#first thing I wrote for fun in general

[semicleanblanket]

The burden of two hearts in one chest

at the end of ZombieCleos double life we can see that when Scott lights the tnt the explosion throws the other tnt to pearl then it exploded so here’s that kinda (sry in advance)

tw: death, animal death, blood, killing, explosions, suicide

Red,

that’s all Pearl ever saw lately,

No matter how many times she sat in powdered snow hurting Scott. No matter how many times she went around and stole things from others, no matter how many times she messed with Scott and his new soulmate. No matter how much chaos she caused nothing would satisfy it so Pearl couldn’t stop seeing Red.

Tilly died, she was killed by impulse, so Pearl killed him and his soulmate. Every one was dead, Joel and Etho, Ren and BigB, there is something wicked within you. Those deaths where her fault and now so were impulse and Bdubs.

“Pearl?” A voice said stopping the thoughts in her head, it was Cleo, “are you alright Pearl?” Pearl stared at the fresh corpses of people who used to be her friends, friends who shunned her, friends who thought she was crazy and maybe she was. Friends who she killed.

Pearl turned and looked in to the trees, eye’s searching for the owner of the voice, “oh Cleo, I haven’t been alright in a looong time” she could feel a smile crawling onto her face as she spoke, and she knew Cleo could hear it in her voice.

Just before she could send her wolves to find the zombie player Woosh, an arrow flew past Pearl’s face, grazing her cheek. She could feel the blood following the same path where tears once flowed.

As Pearl reached up to check the damage done to her face she heard a whimper, she turned around and saw one her wolves, one of her babies with an arrow sticking out its side then a shout from a voice that never brought any good to her “Which- which one is she, where’s Tilly she’s the one who’s been corrupting you this entire time!”

martyn

Martyn

Martyn

And all she saw was Red, “TILLYS DEAD AND SOON SO WILL YOU BE!”

Pearl felt the snowy grass crunch under her boots as she charged, she could hear her wolves running with her, she could feel the frost biting at her fingertips, she felt the weight of the axe in her hands.

“GET THEM BABYS!” she shouted to her wolves with laughter in her voice as she plunged her axe into Martyn shoulder, as she lifted her arm’s for another swing she felt a sharp pain in her back. She swiveled on her foot and came face to face with Cleo, she quickly took a step backwards as Cleo’s axe almost took off her head.

“ooh geez they are packing a punch!” Pearl heard Martyn yelp as she watched Cleo as they tried to run from the wolves biting their legs. Pearl laughed as she ran after Cleo wildly swinging her axe in an attempt to hit Cleo as they ran closer to the cliff.

“MARTYN” Cleo shouted as Pearl landed the final hit and Cleo fell. Pearl watched as Cleo fell out of sight through the tree tops and as they hit the ground she heard the horrific crack as their head hit the forest floor.

“If you kill my dogs you might as well be killing me” she stated breathlessly, they were gone, another pair of soulmates she had killed, another one of her friends enemies added to the pile of corpses she has created.

She stood there for a moment looking into the horizon, from where she was she could see almost the whole map, she could see the box, she could see the burned down ranch, she could see the modern house that impulse and Bdubs built, and she could she her tower as it stood away from the rest of the bases, away from the rest of the players, where the people who used to be her allies left her. Where she was utterly alone.

She has gotten revenge on all who has wronged her, on all who had abandoned her, all but one.

The sun was setting soon the moon would be in the sky and the stars would reveal themselves. So in the final light of what she knew would be her last day she knew what needed to be done. She dug into her inventory until she spotted it, the shimmering gold of the enchanted apple, Grian had said that they would break the bonds of soulmates, she’d had this since day one when she found it in a mineshaft, since before she made the horrible decision to go to the nether with Martyn, since before Scott left her. There were nights in her tower where she just stared at it debating whether or not to eat it, she could never make up her mind, she could never decide whether or not to break her soulbond with Scott, to get rid of the burden of two hearts in one chest.

But today would be the last day she feels his heart beat alongside hers.

And so she took a bite, it was sweet, sweeter than any apple she had eaten before, she could feel the cut from the arrow Martyn had shot healing. She could feel its power moving throughout her chest, so she took another bite, then another and another until it was gone, she could feel it in her very being, she could feel that the bind between Scott and her was no longer.

The only thing left was the feeling of energy coursing through her veins and the juices of the apple dripping down her chin, as she went to wipe off the residue she felt her comm buzz

Smajor1995: pearl come meet me

Smajor1995: at the place it started

Scott, the person who was behind her red, no matter how much she blamed everyone else for what happened Cleo, Martyn, Ren, Joel it all started with Scott. “at the place it started”, spawn, it’s where they all woke up in this new world, it’s where she and Martyn held Lost and Bound, it’s where Scott’s left her and where Martyn blamed her, it’s where Tilly died. And now it’s where she’d end Scott. If he didn’t know they are no longer bound he would find out when she made his blood stain the grass with a grin on her face. It’s time to crown the winner of double life, and there can only be one.

When Pearl reached spawn she saw Scott standing higher up on the hill, he was wearing worn iron armor and held nothing in his hands, between them was an open field and surrounding them was the forest, the moon and stars high above them.

“Pearl?” Scott questioned as Pearl’s wolves found their places by her side.

“Hi Scott” Pearl replied with joy in her voice, she would get revenge and it would taste sweeter then that golden apple.

“I didn’t think it would end this way”

“Neither did I to be honest,” Pearl said in an almost giddy tone, exited for this to all be over “but I had faith in myself and Tilly and Tilly’s passed away now so….” She trailed off as she started to feed her wolves, they need to be prepared for the battle that is to come.

“Pearl you- you deserve this more,” he said while dropping TNT at his feet, a single flint and steel in his pale hands contrasting with his red shirt, wait when did he remove his armor.

Pearl yelp as she jumped back unsure of his plans “Excuse me, what do you mean!” She grabbed her bow from her inventory ready shoot if needed.

Scott lit the flint and steel the light from the fire making it easier to see in the dim light of the full moon “But in the same way,” He replied grimly, dropping the flint and steel to his feet, the sound of the TNT lighting echoing throughout the forest.

“Wait Scott what are you doing?!” She yelled with despair in her voice

“Tilly death do us part Pearl,”

“What are you doing!”

“TILLY DEATH DO US PART!”

“SCO-” she couldn’t finish his name before the explosion rang through the air, and before she could realize what was happening TNT that didn’t light in time was thrown from the explosion right towards her, she didn’t have time to move before the second explosion started right at her feet, BOOM the blast was so bright all she could see was-

Red,

that’s all Pearl ever saw lately,

until the Red faded into black.

[sysig]

Party (group) party (celebratory)! (Patreon)

[necrotic-nephilim]

What do you think about the fab five polycule

(Dick x donna x wally x garth x roy)

i'll be SO honest i wish i had like. insightful interesting opinions on them but i've always been a Young Justice kid and sort of. breezed past consuming Fab Five Teen Titans content-

but of what i *do* know, from the few comics i've read with these characters is this is one of the best ships for Dick, honestly. it always deeply annoys me when fanon content breezes past the Titans as if they're just some distant teammates and not some of Dick's closest friends, if not a second family. *especially* the Fab Five. for most, if not all of them, it's the first time getting to actually connect with other teen heroes. so there's something fun about how sort of terrible they are at it, at first. they all care about each other a lot. but they're kind of chucked into the deep figuring out how to work with each other and get along with *very* different personalities, so it's fun to see where the conflict comes.

as a ship, i do really love it. the Titans are a family. like we call a lot of teams found families, but for the Fab Five, that shit is the truest. they depend on each other and trust each other. when Dick and Bruce are on outs and Bruce fires him, he goes to the Titans.

i also enjoy how, to an extent, all of them are outsiders of some kind. Donna is alone in a new world she's never experienced, the same as Garth. Roy is still new and awkward to living the rich life with Oliver. Wally doesn't connect to his parents well. and of course, Dick has lost his parents and only has Bruce, who isn't the most emotionally available. of course they're going to cling to each other, as the first people they can really develop connections too. they're very clingy with each other and i think that's both cute and *fun* to explore like, codependency issues with them. how protective they can be of each other, how they default to trusting each other over their mentors, etc. it's all very interesting for a polycule, especially since for most of them, it's their first real relationship. i'm a big fan of "none of us know what dating looks like bc we've had such strange childhoods so we don't understand the Rules very well. we're all just going to date each other bc why would i date only one of you. do teamups count as dates now." vibes with teenage polycules. and the Fab Five just. have that on lock. they each fulfill a different "niche" in the group. Garth is the softer, more emotional one you can go to if you're upset. Donna is the one for planning bright fun trips and making sure you don't wallow. Roy is protective and can pretend to be suave, but he shows affection through gift giving and grand gestures where words fail him. Wally can cheer any of them up with jokes and distractions. and of course Dick is the logical one who makes sure they all keep their heads on and don't drown in the responsibility.

overall i think it's a really cute ship and i do wish i just. knew more about them to be able to write them/read fic of it because i do love their dynamic. and i'm just a firm believer in the Titans being Dick's family, just as important to him as the Batfam. they're a disaster and for that you gotta love them.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[gogandmagog]

“A love story with a psychological interest … a rather doubtful experiment with a public who expects a certain style from an author."

— Lucy Maud Montgomery, the Selected Journals of, on the subject of 'Kilmeny of the Orchard'

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Do you write fh (jy) fan fiction? If so is there a way I can read it? Thanks :>

I'll say I am writing fh fanfics! but its currently in my computer and nowhere else. maybe one day I'll get what I'm writing done and somewhere not my computer and I'll let folks know!

[autumnalwalker]

The Melts

Author's Note: A while back I had a bit of a ramble on how I wished that it was more common to find examples of human bodies artistically warped into new and interesting configurations presented in a manner other than horror and gave an off-the-top of my head example of a hypothetical episode of a slice-of-life series going on that theme. A couple months passed, and then with Halloween approaching, I decided on a whim to slam out a rough draft of that story over the weekend. So here we are. Summary: What if your entire body slowly melting over the course of the day got treated as being no worse than the common cold and you still have to go to work because you work retail and already used up all your sick days? Wordcount: 5,295 Content Warnings: Descriptions of the sensation of one's body slowly melting into a fleshy pile of goo, various weird anatomical modifications, spider-like creatures crawling all over people, having to go into work while sick.

Mil had the melts.

They became aware of this approximately four and a half minutes after waking up when their hand made an unfortunate squelch sound upon palming their alarm clock’s snooze button.  They held their hand in place in denial for another half minute while their arm slowly stretched and drooped down into the space between bed and bedside table.  They reluctantly opened their eyes and groaned at the sight of the clock’s contour pressing up through a hand whose bones had gone limp and elastic.

It was going to be one of those days.

The thought of calling in sick today briefly crossed their mind, but no, it was close to the end of the year and they’d already used up all of their sick days.  Any more would have to come out of their precious holiday leave time.

It was fine, they told themself while throwing back the covers of their bed and pointedly ignoring how that arm curled back around on itself from the momentum.  It was only a mild case and it would probably clear up by the time their shift was over.  Enough to be annoying but nothing worth making a fuss over.  Unless it was a severe case, but that almost never happens.

As a small mercy, Mil’s legs weren’t as melted as their arm so they only almost fell over immediately upon standing up on appendages that bent and swayed in spots that don’t have joints.  Thank goodness for counterbalancing tails.  People often called their look basic, but Mil preferred to think of it as classic.  Feline ears and tails had been among the first reshapings to see mainstream adoption and Mil had personally always found more complicated additions of prehensile limbs and sensory organs to be a nightmare of overstimulation.  Plus, the ears and tail were a nice aid in emoting to make up for the difficulty Mil usually had with expressing themself by voice and face alone.

By the time Mil reached the kitchen they’d found a workable rhythm to their unsteady gait that managed to keep them mostly upright.  No time for anything complicated for breakfast, and probably best to keep away from the toaster in this state, so cereal it was.  That had its own complications of course - grip the spoon too loosely and its weight would stretch their fingers down and apart, but too tightly and their whole hand would roll itself up and try to retract back into their arm - but several minutes of grumbling around mouthfuls of wheat byproduct and dairy tree milk where enough to convince Mil that it wasn’t really all that bad and that they’d be able to manage at work today.  

They pointedly ignored the ensuing contrary evidence that came in the form of their legs getting stuck on the inside of their pants and rolling up into lumpy balls until they gave up and went with a skirt.  They’d already spent all the time they normally would have devoted to their morning workout on trying to pour themself into a tight turtleneck while getting the right body parts through the right holes.  Supposedly wearing snug-fitting clothing like this was an effective way to hold your shape relatively solid in a bad case of the melts - which Mil definitely (probably) didn’t have - but in practice it was not as useful a tip as its popularity would suggest.

But hey, they were fed, dressed and out of the house almost on time, so that was a victory.  And it meant they were almost on time to catch the tram before it left.  Oh.  Wait.  

It’s fine, they told themself while fiddling with the straps on the mask they’d donned on their way out the door.  It would only be a few minutes until the next tram scuttled up.  They’d only be a little bit late to work.  Everyone would understand.  Afterall, who hadn’t had the melts before?  In the meantime it gave them a few extra moments to try to get their mask to squeeze their head into a less embarrassing shape.  If Mil had to go in sick, it was the least they could do to try not to spread it.  But if they could be considerate while not having their skull get squished in the middle into the shape of a peanut, that’d be great.

A few pats on the side of the face, a push on the the top of their head, some hard nodding, get their fingers untangled from the mask straps aaannnddd…. A plop and a dizzying snap as Mil felt their jaw distend and the lower half of their face slide fully into the mask just as the next tram arrived.  Checking their reflection out in the tram’s shiny carapace confirmed that their head was an acceptable shape.  Maybe a little bit snout-y, but they could write that off as being part of the feline look.  So long as no one saw the mess under their mask.

The good part of being out at the end of the line like this is that Mil almost always got a decent seat on the tram and plenty of time to listen to their audio books.  It almost made up for the long commute.  Of course, today one earbud kept falling off the top of their head every few minutes from that ear not holding its shape well enough and the other one was worming its way uncomfortably far into an ear that seemed to be trying to swallow it through a series of expansions and contractions that mirrored Mil’s breathing.  By the second stop Mil gave up and shoved both earbuds back into a skirt pocket, resigning themself to ride stewing in silence.

That silence only lasted one more stop when the bulk of the other commuters started to pour in.  By the fifth stop Mil was firmly wedged between a shell-backed construction worker and a twelve-armed switchboard operator who had enough respect for personal space to keep those arms wrapped around zemself but not enough to not press three different elbows into Mil's ribs.  Mil tried not to hold it against zem.  It was the morning rush hour.  Getting pressed together was to be expected.  Even if that meant winding up half a foot taller and considerably flatter.  Mil tried not to think about how many people they were spreading their melts to.

At the ninth stop Mil extruded themself from the over-packed tram and toddered over to a bench to catch their breath.  If they were going to be late anyway, what was an extra minute or two to let their shoulderblades stop overlapping and left and right halves of their ribcage stop interlacing?  Just a few deep breaths to puff their torso back out and they were good to go.  They could fix their hair later after they got into a restroom to wash the public transit funk off their hands.

Walking into the store’s employee entrance a couple blocks down the street, Mil was greeted with the terrifying visage of their manager, Baroft.  The smile wasn’t terrifying because of the fangs (Mil had been considering getting some themself for some time now but couldn’t quite justify it with how little meat they ate), nor because of the extra pair of slit-pupiled crimson eyes (pretty standard for those who could adapt to the extra sensory input), nor even for the contrast with the face’s second mouth that wasn’t smiling (that one never smiled, it wasn’t the customer service voice mouth).  No, that smile was terrifying because if Baroft was happy - even worse, relieved - to see them walk in the door late for work, then that could only mean one thing.

The store was short-staffed today.

Mil would have to deal with customers.

Mil was - generally speaking - not good with people even on the best of days, and today was - as the flesh of their hand pooling at their fingertips under the force of gravity like ripening fruit would attest - not the best of days.  Most of the time they got by on trading duties with coworkers to spend as much of their workday as possible on the backend duties; stocking inventory, cleaning, feeding the weavers, updating displays, etc.  If one good thing could be said about Baroft it was that after seeing Mil awkwardly stumble through enough customer conversations and fitting attempts, yt had realized that putting them in a customer-facing role was more likely to lose the store money than earn it.

But now Baroft was complaining about Rangel being out on jury duty at the same time as Kalei being unable to come in due to thons kid pupating, and Paras from the evening shift had called in sick, so Mil could just imagine the sort of morning Baroft has been having, and Mil was going to have to be a team player and pull through just for today all the way through until closing time, and yes there would be overtime compensation once they made up for arriving late, and what’s Mil complaining about it’s just the melts, if they were able to get here then obviously isn’t that serious, now no attitude and best behavior in front of the customers, it was already bad enough that yt had had to call Leolani and ask eir to come in early today.

That last part cut through Baroft‘s blizzard of words and caused Mil’s heart to skip a beat.  Leolani usually arrived just as Mil was getting ready to leave for the day so they didn’t know eir all that well, but the handful of brief conversations the two of them had shared always left Mil wanting to change that.  It wasn’t a crush per say, only that everything about Leolani struck Mil as indescribably cool and made them wish they could be friends and hang out.  Eir jacket covered in punk patches that ei left draped over the chair in the employee breakroom that no one else dared claim.  Eir perfect eyeliner.  The way ei could multitask taking one customer’s measurements while uncoiling eir twelve-foot neck over to help another customer pick out a suit off the rack.  Eir taste in music that had made the basis for the longest interaction Mil had managed with eir.

Under other circumstances, the opportunity to spend the day commiserating with Leolani over being the two youngest employees by a wide margin and how awful the holiday rush that started earlier every year was might have almost made up for having to work late.  Now though, they were suddenly feeling self-conscious about the way their spine had started to go limp in places and force them into a slouch.

Mil’s trip to the restroom to straighten up in front of the mirror was a perfunctory one.  They might have arrived late to work, but no way were they going to be late to feed the weavers on schedule.  Elam - in early and still in nir fall look of leaf-like orange hair and skin covered in gray keratin growths mimicking tree bark - gave a marginally less brusque than usual greeting when Mil pushed aside the heavy curtain separating the dim tailoring room from the shop, even going so far as to offer nir sympathies for Mil’s melts.  Mil’s more solid hand glorped over one of the nutrient slurry canisters on the shelf as they insisted that they were fine.  Just a minor case of the melts that would clear up by the afternoon.

Elam raised a skeptical woody eyebrow and offered to handle the feeding duties today, but Mil declined and stepped into the weavers’ enclosure.  The way Mil saw it, they were something like an apprentice to Elam who had finally promised to teach them how to direct the weavers once the new year rolled around, so any chance to prove themself… well, it wasn’t so much welcome as not something they could afford to pass up.  Experienced weaver handlers were always in demand (as evidenced by Elam being able to afford four full-body reshapes a year just to keep up the image of a tree changing with the seasons), and honestly it was the closest thing Mil had to a career advancement opportunity.  

Besides, Mil genuinely liked working with weavers, they thought as the small swarm of arachnoid bio-tools began crawling all over them to get to the nutrient slurry.  It was important that the weavers were well-fed in the morning before any clients came in for a fitting lest they get either too tired or too carried away with their purpose.  As it was, a few of the weavers must have failed to recognize Mil’s scent and shape due to their illness and mistaken them for a client, forcing Mil to gently shoo the engineered creatures off before the threads of their turtleneck could be unpicked and reassembled into whatever pattern the weavers had last been installed with.  Most of the chittering swarm sloughed off to feed once the nutrient slurry had been dispensed and Mil was able to encourage the stragglers to depart from their body heat without too much trouble.

To Mil’s chagrin, once they stepped back outside of the enclosure Elam leaned over and plucked a weaver off the back of their neck that had pushed their unusually pliant skin into a little bowl to nest in.  Mil’s stammering apology was met with a laugh and an encouraging slap on the back that made their whole body ripple unpleasantly.  Better than a reprimand.

Back out in the main store, Leolani had already arrived and engaged with the first customers of the morning, signing at one with eir hands while stretching eir neck over an aisle of racks to explain the fitting process to another.  When ei caught Mil staring, ei sent the second customer their way.  The next few minutes constituted the first grueling attempt of many that day to talk someone who wasn’t really all that interested (whether due to boredom, intimidation, lack of intent to buy, or just wanting to get their stuff and get out) through pricing options on bespoke versus alterations by limb configuration and fabric type.  Or failing that to sell something off the rack, even if it was just an expensive pair of socks with the store’s monogram on it.  Or failing that at least collect an email address for a mailing list.  This is what made the holiday rush so awful.  The rest of the year most of the store's customers were regulars who mostly had a specific goal upon walking in, but for the next couple of months traffic would surge with only a minimal uptick in actual sales to show for it.  All the same, everyone that walked in had to be treated as a potential new regular just in case.  As if it wasn’t already anxiety-inducing enough to deal with people whom Mil possessed at least a passing familiarity with.

By noon Mil’s ears were pressed flat back against their skull.  In part, this was an expression of their mood, but mostly it was a matter of the ears’ swivel muscles losing cohesion and getting stuck in the last used position.  It was making it a little bit difficult to hear clearly, but they had long since learned the hard way that making a rough guess and sticking to a script tended to be received better than asking people to repeat themselves.  At last the lunch-time lull arrived and Mil was able to steal off to the break room for a reprieve.  It was blessedly quiet in there save for the hum of the refrigerator holding the protein shakes Mil had stashed for days too busy for a proper lunch.  Mil dipped into that stash today.  Their melts were getting worse before they were getting better and the prospect of trying to wobble down the street in their current state to their usual lunch spot where they would surely be recognized struck Mil as lethally embarrassing.  And exhausting.

They took the opportunity to examine the patches on Leolani‘s jacket (draped over eir chair in undisputed claim as ever) while they struggled first with the shake’s cap and then with their mask.  Their fingers weren’t cooperating much at all now, between having gone mostly limp and being plumped up with all the flesh their normally-flatteringly-body-hugging turtleneck was now squeezing out of their torso and arms and into their extremities.  At least one or two of the patches on the jacket had to do with bands, Mil was fairly certain.  Would it make for a better conversation starter to ask Leolani about those bands, or to look up and listen to the music up themself first in order to have something in common?  Mil mulled the question over while nursing their shake.  Better than thinking about the similarities between their lunch and the weavers’ breakfast.

As Mil threw their head back to drain the last few drops from the protein shake’s bottle, they felt their spine come loose and their head just kept going back.  And down.  And around.  Until it bumped into the back of the low-backed chair, upside down and just above their own waist.

They had folded themself.

Mil took a breath, held it, let it out, and came away even less calm than before.  Lungs not making up their mind where they should be will do that to a body.

It was fine.  This sort of thing happened.  Annoying, but nothing serious.

Mil tried to swing themself upright, but it was the sudden lack of back muscles that got them into this position.  They tried grabbing the chair and pulling themself up into an unbent vertical, but the strain just stretched out their hands.  They tried to do the obvious thing and just stand up, but folded like a wet, heavy towel as they were over the chair’s back, they couldn’t get the proper leverage and just scrambled their feet, scooting the chair along the floor with a teeth-itching squeak.

Mil heard Leolani walk in before they saw eir.  Not that they could see much besides the floor behind their chair.  Leolani asked if they were alright and Mil’s mind raced with enough potential responses that it might as well have gone blank.  But then fear of getting stuck won out over pride.  There was no salvaging this one to come out looking cool.

Mil asked for help.  Just a little bit mind you.  They’d be fine if they could just get themself unfolded.

Boots made for digitigrade feet stepped into Mil’s inverted view, followed by a round face with perfect eyeliner that then rotated to match their perspective in a motion that suddenly shifted the impression from serpentine to owlish.  A light joke about the view from down there was quickly followed by a warning that came at the same time as a pair of hands gripping (very literally) into Mil’s shoulders and lifting.  Once ei had them upright ei asked if they were good.  Mil said they were and then immediately slumped forward, overcorrecting and refolding in the opposite direction.

Leolani, neck now coiled up over and around eir own shoulders like a scarf, told them to hang for a minute and then came back with a mop handle and a roll of duct tape.  A comment about a friend of eirs once having done this for eir and an apology about this feeling weird was all the warning Mil got before the Leolani began working the mop handle up the back of their shirt.  Ei called it the scarecrow method of stabilization.  After producing a pair of compression gloves from eir messenger bag and helping Mil get them on, Leolani let them apply the duct tape in private with a reassurance that it was the cheap stuff and would come off after a decent soak in a hot bath, if not sooner.

Trying to walk with the improvised back brace was awkward, but better than the alternative.  Mil shambled out of the employee break room, wondering how much longer their legs would stay semi-solid, just in time to see a regular they recognized but couldn’t put a name to walk in.  Somehow additional legs were far less popular than additional arms, so this regular’s centaur pattern group body configuration stuck out.  Not that Mil knew for sure whether it was hooves, feet, or claws beneath those patent leather shoes and it would be rude to ask.  What Mil did know at a glance was what xe was here for.  The regular’s bat-like wings (aesthetically impressive and flexible enough to clasp in the front and fold into a cloak, but almost certainly not flight-, or even glide-rated) hadn’t been present on xyr last visit to the store.  Now here was something that was as close to Mil’s comfort zone as anything got.

They greeted the regular and went through their mental script for this sort of interaction, making the appropriate vague inquiries about xyr wellbeing, complimenting xyr new wings, trying not to drip on anything as their melts slowly got worse, guiding xem through the booklets of fabric swatches and catalog of styles, and dancing around the fact that they couldn’t remember xyr name for the life of them.  Once the regular made their selections, Mil led xem back to the tailoring room where they handed the selections off to Elam.  Strictly speaking, Mil should have left it be from there and returned to the main display floor of the store, but they liked watching this next part and were even more willing than usual today to take any excuse for a break.  If anyone asks (no one will) they’ll say that they were taking notes.  Or would saying that they were assisting sound better?  Whatever the truth would be on most days, this time Mil simply leaned on a wall for support and watched Elam type in a console to install the selected pattern on the weavers, guide the regular into the weavers’ enclosure, and start speaking in the language of clicks, snaps, and command phrases the bio-tools had been trained on.  What before had been a disorganized collection of individual lab-created arachnoid creatures became a precision swarm washing over the regular (who had been through this enough times not to flinch too much), taking xyr measurements by touch with sensitive legs able to estimate and account for offsets due to the regular’s clothes by pressure and texture alone.  Once each of the individual weavers was in position on the regular’s body Elam snapped nir fingers to send the swarm skittering into a different position, held for a few seconds of processing, then snapped again for a third configuration.  A larger swarm could have generated a full three dimensional scan of a target’s body in one go, but the upkeep costs on swarm size wasn’t generally seen as being worth it just to shave off a few seconds.  A final command word cleared the swarm back into the corners of the enclosure.

Like most customers, the regular elected to come back later in the day to pick up xyr new suit and have any last-minute alterations made then.  As opposed to partially undressing and allowing the weavers to weave the new suit directly on.  Supposedly the latter option would get a truly amazing bespoke fit, but for most it wasn’t worth standing still for an extended period of time with bug legs crawling all over you and working miniaturized biological sewing machines millimeters away from your exposed skin.  Maybe one day when Mil had Elam‘s job and income they could find out for themself.  For now though, Mil simply offered to lend nem a hand with loading in the fabric feedstock to get the assembly process started.  It seemed that pinstripes were making a comeback this season.

The next few hours were, all things considered, not too bad.  A decent portion of customers were regulars rather than randoms, Mil got to watch a couple more sessions of the weavers at work, the one song that they weren’t tired of on the station the store had been running on loop for the past three weeks came on, and - most importantly - they’d managed to keep up something like an ongoing conversation with Leolani in between customers.  Now if only their melts hadn’t been getting steadily worse instead of better.  By the time Mil’s normal shift would be ending they were having trouble standing up for more than a minute or so at a time.  Elam even offered to talk to Baroft on nir way out - ne still got to live at nir usual time today - about letting them go on home.  Against Mil’s better judgment, they turned nem down, citing the appeal of overtime pay and silently fearing that leaving might reflect poorly on their performance or attitude.

So, of course, two hours later Mil’s skeletal structure gave out altogether, reducing them to a fleshy puddle on the floor.  They’d felt it coming on and had just barely been able to make it back to the breakroom and out of sight of customers.  Leolani came rushing in moments later, having seen their attempt at a distressed and hasty exit.  If there was a silver lining to the gross (they were on the floor in a public building) and embarrassing situation, it was that their skirt had flared out enough to preserve some semblance of modesty and mostly cover up the skin-covered blob slowly spreading across the linoleum.

When Leolani asked if they were alright, Mil’s response came out garbled and bubbling.  So, no, not so much.  

After several rounds of “One blink for No, two blinks for Yes,” Mil managed to first turn down an offer to call an ambulance (it might be a severe case, but it was still just the melts; they would sleep it off and be fine by morning) and then to direct Leolani to retrieve their phone and its neurolink adapter from their skirt pocket and attach the adapter to Mil’s forehead (or at least a spot on Mil’s increasingly amorphous form slightly above their eyes).  Neurolinks like this one were a clumsy technology, still in its infancy, so Mil had to concentrate on a single letter at a time for a second or three apiece to make words appear on the screen, but it beat the alternative.  From there the two of them were able to talk - after a fashion - and settle on the plan of laying Mil out in the tailoring room, out of sight of both customers and Baroft.  If Baroft asked where they were, Leolani would cover for them and say that they were handling some task or another that Elam left for them.  Afterall, with Mil only being able to sort of writhe and flop around, it’s not like they were going to be able to get themself home, so may as well just sleep it off here.

Unprompted, Leolani input eir contact info into Mil’s phone before leaving them in there.  Being able to exchange text messages made lying there barely able to move in the dimly lit room for the remaining hours until closing time considerably more tolerable.  Almost pleasant even, despite how exhausting trying to type with the neurolink for extended periods of got to be.  The white noise of the nearby weavers’ chitters and skitters helped.

And then, as the store’s closing time was approaching and the last customer left for the night, Leolani offered to take Mil home instead of leaving them in the store overnight.  Mil could keenly feel the spike in their heart rate at the question rippling through their not-quite liquefied form.  The added clarification that Leolani had realized about an hour ago that the two of them both lived roughly the same part of town with the same tram stop so it wouldn’t be much of a detour for eir to drop them off at their place quickly dispelled the wilder fantasies (terrifying and idealistic alike) that Mil’s mind had started jumping to.

Mil was aware, objectively speaking, that they didn’t really know Leolani all that well outside of the off-and-on conversations about hobbies and interests they’d been having most of the day and that letting someone like that know your address and handing them your keys wasn’t really the smartest idea.  Subjectively speaking however, Mil was tired, young, and platonically infatuated with their cool coworker whom they seemed to be hitting it off well with.

A few minutes later Mil heard Leolani‘s and Baroft‘s voices outside the backroom’s curtain and caught snippets of Leolani offering to close up the store for the night and lying that Baroft had just missed Mil leave a minute ago.  Another minute or two of silence followed before Leolani pushed aside the curtain and strutted over to Mil carrying a large bucket.  It took some doing, but ei got them to fit.  The melts made flesh as compressible as it made it elastic.

Somehow being scooped up, poured into a bucket, and pressed on until they fit was not the most embarrassing experience Mil had been through that day.

Leolani was able to lift Mil’s bucket with relative ease.  Surprising at first, but on second thought, Leolani must have had some manner of musculoskeletal reinforcements for strength and balance if ei was walking around with all that extra weight from eir neck sitting on eir shoulders all the time.

The conversation on the way back home was fairly one-sided.  It was simply too hard to concentrate on typing through the neurolink with all the novel sensations going on.  Sloshing slightly in the bucket as it swung with Leolani‘s gait.  Staring straight up into the night sky (or eir face) while moving.  The uncomfortable warmth generated from being their own folded blanket stuffed in a tight space.  The rumbling of the tram transferred through the floor and sides of the bucket making their whole body quiver and vision blur.  It was fine though.  Mil had never been a big talker and Leolani seemed more than willing to fill the space.  Or was ei intentionally trying to keep Mil distracted from all those other less pleasant aspects of their current situation?  If ei was, it was working.  And it turned out Mil hadn’t even needed to ask about the band patches; Leolani had started talking at length about them all on eir own.  Best of all, stuck looking out of the bucket up at the ceiling like this, Mil couldn’t see anyone else staring at them and could almost pretend it was just the eir and them without the eyes of strangers that had always made them uncomfortable.

And then Leolani was standing at the door to Mil’s apartment, holding their keys.  Ei let eirself inside, carrying Mil’s bucket with eir, found their bed, lifted them from the bucket, and laid them out flat on top of the sheets.  Being exposed to cool air again was a blessed relief.  They would absolutely need a shower in the morning, but for right now they were too exhausted to care.  They tried not to think too hard about how being rather literal putty in Leolani‘s hands felt.

Duty done and aid rendered, Leolani left the neurolink on Mil’s face in case anything came up in the night before they solidified, left the keys on the bedside table, left the lights off, and left the apartment.

On eir way out, ei suggested hanging out together sometime when they weren’t sick.

*******

Mil’s hand made a perfectly normal pap sound upon palming their alarm clock’s snooze button.  Their hand was hand-shaped and none of their bones wobbled.  And why wouldn’t that be the case after a good night’s sleep?

It had only been the melts.

[halfmoonism]

Double Blind

(The afterlife(?) with John Blanc: take two.)

ao3 link here rated T | m/m | 2k words mistrick, john blanc/chase colt tags: true ending spoilers, post-canon, canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships (if this even counts as one. match made in hell)

a/n: cw for a few light stabbings, bc chase. yes this is canon-typical violence. post-ending drabble for indie game mistrick, it's freeeee if you want to check it out :)

excerpt below:

He hates his life, or afterlife, or whatever else this qualifies as.

The un-love of his life has recently taken to trying to serenade him with the sequel to some published garbage, and for the sake of his sanity, Chase has been focusing on the way John’s voice almost hits some level of any-emotion-ever whenever they reach a questionable scene, which happens often. Very often. It’s actually disgusting how into this John is, and no amount of fantasizing about that dead-eyed stare of his getting gouged out can save him now—

“Ah, I like this part,” John says, the corners of his horrible mouth daring to curve into a tragic attempt at a smile, and he’d shove a knife through his throat if he hadn’t already done that last week with no reaction besides a faint, victorious glance when he had come back.

—truly, nothing. Maybe he should go back to shoving him into a statue, it’d shut him up more.

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery

[foxmulderautism]

wrote out a whole thing about imagining as part of my writing process and how much of my first drafting is actually done internally but it sounded kind of obnoxious accidentally like “ummm guys well everything in my head is so vivid 👍” which i don’t think me experiencing writing in my head vividly is special it’s just what my brain does 👍 but anyway how much of a first draft is a first draft when i will write a passage in word but that passage has lived in my head for weeks sometimes months mostly written out because i will write out scenes in my head and just let them marinate up there and somehow I don’t forget it

[leatherbookmark]

oh god okay i understand that maybe not everyone is as indecisive/comfortable with saying "it depends!" as me, but like, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, but i just can't take people who call izzy a villain seriously

[endureandsurvives]

hii! list five things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox of the last ten people who liked or reblogged something from you (no pressure) ☺️

Aw, hi there! Let's spread positivity then :)

Five things that make me happy, here we go!

Chickens

Sunny days

Cooking

Being in nature

Exercising

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Ok so im probably gonna do it anyway but I dont make my own polls often and im curious so

[kalloway]

Hello!

Will you ever possibly go back to write part 1 dio x reader fics? I remember back then I used to thrive off of reading your fics with part 1 dio, especially the one called “midnight meeting with a manticore” ( I think it was called like that). I know you said previously you’re not sure about writing more Jjba fics as you are focusing on something else. If not, I just wanted to let you know that your writing is phenomenal. Especially the way you manage to create an atmospheric feeling in your stories as well as being able to bring tension in random moments (such as in midnight meeting with a manticore). Overall, you are really an intelligent writer xoxo.

Hey, Anon! I kept this in my inbox/email for a *while* partly because I didn't know what to say but partly because I just wanted to keep it and read it for when I pulled myself out of a depressive slump at last (and thus be able to actually interpret it properly), so I apologize for the delay! I have a few Part 1 related fics on the backburner and have for aaages I'd love to go back to, but I would really have to rebuild my confidence with writing again to manage it I think? I actually had an alt rewrite/variation for Midnight Meetings with a Manticore in the early stages a few months back i think, but didn't commit... but part of me still wants to go all-in on self-indulgence and do it anyway hahaha in terms of x readers, I'd have to sit and look thru my files to even know what I had ideas for ngl... it's been *that* long I was focused on other things for a while but... really dragged myself down about writing in general so it's been very unproductive... but that doesn't mean I still don't want to write! It just is extremely difficult to bring myself to work on things atm. I hope I can warm back up to it though! There's a LOT of JJBA related stuff (not just Part 1) I have half-started I could go back to as well... heh >:) But I digress. I really, really appreciate the time you took to send me this - the compliment really made my day when I first saw it in my email and it still makes me so happy/encouraged to read now! The fact anyone remembers my fics or thinks they're notable in any capacity and enjoys them is jhgfdjfhd so flattering, tysm! <3

[velarisdusk]

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

[felixbit]

what friends do

pairing: felix x gn!reader w. 2.1k genre: fluff, a bit of angst and suggestive content summary: at some point a few months ago, felix kissed you for the first time. you didn't mean to catch feelings, but the lazy make-out sessions on his couch were melting your heart. warnings: swearing a/n: this is a fic i wrote on ao3 almost a year ago for @ppiri-bahng! i just wanted to post it on here. unlikely for a part 2 but enjoy :)

At some point a few months ago, Felix kissed you for the first time.

You'd been friends for years up to this point. You met him not long before his debut, so you're his day one. There was always something about the way you interacted with each other that felt so right, and it's why you became such close friends so fast. You spent all the time in the world together, and you'd spend every moment of every day with him, if you could. Felix had agreed with you once that you were soulmates. He was the best friend you'd ever had.

There was nearly nothing you didn't tell or do with Felix. He knew all of your secrets, little facts about you, every person in your life that was significant to you, and it was reciprocated on your end. You two knew each other like the back of your hand, and it felt as if nothing could ever separate you. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Felix, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for you.

So, when he asked if he could kiss you, you said yes.

"Hey."

Your eyes opened, previously closed as your head was slumped onto Felix's shoulder. The television in front of you had some romantic comedy movie on, but you weren't nearly awake enough to know what it was about. You moved your head off of the boy next to you and looked over at him, his chocolate eyes returning your gaze. "Yeah?"

"Would you kiss me?" Felix let his words out nonchalantly, which you struggled to tell if it was the byproduct of his exhaustion or if it was his attitude towards the question in general. His eyes never left yours, so you assumed there was some care behind it.

You shrugged. "Uhh, I don't see why not. Why, do you wanna kiss me or something?" The thought of kissing Felix hadn't really crossed your mind, aside from the few times you stared at his lips a little too long and wondered how soft they were. But really, you'd never thought that way of him.

"I might." Felix pursed his lips and stared at you, which you almost immediately picked up on what he was doing. The look in his eyes and his expression was one you'd seen a million times before, it what was Felix did when he wanted something. You'd usually see it in the context of him wanting some food or to go out, but the look never changed.

Your eyebrows furrowed a little bit, wondering his intentions. Felix never liked you in that way, at least that's what he claimed. "Is this just a totally platonic thing between friends? Why do you want me to kiss you?"

"I just.." Felix trailed off for a moment, tapping his finger on his leg, "I want to kiss you because I miss kissing. The few times I've done it, it was always so nice and fun.. and I thought you'd be chill with it. It's not a romantic thing for me. It's just something I've wanted to do for a while, but I get it if you don't want to."

"No, no.. I get it. If it's not changing anything between us, I don't really see why not. Kissing is fun."

Felix smiled and nodded softly. He let out a sigh of relief and put his arm around your shoulder. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yeah."

That's where it started. The first time you put your hand on his chest and your lips collided, his hands finding their way to cupping your cheek and the back of your neck, pulling you in close. When you first found out that you were right, his lips were as soft as they seemed. An assortment of little pecks turns slower and into deeper, longer kisses that are more drawn out and intimate. You didn't expect him to kiss you for that long, but you didn't mind. He was a good kisser, which he occupied you with for three minutes the first time around.

Every time the two of you broke apart for little gasps of air, he'd give you these smiles that would break you. Something made kissing him so fun and easy, so addicting and great. The way your hand rose and fell as it stayed planted on his chest made your heart flutter a little. Fuck, wait. No, that's a little too much. A little weird.

Then, it kept happening.

You'd be sitting around in the dorm kitchen, cooking up a meal, and a pair of arms would surround your waist. You'd look down, seeing skinny arms covered in freckles, and smile. Felix needed kisses. You'd tell him to leave you be, that you had to pay attention to your food, but his little pecks on your neck and cheek got you hooked. You'd end up with food burning as you were pressed into the kitchen counter, giving slow, sloppy kisses to Felix for far too long. When he finally let you go, he'd apologize for burning your food and take you out to eat.

Then it was movie night again. Then it was in his room. Then your room.

Felix turned out to love kissing a lot more than you expected. Almost any time you were alone together turned into a lazy make out session. You'd learned the ins and outs of what he liked, how your mouths fit together just right, how eager he was to add tongue, or how he'd always smile into the kiss when you wrapped your arms around his waist or put your hand on his chest.

Every time you'd pull away from him, finally stopping, you'd often end up laying your head on his chest and your head felt fuzzy. Your brain hadn't felt like this before, which was utterly confusing. This was your best friend, but every time you made out with him, your stomach would pull flips and feel like you had butterflies. But, in your head, he was just a friend.

Was he?

You sat on Felix's bed, scrolling your Twitter feed and turning your brain off to the real world. The room was nice and just cold enough for you to be wearing one of Felix's sweaters, which was your favorite. He'd always let you borrow them when it was cold in the house, and they smelled like him. They smelled like home, always taking you to a safe space mentally and cooling your anxiety for a bit.

Peering past your phone, you tuned back in to hear angry phrases coming out of Felix as he sat at his desk. Watching Felix play games was funny, since he never seemed to improve much at them. He always got mad when he lost, and overjoyed when he won. It was obvious he was playing a losing game, and it would be over shortly. You watched on, picking up more about how the game worked, as he gave up and the game ended. He threw his arms up in exasperation, standing up from his desk.

"You okay?" You knew he wouldn't ever really be upset over a game, not in a true way. Though, you always liked to ask so he could vent his frustrations and feel better faster.

"Yeah, fuck, it's just-" Felix let out a long sigh, covering his face with his hands, "I hate playing this game. I always end up losing a bad game and I'm in a bad mood for a while. I don't even know why I play it."

"Awh, 'lix," You opened your arms, "Come here."

Felix walked over slowly to the bed, slumping his body into yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your heart tensed, a warm feeling shooting through your body as you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. He let out soft murmurs, speaking angrily under his breath in an unintelligible way that you couldn't make out what he was saying.

You rubbed his back softly in silence until he finally sat up on his own, looking at you. You met his eyes, entranced in his beauty for a few moments before you looked at his expression. Your eyebrows furrowed. "Felix.."

"Please?"

Fuck. Felix's smooth, deep voice always won you over. As soon as he pleaded with you, you folded for him. Your mouth pursed as you tried to fight off a smile, looking away as you took a deep sigh. "Okay, fine."

Felix smiled giddily and let out a small noise of excitement, which hit you in the gut again. You leaned back against the wall behind you, legs dangling over the short side of the bed as Felix climbed onto your lap. You reached up and brushed a bit of hair out of his face, which he smiled at. Your heart wasn't dealing well with this. Before you could keep thinking, he pressed his lips against yours and you were taken into a mind-numbing state of bliss.

Your arms stayed firmly wrapped around his waist to keep him secure as his hands stayed planted on your neck and cheek. Your kisses were always perfectly slow and tender, Felix never liking to rush through it. The way his lips dragged almost lazily over yours drove you crazy, but you took it at his pace, as much as you'd like to go faster.

At least he was a crazy good kisser. You could never get bored of kissing him, even if you had to spend an hour doing it. You just might, as your longest kissing session went for half an hour with only two small breaks in it. Making out with Felix could take up all your time, and you'd be okay with it. As much as you hated how much you liked kissing him, it was true.

So when he finally pulled away from you a few minutes later, you felt a tensing in your gut. Your lips formed a thin line as you looked down at the bed, unable to contain how you were feeling. Every time you kissed, your feelings for him got progressively worse. You'd reached a breaking point.

"You alright?"

Your chest got a strike of pain through it. The innocence and caring in Felix's deep voice could've shattered you in that moment. You were a house of cards spilled all over the floor. You wanted so badly to tell him a lie, tell him everything was normal and fine, but you knew deep down it wasn't true. You loved him.

"No." Your voice shook, tears forming in your eyes. It was too much to handle.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here. What's wrong?" Felix stroked your hair softly, leaning down to try to see your face.

You pressed your face directly into his chest, a place that had grown to be your comfort spot. His scent filled you with that soothing feeling, but your stomach turned again and you knew it meant something different now than it did before. A tear slid down your cheek. "I can't do this anymore, Felix. It's too much for me."

"Too much for you? Am I making you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Felix wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"No, it's not that at all," Your voice broke, trying not to sob, "I think.. somewhere in this whole kissing thing.. I caught feelings for you. I haven't been able to tell you because I didn't want to make it weird, but it was making me feel so guilty.. and I was liking this too much for my own good. I get it if you don't want to hang out with me anymore, Felix. I'm sorry."

Felix froze for a little bit. He continued to hold you and stroke your hair, but he was silent for long enough to make you worry. Your heart ached as you realized that this might be the end of your relationship with him.

"I think I did, too."

"What?" You pulled back suddenly from his chest, meeting his eyes.

Felix's brows furrowed as he nodded. "I wasn't lying when I wanted to kiss you because I missed kissing.. but I think I did it partly because I wanted to kiss you specifically, and I thought I'd fuck things up between us if I tried to make it more than friends."

"Oh, Felix.." You broke into a smile, a few tears still rolling down your face, "You should've told me."

"I know.. I just couldn't get myself to do it. You were in my head all the time, driving me crazy. I knew it wasn't what friends do, but it was the only way I could still be normal friends with you without going mad."

"So, does that mean we can kiss.. like, not just as friends?"

"Yeah."