and clearly him being a loose cannon was way more believable than anything else. 

Oh well. Azriel wasn’t in the mood to clear that up. 

If anything he was in a brooding mood, wanting to go back to his afternoon in the flower field. 

“For cauldron’s sake,” Cassian complained, just as he started to violently sneeze. Multiple times. “Did you roll around in a flower field or something?” his brother demanded and Azriel was amused besides himself. 

“Yes,” he agreed drily, taking his seat next to Cassian who just glared at him and then grumbled under his breath, swapping seats with Nesta because otherwise he was probably not going to stop sneezing. 

“The Lord of Bloodshed taken to his knees by some flower pollen,” Amren drawled from across the table and Cassian glared at her. 

Nesta just snorted in amusement. 

Rhys and Feyre appeared at that moment and at least the discussion of flower fields was tabled for the moment. 

Which was just as well. 

Azriel mentally wondered if he could get away with skipping dessert if he cited some headache or something. He could get dessert at home. It promised to be much better than anything that would be served at the table anyway. 

Or maybe that was just going to make Rhys think that he was on the brink of some sort of breakdown even more than he already was. Who knew? 

Was it worth the mental berating that it promised to give him? All under the guise of worrying about him or checking in on him? 

Azriel had his own opinion about that these days. 

He couldn’t help but flinch as Nesta suddenly reached out to touch his hair. 

“What are you doing?” he asked her drily as Nesta pulled back her hand, Embelia’s glimmer sticking to it. 

“You have…glitter in your hair,” Nesta gave back. “What did you do?” she asked him with a grin. “Is that some kind of fashion choice now?” 

“It’s not glitter,” he gave back. It wasn’t. It was the flakes that Embelia’s wings shook loose when she trembled. It did look like glitter though. Sparkling, catching the sunlight…gorgeous, like every inch of her. 

“Az, I don’t know if you are ready to hear it, but it definitely looks like glitter,” Nesta told him with a snort. “Don’t worry, it suits you,” she said graciously, biting back a laugh. 

Mor was watching the whole thing. “It’s not glitter,” she finally said, mustering his hair with far too much interest. Azriel forced himself not to twitch under the assessing gaze of her brown eyes. Once upon a time, he would have given nearly everything to have her look at him like that, but nowadays…there was nothing there anymore. He would always lover her but sometimes during centuries of yearning for her it had settled into a deep and abiding friendship. Into loyalty. No longer the bright burning of desire, of…anything like that.  “Though I would really like to know where you found a Floresco Fairy to talk into your bed, Az,“ she said with a wink. 

Azriel didn’t react. 

“A what?” Feyre asked, curiosity piqued. 

“Floresco Fairy,“ Mor repeated. “They used to live in the Spring Court…centuries ago.”

“They don’t anymore?” Feyre wondered and the conversation around the table dropped. 

“Tamlin’s father had them slaughtered and used their wings for leather,“ Azriel said, his voice forcefully even. It was even more horrific than it sounded like. A whole breed of faeries was killed off because of their wings. Floresco Faeries had never been violent or a fighting breed. They kept to themselves, raising their families and growing their flowers and their crops…and then it had been ripped apart into a bloodbath. 

Embelia had been right in the middle of that. She had escaped, her youngest sister in tow…who had later succumbed to her injuries and all Emmie had been able to do was to bury her into the icy ground in Winter Court. She hadn’t outright said it but Azriel had known that for years she had wished to bury herself right there alongside her sister. 

Feyre just stared at him, blue eyes wide. “That’s horrible,“ she whispered, swallowing. 

“Yes,“ he agreed. It was. 

Horrific. 

“Not all died, a few escaped,” Mor said, trying to make it seem less horrific than it had been. “It happened a very long time ago. But still, they are quite rare. Where did you find her?” She asked Azriel, clearly trying to find something else to talk about.

He wasn’t stupid enough to lie to Morrigan, whose gift was Truth. 

“Today? At home.” He answered honestly. 

“Home?” Mor repeated, sounding amused beside herself. 

“Is she the same one you bought that solstice gift for?” Nesta piped up. 

He had asked her for advice, more out of desperation than anything else. She had been quite helpful though. 

He hadn’t been anted to ask Mor for obvious reasons, Armen would have probably bitten off his head and Feyre…well then Rhys would have known. But Nesta? Nesta had listened to him when he had asked politely and had then told him that if she liked him, she would like whatever he would buy her.

Not that useful but oh well. 

So he just nodded. 

“Which one did you end up picking?” Nesta asked him, curious. 

“I just bought both,” he admitted with a shrug. 

A hair comb that Emmie still wore nearly every day, silver and pink stones intertwined, keeping blush hair pulled back from her face and a pair of earrings that she also wore sometimes. 

She liked things like that, even when she never seemed to spend much money on them. And he liked buying her stuff like that because then she wore it and had that pleased little smile on her face, content and happy…

“Lucky girl,” Nesta told him with a secret smile, elbowing his ribs and he bit back down a smile for himself. 

“Az got a girlfriend?” Cassian asked, sounding shocked. 

“I do not,” he disagreed with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t have a girlfriend. He had a wife. Very different. 

“So you just buy…What did he buy, Nesta?” Cassian asked. 

“He was waffling between a jewel-encrusted hair comb or a pair of lovely earrings. Apparently, he got her both,” Nesta answered her mate with a sigh. “You should take some advice from him,” she told him drily, making Cassian roll his eyes. 

“So if you don’t have a girlfriend, you just buy hair combs and jewellery for any female you come across?” His brother asked him drily. 

He just shook his head, not saying a single word. His shadows tightened in response, crawling closer to him from where they had skittered away. 

They liked Embelia, though they had taken a special liking to his daughter, tendrils oftentimes coming to play with her or checking on her through the night. With Emmie they kept a respectful distance, though they liked to hide and play with her, like they basked in her pure presence.

It wouldn’t surprise him all too much if that’s what they did. 

“Flower and Bud are safe” they whispered at that moment, even when he hadn’t asked. 

Right. Safe. 

“Leave him to it, Cassian. Though maybe next time wash off the glimmer. Or don’t have one of your amorous adventures before you show up to dinner,” Rhys drawled. 

It shouldn’t have upset him like that. It shouldn’t have. 

It was harmless. Mostly at least, but Azriel couldn’t help but feel the icy rage burn bright in his chest at Rhysand’s words. At his brother’s words. 

He didn’t have many good things in his life but he had Emmie and he was not going to let anybody take her away from him. He was not. 

That was simply unacceptable. 

“If you try to forbid me from bedding my wife, Rhysand, we are going to have a problem,” Azriel snapped back icily. 

A real problem, because he was not willing to give up Embelia under any circumstances. Not her and also not the pleasure they shared. 

He regretted his words instantly. One could have heard a pin drop in the Dining Room of the River House at that moment because this was the last thing anybody had expected. 

The last thing. 

He had kept his wife and his daughter hidden and he had been completely content with that because it had kept them safe and secure and he hadn’t wanted to listen to anybody trying to talk him out of it or telling him it was a bad idea. 

It was his fucking choice and he had never regretted it once. 

“Your wife ,” Amren was the first that recovered. “Your wife?!”

“Yes.”

His wife. His daughter. His family. 

The family he claimed. They were his. 

“You don’t have a girlfriend but you have a wife ?” Mor repeated. 

He just nodded. 

“You got married. When?” she continued asking him and he met her gaze. 

“About a year ago,” he answered. It had been just the two of them…and well, the babe slumbering in Emmie’s womb, but that was the whole reason for the wedding in the first place, right? 

“You didn’t even invite us to the wedding!” Cassian complained, having suddenly recovered his ability to talk. “You got married and you didn’t tell us?” 

Clearly. 

“And you never thought that that was something we may want to know, Azriel?” Rhys asked, his voice icy but Azirel met the gaze of violet eyes with his own.

“If you believe it or not, I can just about manage my personal relationships or my amorous adventures without the input of you, High Lord,” he drawled. 

There had been no reason to tell anybody. Least of all Rhys. 

“That was not what that was about and you know it,” his brother hissed at him, but Azriel just shrugged.  

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was. 

Maybe it had really just been a political worry for Rhys, but that didn’t mean that what he had done, hadn’t hurt…didn’t mean that he hadn’t pulled rank with Azriel in a way he had only done so very rarely. 

Rhys had gotten what he had wanted in the end. Elain and Lucien had figured it out…Day and Night were closer than ever. 

And Azriel…well, he was still pissed off about what had gone down in Rhys’ office that Solstice. Fucking furious, to be honest.   Even after Embelia had come into his life…even after she had married him. Even after the mating bond had snapped. He loved his wife, but he was still fucking furious about being treated like that. 

Furious and hurt. 

And maybe that had played into his decision as well. 

There was no reason to tell Rhys what happened. No reason whatsoever. 

Rhys must have caught that thought because the shimmer of night started to swirl around him, but Azriel wasn’t scared. He just raised a single eyebrow in question. 

“No reason?” Rhys questioned harshly. “You are the Spymaster of this fucking court, Azriel! You don’t think that maybe I should know who you are cohabiting with? Who you share a bed with? Who you married? How long did you even know this female before you married her?”

“A few months,” he answered drily. “What do you think I talk about when I am with her? Bring up the secrets of the Night Court as Pillow Talk? Oh, I tortured a couple of faes from Hewn City this afternoon, oh, harder, love? ” He questioned with a roll of his eyes.

Feyre choked out a laugh.

Rhys did not find it amusing. 

“Where did you even meet her?” he demanded. 

“Why, Rhys, I just followed your orders. You told me to go to a pleasure hall so I did,” he shot back. He had followed that order to the fucking letter. 

“So she’s a whore,” Rhys said and Azriel just looked at him. 

Embelia wasn’t ashamed of what she had been. Quite frankly, neither was he. She had done what she needed to do to survive. He was never going to give her the fault for that. The fault was on Spring for slaughtering her family and on the Night Court that they hadn’t given better support so that she would have never gotten into a situation like this where that was the only way out. 

But Embelia? She had been a whore. It was a simple fact. And she wore that proudly.  

“She was. Yes,” he agreed and he could see it on Rhys’ face what he thought about that. 

“You ordered Azriel to go to a pleasure hall?” Cassian asked. “Why?” he demanded. 

“Because he fancied himself in love with Elain of all faes and I couldn’t have him bring our court to the brink of war because he couldn’t keep it in his pants!” Rhys growled. “So I told him to go to a pleasure hall and pay for it to get it out of his system.”

“Rhys!” Mor snapped, shock colouring her voice

“Clearly, I was right, because your infatuation didn’t last long after you were told no. How long did it take you until you were in that pleasure hall?” Rhys demanded. “A Day? A week?”

“Around 6 months,” he answered, his voice even. “After it became obvious that Elain was going to give in to Lucien…Once it became obvious that she wasn’t interested in me. Then I started visiting the Pleasure Hall. I married my wife 4 months later.” 

“By the mother, Azriel, did all your good sense leave you?” Rhys asked him, shaking his head.  “What were you thinking?”  he demanded. 

“That I love her,” Azriel said calmly. “I love her,” he repeated. 

“Wow, she must have really been worth the money you spend on her,” Rhys drawled. 

She had been. Every gold coin. Every fucking clipped copper he paid for her company. Everything had been worth it, just for Embelia’s company.  

He didn’t even react to it. He had heard worse. But he could feel his rage grow with ever fucking word Rhys uttered. 

“She is worth more than you will ever understand,”  Azriel said quietly, his voice laced with steel.

Rhys glared at him. And then he said something so utterly inappropriate that the rage exploded. 

“So that’s what you needed all the time? Some pretty female that opens her legs and suddenly she leads you around by your prick?”

It felt like somebody had sucked all the air out of that room. 

Azriel’s blood boiled with anger and hurt, seething inside,  his control barely keeping the darkness at bay.

He wanted to kill Rhys at that moment. He couldn’t remember ever being this angry before. 

Having their relationship reduced to that…

Embelia’s face appeared in his mind, her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her touch. 

His sanity. 

He had made his choices, and he would stand by them. No one, not even Rhys, could make him regret loving Embelia.

“You can say whatever you want about me, but you say a single thing about my wife or my child and I’ll rip out your fucking throat, and don’t think for one moment that I won’t,” he snapped back harshly. “And yes, for the record, she was worth every fucking clipped copper, I spent on her. She was worth everything. I wanted to marry her. I asked her. I made that choice. She has done absolutely nothing but love me .” 

“You got a kid too?!” Cassian piped up. “Az?” he asked and Azriel ground his teeth.

“Yes,” he bit out. 

“How old?” Cassian asked quietly. 

“3 months tomorrow,” Azriel answered honestly. Cassian stared at him, hazel eyes harsh. 

“Boy or Girl?”

“Girl.”

“I got a niece and you haven’t told me?!” Cassian demanded. “How dare you! I owe her three months' worth of gifts and cuddles!”

“Cassian!” Nesta said sharply and Cassian started pouting. 

“Are you sure that the kid is yours?” Rhys drawled. 

He didn’t even bother to answer that question. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood. 

“Home,” he gave back clippedly. “I’d rather walk my daughter to sleep than listen to you insult her mother and ask if she’s actually my daughter.” His voice was dripping with disdain. “Like there ever were any questions about it. She got her mother’s wings and my colouring.”

***

Nobody followed him home. Which was a good thing because Azriel wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood at the moment. He was still furious. Utterly furious. 

Even as he walked through the door of the cottage… right until he saw Embelia sit in the living room, in that overstuffed armchair and nurse their daughter. She looked up as he entered, smiling.

And suddenly, every bit of anger just went up in smoke, because he couldn’t care less. 

Not when his mate was sitting there nursing his daughter, and it was so easy to just cross the room and drop to his knees before her, to let her reach out for him and run a hand over his hair and jaw and he leaned into her touch, breathing in the smell of earth and home and love. 

Home. He was home, he was with her and that was all he cared about. He stared at his daughter, happily drinking…dark eyes closed in concentration, one pudgy little fist pressing against Embelia’s breast, clearly making sure that her source of milk was going nowhere and he pressed a kiss to her downy soft hair, breathing in the combination of scents of himself and Emmie that clung to her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Embelia asked him softly and he just shook his head. No. No, he didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted to be with his girls. He just wanted to…He just wanted to be right there. 

“You are the best things that ever happened to me,” he whispered hoarsely. 

A gift from the mother herself, and he still wondered every fucking day how he deserved both of them. 

Emmie ran a hand through his curls, staying quiet, as their daughter stopped drinking and he reached out to take her. 

Embelia happily relinquished her hold on her, but not before pressing a kiss to his cheek, and a soft touch to their daughter’s wings…iridescent black. 

Her wings. His colouring. 

No question about it. 

He walked her to sleep like he always did when he could be there, pressing her little body tight to his chest, a scarred hand holding her as carefully as she was made out of spun gold. 

Emmie had laughed at him at the start, at how carefully he held her, telling him that she was a baby and would survive it if he kissed and cuddled her. Still, he had been terrified of hurting her. 

She was so small, and his hands were so big and broad and scarred and…

But sometime during the last few weeks, he had realised that his daughter…his daughter would never look at his hands as anything other than the hands that had held her and comforted her. She would grow up with these scars…she probably wouldn’t even notice them. 

They would just be a fact of life to her. 

So he walked her, the slow swaying circles around their living room that he always made to calm her as much as him, as Embelia tidied around the living room, got ready for bed, and made herself comfortable for the night. 

He could hear the bath running as he felt the touch against his mind. It wasn’t Rhys. 

It was Feyre.

He was surprised enough that he let her slide in, just a little bit, and he knew that she caught a glimpse of the baby in his arms as he felt the surprise register. 

“She’s beautiful.” It was nearly a coo in which she said that, much to his amusement and pleasure, taking in the iridescent wings that lay folded over her back. 

“She got it from her mother.”

It was the truth. Embelia was the most beautiful fae he had ever laid eyes on. The kind of beauty wars were fought over, that brought males trembling to their knees…Azriel easily admitted that he also met that particular criteria. 

“You missed a knockdown drag-out fight between Rhys and Cassian…And then Mor and Nesta decided that they should also get a word in.”

That was not what he had expected, to be quite honest. 

He had half expected that he was going to end up taking his wife and his daughter and find someplace else for them to live. 

“Amren stopped them from levelling the city,” Feyre said drily. It should have amused him, but it didn’t. Not really. 

“You should have come to me after that solstice, I would have told Rhys that he was being ridiculous,” Feyre told him drily. “I’ll deal with him. I promise.”

“It’s fine,” he waved her off. It was fine. 

Right now at least. He never could stay angry when he got to be home when he got to hold his daughter. How could he be angry when he got to hold her? 

He didn’t want to be angry when he held her…He just wanted to breathe in her scent and feel every bit of tension bleed out of him.

A snuffling sound came from his daughter, then a heart belch…and her little body relaxed against his, clearly on her way to the land of dreams. 

“No, it’s not, he should have never done that,” Feyre cut him off. “Or talk to you like that for that matter. Neither on Solstice nor today.  I’ll make sure he understands that. It won’t happen again. You can expect an apology tomorrow.” 

Now he was amused. It bled all over Feyre, who just huffed. “What, do you doubt that I can make him apologise?” she challenged him. 

“Of course not, High Lady,” he promised her. If anybody could get Rhys to weaken in his stance, then it would be his mate. And that was exactly why he had never told Feyre, never wanted to bring her into a position where she was in disagreement with her mate. 

“So congrats on that wedding,” Feyre said suddenly. “We owe you a gift or two, I think…Who knows what Mor is gonna come up with…” He could just hold back the snort at that but could feel Feyre’s amusement leech all over his mind. “Can I…” she trailed off, unsure for a moment. “May I see her?” she asked, curious and delighted for him all the same. He could feel that. 

He pushed a memory at her, from that afternoon…of his wife and his daughter in that spring sun, in that flower field,  their wings glittering and fluttering, Embelia’s pink hair falling to her waist in soft waves and curls, their daughter with his dark hair and her wings, curled up in her mother’s arms, grinning gummily at her…Happiness was oozing from every second of that screenshot. 

“You are beyond lucky,” Feyre said quietly. 

“I know.”

He knew that with every fibre of his being. 

“What’s her name?” Feyre wondered. “She’s beautiful.” 

She was. Gorgeous in fact. And that wasn’t just coloured by the fact that she was his wife and his mate…but she was gorgeous. 

“Embelia,” he answered Feyre. “Family calls her Emmie though.” He called her that, some of her friends did as well. It was what she was most comfortable with. 

“And your daughter’s? What’s her name?” Feyre asked. 

It had taken them months to settle on a name, and then finally, it had been so easy. 

“Aster.”

“A Star and a Flower,” Feyre realised with some amusement. 

“Embelia thought it was just fair.” 

[bitchimasnake-sss]

just a distraction ft. choso kamo!

academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals, academic rivals- set-up: in which, choso and you are academic rivals. in every exam, the raven-haired cunt always seems to be just a negligible percent ahead of you. maybe you've had enough of his bullshit. maybe you should find better ways to get him off that first rank? (both the reader and choso are in second year of college)

warnings: PORN WITH (A LITTLE) PLOT. nsfw babes. contains blowjob, cunnilingus, dirty talking, pet names (baby, darling, etc.), banter (lots and lots). yeah mdni <3

you didn't know much about choso kamo. not really, no.

i mean you knew the basics. you knew his name, his voice. you knew that he always was dressed in black and that he had that weird (somewhat hot) tattoo cutting a horizontal across his pretty face. you knew he had two younger brothers (the pink-haired twin underclassmen) and how he doted on them outside of these wretched lecture rooms.

oh, and what else? you knew he was a fucking bastard.

you knew how smug he was. how absolutely insufferable. you knew the way he scoffed when the professor asked you for the answer instead of him. you knew the way he rolled his eyes when you told him he was wrong. and you knew his full lips always curled up when all the students would gather around the notice board after the exams.

you knew he would always scan his gaze over the crowd, meet your eyes and mouth, "maybe next time, sweetheart." and then walk away.

there's no way an arrogant asshole like him should ever come first in anything! but here you stood in front of the fucking notice board, seeing his name next to the first rank. again.

you had tried everything, really. you had been studying everyday in the library until the staff physically pushed you out of the gates and asked you to go home. you had practiced every question paper in existence, really. then how was he still sitting on top with that stupid fucking smirk of his?

"ugh, don't tell me you're going to the library today." nobara groaned, sprawled out on your dorm bed. "exams literally ended two days ago. you should take some time off!! you promised me you would shop with me once the break came-"

"that was before that bastard beat me again." you mumbled, stuffing a thick notebook into your bag haphazardly.

"are you gonna ditch me for that guy? again? nobody even cares about coming first in uni!! it's a miracle we're all passing, even."

"it matters to me."

"sure does..." nobara pouted. then she sat up and tucked her legs one under the other. she eyed you cautiously and uncannily slow, then grinned like a devil, "what are you doing?"

"what? packing my bag to go to the library?"

"why are you trying so hard to impress him?"

if your body was not a human body, you were sure your eyes would have fallen off and onto the ground. you spluttered, "excuse me? i- i am not trying to impress anybody!"

"uh huh, uh huh." she rested her face on her open palm as if oblivious to the accusations she had placed upon you and your character.

"don't uh huh, uh huh me."

"i am just saying that there are more ways to get a first rank than just studying your ass off you know?" she followed with a cashmere smile, "maybe you should take up another strategy. distract your opponent a little?"

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

this was stupid. really, really stupid.

but nonetheless, you knocked on his dorm room and awaited an answer.

the rest of the floor was empty, most people on vacation or back home for the spring break but not him. he was holed up in his room doing god knows what (studying, probably.)

you subconsciously pulled down the hem of your short denim skirt while awaiting his answer. it's not like you dressed too modest or something. but knowing that you had purposely put on a white, almost see-through long sleeve with a mini, mini denim skirt for all the wrong purposes felt embarrassing.

he would probably see through your act so quickly.

the door finally swung open and there stood an annoyed man in a black, fitted tee and black sweats. his long, choppy hair had been put up in a half-up and his annoyed expression morphed into a sadistic, half-satisfied smile when he saw you. his lips tugged upwards as he took you in, up and down.

"want something?" he asked slowly, leaning against the door frame and towering over you.

you held the books flush against your chest, as if hiding yourself from his scrutinizing gaze. "i-" you swallowed thickly, the words going sour on your tongue, "i just was wondering if you would help me out."

"awh, finally asking for me help, sweetheart?"

the urge to flip him off and walk away was big. but the urge to defeat him and see his crying face was bigger.

"are you gonna invite me in or are we supposed to do this in the middle of the hallway?" you snapped.

god, your self esteem was taking brutal hits right now.

he stepped to his right and mockingly invited you in. you stepped inside into his dark, disheveled dorm room. only purple LED lights had been turned on and from the looks of it, his roommate was gone. possibly on vacation. the raven-head's laptop lay forgotten on his bed and the dimly lit screen had some pop-up game menu asking if he wanted to exit the game.

you looked back at him as he locked off the door. you swallowed yet again, "uhm, so what were you doing?"

"playing." he remarked nonchalantly, nodding towards his laptop. he sat on his roommate's clean bed and you mirrored his actions by sitting on choso's messed bed.

"so?" he quipped again, and the purple led lights casted ghostly shadows across his face, "what does the princess need help with?"

"first, she needs you to drop that cocky, bitchy attitude." you chewed on the inside on your cheek to bite back insults, "second, i- uhm, needed help with the integral problems."

"ah, really? which part?" he stood up, walking over to where you were sitting. looking down, he casted a dubious look as your fingers pulled his tshirt downwards as if nudging him to sit down besides you.

he sat down, uncomfortably close to you on that small bed. he refused to meet your gaze, choosing to pick up the book you had brought with you and flipping through it.

you leaned forward, purposely brushing your perked chest against his biceps. you pointed towards a random problem and whispered, "that one, please."

and just like that, choso kamo was fucked.

you could feel the man's composure was evaporating when he nodded dryly and swallowed in vain. he tried to put distance between you two but you felt confident in your teasing. deciding to press himself closer to his side, molding your curves against his sculpted body, you noticed how he shifted his pants ever so subtly.

"so, you know this needs to be integrated separately first-" his breath hitched as your light fingers skimmed over his arm and you nodded enthusiastically to continue. "right- so. so, you know then you take the numerator okay? and you should- hey w-what?"

he stopped confused as you lightly skimmed over his thighs. your fingers barely brushed over his hard-on. you flashed him a smile, "you look a bit tensed up. i feel like i can't study if you'd be so stiff around me."

"yn." choso breathed as you brushed your soft fingers past the growing tent again. his rough hands held your wrist still as he gave you a pleading look, "what are you doing?"

you took the book out of his hands, placing it somewhere on the bed. then you gave him a reassuring smile, "choso, relax."

and then you sat down on the floor. your hands separated his thighs gingerly and you looked up at him one more time. he had closed his eyes, as if looking at you would make him cum.

you dragged your fingers to the waistband of his pants and tugged them down slowly. his erect dick sprung up, slightly hitting his clothed abdomen. hiding your amusement at his apparent shyness, you slowly pumped his dick.

"look at me." you whispered and he exhaled softly. when his eyes met yours, you took off your shirt, presenting him with your bare torso.

"fuck-" he choked up, eyes transfixed on your perked nipples and the slight goosebumps on your supple skin.

your fingers pumped him languidly and you finally placed wet, kitten licks on the mushroom tip. tasting his salty pre, you swirled your tongue around it, relishing in his breathless whimpers. then, in one go, you took him in. you sucked on it while your hands worked his base.

you looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes and something in his demeanor broke. as if he had finally let lose.

his rough palm pressed against the back of your head, pushing you to take in more. you momentarily gagged around his cock and he moaned as your helpless voice reverberated against his shaft. he pushed you in slowly, looking at the way your eyes started tearing up.

fighting off a feral grin, he whispered, "you have no idea how long i've waited to do this."

then his hands guided you up and down, using your face as a toy for his pleasure. your manicured nails dug into the fabric as he abused your mouth for his pleasures.

"fuck- fuck. fuck. look at you, on your fucking knees. you're so fuckin' pretty, god." he threw his head back and strings of curses and moans left him as you worked in tandem with him. sucking him in pacing with the way he moved your head up and down. you eyes were getting watery and your throat feeling sore but you kept going, sucking harder till you felt him tremble under your strained touches and spit-soaked, red lips.

"i think im gonna cum- f-fuck i-" his voice broke and suddenly your mouth was full of a salty liquid. you swallowed down and ignored the sting that his dick had left behind in your throat.

still struggling to breath, he looked down at you. his calloused fingers softly wiped off the drool on your chin and he pulled you back up to sit you on his lap.

"pretty sure that wasn't a part of calculus." he whispered, almost laughing at his own joke but you were having none of it.

"choso." you breathed, desperation etched into your voice as you rut your hot, wet core against his clothed thigh. your eyes were watery, voice hoarse, "cho-"

"what do you want?" he pulled you in and pressed a kiss on your throat, his hands running over your smooth back, "ask me 'n ill give you the fuckin' world."

you leaned into his soft kisses. his clothed chest rubbed against your perked buds as you grinded yourself harder on him, "i dont know- you. i want you."

"you already have me." he insisted.

turning you around and laying you on his bed as softly as he could, he gave you a last hesitant gaze. his lips pressed chaste kisses down your body till he reached the swell of your breasts. his hand roughly pressed against one while his mouth latched onto the other.

he hummed, too drunk to say anything other than the feeling on your skin on his tongue. his fingers pulled at your hard nipple and you jolted under him, fighting off a moan. he let go with a pop, his eyes trained on your face as he licked a stripe down on your skin before focusing on the previously ignored side.

your hands tangled in his hair and you pressed down his face harder against yourself, insisting him to go rougher on you. as in on cue, he bit you slightly. grazing his sharp canine against your soft tits, he smirked when you shuddered under him.

moving even downwards, he kissed down on the soft fat on your stomach. his hands slowly played with the soft skin and he looked up at you, mumbling against your skin, "you're so fucking beautiful."

he undid the skirt, pulling it past your hips and thighs and throwing it somewhere on the floor. then, he took off his shirt, leaving him bare to be ogled at. you propped up, eyes running over every taut muscle rippling under his skin. mindlessly, you mumbled, "i hate you, you know?"

he gave you an easy smile, "maybe if you focused as much on integrals as you do on my abs, you would have been first."

"excuse me?" you sat up haughtily, "are you fucking stupid? asshole!"

his hands gently guided you back, laying you down. he gave you a teasing smile, "you run your mouth too much. that's your issue, yk."

"did i ask for your opinion or he-lp-" you closed your eyes as the pad of his thumb rubbed your clit through your slick-drenched panties.

he slowly traced circles on the sensitive nub, kissing the inner side of your plush thighs, "i thought that's why you came here?" he pressed an open-mouthed kiss close to where you wanted him. then he looked up and mumbled through a hooded gaze, "i thought you needed my help?"

he pulled the translucent fabric aside, he kissed the bundle of nerves before licking down a patient stripe down to your entrance, "fuc- choso ngh-"

"or is this it?" he spread your thighs apart more, looking at the glistening core, "did you want my help to fuck you as dumb as you are?"

before you could argue, he dipped his tongue in your entrance. his tongue lapping up the juices. he dragged his tongue up, focusing on your clit and the way you squirmed under him when he sucked on the puffy bud harshly.

looking over at your flushed face and being guided by your desperate hands, he pushed in two fingers inside. dragging them in and out, he marveled in the way your body responded to his touches.

your walls spasmed every time he entered and refused to let him go. you bit your lip to quiet yourself down. your thighs were shaking ever so slightly, your mouth agape, lips stained red. your back arched off the bed when he increased the pace and you tugged on his hair and cried out a moan when he used his thumb on your clit and pressed a kiss to your thigh.

"oh my god-" your back arched off as he sucked at your clit again, "fuck fuck fuck, choso. i'm gon'- cum, im gonna cum."

he pressed one last, fleeting kiss to your flushed clit. and he stayed there, drinking up any wayward nectar till you stilled under him. once he was sure you were through your orgasm, he stood up on his knees. wiping his face off, he asked, "you okay?"

you gave him a lazy, unenthusiastic thumbs up and he laughed at the gesture. climbing up, he came up and kissed your nose. you were sure he could taste the salt on your skin.

well, not like it wasn't his fault you were like this anyways.

laying next to you, he stared up at the ceiling and you fidgeted with your hair because it felt as if there was nothing else to do. you chewed on your lips, mulling your words over, "i don't run my mouth too much."

now that the sexual tension was gone. it was awkward, "sorry i said it like that."

"yeah, i guess it's okay."

well there were other things he had said aswell. like "i have been waiting so long for this" or "you have me"... but you didn't feel like raising such important questions when your limbs ached with fatigue and your mind was clouded over with thoughts of choso in your veins.

he gave you a tight-lipped smile and after a minute, he climbed off the bed.

"uh, hey?" you got up too, "do you want me to like... leave?"

"what? no no. i figured you'd get cold." he shook his head and grabbed a plain, blue t-shirt from his closet. he handed it over to you and climbed back in bed, dragging the covers up to cover you both. hesitantly, he draped his hand over your waist and no sooner was he asleep. his soft snores rang through the room and now you lay confused next to him.

nobara had given you some ideas and you followed it. now what? choso barely seem distracted. if anything, it seemed like it had taken off some sort of load off of his chest. he was sleeping so peacefully that you resisted the urge to sock him in the face and run back to your dorm.

while choso lay unaffected, it seems as though this escapade is gonna be rough on you.

well, this is your sign to never take nobara's advice again.

a/n: i actually have a part two written out already. let me know if anyone wants to see it lol. part two is now up! hope you liked it <3

[colourstreakgryffin]

Idk if requests are open but if they are may I request a Mammon x plus sized curvy reader with AuHDHD if that's alright?

Oh… darn. Well, Mammon probably won’t be lenient or nice about it. He is that type of guy so whilst he’s a bit offensive, I hope it’ll be okay. I’m not personally mocking being plus sized or having AuHDHD, I just doubt Mammon would be nice about it at first— but anyway

Mammon- Greatest Self

Straight up… Mammon is pretty goddamn crude and a big selfish bastard. He doesn’t apologise for anything he does and he doesn’t regret being judgemental or discriminative since he only cares for himself

So, when he sees you… a ‘unappealing plus sized brat with a fucked up head’ that’s apparently his new employee, has him apathetic and disinterested so he doesn’t even care to be nice nor ease up his toxicity as your boss

Mammon didn’t really fear insulting your physical body or your psychological issues. He finds both of them very annoying and he cannot bring himself to be patient with you, so for the first few months he had you hired. He treated you badly…

However, for the first time in his life, the Sin of Greed… genuinely felt something bad for somebody else upon making his nasty remarks when he saw the way you were upset over him

Mammon doesn’t know why but he ended up changing his attitude with you since he couldn’t take the sharp stabs in his heart anymore! He can’t insult you without hurting himself. Eventually, he completely silences his bad treatment and tries his best to compliment you

Mammon actually really don’t believe that disorders exist at all and when you, when gaining back trust to your Circus-decored sin boss, explain what AuHDHD is… he does his end to not laugh at the nonsense and listens up. He doesn’t get all this medicine and this treatments yet he keeps trying to understand you anyway

Mammon likes his people attractive and thin and curvy. Whilst he doesn’t think plus sized is attractive at first, he also thinks that there is a POSSIBLE chance that a plus sized curvy person can be hot and eventually, he does view you that way… your plush curves is soft and squishable

Honestly, he thirsts over you like crazy. Mammon loves to kiss and suck your soft plus-sized belly and waist. Feel your bigger thighs and your nice thick ass… he loves the same you feel, you’re amazing and he basically pants over your body

This is a lot less sexual but romantic passion, Mammon doesn’t find anybody sexually thriving but romantically thriving. It’s why he likes your body, he likes to dress you up and put you nice clothing and shoes… oh, it makes him flutter!

Don’t worry, Mammon will NEVER let anybody insult your body or your conditions! He did previously but he doesn’t anymore since you’re now his beloved partner so if anybody even dares to make fun of you, he’ll devour them whole with no hesitation whatsoever

NOBODY hurts his beloved little kitten!

Mammon is the type of pampering lover, he enjoys giving you all kinds of wonderful presents and items pretty much 24/7 since his love language is in the form of ‘receiving gifts’. It’s spoiling but it’s his best strength, getting the best things since whilst he hates spending money. He’ll spend it on him and you

Mammon is not usually a patient man at all but he is always doing his best for you since he has some weird obsession over you that he can’t explain at al! He does his best to be patient with your conditions and understand your different attitudes aren’t intentional… even if your tones may offend him

Mammon may like you a lot but he is still a awfully greedy money-eyed prick so he’ll market you in whatever your best skill is so he can profit from it but he will gladly give you… a proportion of that income gain. He only slightly exploits you where he exploits everybody 100%

Mammon enjoys having you match him in clothing or accessorises! So, he likes to get you to wear whatever he is at the time, I’m afraid you’ll have to get use to this little cute thing until he gets bored of it… which will probably take some time so he’ll make you his Mini Me and admire how cute you look!

Mammon treats you like a Prince/Princess/Royal amongst the workplace so you get special privileges, and his employees do as you want when you want by his command. If you’re hungry, they give you food first. If you need time alone to handle your AuDHD, they are to leave right away

Mammon personally doesn’t think you need to do anything for anybody else so when you tell him, after a long day, about people saying you need to lose your weight. He’ll basically say; ‘you don’t need to change for anybody’ but if you ever want to change your plus-sized form, he’ll be there to support you… in the most Mammon way

Now. To top up your relationship with the Aussie Greed King, Mammon is not the most perfect boyfriend and he’s always trying to improve his ugliest traits to not hurt your feelings so he needs time but he does love you and he’ll show it

“Eh? Do’n wan’a perform this year, babe? Ya’d make a’ adorable one, ya know. Crikey, crikey. Ay, I was just saying, doll… don’t need to hiss at me like that. Lucifer’s will. Would ma’ performin’ with ya help at all?”

[alxxbee]

Ok, I just saw your redesign of Lucifer for the 2P AU you did and I honestly like it a bit better than in the show, he actually feels prideful here since purple is in fact the biblically accurate color of Pride! :D

Also making him a brunette and adding bright blues (a biblically accurate color of Sloth) as accents was a nice choice :) and the golden eyeshadow! :)

But does he still rule Hell in the AU with Alastor coming from Heaven? And what's the latter's role IN Heaven?

(I’m actually not very familiar with 2P lore if there really even is one but i’ll try))

((i also haven’t rewatched the show since it literally came out i maybe have forgor about like many things LMFAO))

(this also got deleted like twice and i’m pissed for rewriting this again)

(anyways here’s 2P Lucifer in my own interpretation)

2P Luci thrives in being alone, finding comfort and strength in it rather than misery. He doesn’t mind ruling Hell on his own. He doesn’t need anybody and doesn’t want anybody. His relationship with 2P Lilith has broken apart completely, due to their different views on redemption and the treatment of sinners. 2P Lilith is tricky since we know almost nothing of her, but i believe that she harbors a deep disdain for Hell and rejects the idea of controlling sinners for personal gain

BUUUUT something that has been in my mind recently is how he is essentially the embodiment of Pride.. but since 2P is (technically) the opposite of something (an inversion) The opposite of pride would be HUMILITY. Instead of making him a sad, insecure ruler, ..I’d like to think he thrives on human’s insecurities, fear, humiliation and self-doubt instead.. (rather than in the show he puts ON a prideful face when in reality he’s quite timid and socially awkward))

His relationship with 2PAlastor is quite decent (2P radioapple 🙂‍↕️) they still bicker but not in a hateful way like they do in the show, lighthearted jokes and banter, reflecting a mutual respect. (Lucifer knows how sensitive 2P Al is, and despite flourishing in humans despair and emotions, He has a soft spot for 2P Al.) ..Oh and they do not try to win over Charlie’s affection, ((2P Charlie actually does not really gaf about them XD))

Does not care for Heaven.. maybe even hates. but is not emotionally affected by his fall, I don’t know if Lucifer actually misses Heaven in the show, we can see how deeply affected he still is by their rejection of his creativity.

so i guess id like to think instead of him feeling hurt or betrayed(?), he feels somewhat thankful. Thankful that he was able to flourish in HIS ideas at last, finally seeing the evil of the world like he intended to.. destroying the order Heaven worked hard to maintain. Maybe he wanted Eve to bite the apple because he WANTED evil to come and corrupt the world, He knew what came with free will. He was a rebellious angel who went against Heaven in every way, intentionally with malice. Implying that Lucifer does not regret his role in giving sinners free will. He also cares for his sinners but not in a good way, more like he wants as many as possible so he could one day potentially top over heaven in power. A power hungry bastard.

He is serious, and a realist. NOT goofy and silly lmao. (Though he has goofy moments i shall not strip him of his whimsical fun entirely)

2P Lucifer and Original Lucifer share some similar qualities aswell. Something Both 2P Luce and Original Luce have in common is that they love Charlie.. and will protect her at all costs. Luci actually maintains a positive relationship with his daughter, He is close with her and tries to be in her life like a good father should, but 2P Charlie doesn’t usually give him the time of day. although she can be quite mean, and not the bubbly type at all like she is in the show, she still loves her father to a certain extent.

Again, we don’t really know much about the characters and the family’s history in the show.. And until we do, everything i said could be changed completely!! Like i said this is something for fun!! I haven’t really been thinking much about this AU, i designed him as a silly redraw but if i ever in the future add more details to his lore i will 🫶

Oh and as for the relationship with Original Alastor and 2P Luci…

Ok that’s all idk i don’t write for a reason 💀💀💀 💔

[starreo]

a guide to love, by a homewrecker.

he's despicable! but he's also absolutely in love with you. completely ready to destroy your marriage in the name of love, he's scaling the cliffs of curiosity, grabbing onto every piece of information that could portray your husband in a bad light!

i'll mostly elaborate on this w full-length fics,, mdni.

gojo satoru, the crazy kinda homewrecker, he'll beat that bastard till he can't speak, and when you catch him in the act, he'll say, 'this son of a whore is your man? well, he was fucking my girlfriend last night, so i guess not.' and walks away, leaving you completely shocked. yeah, this is why trust is important in a relationship, because you believed him right away, playing perfectly into his little plan. as you hurriedly tug on his jacket, turning him to face you, with your pouty lips and your teary eyes, 'd-do you have any proof?' and yes, yes of course he does. he's gojo satoru, he's always prepared.

eren jaeger, the pretentious kinda homewrecker, after accidentally bumping into your husband, he's taking him out for drinks, getting him so hammered that he's seeing double, and introducing a pretty girl to him. he's satisfied after getting the pictures he needs. the next day, he's showing up at your apartment before that stupid man can, telling you how upset it made him. how he doesn't understand why anybody would want to cheat on you. he's holding you tight in his arms, hushing you as he sniffs the scent of your shampoo, a smirk forming on his face because phase one of the mission is complete.

reo mikage, the rich kinda homewrecker, he's paying everyone off to tell outrageous lies about your stupid husband. he's completely loaded, so he really doesn't care about the money, he'll surrender his entire estate if it means you loving him back. he's sending his secretary, anonymously, to make phone calls, send mails, and do the meet-ups with the huge envelopes of cash after they've told you the horrible unimaginable stuff your husband has done. then, when you're finally vulnerable, drinking your sorrows away after having a fight with your husband, he makes his move.

© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 14: To Know Is To Love

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: NyraxAzriel, NestaxCassian, and then they move to the townhouse.

Word count: 6.4k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

People often have expectations about how their interactions with others would turn out. Introverts often imagine those conversations, practise their monologues and dialogues, imagine what the other person would say or how they would react—all quite similar to a script rehearsal they plan out during a bath.  

Our favourite shadowsinger had also imagined that after a good spar with Cassian, he would be in complete control of his faculties around Nyra. 

No uncontrollable arousals, no imaginations of a happy married life, and certainly not acting on his fantasies and actually leaning forward to kiss her and then being forced to find an excuse for why he was leaning towards her in the first place. 

He had imagined that she’d be there at breakfast and he would only have to be polite to her, take her to Amren’s flat, and fuck off to perform his Spymaster duties till Feyre had finished her morning training with Cassian. 

And did any of it go according to plan? 

Certainly, not. The author of his life seemed to like tormenting him by having Nyra wear pants. Or by making her so undeniably beautiful. Or by simply writing his mate into existence. 

Were the shadows of any help to him? No, of course not. If the little shits had their way, they’d be the ones mated to her instead of him. They’d certainly take initiative and ask her hand in marriage or run away with her into the sunset. 

And then again, what was a male supposed to do when his mate, who does not know she’s his mate, wears pants? 

What was an introvert supposed to do when his mate wears pants? 

Of course, he’d behave like everything was perfectly normal while being a disaster inwardly. 

This was torture. He was being fucked by the Cauldron, by the Mother, by Fate or whatever force that was responsible for these events. 

Did anybody in any universe care to tell him how undeniably soft Nyra’s thighs looked? Did anybody take pity on his cock and tell him that she would be wearing pants and that he would feel that delicious ache again? Did anybody even bother dropping a hint?

No. 

Because whatever force governed his life right now was clearly being a pain in the ass. 

The shadows refrained from crawling around her legs. The absence of skirts meant that they were going to simply stop at a feet’s distance and then swarm up to play with her hands. 

Oh, how fucking proper the slithering little bastards were. 

Breakfast had been a frustrating event. Nyra had been distant, flirty, childlike, and irritated all within thirty something minutes. He left the dining area for his rooms after telling his family that he’d be back in ten minutes and he found her waiting on the balcony with Nesta. The twins were appreciating the silence when Cassian and Azriel made their appearance. 

Nesta soon walked over to Cassian, leaving Nyra no choice but the shadowsinger. She looked at him and they continued to stare at each other until Azriel admitted defeat with a smirk and walked over. It was not as if he had enough patience to stay away either. 

“Still need convincing that I’m alright?” He teased. Nyra looked at him, particularly disbelieving. “Why would I lie to you?” He added. 

“You seem like the type who’d do anything to prevent others from worrying over you.” Nyra shot back, striking true. “And for some inexplicable reason, I don’t like that.” 

“You want to worry for me?”

“And what if I want to?” Nyra challenged him. Azriel had no reply. It seemed his ability to form words had been ripped away and he wanted to run. 

“So, let me understand you correctly. You’re not believing me because you think I’m the kind of person who doesn’t let others worry about me?” Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was anxious about what she’d say now and even when she hadn’t said anything, he was still waiting.

“You missed the part where I said I don’t like that.” And her words gave him the ability to breathe. Or permitted him to breathe. Same thing anyway.

“Do you care?”

“Care for what?” She asked. Nyra wanted to hear it from him. Whether Azriel would accept being cared for. 

“Care for. . . me?” He added the last word after a pause, as though he was taking a risk while saying these three words.

“Don’t ask such a ridiculous question.” Azriel felt his world drain of life. “Of course, I do. That much is obvious.” And the way his soul rose to the clouds and basked under the warmth of the sun at dawn, Azriel truly believed that there was something good and beautiful in the world and that was her. 

And then he studied her posture, her expression, her tone, and realised with all the joy that Nyra tried to behave as though she was angry and tough when in fact, she was already worried. 

He covered his mouth with a hand, turned to the side, and walked a couple of steps, unable to contain the smile on his face. 

Joy was everywhere. In the blue grey skies, in the cool morning breeze, in his bleeding pumping heart. He wanted her against his skin. Against his fucking soul. This magnificent person and her ability to feel so much. To feel for him. 

Even without acceptance, Azriel truly felt overjoyed that she was his mate. That the bond eventually led to this incredible person who was nothing short of a blessing for his dirty self. Like five hundred years of agonising wait had been more than worth it because Nyra was more. 

She felt more. 

She spoke more. 

She suffered more. 

She expressed more. 

And she was more than he’d ever be. 

She was infinite. 

“What?” Nyra asked, playfully annoyed. She followed him, placed a hand on his arm, and turned him towards her. The smile that he tried to conceal with his hand was like the moon being hidden by clouds—an unsuccessful attempt at hiding the beauty of it. 

And Nyra just stared because who wouldn’t want to look at the moon? Who wouldn’t want to look at Azriel? 

“I’m fine. Truly. Do you want me to take you to the healer who treated me? Or do you want to examine me yourself? Whatever it is, do it. Whatever you need to be convinced that I am indeed healthy.” 

Nyra looked away, bashful. “There’s no need for such a speech.” 

“With the way you were determined to remain unconvinced of my status as a healthy male, I’d say there’s even a need for thoughtful letters and poetry recitals.”

“Rather cheeky in the morning, aren’t you?” Nyra was pleasantly surprised at this side of Azriel. And this, she decided, she liked. 

“Rather stubborn in the morning, aren’t you?” Azriel smiled and the pleasant breeze of the cool morning kissed her. Her danced with the wind behind her and Azriel was very happy at this moment. Nyra couldn’t help her smile that bloomed in response to his own and even when she tried to conceal it with her own hand, she knew that Azriel had seen her. 

Nyra looked at him with this wave of tranquillity that now washed over them and Azriel closed his eyes, enjoying the silence. She looked over at the city that she would visit for the first time—the first place filled with people now that her life and health were no longer affected by that damned illness. Anxiety crawled in her stomach and made her uneasy.

“What is it?” Azriel asked. He seemed to know of all her troubles and worries. 

“I. . .” It was embarrassing. To be so afraid of going to the city and of the people who lived there. What would she see there? She didn’t even know anyone there and she was already afraid. “I. . .” She tried again and failed. Azriel was still looking at her expectantly and she felt like she’d be disappointing him. 

And Azriel, who had been feeling all of this through the bond, was absolutely not ready to let her feel any less of herself. 

“You’ll be visiting Velaris for the first time.” He tried to be casual about it, as if he did not feel her feelings like his own. “It’s a beautiful place but for the foreseeable future, you’ll be spending time in Amren’s flat.”

And Nyra ate those words like food for her soul. Thank gods she did not have to bother with anything like meeting people. At least not for now. 

“You can still admire the city from her balcony. She lives in a good area with a nice bakery nearby. Their cheesecakes are quite famous.” Azriel knew how much desserts affected her. He could lure her into nearly anything with cakes. 

“Don’t you talk about cakes to me. Where’s the chocolate cake you promised me yesterday?” Nyra asked, completely forgetting people and with her thoughts surrounding cakes. 

“You will see more of me today. After your lessons, we’re having that cake.” There was so much determination in his voice but Nyra still looked unconvinced. Azriel noticed that. He chuckled. “Promise.”

“Promise?” She repeated, doubtfully.

“Promise.” The shadowsinger affirmed. A tingling sensation sparked behind Nyra’s right ear and her hand immediately flew there. 

“That’s a tattoo.” Her head turned to him to reveal the ear as she touched it and the skin behind it with her fingers. 

“A tattoo of?” She turned her head properly and revealed the skin where she had felt that odd little feeling. 

Azriel leaned a bit forward, examining it with a fondness settled over his face. “A star.” 

“Sounds nice.” She touched that spot and caressed it with her finger.

“Shall we leave?” Nyra looked at him and nodded. The two of them headed towards Nesta and Cassian who were talking to each other. Either it was a conversation or it was Cassian teasing Nesta too much and digging his own grave. 

****

When Cassian saw Nesta walking towards him for the flight to Amren’s residence, he had to look and look again to confirm if this was happening in reality or if his fantasies of Nesta had somehow created an illusion. He was certain that with the way he grinned at her after meeting her gaze while she blushed, she would��ve ignored his existence for the day. 

But when Nesta reached him and he was sure this was reality, the General swallowed his own spit and looked over to the brother who was not brooding as much as he had been these past centuries. Life seemed to have bloomed within the shadowsinger. 

Said shadowsinger and a particular Archeron were having a very enjoyable conversation if his brooding brother’s smiling face was anything to go by. 

“Do you hope for something between them?” Nesta looked at him, brows furrowed and completely irritated at being reminded of his existence. 

Cassian smiled brightly at her. Her expression softened for a brief moment before she replaced it with the stone cold exterior. He took that fleeting moment of her softness towards him and preserved it in a corner of his heart as she looked back at her twin and the shadowsinger. 

“They are befriending each other.” Nesta spoke after a moment. “She’s never had friends.”

“She’s had you.” Cassian did not know what else to say. Or how much he should say. Nesta was easily triggered into the most intense of emotions and he was still learning. 

“I’m her sister. A friend might help her be herself.” 

Nesta Archeron stood like a proud queen and yet, the way every part of her thawed for her twin had thoroughly shocked him. This was a privilege she’d afforded to Elain too but never Feyre. With Feyre, she seemed to sharpen herself even more. 

“Why did you not treat Feyre like that?” Cassian regretted asking as soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth and cursed himself.

“That’s none of your business.” She all but snarled. Nesta glared at him and even with all her anger, her power did not flare up. 

“It is my business since she’s my family now.” And when Cassian said those words, he watched as she looked as though she’d been slapped even though Cassian knew that he was the one who should’ve been slapped that instant. The bond between the sisters was their own and he never had the right to question it. And now, he’d overstepped some boundaries just when he was starting to have a proper conversation with her. 

“If you mean to imply that she’s your sister and no longer mine-” 

“No! No, no, no. She’s not any less your sister now that she’s a part of my family.” 

“You’re Rhys’s brother.” Nesta began. “She’s your sister-in-law.” Feyre was better off with her new family anyway. Nesta looked back at Nyra wondering whether she was also better off with these people than being stuck with her because Nesta knew that she was nothing and would never amount to anything. Nyra might be her twin but she deserved the heavens at her feet and Nesta deserved nothing. 

“And what if Nyra and Azriel choose to be together? What if Nyra becomes my sister-in-law?” Cassian knew that he should’ve shut up long ago. Knew that he should’ve stopped lest he provoke Nesta any further but he couldn’t hold his tongue around her. He wanted to talk to her and he wanted her to talk to him and this conversation was becoming one of the most precious memories in his life even though it was headed to shit.

“Because they’re mates?”

“You know of the bond?” Cassian was thoroughly surprised. 

“I suspected as much.”

“How?”

“For someone who's the Spymaster, his utter lack of subtlety is laughable.” She threw Azriel a glance and then looked at the sky, wondering how she would have managed a flight if she were wearing a gown. But then again she didn’t know how exactly were they supposed to fly. Cassian did look strong enough to carry her and pin her against a. . . No, no, no. Maybe there would be a carriage. Or a horse. A flying horse. Yes. 

Cassian could not find anything insulting about the tone she’d used while talking about Azriel. In fact, it could even pass as a lighthearted comment—a joke even. “You did not answer my question. What happens if Nyra and Azriel accept the bond?”

Nesta threw him a withering glance. “Then I’ll have a brother-in-law I actually like.” 

“It also means that you’ll be more connected to our family.” 

Nesta remained stone faced. She gave him a withering glance and looked back at the two people around whom the shadows and awkwardness floated in equal measure. “I’ll count my stars.”

“When are we leaving?” Nesta asked after a moment of silence. She turned to look at him and Cassian had to focus to stand straight. 

“Shall we?” Cassian held a hand out. Nesta looked at it before slowly giving him her hand. 

“What exactly will we be doing?” 

Cassian did not understand what she was saying. They were supposed to leave. There was no time to do anything unless she wanted a bathroom break. 

Upon noticing his confusion, Nesta spoke. “I was informed that you would take us to Amren and for that we’ll be flying. I don’t understand how that works. How will you be taking me?” 

Cassian would’ve spat out anything if he were eating or drinking at the moment. The way she asked how he would be taking her in that utterly casual tone was not what he expected. 

“How would you like me to take you?” Cassian asked, his voice growing heavy. 

Nesta’s eyes darkened at the implication. Desire and wrath waged a war within her. And she really couldn’t understand. “I should send you to your grave.” 

“A graveyard doesn’t sound so appealing for what I have in mind, Nesta Archeron.” Cassian took a step closer.

“Are we interrupting something?” Azriel’s amused voice spoke. And the light heartedness in his voice made it completely evident that the shadowsinger was in a good mood. Cassian looked at Nyra who was as happy as she could be considering the present circumstance. 

“Nothing at all.” Nesta replied. 

Cassian realised that she was always polite to Azriel in a way she never was with Rhysand. Officially speaking, the latter was her brother-in-law. Her family. But Nesta never acknowledged Rhys to be anything but her sister’s husband and never a brother. On the contrary, Azriel was already more Nesta’s brother than Rhysand would ever be in the foreseeable future. 

The shadowsinger had brought the sisters books, spent time with them while they were mortal, actually putting in an effort to know them as people and let them know him as much as his reserved self could allow. Back then, Cassian had wondered if this was because Azriel cared for Feyre enough to be someone with whom she could talk to about her mortal sisters long after they’d passed away, particularly the ill Nyra who was the weakest. 

It made sense seeing as only Azriel had the emotional depth to think of such a thing but soon enough, Cassian could see that Azriel genuinely enjoyed his visits to the mortal sisters of his High Lady to the point where the general had entrusted those duties to him after Nesta called him a pigeon the day he licked her neck. 

With Rhysand, Feyre had gained a family by virtue of that mating bond but Rhys did not. Cassian knew Azriel would not only get a mate if Nyra accepted him but he would also get a family. Nesta liked Azriel as much as she could like others. Elain would probably come around.

Cassian could imagine the Archerons and Azriel sitting together and talking because they wanted to. With Rhys, conversation would probably only be a formality. The last thought pained him as he remembered that Nyra, in her previous life, was Maia, the beloved baby sister of his High Lord. He never really asked Rhys about what he thought about the same soul returning to their lives not only as Azriel’s mate but also as a sister-in-law.

“Shall we leave?” Azriel held a hand out for Nyra that she took without much hesitation. Surprise graced her features when Azriel bent down to place his arm behind her legs and carry her. “Hold on tight.” Nyra simply nodded and continued to watch his face as Azriel stretched his wings and shot into the sky with her. 

****

“I hope you don’t need any more convincing that I am capable of flight.” 

“Oh no, do spread your wonderfully large wings and take me all over the world.” Azriel blushed at the compliment she threw at his wings. Agony would not even begin to describe his desires and the strict prohibitions against fulfilling them. She didn’t even know what big wings were supposed to imply and mid-air was not the best location to be aroused.  

“Yes, my lady.” And Azriel began flying at a pace slower than he used to. 

Heavens, where was control when he needed it? And just when he thought he had it, this female had to go and say something or breathe or exist and all that ironclad self control he’d honed for centuries came crumbling down like powder.

“You can fly a bit faster, you know.” Nyra curiously looked at him. 

“Just a bit?” He cheekily asked. 

“Never mind.” But Azriel increased his speed to his usual level and Nyra hummed in satisfaction. She let her head rest against his chest and there was that soothing sound again. The sound that had held her soul and rocked her to sleep in the realm of the shadows. And before Azriel realised it, Nyra had fallen asleep in his arms. 

****

Amren was a very thorough teacher. Upon their arrival, she had quizzed them and was very pleased to know that the sisters had read at least some of the books. Her instruction began and it did not take much time for the twins to understand that she was not going to follow conventional methods. 

Days passed. Amren had taught the twins how to shield, sense magical and life signatures, and to start summoning their power. Power or magic or sorcery or whatever it was called, the twins did it well. Nesta’s flames were unheard of and that posed some very basic questions for which there was no answer. Lightning was not completely unfamiliar but no known wielder of that element ever existed. Amren herself could summon the roar of thunder but lightning did not come to her whereas with Nyra, the element had completely submitted to her. 

Amren studied their powers for weeks before she realised with certainty that Nyra’s powers were not limited to lightning but included the weather as a whole. Her strongest emotions easily affected the weather. Rainy days meant she was sad. Thunder represented anger. Clear skies signified peace and calm. 

Nesta’s power was far too unknown so Rhysand and Morrigan usually watched nearby whenever the flame-wielding Archeron used her power. It did not burn things and turn them to ash and dust. The flames sucked the life out of anything it lit. After all, there was a difference between a rotten vegetable and a burnt vegetable. 

Amren soon decreed for Lucien Vanserra to join as an instructor and he was the object of disgust from the female he was to teach. Nyra observed this male with interest as he spoke to Nesta about how he summoned and powered his flames. She knew that Nesta would keep aside her anger and absorb knowledge for the sake of knowledge but even then, these interactions were treading on thin ice. 

Nyra remembered Elain who had wept and mourned as the day of her wedding passed. Nesta had shown a rare moment of compassion and hugged Elain till she passed out from exhaustion. She still hadn’t consumed food and water as much as she should. 

One of Nesta’s lessons ended with Lucien asking about Elain. 

“Severely traumatised and malnourished, all thanks to you. Shall I drain you of life as a token of my gratitude?” Nesta’s flames covered her hand and Nyra placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

“You’ll have enough prey to hunt and kill during the war, Nesta Archeron.” Amren spoke. “This one is still useful.”

“Oh, we certainly saw his usefulness in Hybern.” Nesta spat. 

Nyra tightened her grip on her twin’s shoulder. “You do anything to him and Elain might feel something. She might get hurt.” 

Nesta’s flames were no more but the silver in her eyes remained. “You try anything and I will gut you like a fish.” 

She spun on her heel and walked over to Amren and the two of them started discussing something. 

“Thank you, my lady.” Lucien addressed Nyra as he bowed at the waist, ever the impeccable courtier.

“You’re only allowed to live because of Elain.” Nyra mused very calmly. Lucien paled at the glare the shadowsinger shot him from a distance, who would’ve definitely taken him to some torture chamber had not the mating bond with Elain existed. 

“But then again, you’re rather interesting.” She looked up at the sky and the few clouds here and there. Lucien followed her gaze and noted that it was a pleasant day. And it would remain a pleasant day for Nyra and his death day if the shadowsinger wished for it but Azriel probably did not want Nyra to be upset by whatever Elain might feel after his death. 

“Why?” She asked. “Why are you who you are?”

Lucien did not know what was the correct answer to this. Was it his childhood as an unloved boy surrounded by an evil father, a depressed mother, and six deranged brothers? Was it his roguish youth when he met Jesminda? Was it when he ran away to Spring or was it now that he had fled Spring after a mating bond had snapped? 

“I honestly don't know.”  

“Well,” Nyra drawled. “If you do find out before your death, do tell me. Your complexity is a curious case.”

Silver flames lit up a tree, starting from the base to the very top of it. And the flame disappeared from the base itself. The tree which had been lush was now dry enough to be mistaken for belonging to the desert. 

Nyra watched the flames and then watched Nesta who stood near the trunk with a solemn expression. Nesta turned to her and Nyra knew that she was afraid of this power. The power to inflict death so easily. Nyra raised her hand and lightning sparked between her fingers. Her eyes were brighter. The heavens roared and a flash of lightning hit the tree next to her, felling it almost immediately. She looked at Nesta and then shrugged her shoulders. It was a message to her—that Nesta was not alone. 

“What did that poor tree do to you?” Azriel’s deep voice seemed to travel through her spine, alerting all her senses. 

“Exist in the vicinity.” Nyra replied, not looking at him. One look and she’d melt because how could one person be so flawless? Brilliant sense of humour. Understanding to the point where Nyra sometimes wondered if he was real or fictional. Caring and gentle and doting—he practically spoiled her. Anything she asked—books, cakes, company—he gave. And his laugh, so full of life and joy. And don’t even get her started on his looks.  

“Since when was existing an offence punishable by death?” Azriel asked, leaning against one of them with his hands in his pockets. Today, he was wearing something other than his Illyrian leathers. Something casual like pants. 

Azriel found Nyra heartbreakingly beautiful this morning—like a forbidden fruit. He couldn’t act on his feelings. Not when a war had already begun with the transition of the Arhceron sisters being the beginning of it but if this is all he’d get, then he would choose to live this life over and over. 

“It is for anything that annoys me.”

“It seems like I’m not doing a good enough job at annoying you if you haven’t struck me with lightning.” He was leaning against the tree, existing so casually gracefully with arms crossed against his chest. His shadows, of course, had abandoned him as soon as he was in Nyra’s presence.

Nyra turned to him, utterly unimpressed. “My lightning doesn’t hurt you anyway.” Thank gods, she was finally convinced of that. 

“But that was not yours, was it?” Azriel had seen her own lightning on her fingertips but the one that struck the tree was summoned from the skies. “You used your power but you summoned lightning from elsewhere, perhaps its source is somewhere in the skies.”

“You observe me too closely.”

“I observe you at the exact measure I should be.” And Azriel could not stop looking away. Could not stop staying away. As much as his instincts roared at him to protect, he recognised the power she harboured. Far beyond what Rhysand possessed. 

“As the Spymaster of the Night Court?”

“As your friend and your youngest sister’s brother-in-law.”

“Does that make you my brother-in-law?”

Azriel wanted to vomit at the thought of being Nyra’s brother. That would be single-handedly the worst thing to happen. 

“No.” He slowly began. “That makes me Feyre’s brother-in-law, not yours.” 

“Hmm.” Nyra and Azriel turned towards Cassian and Nesta when the pair had begun bickering loudly. “I don’t know if he wants to become my brother-in-law or end up in a grave.”

“He might end up surprising you.”

“And achieve both? Even though he’s closer to the grave than to Nesta’s bedroom?” Nyra looked at him, a faint hint of amusement. 

Azriel chuckled and then replied. “That’s actually a huge possibility.” And after a while of enjoying the banter of the General and the mistress of the silver flames, Azriel asked. “Have you found anything you liked?”

“Books.”

“And?” 

“Food.”

“And?”

“Languages.”

“Interested in diplomacy?”

“Interested in new cultures but not people.”

“Do you wish to travel? After the war?”

“Will there be an after?”

“There will be.” He spoke, determined to give his life for it.

“If you’re thinking of being a self-sacrificing moron, let me inform you right now that I will kill you. I’ll bring you back from the dead and then kill you and then resurrect you again.”

“It’s my duty to my Court.” 

“And your duty to yourself?” Azriel remained silent. His duty to himself was to her. 

“I don’t even know if this is where I belong.” Nyra sighed. This thought had been haunting her for quite some time.

“What?”

“The Night Court. We’re here because of Feyre but do we truly belong?”

“Why do you say that?” Azriel did not know if he should be panicking right now but his shadows were already still.

“Feyre found her mate and a family here. Initially, she did have something in Spring but she found all of herself in Night. What if I find myself somewhere else? What if my sisters find themselves elsewhere? Then we would belong elsewhere.” Nyra wondered what else she’d be exposed to now that she was fae. 

But no place would be far enough for Azriel or his heart. It would always be hers, beating for her, waiting for her but he recognised that Nyra’s thoughts were not silly. They were legitimate doubts.

“Wherever you belong to, wherever you find yourself, you’ll always have a place in the Night Court.” Rhysand joined them. His eyes had lost their stars. 

Nyra remained quiet for a while. “I want to meet my father.”

Azriel looked at her. He noted that her tone did not have any daughterly affection or any filial piety. She was rather formal while mentioning her father. Nyra looked down at her palms and the lightning they could wield. “I want clarity on a lot of things.” And she refused to speak further. 

“Alright. I’ll keep an eye out. Could you describe his appearance?” And Nyra told him every single thing. Facial structures, all visible marks and moles, names of known associates and their affiliations, possible locations.

“You did not inherit your father’s hair colour.” Rhysand noted. He’d seen his father-in-law through Feyre’s memories. “Inherited the shape of his eyes, perhaps. Rounder and more feminine, of course.” And Rhys sent Azriel a picture of the father his shadows had kept to themselves.  

“Elain and I inherited his curls but the hair colour was from our mother.” And then she was looking at Feyre. “Feyre inherited his smile, or so Nesta says. I’m not good at identifying facial resemblances.”

A moment of silence washed over them. Azriel sighed when he realised that his shadows had delegated the work among themselves and a few of them had gone off in search of her father. The others that had taken to playing with Nyra’s hands or hair were obviously fawning over her. She’d strictly demanded that they stay away from any part of her whenever she wielded lightning and the bastards would always never stay away from her. 

“Your hair is less curlier than when I first met you.” Azriel pointed out. He’d noticed it the first time but he did not know if it was appropriate to speak of back then but now, it felt like it was okay.  

“More manageable, I’d say.” Nyra’s hand went to her hair. What used to be in coils was now in soft waves with the tips curly upwards and defying gravity in the semi-circles. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my curls but I am not the best at taking care of my own hair and I really need manageable hair if I’m going to groom myself into looking presentable.” 

****

The day they were supposed to visit the Hewn City, Azriel felt a stab-like pain on his abdomen. There was nothing seemingly wrong with him and then it was revealed that Nyra’s cycle had begun and the pain was flowing towards him. But nobody could actually identify from Nyra’s expressions that she was in pain. And while Feyre had begun explaining how fae cycles worked, she asked. “Are you in pain right now?”

“Yes.” Nyra answered. Nesta sighed, knowing where this conversation was headed for. She looked back and saw Azriel, clenching his fists and she raised an eyebrow at him. He simply closed his eyes and shook his head at her. Nesta watched with false boredom as Feyre inquired after her seemingly normal behaviour. 

“My tolerance for pain is very high.” Silence followed. “I can endure this.”

“Just because you can endure doesn't mean you must.” Morrigan walked over with a cup of tea. “This is a tea my aunt used to take for the pains.” Rhysand sat straight as he watched Nyra enjoy the smell of that tea and take a sip.

“That is sickeningly sweet. How do you even drink this?” And the High Lord paled. Maia had made the same comment every time she prepared that tea for their mother and Mor. Rhys remembered teasing her about how she’d need it when her own cycle began and the poor girl did not even live long enough for that. 

“Oh, the sweetness is from a herb. Auntie knew much about herbs.” Mor remarked with a concerned look.

Of course, Rhysand’s mother knew about herbs. The female had done everything to postpone her bleeding before it happened and she met the lowlife that was his father. Rhys watched Nyra’s disgusted expression even as she drank the tea. And this female who was now his mate’s sister fell asleep right then and there with her head on her twin’s lap and Nesta began patting her head gently. 

That night, they’d moved to the townhouse, Nyra found herself wanting to go on a walk but Nesta was busy vomiting after Rhys flew too fast and Elain had sat next to her on the sofa and laid her head down on Nyra’s lap. Nyra felt a relief when Elain’s head was pressed against her lower abdomen. 

When Nesta exited the bathroom still nauseous but angry enough for her power to burn, Cassian stood in her way. She was angry at Rhys and her eyes melted into silver and when she took a step towards the High Lord, Cassian spoke. “Do you know that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?” 

Nesta’s burning gaze slid to him. “It was Amren’s fault, of course, but no one believed me. And no one dared banish her.” Nesta’s eyes returned to its own shade of blue and she regained herself. She saw everyone watching her apprehensively. Nyra watched her like this was an everyday occurrence. 

“What are you?” It was Lucien who asked that question and Nesta looked at him assessingly.

“I made it give something back.” And there was the haunting of the Cauldron in the room. “I wish to go to my room.” Once Feyre had given her the directions to her room, Nesta nodded at Nyra once and left the living area. 

“Is that sort of thing even possible? For someone to take from the Cauldron’s essence?”

“It would seem so.” Rhys turned to Lucien. “The flame in her eyes was not of your usual sort, I take it.” 

“No. It spoke to nothing in my own arsenal. That was. . . Ice so cold it burned. Ice and yet. . . fluid like flame. Or flame made of ice.”

“I think it’s death.” Feyre’s voice was barely a whisper as she held Rhysand’s gaze. “I think the power is death—death made flesh. Or whatever power the Cauldron holds over such things. That’s why the Carver heard it—heard about her.” 

“Mother above.” Lucien muttered, running a hand through his hair. 

“Only Nesta would not just conquer Death—but pillage it.” And all eyes now turned to Nyra who simply watched them, thoroughly amused by their assumptions. 

“Oh, do go on. I’m loving your thoughts on this.”

“Did you take something?” Feyre dared to ask.

“I thought you were talking about Nesta.”

“Her flames are not of this world.” Lucien noted. 

“Correct.” Elain was the one who spoke. She rose from Nyra’s lap and looked at Lucien like a cat staring at something ominously. “From beyond worlds.” The brown in her eyes grew light till it turned white and her face turned to Nyra. “Conceived as mortals, reborn as gods.” 

“And here I am, with my cramps.” Nyra muttered. “So much for being a god.” 

And Elain’s eyes returned to the brown. She blinked once and then chuckled. “I’ll prepare some soup.” She stood up and walked towards Feyre, asking her directions to the kitchen. 

“Will you be fine?” Azriel finally asked from behind her, his palms on the backrest of the sofa and he watched her neck turn to look at him.

“I think you should direct that question to Cassian. I hear he’ll be babysitting Elain and I for the night.” Azriel turned to Cassian who was already grinning. The shadowsinger was already irritated.

“What better way to spend the night than with my favourite Archeron?” Behind the sofa where Nyra sat, Azriel looked like a menacing death god, ready to slit his throat. Cassian considered looking around for plots where he could commission for his own grave to be prepared and have Nesta be the owner of that piece of land. After all, she had wanted to send him to his grave a few days ago. 

“We’ll be fine.” She brought her hand and patted his scarred one with her fingers. It would’ve been too inconvenient to extend her entire palm since she was already comfortably positioned on the sofa and Azriel was standing behind it with hands perched on the backrest. 

“A few shadows would like to stay with you. If they have your permission, of course.”

“Alright.” And her eyes shut tight and she curled when a wave of pain hit her. Azriel took her hand and slowly, he could feel her grip tighten. The shadows swarmed over her, keeping her hair away from her face. 

“Nyra. If you want something-”

“I’ll bully Cassian.” The agony in her voice explained how much it hurt and why she had been quiet all day. But she looked up at him and Azriel wanted to stay. 

“The mirror.” Elain spoke from the doorway, a tray and a bowl in her hands. “Pretty thing.” This was directed to Feyre who paled. Elain’s random sayings were becoming more frequent and more specific. Feyre knew that Elain was referring to the Ouroboros that the Bone Carver had demanded as his price. And with that knowledge, she led the Inner Circle and Nesta to Hewn City.

****

A/N: i did this thing where i just randomly picked out readers whom i saw in my notifications who were liking or commenting on the story and i immediately sent them a message requesting feedback on the eye of the storm!!

@fantanbietsson poured all of her heart and i was in my office as i read her feedback and i was smiling and about to cry at the same time!! 💜✨✨

@booksaremyescapeworld i did not expect you to predict the upcoming chapters as you gave me your feedback and i hope you enjoy this chapter. i didn't realise it for the longest time, but i'm writing a slowburn and i'm going to take this slow (not too slow since i've already written maybe five smutty chapters for this fic).

@annikatar i don't know if you realised it but i really don't have the story under my control anymore. i have a bunch of points but how the story reaches those points is way beyond me. hopefully you'll still love this story as i write more.

@feerique absolutely, madly, i love you for being my beta reader!!

to those who told me, they'd give their feedback later, i'm still waiting!

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TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd @myladysapphire @freyagallileaevans @azrielrot @rcarbo1 @i-am-infinite @latinxbipride @moni-cah @fantanbietsson

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[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.

Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

1 week after Sloane's party

Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.

Look who came to visit.

The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?

Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.

Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.

What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.

Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.

“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.

“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”

Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.

“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."

Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”

EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"

EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."

Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."

"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."

Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."

He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."

"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."

Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.

“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."

Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”

EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”

Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.

The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.

She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.

The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.

"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"

Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?

She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.

The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.

Jameson.

He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."

She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.

She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.

With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.

Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.

Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.

She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?

She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.

EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.

Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”

Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."

EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."

Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”

EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”

“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”

EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”

Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."

"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"

Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.

"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."

She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.

It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.

He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."

They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.

“What’s going on?”

Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”

Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.

"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”

She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”

Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”

Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”

Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”

“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”

Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.

They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."

She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”

Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”

Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.

Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”

He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”

“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”

His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.

God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.

“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”

Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.

Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”

Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.

“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”

“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”

"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."

She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"

She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"

He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"

Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.

“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.

"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"

He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”

Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.

"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."

The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.

As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”

He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.

Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.

R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary

As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.

"Shit." He muttered to himself.

[anonymous-dentist]

A VERY quick c!Roier/f!Cell oneshot because I can't stop thinking about them

-

Roier’s day starts normally:

Wake up, check Sally’s crib, make sure Sally’s favorite toys are ready and waiting for when he comes home. Shower, brush teeth, floss. Wash face, eat breakfast, rearrange the fridge so he doesn’t have to reach past Natalan’s heart every time he wants to get the eggs out. Do dishes, check Sally’s crib, make the bed. Check Sally’s crib. Turn on the news, apply eyeliner as he listens to it. 

“-If you see this individual, please do not hesitate to reach out to the authorities. He is armed and dangerous. He has been described by the authorities as-”

Check Sally’s crib. Search the apartment for Sally, maybe he’s hiding. He likes to play, he’s such a playful child!! He gets it from Natalan, the little shit. 

“-Has been found guilty of ten counts of homicide, though he is currently under investigation for at least thirty more committed between the years of 2013 and 2015. I must repeat, if you see this man, notify the police immediately-”

Connect headphones to cell phone, get dressed. Lock the windows and the doors to the balcony to make sure Sally doesn’t escape and fall to his death. Go to work.

Normal day, normal life, ugh. 

The news keeps playing as Roier leaves his apartment and locks the door behind him. He tunes it out for the most part; it’s just there to keep him from thinking too much, because Natalan says that he’s annoying when he thinks too much, and Roier doesn’t want to be annoying. He wants to be married, and he won’t get that by pissing his husband off. 

“-Brown hair, blue eyes, and a muscular build-”

Roier stops at a crosswalk with a group of other people, waiting for the light to turn. It’s a bit of a walk to his bus stop, but he doesn’t usually mind it. It’s good to stay active; it’ll come in handy when Sally tries making a run for it the next time they go to the park. 

Natalan doesn’t have a job, the lazy piece of shit, so it’s up to Roier to make enough money to keep the family afloat. And it sucks, okay? Because Roier hates working. He’d much rather stay at home and take care of the kids and cook dinner for Natalan and shove it down his throat when he refuses to eat it because, oh, apparently Roier can’t cook! Apparently, Roier is useless! 

Yeah, well, maybe Natalan is the useless one. He might be handsome and strong and sexy and intelligent and… stuff… but he could at least clean the apartment every once in a while. Roier is starting to get just a little sick of coming home from work to a dirty apartment; it’s no condition to raise a child in!

The light turns, and Roier and the others cross the street. He keeps to the back of the pack and takes out his phone to switch from the news to Spotify (Natalan’s account, of course!)

He keeps his head down as he walks, mostly because he can’t stand the sight of anybody in this goddamn city. They’re all ugly. They stare at him and judge him for being a single mother and a recovering addict and they’re all assholes and Roier would just love to introduce them all to his beautiful bastard of a husband. 

Roier passes an alley. He doesn’t look up from his phone as he tries to pick out a song to listen to. He hates every song on every playlist Natalan has, but he can’t exactly change any of them, can he? He can’t risk Natalan getting angry and trying to leave again. 

He doesn’t hear the voice calling out to him. Not above the rush of the city and the beating of his own heart and the screams echoing memories in his mind. 

But he does notice the hand grabbing him around the upper arm and yanking him into the alley. 

More importantly, he notices a pair of stunning blue eyes, and his heart stops in his chest, and he smiles.

“Hello,” Roier breathes. He pulls his headphones down and rests them around his neck. “You look lost.”

The man in front of him is tall, okay, but he’s also gorgeous. Glittering eyes, scars across his face, fluffy-looking hair. He smells of rust and gore, but Roier doesn’t mind. Nobody’s perfect. 

He’s staring at Roier, wide-eyed and curious, and Roier can imagine he feels much the same as Roier does at the moment. In one word, entranced. In two, in love.

Roier clears his throat, very conscious of the hand still wrapped around his bicep. But the man’s grip only tightens, quickly growing tight enough to pinch like the blood pressure cuff at the doctor’s office. 

Oh, Roier thinks, he’s strong.

“Do you have a car?” the man asks. His Spanish is accented, but his voice is just ouagh. Deep and raspy and commanding enough for a pit to grow in Roier’s stomach. 

Roier shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to drive. Too many accidents.”

Somehow, the grip on his arm grows even tighter- oh, God, does it make his knees go weak. 

“But do you have a car?” the man growls, leaning in real close. His teeth bare into something approximating a smile, or maybe a sneer; oh, they’re pointy, that’s fascinating. 

Roier hesitates before answering, “It’s my friend’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow it.”

Natalan won’t mind, that’s for sure. He doesn’t use it anymore, anyway, the lazy piece of shit. All he ever does is lay on the couch and insult Roier and their children, and so, really, it’s only fair that Roier borrows his car. 

It’s not like Natalan is using it at the moment, anyway. 

The man nods- a simple quick jerk of the head- and drops Roier’s arm just like that. 

(Just. Like. That.)

Roier’s arm burns from the sudden cold, but he manages a fresh smile, anyway. He’s prettier when he smiles, he thinks. 

“Come on, I live back that way,” he says, pointing to the side with his thumb towards his apartment building. “I mean, I have work in a couple minutes, but they won’t mind me being late.”

“Nah, you won’t be late,” the man assures him. “I’ll be quick.”

Roier wants him to grab his arm again. Roier wants him to touch him again. 

“Okay,” Roier agrees. 

He’s sure that Sally won’t mind another road trip.

-

A/N:

Hi!! Thanks for reading, and let me know if you got this far by leaving a comment or a reblog! And let me know if you want more, I wouldn't mind doing more of this au I think

[s3raphimssins]

hi hi! :3 idk if you take chuu requests but id really like if you could do like a relationship reveal where the ada find out that reader is dating chuuya?? :3 much love <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷summary: they weren't supposed to know! but now that they do how do you make it less awkward.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷pairings: chuuya x fem!ada reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷warnings: none!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Felix's note: yes! ofcourse! i write about chuu! sorry i took too long! <3 have a great day/night! hope you like it! heart divider by: @cafekitsune <3

the taste of wine lingered on your tongue as the gravity manipulator was holding you on his lap. His tongue roaming your mouth, the kiss never seemed to stop. You were making out since a few minutes and you pulled away to breathe.

"missed ya" he said putting his head on your shoulder.

"I missed you too, but i have to go"

You were in his tinted car in the backseat with him .This wasn't the first time you two met like this. You two had kept this relationship a secret for a while now. You were out to buy some stuff for the agency when chuuyas car stopped by and he pulled you in. Thankfully no one thought you were getting kidnapped this road was always silent, no one really passed here at 8 in the morning.

You two talked for a bit before you opened the car door to leave, when all of a sudden you heard someone whisper. "gotcha"

You yelped in surprise to see your co-worker Dazai standing behind you. "DAZAI?!" you heard chuuya scream as he got out of the car ready to launch at him.

"i see the chuu chuu here has got himself a girl, took you long enough" he smirked.

Chuuya grabbed his collar and asked harshly "you've been stalking us haven't you sly bastard"

You didn't even bother hearing their little bickering because what really took over your thoughts was the sight of the whole agency standing before you disappointed. You suddenly asked "does...everyone know?"

the pair stopped arguing and Dazai said "Ranpo had already figured it out, after i had my suspicions he agreed, i haven't told anybody but ranpo probably has" he said in an oddly cheery tone. Chuuya pushed Dazai away and put his hands on your shoulder "it's-kay doll, don't worry, it'll be okay". You nodded and smiled.

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

You and Dazai walked back to the agency. You were mostly the one talking asking questions and everything. As you came to the door of the agency you stopped in your tracks when you heard

"THEY'RE GOING TO REGRET THIS" as a fuming Kunnikida rushed out as if to tackle you. "DO YOU REALIZE THE SEVERITY OF YOUR ACTIONS?!" you let out an awkward chuckle and slid past him. Ranpo pointed at you "nothing can hide from the greatest detective!" as he shoved a lollipop in his mouth. You are so screwed. Kunnikida angrily wrote something as Dazai only fueled this anger making his pen snap.

Yosano on the other hand was not fazed. Like seriously at all. She came over to you and started asking questions about your relationship. "If he ever lets his anger get the best of him i wont hesitate to make him my next patient" she cracked her knuckles. "haHA! I can assure you um everything will be fine" you said awkwardly and held her hands down. Naomi and Tanizaki were doing..there own thing. Kenji was actually very happy and said "that mister was very nice! i would like to have lunch with him!" mind you they did. Atsushi on the other hand didn't know how to feel about it. He didn't have an opinion on it but also was a little intimidated by Chuuya, He congratulated you nonetheless.

Everything was going...well? no one really cared except for Kunnikida who keeps scolding you and literally has smoke coming out of his ears.

"i need to meet him" he says angrily.

"woah there old man, relax, slow down" you pat Kunnikidas back as he gently but passive aggressively smacked your hand away.

atleast it went well...you hope the agency does not have secret murder plans against Chuuya; as if they already didn't; but now Dazai seems more set on annoying Chuuya the next time they meet.

[distinguishedstudentfishalien]

AHHH ok, let's talk about Lucifer and Alastor

I've been reading a lot of reactions to Hazbin: from the gushers who think the show is perfect to the hyper-critical who hate the show, the creator, and everything in between. I don't fall into any of those categories. I had a lot of fun watching it, but there were some things I liked, and some others I didn't. You know, as it's usually the case with any piece of media one interacts with.

I love reading other people's opinions. It makes me pay more attention to things I might have missed. BUT for Hazbin, most of the criticism I've seen boils down to two things: either "I, personally, didn't like it, so that means it's bad" which is not the hot take people seem to think it is, or just lack of media literacy.

I won't go over all the examples of that last point (there are plenty), but one example people are using to criticize the show --which I can't seem to get out of my head so now I have to write about it-- it's how out of left field it was for Alastor to think of himself as a father figure to Charlie.

My guys and guysettes, that's because he doesn't.

He does it to piss off Lucifer, because he doesn't like him. That's it.

"But they just met, why doesn't he like him?" I don't know! but let's go over some examples, shall we?

In the first episode, during Alastor's TV ad, we see a picture of the hotel, clearly drawn by him. I ask you to look to the bottom left where it says "No tacky circus decor! I promise"

Do we know what he is referring to? Sure we do! the ring circus master himself! Lucifer Morningstar, whose whole schtick is circus-related. Clearly, Alastor is not a fan.

When Lucifer arrives to the hotel, did anybody catch Alastor's first reaction? (besides calling him short to his face, ofc)

Do you see that trembling eye? He is PISSED. Why? Who the hell knows! But he clearly does not care for the King of Hell himself (if you force me to give you my opinion on this, I think it's because of Alastor's delusions of grandeur, and plain-ole narcissism, but that is a conversation for another post, if I ever gather enough energy to write it)

He introduces himself and immediately does this. R-U-D-E.

Now, let's talk about the song itself, which, again, is clearly just an attempt to piss off Lucifer and not really about Charlie. At all.

He only cares about Lucifer's reactions. Because he is not being HONEST. We can all see that? right?? I mean, it is pretty FREAKING obvious. He is just trying to get a rise out of Lucifer.

And now, the moment we were all waiting for, the infamous "call me dad" moment.

Which had nothing to do with Charlie, and it was just another example of Alastor being the most annoying bastard alive. He is not even looking at her! He is staring Lucifer dead in the eye and saying "piss off shortie".

Why? Again, I dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. I hope we'll get the answer in season 2, because immediate animosity against the King of Hell himself is something I need some context for. Is it funny? Absolutely! I love that song! The violin solo? PURE GOLD (he he)

But for the love of Christ and the Antichrist, please stop thinking of "Alastor thinks of himself as Charlie's dad out of nowhere" as a valid criticism. As some have speculated, Alastor involvement with Charlie will probably have something to do with Alastor's deal and 7-year absence. If it's never explained, then sure, what the heck Vivzie?? please include it on the show!

There are PLENTY of things we could criticize about Hazbin (and people smarter and with more energy than me have done so already). But there are so many examples of "criticism" that are just examples of "I don't know how to interact with media anymore" and I beg of you to do better. This is a tiny example of the show showing and not telling, and some of y'all failed the comprehension test.

It is a fun show, guys. Enjoy it.

TL;DR: Alastor does not think he is Charlie's dad, ffs. He just wanted to piss off Lucifer.

[starchants]

hi! i don’t know if you write for angel (btvs) but could you maybe write dating angel hcs? sfw & nsfw?

angel / angelus x neutral!reader ; dating headcanons.

word count — 994.

themes + warnings ; potentially a warning for stalking but like in the way that we see he does with buffy like idunno if that qualifies as stalking but i’m mentioning it, technically i refer to angelus (my bby) as well, some violence but like it’s protective angel and oh yeah a small bit of NSFW CONTENT.

author’s note — hi my lil starling <3! i do most certainly write for angel, i hope you enjoy <3! p.s. i’ve studied and have so many headcanons in my own mind about angel (and angelus) from over the years and some get displayed here but i can explain more in another post if you or anyone else wants !!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

oh the moment he saw you, he was hooked and angelus who was so far hidden back in his mind had let his obsessive qualities come full force into angel.

everywhere at night since then, if he ever caught your scent or saw you, he would ✨ politely ✨ follow you around to make sure you felt and were safe. god help anyone who made you not feel safe at all, excluding him.

this man, even without fully having met you as of yet, would physically harm or potentially “accidentally” kill someone if they dare touch you even with a slight bumping into you or make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

realistically as i’ve noticed in btvs and angel the series + my own personal headcanon, angelus isn’t a 100% gone like they tend to try and portray in both series. sure like angel has his soul most of the time but that anger? how he moves or snaps when he loses his mind? how he seems to not entirely be himself when he loses control? that’s all angelus in my opinion. i personally headcanon had angel knows that angelus is always lurking in the back of his head, which is why he’s always in there, and angel is afraid of him coming out but as we’ve seen in both series that he basks in people referring to him as angelus sometimes and gets cocky about it.

so we move on with the knowledge that angelus is a sneaky bastard hiding in angel’s mind and sometimes pulling the strings 🫡

the obsession that angel has with you is completely different than his obsession with drusilla. he wouldn’t want to make you crazy or do anything to harm you. in fact, it’s the opposite, he wants to keep you safe from everybody and everything but also let you shine like the prettiest diamond in the dirty rough world that you’ve found yourself in.

the moment that he officially meets you and gets to see your pretty eyes staring into his own, the pretty smile upon your face, and your sweet voice talking to him ; he feels like this is perfectly meant to be. that you were meant for him and him only. he gets even more possessive and cocky about you from this moment forward. i’m referring to him being cocky as in, when buffy chose angel over riley and he smugly made that face at riley as he followed buffy like a puppy out of the room.

speaking of like a puppy, he tends to act that way with you! he’s your sweet good old boy who has playful tendencies and some anger problems but he does good if you try to teach him how to behave. after all, when he was alive as liam, he wasn’t exactly the nicest person to anybody let alone any partner. but he’s learned over the years, both with his soul and without it as angelus, that he has to be better when attempting to care. you are the only one who gets to teach him and show him how to be a good lover as you notice he’s trying, not to mention he will open up and explain how he was prior to you with his past relationships.

you like gifts? he’ll be very good at gifting you random things that he finds and knows you like or that you may potentially like based on what he knows about you. considering he listens and hangs on to every word that you say even if it’s a joke. if you like written love letters? oh my goodness this man has got you. he can say some of the most romantic things to you in his letters plus it’s more “old school” and easy for him to do. you’ll get some heavy devotion confessed in those letters so you better keep them in that pretty little wooden box that he buys you once he realized you left those letters by your bed <3

he’s a very gentle lover to you and not super controlling over you but he does know how to manipulate you / persuade you if he desperately needs to but you can usually tell and i feel like you’d call him angelus when he tries to do that. both himself and angelus are at your beck and call, even if neither one of them could admit it. now i can ramble on about soft angel and soft angelus some more but i feel like we should briefly get into some of the other good nsfw stuff 😈

angel is always in control no matter how hard you try to be in control. he is so used to being in control whenever he was angelus that he grasps at being in control over you whenever you have sexual relations, outside of that basically you are in control.

i feel like angel is a very gentle lover and of course definitely is experienced which can lead into him being a lot to take in / wrap your head around as he can be overwhelming with how much devotion and love he gives you. he pays nearly so much attention to you, it may freak you out with how sensitive he is when it comes to your micro expressions and movements. his goal is to ensure that you experience everything in the most euphoric sense.

angelus is a good boy once you break him down enough, and as i previously stated, happens to always be in control and if you take your time along with playing his games you will be rewarded overtime with him being your good boy to treasure. angelus wants you to perceive his role in life and break him down, play games with him, leave him sounding like a depraved lunatic man for you.

the pair of them love you so much and would do anything for you, especially in bed, just let them love you how they see fit damnit!

[shadowkittycat97]

I had a realization today while at work. (And don't ask me why I thought of this at work, I don't know why my brain works the way it does) I think the reason I love MegOp is because they are extremely ineffable husbands coded. Ok, hear me out.

-Both have known each other since the dawn of time (not literally in MegOp's case but it's been like 8 million years I think it counts)

-Both are so obviously in love with each other so much it almost physically hurts, but can't be together because of the whole opposite sides of the war thing

-Themes of misunderstanding and perceived betrayal from both sides of both couples

-You're deep down inside, a good person

-And you're just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing (especially back when Optimus was just a feral data clerk)

-And speaking of, both aziraphale and orion/OP are feral literature nerds

-Both Crowley and Megatron are outwardly hostile but actually quite sensitive and righteously protective of those they deem in their care (Earth and humans by extension for Crowley and pretty much anybody that was fucked over by the caste system on cybertron for Megs)

Plus the whole obsession with the stars thing, but anyway this got way longer than I initially intended, so I'm just gonna end it there

Tldr; both MegOp and ineffable husbands are incredibly similar and I'm pretty sure that's why I got majorly attached so quickly

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hallo again! I am the one who asked about Val, it wasn't a request I was asking if you write for him so here we go!

Could it please be where reader is Valentino's son ( or just child if you don't write for male reader ) and Valentino can't find someone to trust-worthy to babysit his son so he just take him to work since reader is non-verbal anyway and won't be much of a bother?

So reader now comes regularly with him and see the other Vees as family. Perhaps Vox as another dad/uncle and Velvette as a big sister ( or any family role for them ).

Thank you for giving a look to my request!

Ooh! Right! Okay, okay. I can try this out. To be honest, Val is a monster but something tells me he wouldn’t be THAT bad with a kid of his own and yes, I do write male readers. Female, male, transgender, genderfluid(if that’s possible, idk how but I would do it anyway), nonbinary/GN! But anyways. Let’s try Val out as a dad!

Valentino- Silkworm Caterpillar

Everybody who knows the director of the Pentagram City’s Porn Industry, Valentino, is aware how much of a bastard he is; cruel, abusive, exploitative but nobody had ever suspected that he would actually one: have a son and two: treat that son better than he’s ever treated anybody, even his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox

Your dad’s an insufferable man-child but yet, he is actually pretty good with you. He doesn’t really like much things, other than you. He is awful but he feels kinda soft and fluffy whilst he is around you. You’re basically his soft spot

Valentino needs hugs and he will get them, no matter what may step in his path. You are non-verbal and mute so he cannot communicate with you properly, he just acts on his affections for you since he believes it’s fine

Valentino is that type of wingman-father. He always encourages you to get out of your comfort zone and boosts you up to look even better. He’s a close friend to you and you can hang out with him in casual settings where it almost seems like he is just your uncle, not your father

Valentino always offers to get you what you want, he is a father that spoils his seed rotten. Want a drink? He’ll get it. Want a phone? He’ll get it. Want more hugs? You’re getting them rather you want ‘em or not. He likes it when you smile and he does very much have favouritism towards you, where he almost never raises his voice to you

Valentino is actually protective, believe it or not and he is defensive over his son. Rather said son be above ten years old, he doesn’t trust a single being in Hell. Not anybody in Vees, not any under their luck bum he picks up for hire, not any one of his assistants. Nobody. He doesn’t ever want to leave you with somebody who can cause a threat

Valentino doesn’t really want to resort to this but after some more time. He decides to stop leaving you in the Vees Tower. You’re alone and you need him so he begins to bring you to his porn studios but what he does is that he glues you to other devices so you don’t have to be uncomfortable with watching pornography

Valentino is relatively soft and gentle. Even somebody as deranged and sick as him has a moment of love and affection and it’s in his son. He could be the most pissed off and at his absolute worse but when he is greeted by his offspring, he swallows back everything to be doting to you

Valentino calls you his silkworm because you’re a little caterpillar to him. He’s the moth, you’re his caterpillar and he’d pop you on his back and spread his wings for you if he had to. He enjoys your reaction of surprise and awe at his rather beautiful moth wings. He can understand where it comes from, it’s incredible. Isn’t it? He likes it when you’re proud of him or in awe of him

Valentino is aware of your deafness. You’ve been deaf since he had you… back in human life. Believe it or not, but he did and he actually cared to get you hearing aids but after you two died, he lost a hold of hearing aids and he has literally no other methods to help you

Valentino also much prefers you like the Vees themselves and the effort proves worth it since you end up viewing his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox as a stepfather and Velvette, their close friend, as a surrogate big sister. Valentino finds your point of views on his fellow rulers rather adorable and will playfully tease you about them

Valentino is learning sign language, since now of this time, sign language has been fully developed but he is struggling and his temper makes him go from trying to giving up to trying again. He’ll get there eventually, all for you

Valentino out here doing aggressive sign language and failing a whole lot

[ramblebramblefun]

Bakugou Katsuki lived his life by a scorched earth policy. He left all his bridges burning behind him on his way to the top, and now that he’s there, he’s eyeing a long, long fall.

Because the thing about being at the top is that there is nowhere to go but down.

Down, down, down, like the rest of his graduating class. Within the span of five years, death, forced retirement and what had to be a fucking manufactured scandal have all but eradicated the heroes that Ground Zero graduated with.

The reporters keep asking him to make a fucking comment but Ground Zero never lets them finish the question.

Time goes on.

The top ten empties, refills. Rearranges itself and plays the system. Fucks around and finds out.

Katsuki still doesn't watch the news, but he takes to searching up the names of his old classmates to see what's become of them.

There's fewer and fewer names to check on, and if it were any other class an investigation would be opened into the attrition rate but fuck 3-A, right?

It’s got to be a fucking conspiracy.

It's just him and Freezerburn left soon, the latter still sitting pretty at number five and like hell is anybody that consistent.

Being number one is easy. You just have to be better than the next guy.

Being number five exactly for multiple years running, on the other hand, is some kind of bullshit. Like hell is Todoroki consistently both outperforming whoever’s number six and underperforming number four. The extras in those positions are always changing, you’d need some kind of spreadsheet keeping track of everyone’s strengths and weaknesses in order to calculate their-

Not that Katsuki fucking cares about Todoroki’s theoretical statistical analyses of his opponents. Or the stuck-up bastard himself. Todoroki can go to hell.

He used to want to be number one, too. Didn’t matter if it was just to prove a point to his old man, he used to have ambition.

Frezzerburn’s refusal to advance beyond fifth place had certainly seemed to drive the man that was Endeavour mad. That was a kind of winning, Katsuki had supposed. Problem is, Todoroki kept that shit up even after his old man kicked the bucket and he didn't need to be mediocre any more.

Katsuki had been hoping for a real rival, once Endeavour was in the ground. Drove him mad when he didn't get it. PR team reamed him out for that one, but fucking-

They don’t get it. No one fucking gets it.

Bakugou Katsuki keeps watch at the top of his fortress year on year, but not one hero comes to challenge him. He watches them all squabble at the base for the number two spot instead, talking shit like second place means a goddamned thing.

Fuckers. At least Endeavour fucking tried.

Freezerburn, son of the man who never gave up, does not. Try, that is. The fucking bastard.

Doesn't even put up a fight now that Katsuki’s out of the running.

Because Katsuki’s out of the running. He’s not a fucking hero anymore. He’s out. He’s done. Not by fucking choice, but them’s the fucking breaks when you blow the fucking whistle.

Turns out there really was a conspiracy against class 3-A.

[eight-littlenightmares]

whump idea: screaming

cw: recapture, screaming, gag, car, references to past trauma, young whumpee, kidnapping, a lot of swearing/vulgar language, ehh stuff like that

***

Whumpee is walking home. It’s been a few weeks since she’s escaped her kidnapper Whumper—she’d been there a couple months, hadn’t even been the worst couple months she’d ever had, especially compared to the other incident—and she’s feeling better.

Or at least that’s what she’s telling herself. Truthfully she’s just as jumpy as always.

And tonight is no exception. In fact she’s feeling even worse tonight. She’s walking home after hanging out with her best friend all day. It had been great, she absolutely loves her best friend, but she’d stayed a little later than she’d meant to and now it’s pretty dark out. She feels strangely paranoid and she’s not quite sure why.

No, she does know why. She’s been jumpy ever since her first kidnapping, two or three years ago. She’d barely started recovering from that when Whumper had kidnapped her, that bastard.

Whumpee starts walking faster. She knows she’s just being stupid and paranoid as always, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched. And also maybe followed—no, no, she’s being ridiculous.

She’s going to get home just fine, and when she does she is going to sit on a fucking counter to exposure therapy herself. (It hasn’t really done anything other than make her unreasonably anxious yet, but she’s sure it’ll work at some point.)

But then Whumpee feels something. Nothing physical, nothing at all, but just a feeling, a feeling of something being Very Wrong. She can’t help it, she starts to turn around to look—

And then hands are on her.

Someone grabs her around the waist, someone much bigger than her, with rough hands and smelling of cigarette smoke.

Whumpee reacts immediately, shrieking and kicking at her attacker.

“..stop screaming,” a voice whispers into her ear. “I told you I’d find you again.” It’s Whumper’s voice.

Whumpee goes into a fit of terror. HELL NO, she is NOT being kidnapped again, she absolutely will not stand for it. No.

She starts to scream. As loud as she fucking can, screaming her fucking throat raw. She is NOT going back. She is not going ANYWHERE except HOME.

“HELP!!!” Come on. There’s gotta be someone nearby, someone who will wake up or who is already awake, someone who will care enough to save a poor teenager being kidnapped. Right? SOMEONE WILL SAVE HER, RIGHT?

She’s so fucking sick of this. She doesn’t wanna go back and she doesn’t wanna go anywhere with anybody, especially not Whumper. While Whumper isn’t the very worst person she’s ever had to deal with, he’s certainly not someone she ever wanted to see again. Fuck this guy anyways.

“Shut up,” Whumper snaps, glancing around to make sure they’re not being follows as he drags Whumpee towards his car.

Whumpee starts to scream louder. She’s getting more desperate. She will NOT go in that car, she absolutely REFUSES.

And then Whumper pulls a piece of cloth out of his pocket and ties it around Whumpee’s head in a gag. Whumpee struggles uselessly. She tries to scream again but her voice is muffled.

Whumper forces her facedown into the backseat of the car, wrenching her arms painfully behind her back and tying them with a length of rough cord. Whumpee feels tears begin to prick at the back of her eyes as she screams her fucking heart out. It’s not enough. It’s not fucking enough.

The car door slams shut. It sounds like a nail in a coffin. Then Whumper climbs into the front seat and starts the car.

The car starts moving. Whumpee has been kidnapped. Again.

(Hello!! Author’s note!! This is technically a oneshot of one of my OCs, but you can apply it to any character!! I also do not mind if you’d like to reblog and continue the story!!)

edit: changed Whumpee’s pronouns to she/her because she’s supposed to be based off of my OC anyways :D