#hazel acts shocked each time too

[incorrect-riordanverse]

Nico: santa isn’t real

Hazel: this is why your ass keeps getting coal for christmas

Nico:

Hazel:

Nico: I KNOW ITS YOU DOING THAY-

[scorpioriesling]

Ideal Mate + Ideal Date HC

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Reader x Rhysand / Cassian / Azriel / Lucien / Eris / Tamlin

Warnings: fluff, some light allusions to smut and brief suggestive scenes, light swearing

Summary: Headcannons/drabbles for (my idea!) what the "ideal" mate for each character is, with an ideal date for the two of them as well.

SR’s Note: Just another little idea I had, pls don't hate on me <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

You would have to catch his eye because you're "different" in some way from other females

Whether it is because you are human, you are creative, you are undeniably brave and don't care who sees it... he is enraptured by you

All of these things intimidate him a little bit, which is why he has to learn about you from afar first before he can finally meet you

He is so nervous when he finally introduces himself, but unashamedly peers inside your head to see if you're even the least bit intrigued in him as he is by you

He's glad he did, and had nothing to worry about; you've fallen at first sight

He makes a point to learn things you like; he has tried to teach himself how to paint, but gets frustrated that it is one of the only things he can't master

He already asked you for an evening by the sidra to paint and have a picnic; too early, though as now he is realizing he is no good at the skill you excel in

"I just want you to know, painting isn't something I'm very talented in doing..."

You get butterflies realizing the most powerful and dangerous High Lord could be so nervous on a first date with a human female

"Allow me to help you, then."

He melts when your fingers hold his on the brush, only using one canvas as you paint a picture together instead of two separate ones

He can barely focus, your jasmine scent so close as you sit side by side on the soft grass by the river in the moonlight. He's not even focusing on the painting, but on your side profile instead, so intrigued in your work, the way your brows furrow in concentration

The moonlight illuminates the soft freckles on your nose; he wants to lean in and kiss each one of them

"No wonder you do not paint very well; you don't seem to have a strong sense of focus," you smirk

Cassian

He didn't want to like you when he met you, but somehow... he couldn't help himself

Your icy stare, the way you carried yourself, your strong sense of independence... you made it clear you didn't want any man

But he wanted you

At first he didn't know how to act around you, usually the fae he took interest in were kind and welcoming... but you had a bite that would send every male in Prythian screaming. He wasn't sure how to make you like him

He tried kindness; he earned a scowl. He tried buying you things; another sour look. He even tried inviting you to things, so you'd feel less isolated; all that got him was rejection, every time. Finally, he'd had enough

"What is it with you? Why won't you let anyone in? I get it, your family sucks, but-"

"Oh, please. You know nothing about me or my family." You'd spat

"Yeah! You're right, I don't," he heaves. "I don't... you don't tell me. You don't let a single person in. You don't talk to me, or tell me anything, or," he huffs a laugh. "Gods, I mean. You wouldn't step back and realize that someone cares so much for you, or see that I've just been trying to get you to love me back all along!" He'd throw his hands in the air, and they'd fall to his sides

You stand there, frozen in shock. You really could not believe what you were hearing, coming from Cassian, of all people

One minute, you're contemplating how to go about all this. Then, the next minute, you're not thinking at all

You're closing the distance, two steps at a time, throwing your arms around his neck and crashing your lips onto his. His large hands grasp your waist, holding you tight to him

You pull away and stare up into his wide, hazel eyes, boring into yours in utter disbelief

"Y/N... I can't do this if you're not serious about-"

"Take me out then. I'll show you just how serious I can be." His chest rises and falls, and he just shakes his head and lets out a suprised chuckle

"You'd really go out with me?" He asks, playfully. You roll your eyes in response, your usual irritation returning to your face

"Rita's in 30." You pull away from him and saunter off toward your room in the House of Wind, feeling his gaze on your swaying hips. You were already planning out a rather scandalous outfit for tonight, involving a tiny red dress hanging in your closet...

"You better stop staring at my ass, Cassie, or I might just change my mind." You call over your shoulder. He prectically clutches his chest with his hand

You were going to be the death of him

Azriel

Hear me out -- Azzie is attracted to someone who is originally viewed as very naive and harmless, but has a confident and brave side as well

He would see you from afar, wearing a pretty dress, a big bow in your hair while you walk along the streets in Velaris with your friends

Your smile has this man blushing!! and he doesn't even know you yet, but he knows he must have you

"You okay man?" Cassian asks, and Azriel cooly plays it off as being too hot in the mid-day sun. Cassian just gives a confused "whatever", but Rhysand says nothing as he knows exactly what is happening here

"I need a drink, and since Azriel is so warm," Rhysand side eyes his friend, smirking. Azriel immediately starts sweating. He knows Rhys is up to something, and Azriel has been casually observing you the whole morning that he's been in Velaris. You'd just gone into the small coffee shop, the one adorned with peonies outside; one Rhys was guiding the group of bat boys closer to. "...why don't we stop in here for some refreshments?"

He thinks his heart is going to fall out of his ass right now. He couldn't go in there -- you were already in there, and he was in no position to be talking to you right now

"Rhys, I uh, I don't know if I want coffee right now," he stutters quietly. Rhys chuckles, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Cassian looks between the two, still confused

"Ohhhhh Az," he sighs. "I'm sure they have water in there, and I am rather thirsty myself. Say, Cassian looks parched too -- why don't you go in and get us three waters, hmm?" Rhysand asks. Azriel glares at Rhys

"I know. What. You're doing." He says, voice clipped. Cassian scrunches his face behind the two of them.

"I mean, I'll go in and get 'em, I am kinda hot now that you mentioned the sun-" Cassian starts. Rhys puts a hand up, stopping his Illyrian friend and shaking his head. A wicked smile plays on his lips.

"No no, Azriel said he would go. We'll just wait outside..." He slinks over to a small table, and Cassian plops down in a chair, seeming to ask Rhys what was going on. The High Lord only stares between Azriel and the front door, silently ushering him to go inside. Azriel growls, forcing one foot in front of the other before he is finally opening the door and entering the small shop

The scent of roasting coffee beans and vanilla cream wafts through the air, the smell intoxicaitng and fresh. It only takes Azriel a moment to spot you, the blue and ivory sundress hugging you stunningly and the cream bow a stark contrast against your rich, flowing hair. He glances toward the window, and meets the eyes of both Rhysand and Cassian. Cassian gives him a cheesy thumbs up, and Azriel rolls his eyes as he heads towards the front counter. You're at the other end, waiting on your order

"Hi! How may I help you?" The cheery older woman behind the counter greets him. He can barely focus on anything, let alone the fae in front of him engaging in conversation when you're closer than you've been all day to him

"Three waters..." he says. The older lady follows his line of sight, a small smile pulling at her lips as she begins to chuckle

"I'll have those right out for you," hes still staring, and she shakes her head, continuing to smile at him. "Her name is Y/N."

This snaps him out of his daze. He looks to the cashier once more. "Y/N?" He repreats. The name has never sounded so lovely. Maybe it wouldn't have, but now he knows it belongs to you. The woman nods her head

"Yes, Shadowsinger." His lips part, but no words come out. "And, she is here every day around lunch time. Unwed. So... I'd suggest you go over there and do something about that, hmm?" Azriel can't hide the heat on his cheeks as the woman winks at him, turning to get working on a few orders. That was his turn to walk away, walk over to you...

As he approaches your side in the waiting area, his breath quickens. He can't help but notice you're alone, your friends have gone outside and oh-so-conveniently struck up a conversation with his two brothers.

Bastards.

"I don't think I've ever waited this long for a drink from here in my life," you say quietly, chuckling at the end. He only blinks, not sure if what he was hearing was true. Were you really speaking to him?

He turns to you, only to find you already gazing up at him. He can't help but smile, revealing his perfect teeth as he fumbles for what to say back

"Do you, come here? Often?" He asks. He already knew the answer, but...

"Almost every day!" You beam. "And you?"

He shakes his head. "First time in."

You nod slowly. "Oh... my. Well, I hope you've tried something delicious for your first experience." You grace him with another small grin, and he feels like he might melt at the sight. He hadn't realized how close you'd stepped, or maybe he had? Only mere inches separated-

"Three waters!" The cashier calls, setting down the three glasses in front of Azriel. His cheeks heat as he stares at them, the wide-eyed expression from his new crush not going unnoticed. It isn't long before the most lovely sound is filling his ears though.

You were giggling beside him.

"Oh... my..." you say between breaths. Azriel sighs, leaving the three cups on the counter and facing you. He can't help but let loose a chuckle himself, and your cheeks redden at the sight of him

"Well, it seems I'll need to come back and actually try something next time..." He says. You continue to giggle, trying hard to calm down and peer down at the floor, shaking your head.

"Hey, I've got a lot of great suggestions, but..." the cashier silently sets down your drink in front of you, and you pick it up. "...plain water maybe isn't one of them." You grin. Azriel grabs his water, taking a long swig and you wished that perhaps it was you on his lips instead-

You turned to walk toward the door, your new companion keeping up with you and holding the door open for you to exit. You open your mouth to thank him, but he beats you to it

"Maybe you can show me what you'd suggest? Next time?" Your wide eyes gaze up at him, his hazel ones squinting in the midday sun. The breeze lightly brushes his black hair across his tanned forehead, and you try really hard to supress the grin spreading across your face

"I'd meet you here tomorrow, but;" you hesitate. "Well, uh, I have ring training tomorrow at this time... but maybe the day following?" You look at him sheepishly. He looks as if he is ready to fall to his knees in front of you

"I'll be here, the day following." You rise on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before skipping off to meet your friends. His eyes trail after you, his cheek tingling from where your lips made contact. He doesn’t register his brothers rising from the table and approaching him

“So uh… where are our drinks, Az?”

Lucien

Classic, but Lucie is going to fall for someone (kind of like Az) who is very soft and kind but can also hold her own

He is also going to rizz the shit out of you... but I feel like that is already a given

I feel like he would actually meet you in the Day Court when he's there on an assignment, and you'd be one of Helion's advisor's daughters and he would immediately be drawn to you

The gold and white dress and accessories you'd appeared in... oh he's down bad

He saw you at first in a group setting, not really being able to keep his eyes off of you but then later he spotted you near a pond of sunlight and couldn't walk away

He was walking closer, and noticed you actually weren't alone but were actually comforting a small child who appeared upset near the pool's edge. The boy stood, peering down at you on your knees as you ran your thumbs across his cheeks. Lucien leaned against a nearby tree, not wanting to interrupt, but also so intrigued by the scene in front of him

"There is no need to worry, sweetheart," your tender words pulled at something deep in Lucien's chest, though you weren't speaking to him at all. The little one sniffled and nodded, staring deep into your eyes. "I know it is frightening when we are lost, but look," you give the boy an award winning smile and Lucien feels like his heart is singing for you already. "...I've found you, and you're safe here! You know?" You say. He reaches out his little arms and braces them around your neck, hands tangling in your cascade of curls. You pull him in close, not letting go until he does

You take his precious fingers in yours, and he walks closely beside you as you make your way back to the palace. "Now, let's go find your mommy, okay honey?"

Lucien swears he could cry, hes never seen anyone so kind and gentle. He couldn't imagine having someone like that to love, and made the decision then that he would be introducing himself to you later that evening, properly

And when he does... ohhhh he charms you. It wasn't hard for you to fall for Lucien as quickly as he fell for you; he practically screamed "husband material"

He'd taken you on many dates, but the one that was the most special was when he brought you to a waterfall on horseback, just before sunset. He tied your shared horse to a tree, and led you to a small alcove where a small picnic was pre-set, the sunset streaming through the falling water just right (thank you, Helion). Apple pie, roasted turkey, and autumnal wine adorned the small blanket, as well as a little golden box in the middle. Your hand flew to your mouth

"I know the sunset and these falls make you who you are in the Day Court," Lucien says sheepishly as he guides you to the spread. You take your seats and he doesn't let go of your hand. "I wanted to show you a little bit of what makes me who I am too..." he trails off. You can't help the silver lining your eyes as you take in the scene around you

"Autumn and Day... who would've thought." You smile at him, and he reaches for the box. Opening it, he pulls out a thin golden necklace with a sun symbol on it.

"I love you to great lengths, Y/N," You only then notice as he is unclasping it that he already adorns one of the same around his neck.

"I don't want to leave you, or this place anymore," he says, reaching behind your neck to fasten the clasp. He breathes in your hibiscus scent, and his fingers trail down the side of your cheek. You can't help but let a tear slip free, realizing you'd never have to say goodbye again

"I won't ever leave you, or this court, again."

Eris

You caught the attention of Eris because you were plain

Literally

Eris was so excited (but, confused?) because he'd never genuinely loved a female beyond his sexual encounters, then he'd met you and you'd absolutely ruined everyone else for him

You were overlooked by everyone, which made you feel horrible most of your life, but Eris treated you like a queen, and he appreciated your simplicity and liked how uncomplicated you were

You were not even High Fae; which didn't go over well with Beron, but Eris didn't care. You made him feral. He'd kill his own father for you if it meant spending the rest of eternity with you.

His father was always trying to marry him off with other High Fae or noble females, but they were always too much to handle or too bratty and stuck up to Eris

He also didn't appreciate his father telling him who he would be allowed to chose and who he couldn't

But boy oh boy, did he choose you

He liked to keep your outings private, so no one would be able to swoop in and ruin the time you had together

But, that did not stop him from going all out for you and giving you all of the things you did not get to indulge in

He definately used his status to his advantage...

Your favorite date to go on -- a repeat date, as it was a shared favorite -- was to the orchard. Eris would spoil you by taking you shopping the day prior (you'd almost always choose a crimson or maroon sundress with matching flats) for a new outfit, and you'd wear said outfit the next day

You'd always wear one of his rings, though the two of you were not yet properly wed, and the sight of it made him weakkkkk I am telling you weak

He'd reserve the orchard for the day, and the two of you would ride on the wagon, share warm cider, and walk along the treelines as you both did when you were just young children

Obviously there would be apple picking, and he'd purposefully wander near a tree with ones dangling higher than you could grasp

"Eris, I can't-" you huff, stretching an arm up and dancing on your tip toes in search of the hanging fruit on a branch out of your reach. His eyes would wander, taking in your bare legs as your short dress rode up higher on your thighs-

Ughhhhh, this is not the place, Eris

"Allow me, my love." He would bend down, hiking you up on his shoulder and standing at his full height, arm bent and wrapped around your knees as you sat atop his shoulderblade. You'd wobble a bit, but, now you could reach the Honeycrisp you'd been going for.

Reaching toward branch, you grab on and yank. Seeing it glimmering in the warm September sun, you can't help but to bite into it, a satisfying crunch as a tiny drop of juice trails from the corner of your lips. A satisfied "hmmm" escapes your throat as you close your eyes, but the male beneath you catches on to what you're doing

"Heyyy," Eris slides you off his shoulder, hands firmly gripping your hips and gently setting you on your feet. Your spun around to face him, and he smirks down at you. Your now wide eyes stare into his amber ones as he leans in, licking the drop near your mouth and then leaning in close to your ear

His breath was warm on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as goosebumps appeared on your arms. His warm hands trailed up and down your upper arms, his voice low and husky. "These are for picking -- I thought we could eat... later..."

Tamlin

So... stay with me here on this one. Tam Tam is getting a mate that has a power dynamic that is going to absolutely match his okay

Whatever energy you give me, I'm matching it... that is the dynamic that this duo is giving here

Also... I feel like after Feyre, he would pull a complete 180 and be with someone who would put him in his place from the very beginning

His previous relationship really messed him up, but after he healed from that... he absolutely changed for the better I feel like. I think he would be with someone who would keep him in check, remind him when he's acting out, and almost maybe scare him a little? Kind of like Cassian and his ideal mate lol

Except... his ideal girlie would also be maybe just a tad unhinged

Just like him

It's alright... we love to see it

Anyways

His mate would be very modernly beautiful, I feel like; what comes to mind when you think of "society's beautiful". Not fake, however. Just very blessed, and just born this way -- lucky her! Lol

This, of course, caught Tamlin and the entirety of the Spring Court's eye

He was not very intimidated by his ideal mate, at first, but when he got to know you a little bit better, he wanted to do everything right and not screw anything up like last time

If he did mess up, or do things that were genuinely wrong or out of line... oh did he hear about it. You definitely kept him in check

Yet, another reason the Spring Court loved you

He did get easily jealous of other males, High Fae and lesser faeries alike for looking at you too long, talking to you, and fawning over you of course

Who wouldn't?

He'd wrap his arm around you a little tighter when in public, or kiss you literally right on the mouth in the middle of the square if people were staring at you for longer than he'd like

But, you honestly didn't care. You reveled in it, the attention you got from others, which in turn, drove him wild and would lead to his posessiveness of you taking over-

Phew... yeah uhm

Dating... he wouldn't even bother making dates private. He liked showing you off, even though other guys looking at you made him nuts

You liked public dates, because you liked to be shown off, and again, his posessiveness was so sexy and would usually lead to a great time (in PRIVATE, of course) once the nice lil date was over

You'd make it even better by wearing something fun for him when he'd take you out. Let's say... dinner, for example

You'd start sitting across the booth from each other, both recieving polite hello's and compliments from every faerie who passed your table. You'd of course return them; one thing he'd picked up from you was your politeness and manners

After a little while of spending time together and him gazing into your eyes, he'd seem a little... distracted... and slip into the same side of the booth with you instead, just to be closer to you

It didn't really help his case, but he really liked the smell of wildflower and honey that seemed to radiate from you

He'd have one arm around your shoulders, tracing small circles on your skin with his finger and you’d giggle because it tickled

But it also distracted you from his other hand slowly tracing up your thigh...

...and under your short, oh so short skirt...

Finally, you'd caught onto what he was doing and sat up straight, the corset top you'd expertly paired with this outfit for this reason alone doing you justice as his gaze flicked down to where it curved low below your collarbone. A soft growl graced the shell of your ear, and you only chuckled as his hot breath tickled the side of your neck

"You didn't put anything on under this... did you?"

[wannabekook]

Where Do We Go From Here?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Please do not copy or post my work anywhere!

(ʙᴀɴɴᴇʀ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Pairing: John B Routledge x Kook!Reader Requested?: yes Warnings: tiny bit of angst, cannon events/semi cannon events(idek if that should be a warning) Word Count: 2.3k Proofread?: no A/N: Okay, I feel like I didn't do this fic the justice it deserved. Also apologize for taking so long to put this out I haven't been feeling all too great. I should be posting Good Graces 4 sometime next week. My requests are closed but you can still ask to be on my taglist. This is my reblogs, follow to see what I be reading. :)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

I watched as John B got up from the stump he was sitting on, walking over to the water. I sat for a moment before following him. Once by his side I look over to the left of me before looking at him, a miniscule frown on my face.

“We’re together, right?” I asked calmly as I stared at his face, causing him to glance at me for a second before looking back towards the water.

“Yeah.” He spoke quickly as he cleared his throat. I nod softly as I look to the ground before looking back at him.

“So that means we always tell each other the truth.” I say matter of factly earning a look of almost shock from John B before he looked away again, tensing his jaw.

“(Y/N), I am telling the truth.” He said flatly, I tilted my head back as I pursed my lips. Leaning on my back foot, giving him an almost disbelieving look. He finally turns to me in a defensive manner.

“What you think I’m.. I’m lying?” He asked defensively as he shook his head, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Is that what you think? No, I…” “No, no, it’s just…” We both started to say at the same time, stuttering for a moment before he allowed me to continue talking. Looking away from him with a small sigh before continuing.

“The story that you told us isn’t really adding up.” I looked around for a moment before looking back at him. He let out a small sigh as he looked away, trying not to roll his eyes.

“You guys get the Twinkie and you go off to Charleston without telling anyone, and I’m just trying to understand why. If there’s anything that you can’t tell the others, you can tell me.” I spoke gently, concern laced in my voice as we both looked at each other. My eyes swirled with emotion as I stared into his hazel eyes.

“Mmm.” He hummed out with a curt nod as he looked away once again.

“Look, look at me. What happened?” I grabbed his head gently, running my hands down to the holding onto his neck. “You’ve just been acting so off since your dad got back.” I asked as I patted his neck, squeezing softly as I talked.

“What happened?” He asked flatly.

“Yes, John B. It’s me. I’m on your side.” I spoke hastily, trying to convey how desperate I am to get him to understand that I am here for him.

“Okay, (Y/N), you know what happened?.”  He spoke sternly as he grabbed my wrists pulling my hands off of him. “My dad came back.” He looked towards Big John as he pointed before looking back at me with raised eyebrows. “ And he’s trying to help all of us.” He spoke matter of factly.

“Uh-huh.” I replied softly as I followed his words, lips parted as I took in his words.

“And meanwhile, your dad tried to kill you.” He started causing me to let out a soft gasp “And I’m sorry that you can’t deal with that.” He spoke softly as I looked away. Tears welled in my eyes as I licked my lips, sniffling.  

“Am I wrong?” He asked in a flat voice. I licked the back of my teeth as I tried to keep my breathing steady so my tears didn’t fall.

“Well, then call me when you wanna tell the truth.” I exhaled as I walked away from him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ

I let out a soft sigh as I stared out at the water on an abandoned pier, remembering the last conversation I had with John B. Tears welling in my eyes as I let out a shaky breath, sniffling as I replayed it over and over in my head. 

‘How could you say something like that to someone you love?’ I thought to myself as I sniffled again, wiping at the tears on my face as I closed my eyes. 

He wasn’t wrong though, my dad did try to kill me after I found out he was still alive. Which truly hurt since I saw him blow up on his boat. That memory will definitely stick with me for the rest of my life. What he didn’t mention but I know he implied it was the fact that I now have nothing. No house to go to and no money since I’ve given up my Kook card to be a Pogue. Which I am now almost regretting. Finding that it was worthless to sit there and risk my life for John B if he was going to be like this.

I haven’t spoken to him since, afraid of what would happen if I tried to go to talk to him again. I didn’t want to lose him but I also didn’t want to face him. I tried going to Kie for a place to stay but her parents were being dicks about it. Tried going JJ only to find an eviction notice plastered on his front door and him nowhere to be seen. I didn’t even bother Pope since Cleo is staying with him. That’s how I found myself with Topper that same day, letting out a groan as I remember that encounter.

｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ

“You look a little thirsty. If you want there’s beers right there. You can grab a drink.” He said in a teasing tone, pointing towards the cooler. I smiled softly at him as I grabbed a beer out of the cooler. 

“Never thought I’d be a beer cooler vagrant. That’s embarrassing.” I sighed out as I leaned against the edge of his boat, cracking open the beer with a small smile on my face.

“Yeah, I thought you were more into, like, high-end heists now. Like robbing trains, you know?” He smirked softly as he kept looking from me to the water. Grimacing softly as I shook my head at him.

“Sorry.” I apologize softly.

“Which… No judgment. Um..” He said matter of factly with a small shake of his head as he laughed softly

“I wouldn’t blame you if you.” I smiled, returning the soft laugh as I looked towards the water.

“Listen, I know your back’s against it right now,” He started, concern laced in his tone. “And I can drop you at your house and talk to your brother on your behalf or not.” He suggested as I immediately shook my head.

“No, absolutely not.” I sighed out.

“All right, okay.” He licked his lips, eyes focused on the water in front of him. “Um, yeah, where are you staying right now?” He asked softly.

“Um…” I mumbled out as I brushed some hair out of my face, looking away.

“I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to be up in your business or anything.” He stuttered out as I just shook my head. “Look, I know you have a boyfriend, and, um, I have a… I have a girlfriend now.” He said excitedly as I took a sip of my beer, almost choking on it. 

“You have a girlfriend?” I asked, trying to keep an even tone

“Yeah.” He nodded with a smile on his face “You’re surprised?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Of course you do.” I sighed out softly “Who?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Um, you know, Elena.” He said casually as he looked at me with a small nod.

“Reedy?” I asked in disbelief with a slight laugh.

“What, you don’t like her?” He asked in a teasing tone as he looked me up and down.

“No, it’s just… I don’t know.” I sighed out raising a hand and shaking it softly before turning to fully face it. “It’s just when we were together, she was just always like up your ass. It was just weird to me, and..” I laughed out with a shake of my head getting cut off by Topper who had a slight smirk on his face.

“Oh, you’re jealous.” He asked in a teasing way as he gestured to me.

“I’m not jealous!” I said defensively as I shook my head at him.

“You’re jealous. No, it’s fine. I get it.” He sighed out as I continued to deny it.

“She would just linger. She was just always ready to pounce or something.” I sighed out as I stood, gesturing a pounce.

“Well, you left and broke up with me, so..” He stated with a huff of a laugh as he shook his head.

｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ｡･:*:･ﾟ

The soft ding of my phone pulled me out of the memory as I looked down to see who texted me, Kiara. Letting out a soft sigh as I opened my phone to see what she had said. 

Kie: Parents’ party starts in an hour. Figured, I’d remind you.

Me: Alright thank you, I’ll start getting ready. I’ll see you in a bit.

I stood up from the edge of the pier I was on, grabbing my purple cruiser bike as I hopped on it going back to Topper’s pool house to change for the party. Grateful that Topper is allowing me to stay there. After about half an hour of getting ready and making sure I look perfect, I make the short trip over to the party. 

Standing next to Kiara as her parents did their speech, a smile on my face as she walked towards them after her father finished speaking.

“Psst (Y/N)” I heard someone whisper loudly behind me, immediately turning around to see John B with a goofy grin on his face. He makes his way towards me, I look around for a moment before slightly running over towards him, a smile on my face. Once we’re in front of each other he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me, pulling me tight against him. I let out a soft sigh of relief as I wrapped my arms around him as well. 

“Long time no see.”” He said softly as I put my hand on the back of his head.

“Hi.” I breathed out, panic filled my eyes before I shut them gently.

“Hey, come here. Come here, follow me.” He urged out as he pulled away, looking at me with longing.

“What are you doing here?” I asked softly as I held his hand, allowing him to pull me away. 

“I have so much I have to tell you.” He spoke softly as he squeezed my hands. Stopping at a table. I looked up to him through my lashes, shaking my head softly.

“I have so much I have to tell you.” I repeated back softly, hurt laced in my voice.

“(Y/N)...I’m sorry..I’m so sorry.” He stuttered out with a frown, shaking his head “For the way I talked to you at the Chateau, for lying about El Dorado, for not being there for you when you needed me.” He spoke softly, his tone positively filled with genuine regret. I squeezed his hands softly as I shook my head softly as I turned away from him.

“It’s fine. I’m sure your dad probably didn’t want you to say anything.” I said dejected as I kept my gaze down as I spoke before looking at him.

“No, no. Hey.” He furrowed his eyebrows softly as he moved a hand to caress my jaw. “I messed up. I missed you.” He stroked his thumb against my cheek before pulling me into a hug.

“Missed you too.” I spoke quietly as I sighed out as I pulled away from him. 

“Hey, look. We gotta get out of here. We gotta go. Come on.” He spoke hurriedly as he grabbed my hand again, trying to pull me along with him. I pulled away from him, going back towards the table.

“No, wait.” I mumbled as I brought my hand to my face, John B immediately back by my side, eyes filled with concern.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?” He asked softly as he put a hand on my back. I looked up at him, panic and uncertainty swirling in my eyes. I sighed out softly as I kept my gaze on the table.

“I have something to tell you.” I whispered as I closed my eyes, he only rubbed my back gently, waiting for me to continue. “I saw Topper.” I muttered softly, his hand stopping its motion before pulling off of me quickly, almost in disgust.

“You did what?” He spoke in a calm manner.

“I didn’t know where else to go after our fight..” I sniffled as I shook my head. “I didn’t sleep with him, I promise. I..I just needed a place to stay.” I say softly as John B just stares at the side of my face with his jaw clenched

“I..I thought you just didn’t want me around anymore.” I admit softly “And I thought you would’ve been angry if I came back around.” I sniffled again as tears well in my eyes. The expression on John B’s face softens as he realizes just how much pain he put me through over the past few days. Without a word he pulls me into his chest as he cradles my head.

“I’m so so so sorry (Y/N)” He spoke into my hair, as he planted a kiss to the top of my head. A soft sob escapes my lips as I wrap my arms around him as I bury my head further against his chest.

“I promise to never put you through that again.” He vowed as before pulling away to look at my face. His hands came up to cup my cheeks, wiping them away with a soft smile on his face. “I love you so much (Y/N).” He said softly as he searched my eyes.

“I love you too, John B, so much.” I breathed out softly with a small nod. 

Without warning he put his lips against mine, pulling me into a soft tender kiss. Pouring his entire heart out as I eagerly returned the kiss, a smile on my lips as he pulled away.

“Wherever we go from here, I promise you, I will always be by your side. I won’t ever make you second guess a single thing.” He promised tenderly as his hands came back to cup my cheeks. Relief flooding my body as I nodded at him, a loving smile on my face.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Taglist: @wearemadeofstardust0 @pillowprincess4him @mirellef2001

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

[gr4veyardsblog]

can you please write hazel x cheerleader!reader where hazel has a massive crush on/obsession with reader and either doesn't speak to her at all out of fear or says the dumbest shit because she's so flustered but reader finds it cute?

Not so obvious.

Summary: Hazel has a big crush on reader but is too scared to even talk to her which makes reader begin to think she hates her

A/n : I’m sorry if this is bad but I haven’t written in like 5 years would love some tips in the comments or anything thank you just need to let my feelings out on my obsesión with Hazel- 😼

It was obvious Hazel didn’t like you. How could u not know with her always running off when you come even remotely close to her.

“Hey hazel” you practically yell at you spot her by her locker barely getting there and reaching for a book. But as quick as you see her, as quick as she disappears.

Another time you spot her having a conversation with pj and Josie but this time in class so thought there was no way she could go anywhere. Boy were you wrong.

“Hey guys” just as you were coming up you see hazel speed walk out the classroom door.

Your shoulders slump as you feel slightly off putted by the erupt exit.

———————————————

“Just talk to her” pj said with annoyance in her voice

“It’s not that simple rather just ignore it and act like it doesn’t exist” Hazel says shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head

“Dude it’s way better than you just leaving like she has some sort of virus or something

Hazel shakes her head and sees u walking towards them and quickly looks around for an exit route but thoughts are cut short by your body coming I to view

“Hey guys I was wondering what you guys were doing after school”

Hazel stops listening as she thinks to herself that this is finally her chance to talk to you. Just say hey how are you you look really pretty today. No she’ll think your a total loser today

Suddenly she blurts out as pj is explaining what the club is.

“I love woman “ all three stop and look at her. The tip of her ears turning a bright red eyes widen not believing she said that

“I-I think what she means if we all love and want to suppprt woman” pj said trying to save the conversation

“ so if ur into that stuff you should totally stop by and i don’t know if u want to , bring some of your friends with you like idk” she pretends to think “ maybe Isabel and Brittany for instance just throwing that out there”

Josie shakes her head and grabs pjs arm

“Uh yea I’ll see if they wanna come. I’ll see you all later “ you say walking off after they both said their byes except Hazel

Hazel comes out of her shock and shakes her head

“ what was that” pj said looking at Hazel

“I don’t know it just came out”

“Dude u need serious help if that’s how you flirt “

“ you don’t just blurt I love woman ur lucky I saved your ass”

————————————————————————

“ always be on time “

Pj turns around being cut off with the sound of the gym door opening and seeing you, Isabel and Brittany walk in

“You guys haven’t started right” you chirp out

“No your just in time we were about to start our lesson”

You all sit in a circle awaiting instructions on what is going to happen next.

“Ok we are gonna have two people in the middle fighting- training in self defense”

“First pair” pj looks around the circle smiling to herself and stops at you “y/n and uhh idk hazel”

Hazel freezes and looks at pj with wide eyes as you both stand up and go into the middle

You both begin to circle each other no one making a move to hit the other

“Cmon Hazel! HIT HER! “ hazel widens her eyes too scared to talk to you let alone touch you but goes for it and swings her hand with barely any force to hurt a fly, it slightly grazing your chin

It’s quickly over shadowed by you swinging your fist and it coming into contact with hazels nose

Hazel drops to the floor. Blood all over her nose as you rush down worried

“I’m so sorry Hazel here I’ll help you take care of it”

You help her up you wrapping her arm around your neck as you support her body weight under you as to not drop her.

————————————————————————

You grap a paper towel and run it under the faucet and bring to hazels nose as she sits on the counter of the girls bathroom

She slightly hisses but quickly stops as you lay your hand on her thigh

“I’m so sorry Hazel” you say “ you probably hate me more than what you already do I bet”

Hazes brows furrowed as she looked at you with confusion slapped on her face

“You think I hate you?”

“Well duh, you always leave when I come by or just flat out ignore me when I’m talking to you or to anyone around you. Just assumed the obvious”

Hazle just shook her head and grabbed the paper towel from your hand.

“Hate you? That’s far from it.” She takes a deep breathe this is the time to do it, it’s now or never “i just get so nervous and scared that I’m gonna say the dumbest thing around you. Then you’ll hate me and god how can I recovery from that” she goes on rambling but let’s out a big breathe and calms herself down.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you more than like you “

You pause and turn a light shade of red not believing what your hearing

“If I could explain in words I would but I could not express how I jamble over my words because of how much I- “ she stops cut off by you grabbing the sides of her face and crashing your lips into hers.

She leans in eyes fluttered close as she lets out a sigh of relieve from the fact that she now knows that you actually like her back.

[writerscall]

Enemies to lovers with spider hazel

author's note/s: 3.6k words. spider!hazel and fellow superhero/vigilante!reader, more of a one-sided annoyances to lovers, really. think kind of supergirl-esque for reader's powers (at least in the flying and strength aspect) and to help visualize reader's mask, click here for reference.

“So that’s, what, five bad guys down for me this week now and three for you? Maybe I’ll sit back and relax tomorrow so you can catch up.”

You can’t see the face behind that mask but you’re sure there’s a shit-eating grin on it. You roll your eyes at the quip. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not a competition.”

Not that that ever changed how annoyed you got whenever the tally was higher in her favor, though. But the webslinger’s count wasn’t what really got you riled up; wasn’t even how smug she could get about it. It was the way she executed the crime fighting skills that you assumed she was learning and making up as she went. Spiderwoman was messy and, ironically, uncoordinated half the time, but the worst part was that she drew too much attention.

You knew attracting the attention of the police and the papers was inevitable, but at least you had the good sense to not make a whole show of being a vigilante. Spiderwoman, on the other hand, just loved to stay and chat.

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. You know I’m just messing around.” There’s a drop in her tone, clearly making an attempt to ease the tension. “You’re a lot faster than I am with rounding up criminals, so you get extra points for that.”

At that, you allow yourself to smile the tiniest bit. She can’t see it behind your own mask but if she was as observant as she claimed to be, she might see however little of it reached your eyes.

She clears her throat, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of her neck as she says, “So uh, I know it’s getting late and all, but I’ve got my backpack stashed somewhere not far from here and my lunch sandwich is still intact. It’s a pretty big one so you know, if you wanted a post-crime fighting snack…” 

It’s a harmless, friendly gesture so you hold back a scoff and snide comment. You get it — the business you were in was best done alone but it could get lonely after doing it for some time. Besides, masked heroes like the two of you wore masks for a reason: nobody could know who they were, and even fellow vigilantes weren’t an exception to the rule. But you supposed it would be nice to have a friend with the shared experiences.

Just… maybe not her. Or just maybe not yet. This wasn’t like making friends in school, after all.

“Not hungry,” you tell her shortly before lifting yourself off the ground, signaling that your conversation was over and you were leaving.

You hear her say something as you take off, but you can’t be bothered to look back.

Despite it being the last day of the week, you found Fridays particularly hard to get through. Mostly because you were itching for the weekend to come but because the bad guys in the city always seemed to act up during that day. The feeling in your stomach about what your evening patrol might turn out like was a mixture of both fear and excitement, but you tried your best to push it down for the time being. It was only the second period.

“You and Miss Callahan, partners,” your teacher says with a tap to your table as she strides by, listing off other pairs. You look over to Hazel who apparently is already looking at you, her eyes wide with… shock? A hint of nervousness in them too.

Weird. You were sort-of friends through the cheerleaders she was surprisingly close with, Isabel and Brittany, but you’ve never really spoken much to each other. Maybe she was worried you guys wouldn’t click without the other girls around.

You cast her a smile as she gets nearer, sliding the worksheet to the midpoint of the table. “The total number of questions is an even number, 12, so we can each get a half. But we can help each other too, of course.”

Hazel mutters something that sounds like an ‘okay,’ but she mumbles something else under her breath that you can’t quite make out.

Overall, the class goes fine. The osmosis experiment wasn’t too hard to do and the questions were manageable. It was just how Hazel acted throughout the whole hour that threw you off a little. You knew she could be as awkward as she could get excited, and sometimes she talked too much and didn’t pick up on social cues easily, but the whole time she just seemed… uncomfortable, if that was the right word. Like she really wanted to say something or do something but she couldn’t for whatever reason.

Once you’re both done cleaning up, she wastes no time in removing her laboratory coat and shoving it into her bag, but you don’t want to let her get away that easily. Gently, you place a hand on her forearm to stop her. “Hey, Hazel?”

She pauses, eyeing your hand for a second too long before looking at you. Properly looking at you. She could barely do it throughout the experiment.

“I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?” You bring your hand back and begin to slip off your own coat. “It could be none of my business, so feel free to tell me off if you want, but you just seem a bit out of it.”

Hazel opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze quickly moves from your face to something beside you. Rather, on you; your shirt was pulled to the side while taking off the coat and it exposed the bruise at the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone. Shit.

“Oh, that’s— don’t worry about that. I just tripped and fell hard in P.E. the other day,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand, pulling your shirt back in place. God, you hoped nothing in your voice or face was giving you away. You doubt her first assumption would be that you were one of the masked vigilantes featured on the news, but she couldn’t be thinking of anything good either if she didn’t buy your excuse.

And she didn’t. “That doesn’t look too good,” Hazel says with a frown.

“It’s fine—”

“Come with me to the locker room? I’ve got something that can probably help with that. I mean, it’s not in the locker room, it’s in my actual locker and I’ll have to go get it from there first before going to the benches, but uh… um, yeah. I-I’ve got something.”

Her ramble ends with a sigh and you can’t help but smile at how she stumbled out all those words. Funny how you were the one all concerned about her just a minute ago and now the tables were turned. You didn’t want anybody seeing your cuts and bruises, or at least didn’t want anybody asking about them, but you didn’t get to ice the one she saw just yet. You’d take whatever ointment or cream she might have stashed away in her locker if it would help.

So you nod your head and walk with her towards the door. “Alright, yeah. I’m sure you know a thing or two about treating bruises, what with all that fighting you do.”

You almost bump into her when she stops and whips her head at you sharply, that wide-eyed look back on her face. What was with her today?

“Your fight club? With Isabel and Brittany and all those other girls?”

Hazel visibly deflates and lets out a half nervous, half relieved-sounding noise at that. “Yeah, yeah! Always gotta be prepared.”

You say nothing in return and follow along to her locker, deciding not to overthink it. Hazel could just be a little odd and there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ah—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, being even more careful than earlier with moving your shirt and bra strap to the side to expose the bruise more.

“It’s okay, just… I think it would be easier if I took my top off for this?”

Hazel actually makes a sound when she gulps. You’re quick to add, “Only if you’re comfortable with that, no pressure at all. It’s just that the bruise kinda trails off to the back too, so…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll just…” she trails off, turning away so you can take your shirt off.

“Haze, you don’t have to do that,” you say with a chuckle. But it was instinct as it was for everyone when somebody was changing in their presence, and you knew there was an extra kick to it now for her.

Brittany and Isabel were always just poking fun, but you knew they teased Hazel about you sometimes. Both girls even asked you about your possible interest in her more than once. Hazel was cute and you did want to get to know her more, especially see how she was in that fight club because they always said she was different in that element. But considering your own after-school activities, dating was just out of the question.

Silently, Hazel turns back, cap off the tub of gel in her waiting hands. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to look nowhere else but your face and the area of the bruise, so you reach out and smile at her reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about. I know you’ve seen boobs before.”

“Well, not your boobs.”

She says it so casually that you’re both taken aback, but you just laugh. Thankfully, Hazel laughs along with you too.

You lean against the sink and she comes closer, stopping once her knees knock against yours. “Tell me if I’m pressing hard, okay?”

You smile at her again, softer this time. “Okay.”

It’s comfortably silent as she applies the gel on your bruise. High in vitamin C, she tells you at some point, cause it apparently helps bruises heal faster. Hopefully you didn’t get hit there again tonight so you could actually see if the science behind the gel worked or not.

When you turn around so she can work on the bruise’s extension on your back, you say, “That gel looks like it’s barely used. Do you have a stock of those at your fight club or do you guys just tough it out when someone gets a hit in?”

“This is my personal one, but most of us prefer to use the traditional ice packs. And unlike the rest of them, I heal pretty quickly.” Hazel smiles at your reflection in the mirror and you immediately smile back. You didn’t think it was possible for her to ever have a hint of cockiness in her tone. You kind of liked it.

“Like a regular superhero then, huh?”

She looks away, her smile dropping slightly. “Nothing like that. Um, you’re all good now.”

Hazel reaches for your shirt before you can even ask her to. You thank her with another smile and she moves away so you can put it back on.

As you walk alongside her to the exit, you stop her for a moment before pushing the doors open. “Thank you again. I’m pretty sure the gel is working already.”

Her gaze falls to the ground and once again she’s all fidgety and bashful. You hesitate for a second, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. Just a light, friendly peck, even though ‘friendly’ might’ve been teetering over the edge at that point. Something shifted and you weren’t so sure you’d just laugh it off the next time Brittany or Isabel asked you about Hazel again.

You walk out of the locker room together, shyly glancing and smiling at one another until you have to part ways for your next classes.

Christ on a cross, you were really fucking tired. The city had been quiet since you started surveying it at around five o’clock and you were highly considering calling it a day at around half past seven, leave whatever happened in the later hours to the other crime fighters your city had one too many of. Hell, even to whatever cops who might be able to do their job properly for a change.

But a trio of snatchers caught your eye as soon as the thought occurred to you. So much for an earlier end to the week.

And you had them subdued with ease. Two of them were clearly new to the life of crime or just greatly inexperienced, and the other one was yelling at them half the time. Despite your skill and inhuman qualities, however, they were all relatively bigger than you so knocking them all out still took some time. You were two down with one to go when you heard a thwipping sound by your ear, and in the next split second, the snatcher was webbed to the wall.

Then you heard that voice. “Looked like you needed a hand.”

You look over your shoulder, groaning. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, I wanted to help you anyway. You’re welcome!”

“I’m not thanking you!”

The blare of police sirens comes not long after and you and Spiderwoman flee the scene before any of the cars come to a stop. Flying got you ahead of her since she relied on buildings to swing off from, but she caught up to you in no time. In just a few minutes, you were both back on the rooftop you left her at earlier in the week.

“You know, you’re right for making sure to never have to talk to the cops after putting the bad guys down. I should do that more. Those people really don’t like us.”

“I think you just talk a little too much for their liking.”

It’s not meant to be funny, but she laughs at you anyway. You might’ve put your guard down and decided to not be so irritated if it weren’t for the throbbing pain near your shoulder. You were sure the bruise there got bigger and worse after one of the snatchers got a good punch in that area.

“Yeah, well, I’m calling it a night. The city’s been quiet enough except for that one incident today, so I’m going home.” You sigh, moving to walk past her. “You should, too.”

“Hold on, I…”

You stop, waiting like she asked. If she was gonna ask you to hang out and share a sandwich again, she still wasn’t getting the answer she wanted.

She’s in a silent debate with herself for too long and you really, really wanted to go, so you say goodbye and start walking again. But just as you come shoulder to shoulder with her, she reaches out to touch yours and you wince back in pain. It just had to be the bruised one.

“Oh god, sorry.” She says as she takes her hand away. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously not, but I’ll be fine the next time we unfortunately cross paths again.”

“Wait, I just—”

“Look, Spidey, I really don’t have time—”

“Just take the tub of gel home then, if you don’t want me to take a look at it.”

What the hell was she talking about?

Then it hits you, and you freeze in place even before she says your name. Your actual name, written on your birth certificate and school records, written on that worksheet you shared just a couple of hours before.

Slowly, she begins to take off her mask. You almost want to tell her to stop but that wouldn’t change anything. Even if she didn’t show you her face now, you’d see it in two days time on Monday. Maybe even earlier if you happened to bump into her on the weekend.

Your greatest annoyance was the same person you thought you might’ve been developing a bit of a crush on earlier. You could not deal with any of that right now.

So you don’t.

“I know you’re probably freaked out by now, but I promise I haven’t—”

“I need to go.”

A crease forms between her brows. She starts to say something again but you’re quick to cut her off. “I need to go, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Hazel lets out a resigned sigh, looking to the floor as she nods. You fly faster than you ever have to get back home.

Your luck doesn’t get any better over the weekend when you get a fever on Sunday evening, making you miss class for the next three days. A paracetamol usually did the trick after a day, but the fatigue and exhaustion of your secret life was probably getting to you, too. But even with the ugly feeling of a fever, it was actually really nice to just stay in bed and drink soup for a change. It feels like you haven’t properly rested in weeks.

Your mind, however, was still restless. You tried not to look at the news too much in case there was some criminal that got away and it would just make you feel awful for not being able to catch them. But you tried even harder not to message Hazel to talk.

“Hey kiddo, your friend from school is here. Says she has the notes and homework you’ve missed since Monday.” Your dad pops his head in as he speaks. You can’t see who’s behind him, but it was probably Isabel. She’s been checking in on you constantly.

“Yeah, just let Isabel in, dad.”

“Not Isabel,” says a different voice as the door shuts behind her. Speak of the devil. “But I do have Isabel’s notes because they’re way neater than mine,” Hazel adds, a sheepish look on her face.

You don’t say anything as you watch her cross the room, shrugging off her backpack and gently placing it on the seat by your study table. Then she turns to you, and you’re surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Hazel, what—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…” She shakes her head, angrily rubbing at her eyes. “I thought something really bad happened to you.”

“It was just a fever,” you tell her as you sit up straighter against your headboard.

“You know what I mean.”

You did. You reach out and pat the space beside you on the bed. “Come on, come here.”

Hazel does as she’s asked. Her gaze was focused on your carpet but you could see that her eyes weren’t glistening with unshed tears anymore, although they were rimmed red. “I’m fine, I promise. The fever’s gone now and I’ve been cleared to go back to school tomorrow.”

She nods but she’s still not looking at you, so you take one of her hands in between both of yours in an attempt to make her. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted on Friday night. I just didn’t know what to say and it was… it was a lot to take in at the moment. I was so sure that nobody knew who I was. I panicked.”

“I haven’t told anyone, I swear.” Hazel looks at you then, holding your gaze like her life depended on it. “I know I talk too much but I would never do that to you. Never.”

You can’t tell if she’s quoting you from your last conversation or not on that last part, but you believe her. “I know. I’d never tell anyone about you either, Hazel.”

She looks down at your hands when you rub your thumb across the side of hers and, after a moment, she laces her fingers with yours. There was a burst of warmth in your chest and you could tell there was one in Hazel’s too. So much for your one rule of not dating anyone because of the dangerous part of your life.

Not that you thought the two of you were dating, though.

“So… now what?”

“Well, life goes on as it did before, I guess.” You scoot closer to her, smiling as you add, “But I guess we can hold hands every now and then, if you like.”

“Oh, I like. I very much like,” Hazel replies enthusiastically, a matching smile on her face. She holds on to your hand tighter. “Can I kiss you every now and then too?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

But that’s changed in a heartbeat, both of you leaning forward at the same time. You tug her closer, unlacing your hands so you can bury one in her hair as the other holds on to the side of her face. Hazel kisses you slowly, but there was an urgency to it as well; like something could happen the next day that would ensure she would never be able to do it again — but all things considered, that was an unfortunate thing that very well could happen. You kiss her back just the same, savoring the moment and praying to every god out there that your mom or dad wouldn’t come barging in any time soon.

She pushes you down onto the bed and pulls away with a grin, planting kisses across your cheek and down to your neck. You hold back from verbally reacting to that and the feeling of her hands on your hips, her thumbs gently caressing the skin there. It takes too much energy for you to manage to say, “Hazel, Haze… my parents are home.”

Hazel brings her face back up to yours. Instead of looking disappointed, she just looks pleased. “I know, sorry. Got carried away — I have been fantasizing about this for a while now, though, so cut me a little slack.”

You giggle out an ‘okay’, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Also, if there’s any of that fever bacteria still in me, I apologize in advance if you get sick in a day or two.”

“Don’t even worry about me,” Hazel says with a shake of her head, leaning down to kiss you soundly once more. “I heal fast.”

[nikethestatue]

How to Make An Illyrian Baby

Elriel Month 2023

Language of Love: Acts of Service

Azriel and Cassian build stuff. For their ladies. And the ladies are very happy with the results. (Canon)

Warnings: Language, some smut

“I have too many books,” Nesta stated, looking around her library. Bookshelves were groaning under the strain of endless tomes. 

Nesta had a semblance of order when it came to her books: Sellyn Drake, war books, war strategy books, book dedicated to Cassian, which she’s been collecting for the past few years–surprisingly, there were quite a few, because he was, in fact, a living, breathing legend–and then romance novels. Light erotic romance novels, heavier erotica, and then, tucked into the bookcase that was in the shadows were her faves–the smuttiest of the smuts–the ones she and Cassian liked to recreate. Her very best one was about an Illyrian war veteran and lumberjack, who wanted to find a female to carry his sons. He travelled 500 miles through the wilderness to find his mate and give her his seed. That one gave Nesta a lot of ideas, especially those revolving around Cassian being dressed as a lumberjack. A depraved, sex-starved lumberjack. 

Her husband towered, standing in the doorway, his arms crossed on his chest, her bright hazel eyes assessing the situation.

“Do you want to donate some? To a library?” he proposed.

Yes, that would be prudent and logical to do. But Nesta felt possessive of her books. The only other thing that she loved more and cherished greatly was Cassian. He was her glorious brave general, and not that she’d stroke his ego with her words and compliments, lest his head grow even bigger than it already was, but she loved him more than all of her books combined. Yet, she could not part with the books. Each one told a story of her own life, and walked alongside her on her journey. There, on the left, were the books that she read while she was here in the very beginning, when they were just Made, and Elain sat in her room, catatonic. Below those, were the books that she read when Cassian was courting her. Fine, technically fucking her, but that was their own, private manner of courting. There were books that Elain and Feyre gifted her, books that Emerie gave her, adventure novels that Gwyn was excited about. Nesta wasn’t much for adventure stories herself–she’d seen a little too much adventure in her 30 years–but she understood why Gwyn loved them and how they took her out of her own humdrum existence. 

“No. I don’t,” she said simply, her tone even, but decisive.

“Alright then,” Cassian nodded. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe the House can offer more space? Create some shelves,” she proposed. 

There was no reaction from the magical House. Usually, it gave some indication of having heard its Made mistress, but this time around, there was no reaction. It didn’t suddenly gather all the books in neat piles, and didn’t create shelves out of thin air.

Nesta waited for a brief moment and then sighed and announced, “I am going to train”.

“See you later, Nes.”

Cassian flew out of the House fifteen minutes later. He circled over the training platform, where the females were sparring individually and in small groups.

It was no longer haphazard like it was before, when they started out. Now, everyone wore comfortable cotton uniforms, and no longer exercised in leather. There were females from other Courts who joined the ranks, and who brought innovative ideas, such as comfortable shoes, made for running. Nesta and Mor were sparring together, with wooden swords, their swings packing a significant punch. Mor was dressed in a red tunic and white leggings, while Nesta remained true to her subdued palette–black leggings, dark shirt, her hair woven tightly around her head.

She’s been threatening to cut her hair short–like Elain.

Elain had shocked everyone, absolutely everyone, when one day, she arrived with a cute, but very short bob, having chopped off her long thick tresses. Cassian couldn’t believe it. Nobody could. But Nesta, who always found her hair a nuisance to begin with, eyed Elain’s short hairdo enviously and with serious intent. 

The only person who didn’t seem to be put off by the short hair was Azriel. That night, at dinner, while Elain flitted back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, Azriel insisted on helping her. Cassian, in turn, was watching them, while pretending like he wasn’t watching them, and saw how many times Azriel’s scarred palm landed on Elain’s bare, exposed neck. How the long fingers ran over the back of Elain’s neck, stroking, caressing. How his knuckles skidded over the delicate skin of her throat, and how, when they thought that no one was watching, Azriel clasped his hand over Elain’s throat and squeezed. He pulled her to him, his hand firmly circling the long, elegant neck of his not-so-secret lover, while his lips captured hers in a deep, scorching kiss, biting her lips, sucking on her tongue. The way Azriel kissed Elain–it was usually done in private, but when Cassian happened to witness it, it was utterly filthy and inappropriate. Azriel kissed Elain like he wanted to brand her. Her neck was always marked with his teeth, and now, with her short hair, the mark was obscenely obvious. Cassian wondered if it was a not very subtle ‘fuck you’ to Rhysand, who still refused to grant them permission to marry, even though he was aware of their relationship. Rhysand said that until the mate bond between Elain and Lucien was officially rejected and certified by a priestess as null and void, there would be no formal recognition of Azriel and Elain’s relationship, and they were forbidden to marry. Cassian disagreed with his High Lord on his stance, and his bullheadedness, but he didn’t have a say in the matter.

So, as it stood, Elain kept her hair short, with an elegant upsweep, which has now become fashionable across Prythian, and her neck was always marked with bruises and teeth imprints from the Shadowsinger. 

Despite how good the short ‘do looked on Elain, and how Cassian was envious of Azriel’s easy access to Elain’s lovely neck, he baulked at the idea of Nesta cutting off her hair. Nesta might have kept it braided or in a tight bun, but there was something special when Cassian pulled all the pins out and it fell like a silken waterfall around her. He vetoed the short hair thing on his wife. So far, the veto stood.

Nesta and Mor waved at him, when he flew past them, while Amren, who was lounging on a chaise and definitely not sparring or exercising, gave him a disinterested glance. No one spared him many looks in general, because most of the females were crowding around Amren’s dog, also named Amren. Varian gave the puppy to Amren as a Solstice gift, and though everyone waited with bated breath to see how she would react to this shaggy portly fluff ball of a puppy, she was…elated. Nyx burst into tears, also demanding a puppy, but Amren refused him coldly, scooping the dog in her arms and cuddling it the entire night. 

Since then, the dog hasn't left her side. She loved that damn dog more than she loved anything, and named it Amren, though it was a boy dog. Cassian supposed that the name was fine. Amren Jr. was now as large as its cranky Fae mother, and he was still growing. Cassian wondered if Amren would ever try to ride Amren Jr. like a horse.

Cassian flew across Velaris. 

It was a pretty, sunny spring day, where every tree seemed to be in bloom and bursts of pink, white, cream, purple and blue tree canopies made his flight more enjoyable.

He landed quietly at the black wrought iron fence of the townhouse. It was still a handsome white building, but Elain had repainted the front door a cobalt-blue. Branches of heavily flowering trees hung over the fence, making this a truly Fae house, with fragrant pink and azure blossoms swaying gently in the breeze.

He unlatched the gate and stepped into the courtyard. Elain was toiling on the side, planting forget-me-nots around the perimeter of the house. She looked cute, in a simple blue shirt and black leggings, with a thick headband around her short curls. 

“Hey petal!” He greeted her.

“Cass!”

“He home?”

She nodded and nodded towards the door, letting Cassian make his way in.

It was good with Elain. Comfortable. Cassian didn’t need to say too many words. The girl always had the knack for just understanding him. 

The townhouse smelled like bread and roses–as usual. There was always the rich yeasty doughy scent that permeated the air–like a bakery. But there was also a whiff of roses, as well as honey, and jasmine. It smelled uniquely like Elain and Azriel here now.

Nothing drastically changed inside the townhouse since Rhysand’s times, but it definitely wasn’t his anymore. It was Azriel’s and Elain’s. Furniture was rearranged, and the style was different–sleeker, more modern (whatever that meant). Something about this ‘modern’ thing that Bryce Quinlar had brought from her world and apparently Elain really liked. Cassian wasn’t too sure what it was, but apparently, it involved sofas that weren’t fluffy. It also wasn’t as stuffy as when Rhys lived here, because Azriel didn’t like anything ‘extra’. Things had to be functional, comfortable and minimal. 

Azriel’s office and the house library had been rearranged in the way that his desk faced the wide open kitchen. Cassian suspected that Azriel liked to watch Elain and wanted an unobstructed view of her at all times. That was the main change on the first floor–walls had been knocked down, so Azriel could always watch his girl. Whether Elain realised why it was done, Cassian wasn’t sure, but Azriel was wildly obsessed with Elain, and there was no hiding it. 

“Hey!” 

Cassian could spot Azriel from the foyer. Azriel was in his office–a bright place, with huge windows and light pouring in and bouncing off the cream walls and plain shelves. Azriel avoided the dark at all costs, and his office was like his life–full of sunshine, of his Elain. It didn’t escape Cassian that Azriel was glancing out the window, catching a glimpse of the garden and his girl working in it.

“Hey you too,” Azriel tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Cassian. “What’s going on?”

Azriel wore a simple soft hoodie–another of Bryce’s contributions–and it was Azriel’s new informal uniform. He and Elain had invested early in the manufacturing of these hoodies, as well as sweat pants, both of which became wildly popular across all of Prythian, as well as the Continent. Let’s just say that they absolutely killed on that investment and were so fucking wealthy, they singlehandedly built and supported all the orphanages and schools in Illyria, as well as training facilities for females across all of Prythian. They opened libraries, girls’ schools and vocational training colleges for Illyrian females. It was ironic that Azriel, who hated Illyrian customs and attitudes all of his life, was now the predominant supporter of the changes that were taking place there. Nesta and Elain insisted on further investments in Illyria, and now, all these hoodies and sweatpants were manufactured there. It was actually kind of incredible, the more Cassian thought about it. He had spent 400 years trying to better the lives of the Illyrian people and make something of his land, and it took something else entirely to drive the changes–a girl from a different world, and three sisters who had experienced the best and the worst of what the world threw at women. 

“You want to eat? Drink?” Azriel asked, as Cassian took a seat across him and stretched his legs.

Azriel looked healthy. Happy. It was always difficult to read him, but Cassian knew him well enough. 

“No, I am good,” Cassian assured him, watching the man’s hazel eyes track Elain outside the window. The bright light of the office really showcased Azriel’s thick raised scar that stretched from his temple all the way to his chin, slashing across his cheek and crowding his eyelid. It was a gruesome fucking thing, made by a Made dagger, and everyone knew that the scar would remain forever, though it didn’t deter from Azriel’s handsomeness. It was almost like he wore it with pride, never hiding it behind his hair, or anything else. It was a scar that he received when Elain came to rescue him from certain death, and saved him. The scar, he felt, was a small price to pay for her sacrifice for him, and her love. Because no one loved Azriel quite like Elain. She tore him from the clutches of a Death God, and fought for him, and brought him back to life. 

“I need your help,” Cassian said at last, after Azriel fixed him with a questioning gaze. Resting his laced fingers on his flat, muscular stomach, Azriel quickly announced,

“I am not helping anyone with anything if it takes me away from my girl.”

It was the first time since Cassian stepped in that a shadow popped up and circled Azriel’s feet. The shadows didn’t appear frequently anymore, and never when Azriel was at home–Azriel’s comfort and general satisfaction with life didn’t require the shadows any longer. However, Cassian knew that he brought a measure of distress to his friend right now, and he felt bad about that. 

Cassian rolled his eyes and muttered,

“You are the worst besotted person I’ve ever met!”

“I am not besotted. I am in love,” Azriel objected lazily. “What do you want?”

Before Cassian could even open his mouth, Az added roughly,

“If it’s some shit from Rhys, you can forget it. I am retired.”

“You are not retired,”

“Fuck am!” Az insisted. “I am not doing any fucking favours for anyone, especially him.”

Cass threw a meaningful glance at the stacks of reports and papers, which definitely indicated that Azriel was not, in fact, retired at all.

“What’s that, then?” he cocked his brow at the papers.

Az puffed his cheeks and said,

“Charity.”

“Charity?”

“My girl lives in this city and this Court. Her sisters too. You. I am not leaving it to go to Hel because someone missed something vital that endangers you all. I can easily pick my girl up and fly with her to my beach house which is far, far, far away from here. But..I don’t want you to be thrown in some new fuck up war, and I don’t want Nesta to become a widow, and all that,”

“Oh, generous of you!”

“I am generous,” Azriel agreed easily. “I do all of this because I can, and I have a sense of responsibility, and not because I have to. So, I repeat, if this is an order from the High Lord, you can both stuff it. So, what do you want?”

“I guess lucky for me that this has nothing to do with Rhys. But I will take that drink, because dealing with you is a pain in the arse,” Cassian sighed.

Azriel smirked and got up, going to a cart which was lined with bottles of expensive liquor. He poured them both a measure of whiskey and handed the tumbler to his brother.

Oh Cauldron boil him. Wherever Az got this whiskey from, it was sublime. Cassian smacked his lips, savouring the deep smokey taste, with hints of citrus and even cherries in it. So what if it was 9 in the morning? Good whiskey was always a good idea.

“We need to build something,” Cassian said at last, and Azriel’s eyes immediately narrowed. The thick pink scar stood in sharp contrast to Azriel’s dark skin and as he cocked his head, it became even more pronounced.

Adding quickly, Cassian said, “and no, it will not take you away from your flower.”

“I am not helping you build another cabin,” Azriel warned.

400 years ago, the three of them, Rhys, Cass and Az, built a cabin in Illyria. It was for Cassian, and it was a mammoth project, since they did absolutely everything themselves. It took a couple of years and a lot of sweat, and pain, and frustration, but the cabin stood and Cassian and Nesta went there pretty often. Nesta loved the rugged terrain, the mountains, the low, but vast skies, the dramatic waterfalls and the immense forests. It was wild and beautiful.

“Nothing quite so elaborate. My wife needs some book shelves.”

Azriel hummed under his breath and then offered a single nod.

“Fine.”

“Well, that was easy,” Cassian smirked and Az glowered at him, but it was without any bite or threat.

“How many shelves?” Azriel asked, as he went to the kitchen to rinse their tumblers.

“No idea. A lot. The books are overtaking the House and she is refusing the donate any of them,” 

Humming again, Azriel looked around the huge kitchen, which was remodelled to suit Elain’s needs. She cooked and baked voraciously, but mostly for the orphanages or to distribute the breads and the pastries to the less fortunate. Azriel was a big male, but even he couldn’t consume as much as Elain baked. She also had a bakery, where she employed human survivors of the War, who created many specialities from the Human Lands. Needless to say, the place was popular and Elain re-invested all the money that the bakery made into building housing for the humans across Prythian. 

It surprised Cassian a bit, how charitable both Azriel and Elain were, and how much effort they put into bettering the lives of others, especially children and females. When he’d asked, Azriel avoided answering for the most part, only ever saying that since he got a second chance at life, he didn’t want to waste it on destruction, but wanted to put it towards creation. And that was that.

Running his gnarled scarred fingers over the long butcher block countertop upon which Elain did most of her baking, Azriel mused, “maybe I’ll build something too…” The counter was definitely banged up–chipped in some places, scuffed, burn marks littered all over the surface, gouges from knives and scrapers and rolling pins and bowls and other utensils all peppering the once gleaming surface.

They left the house and skirted the side of the building. Azriel immediately extended his massive wing, shielding Elain from the sun. She was crouching on the ground, her hands dirty, her brow sweaty. 

“Flower, you need to wear a hat,” he admonished lightly, while she tipped her head back and smiled at him. “Your pretty face is getting all burned and red,”

“It is not!” she argued.

“You look like a beet,” he noted, and Cassian chuckled. She did. She was red and sweaty, but her brown eyes gleamed with joy.

No one would’ve thought what this smiling, soft woman was capable of. No one would’ve guessed what she did. If someone didn’t know their story, no one would believe it. It was unbelievable. It was legendary. It was the stuff of myths, where only four short years later, no one thought that it actually happened. But it did. 

Elain Archeron had bargained with the Cauldron, and offered up her own immortality to save the man she loved. Elain, the gentle flower grower, fearlessly stepped back into the ink-black waters of the Cauldron, returning to its horrific depths willingly. She, who clutched her dead lover to her chest, and who offered to share one life with him, in exchange for his own. Azriel was dead. He had no immortality. He had nothing to bargain with. He only had the love of Elain, who pleaded and begged and sacrificed on his behalf. And the Cauldron agreed. It bound Azriel to Elain’s life. One life. For both of them. If she died, he died. If he died, she died. Together. Forever. Unable to exist without each other. The Cauldron tethered them with a bond unlike any other. Elain gave up her perfect immortality, her grace, so she could live whatever years she had with Azriel. The only such bond in existence, created especially for them. Only because the Cauldron loved Elain and wanted to make her happy. Elain made the Cauldron purr. 

She was laughing now, crying “I am not a beet!” while playing with Azriel’s wing. He poked her on the head with the claw and then warned, “I better see a hat on you!”

She sighed dramatically and muttered, “fine!”

“Thank you,” he drawled and then scooped her in his arms. 

She traced his cheek with her dirty finger and then asked, “do you want beet salad for dinner?”

“My favourite,” he smiled. “With goat's cheese?”

“Yuck,’ she grimaced. “Fiiinnnneee…”

He laughed and pressed, “And almonds?”

“And almonds,” she nodded. He wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed her nose, then her mouth.

Cassian stepped aside, to give them room. 

Azriel stroked her face, her neck, before biting her at the juncture between her shoulder and her neck, sinking his teeth into her skin cruelly and possessively. She stilled in his arms, while he sucked, his mouth laving and hurting, kissing and biting her. He was always feral with her, barely controlled, completely consumed by her, and consuming her in turn. 

The bargain was harsh, but in Cassian’s opinion, perfect for them–Azriel wouldn’t have been able to live without Elain anyway. If she wasn’t with him, he’d simply hurl himself down on the ground from a great height and not unfurl his wings. Unlike most beings, Azriel didn’t fear death. Like Cassian, he walked side by side with Death all his life, and dying was the most natural thing to him. Cassian might have had a healthy respect for death, but Azriel taunted it and fought it. Though now, thankfully, he was thoughtful about it. But only because it involved Elain.

“You want to wear a flower crown?” Elain asked, once Azriel finally forced himself to pull away from her. Cassian was of mind that Azriel would just take here right then and there, on the lawn of their house. Would it surprise him? Not even a little bit.

“Sure, flower, let’s do it!” Azriel agreed easily, a smile playing on his handsome face.

She got excited and rushed to a cart, where her tools and seeds were stored, from which she retrieved not one, but two flower crowns. Azriel looked at her like she was a falling star, the most beautiful sunset of his life, like the sun at dawn. 

“Cass, you want one?” 

Well, Cassian certainly couldn’t say no to her, considering how thrilled she looked right now, so he nodded and stooped, so she could place one on his head. He was a smart man. He liked Elain, but also, he didn’t want to be beaten to death by Azriel’s boot for refusing Elain’s flower crown.

She laughed and told him ‘You look good!’

“Anything for you, petal.”

They flew to the market, and then walked down the crowded paths, while Fae gawked at them. Some dared to ask for autographs. It wasn't every day that the Commander General and the Shadowsinger were strolling down towards where lumber, metals, and construction materials were sold. Two huge Illyrian warriors, sporting flower crowns. Neither Cassian nor Azriel removed their new decorations, and didn’t really care whether they looked odd. Multiple people stopped and told Azriel to pass their regards to Lady Elain. Because Lady Elain paid for a healer for someone’s son. Lady Elain found housing for someone’s uncle. Lady Elain’s new park was wonderful. Lady Elain’s free kitchens served the best potato and sausage soup. 

Cassian didn’t comment, but he wondered if part of the animosity between Rhysand and Azriel was due to the fact that Elain was beloved, and Feyre was the High Lady. Feared and respected, but not loved. 

“Are you planning to patch things up with Rhys any time soon?” Cassian queried, as the two of the selected wood, nuts and bolts, fasteners and lacquer. 

“Not planning on it,” Azriel shrugged, filling the cart with dozens of wooden planks.

Carefully, Cassian prodded, “Is that reasonable?” 

Azriel remained placid under the scrutiny, choosing whatever he needed for his own project. Calmly, he asked, “what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. That you’ll be the bigger male in this ridiculous standoff, and you’ll,”

Interrupting him, Azriel said, his tone dry and crisp.

“I am in love with a human woman, Cassian. Just like you. My human woman grew up believing in certain things–betrothals, marriage, weddings. Maybe it matters little to you and I, but my human woman always wanted that. She wanted love–to love and to be loved. She was betrothed and about to be married once, and she was torn from that world and that future, and given to another male. A male she didn’t know, didn’t want, and didn’t like. She was shackled with a bond she didn’t even understand, and while everyone told her how special it was, and how she should ‘give him a chance’ she was developing feelings for another male–me. She wanted me. And Rhys forced me to break her fucking heart, Cassian, because of Lucien! Because of his political agenda. When it came to him stealing Feyre from Tamlin, that was all dandy! Oh the great mate bond that was bestowed upon our High Lord. The mate bond that trumps all. Well, not only was I forced to reject the woman I love because of Rhys’s political machinations, he didn’t bat an eye when he found out that Lucien was shacking up with Vassa. In his mind, Elain had to ‘deal with the bond’, sit alone and untouched by anyone, while I was sent on missions all over the world, so he could keep us apart. 

“Elain went and did whatever Rhys commanded for the good of Prythian and his Court. She had to match wits with a Death God and bargain with the Cauldron. When it came to saving his mate and son, Rhys was dropping on his knees for Nesta, who did an exemplary and selfless thing for them. But when Elain did the same, but it was for me, and for Prythian, somehow, it wasn’t enough. 

“All I ever wanted was to offer my Elain what she dreamed of–a proper betrothal, and a wedding, and a marriage. Not some secret bullshit thing, where we have to hide it from everyone, the way we had to hide our relationship.

“But alas, we do not have the great and magnificent Mate Bond! Which apparently is the only thing that matters to Rhys. You and Nesta were mated, you were married, and you get to live your life as you please. And I am happy for you. But I live under the threat of banishment, stripped of my rank, and forbidden to marry my woman. Either I have to become an oath breaker, and a traitor to my High Lord and my Court, or I have to live in shameful silence with Elain, like we are two criminals.

“So no, I am sorry, but I am not planning on patching things up with him.”

That was the longest that Cassian ever heard Azriel speak. It was a tirade from a male who did not lower himself to tirades. There was something agonisingly sad and wretched about the betrayal that Azriel felt from Rhysand, and it pained Cassian to see things devolve like that. Five, almost six years on, and there was no resolution. And Cassian couldn’t blame his brother. 

In the end, Cassian simply said, “Elain deserves better. She deserves the world.”

Azriel nodded, saying, “that’s why I am going to build my baker girl a new counter. It’s time.”

The sun was beating down on one of the inner courtyards of the House of Wind. Thankfully, a pleasant cool breeze from the sea brought some relief, though the men preferred working shirtless anyway. 

Cassian and Azriel worked well together–they were mostly silent, knowing what needed to be done without unnecessary commentary. The camaraderie was familiar and pleasant, honed to perfection after centuries of friendship and brotherhood. Rhys didn’t like building things, and preferred to use magic when he could, so it would be done quicker, and perhaps better. But there was something about getting calluses on their hands, and the tingle of strain in their muscles from lugging all the parts and then hammering and screwing them together. There was innate satisfaction with producing something that came from them, and was built with their own hands. They’ve completed three bookshelves already, and were working on Azriel’s butcher block right now. It was a simple job, if a little tedious, but the polishing of the surface was also calming, relaxing even. While Cassian was sanding and polishing, Azriel was on his knees, attaching a fastener to the side of the block, his muscles straining and his dark golden skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat.

“We got company,” Cassian murmured with amusement.

Azriel glanced over his shoulder, and saw a bunch of females strolling about, sneaking through the columns that lined the loggia one level above. They were milling around, pretending like they had some business here, in this corner of the House, where none would ever step foot in before.

Azriel huffed and returned to his work, while Cassian heard an audible gasp from a few ladies, when they were faced with the expanse of Azriel’s bare back, clad in thick muscles and decorated with black ink. He had added tiny pink roses to the blunt black curls of his tattoos, delicate vines that wrapped around the Illyrian markings, making him an Illyrian, but also Elain’s. Cassian had seen Elain’s own tattoo–exactly the same black swirls like Azriel possessed (actually, all of them did) for luck and glory on the battlefield–and boy, oh boy, did she need it!--swirling the side of her torso, under her left arm. She also had tiny roses dotting her skin, but they were cobalt blue. Because she was Azriel’s.

“What are they doing?” Mor raised her brow, while she wrapped her thick blond hair in a ponytail.

Gwyn Berdara, Mor’s mate and wife, mirrored her, tying her long bronze locks with a blue ribbon.

Nesta, who stood still, watching the males work on fitting a shelf into the slots, said,

“Apparently building stuff,”

“What is it?” Gwyn wondered, though it was pretty obvious what was being built, and Nesta gave her a ‘I slay my enemies’ look, at which Gwyn quickly added, “I mean, why bookshelves?”

“Told Cassian I needed bookshelves,” Nesta said bluntly.

“And he just went and built you some shelves?”

“It would seem so,” Nesta agreed and cocked her head, watching her husband, until a small smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth. 

Mor was watching them too, while doing sit ups and stretches, to ‘limber up’ according to her, because she and Gwyn and Emerie were going to be participating in a sunball tournament tomorrow. Nesta thought that the whole thing was stupid, but many people around her took this game way, way too seriously and there were complex strategies being worked out all the time. One team had Feyre, Gwyn, Emerie, Cassian and Varian, plus a few other Fae, while the other team was led by Mor, Azriel, Rhys, Cerridwen, Balthazar and others.

Nuala, Elain, Ressina and a few of their friends from the city, as well as Azriel’s younger sisters were on the cheer squad, pumping up the crowds, doing stupid and risky gymnastics for no reason.

Nesta and Amren had no interest in sunball, and thought that the whole thing was ridiculous. However, they were completely outnumbered. It was for the best that Nesta wasn’t on the teams–she’d just fight with Cassian constantly, just like Feyre did with Rhys and Mor did with Gwyn. At first, Elain was also all fired up about joining, but she could barely tackle a poodle, let alone someone like Cassian or Balthazar. Besides, everyone knew that Azriel would smite anyone who’d touch her or hurt her. Elain was pouting for a week straight when she didn’t make the teams, or even the subs. It was Varian–the Captain of the Blues–who suggested that they all needed a cheering squad, and Elain just about tackled him when she heard about it. 

Nesta had to admit that the cheer squad was pretty impressive. They did all kinds of magic, Nuala floated through things, Azriel’s sisters flew and performed acrobatics in the air, and Elain played with both fire and water. 

“Cauldron boil me,” Mor muttered under her breath, “but they are pretty.”

They were pretty. The two indescribably beautiful males sure knew how to impress. Cassian was thick and agile, powerful and rough, like the mountains and the winds of Illyria. Azriel was slender and carved, elegant and devastating, dominating and calm, like the blue waters of the ocean.

Nesta didn’t much care for Mor breathing her admiration for Cassian, or Az for that matter, but she didn't say anything. 

“Yeah, you can get pregnant just from looking at them!” Gwyn announced, and Nesta winced. 

If anyone was going to be getting pregnant here, it would be her. By Cassian. 

She could barely tolerate other females looking at her husband, but she also felt a bit smug–after all, he was building stuff for her. He wanted to please her. He loved and adored her. He was hers. 

Nesta’s learned a lot in the past six years of her marriage and matehood. She learned how to compromise and what fights were worth her time, and which weren’t…and curiously, the longer she lived with her mate, the more she realised that most fights weren’t worth it. She preferred to love him. She watched Elain and Azriel, whose temperaments were very different from her own and Cassian’s, but who always set an example with their relationship. They hardly ever disagreed, and instead of jibing and nagging, they praised and supported each other. Elain only ever sang Azriel’s accolades and while Nesta figured that they probably had some disagreements, Elain and Azriel knew how to resolve them quickly and peacefully. And Nesta realised that she kind of wanted more of that, as opposed to bickering and arguing. When there was nothing to fight about, why perpetuate the unnecessary tension? So she didn’t join the sunball teams, because she wanted to keep the peace, and right now, she felt like praising her husband.

Nesta left the others behind and went downstairs.

‘Heavy motherfucker’ she overheard Cassian grunt, his huge arms holding the heavy structure steady, while Azriel scowled as he jammed and shimmied the last of the shelves into place. Through gritted teeth he hissed, ‘next time you are buying Nesta a bookshelf! Like a normal person!’

Nesta approached Cassian from behind, admiring his sweaty back, where each divot and scar, every tendon and birthmark were familiar and beautiful. She wrapped her arms around his trim waist and pressed her cheek to his spine, between his wings.

“But Nesta likes it when her husband builds stuff for her,” she protested and Cassian’s massive body shook with laughter.

Nesta never grew to like the term ‘mate’, unlike Feyre. She always preferred ‘husband’, because that’s what Cassian was–he was her husband. Her lover. Her mountain. Her soul. And she loved to ‘husband’ him in front of others. She just wished that her sister Elain could do the same one day–because no one ever wanted to marry a male more than Elain wanted to marry Azriel. 

“Hello Nes. This was supposed to have been a surprise,” he reminded her.

“Don’t know how this was going to be a surprise,” she shrugged, “when you’ve been hammering, cursing and thrusting all morning long!”

“Thrusting?” Cassian huffed and Azriel gave him a look. “I certainly haven’t been thrusting. Otherwise, I would’ve remembered it!”

Nesta laughed softly and kissed Cassian’s back, “sounded like thrusting.”

Azriel finally wedged the last of the shelves in place and Cassian let go of the bookshelf at last and Nesta ducked under his sweaty arm, as the three of them admired the fruits of their labour.

“You like?” Cass asked, wiping his brow.

“I like,” she confirmed.

The shelves were simple, but beautiful. Made by her husband’s own hands. And what could be more precious than that?

Azriel folded his arms on his wide chest and asked, “And the House couldn't have built these for you?”

Nesta looked up at Cassian and the ferocious look of pride and satisfaction on his handsome face, and stroked his cheek.

“The House knows what’s real. I only want real.”

Nesta’s hand skidded over Cassian’s thick arm, her fingers tracing the patterns of his tattoos and then she whispered, her voice husky,

“I think I need to be alone with my husband, Az.”

“I would agree,” Azriel chuckled, as he tugged his shirt back on. “All it took is a little sweat and some rudimentary building skills,”

Cassian shrugged innocently, his big hands circling around Nesta’s thin waist.

“Ladies like a builder, brother.”

“Ladies do,” Nesta confirmed, her cool unusual eyes glazing, sliding over the panes of Cassian’s phenomenal body.

Azriel smiled, saluted them, grabbed the heavy countertop and then winnowed away.

Elain was out when Azriel returned home. He had about an hour to wrangle the old countertop off its base and affix the new one. As he got to work, he pondered if Elain would be as enamoured with his building skills as Nesta was with Cassian’s, and where that appreciation might lead. 

Despite the lovely morning, by midday the weather’s changed, and thick spring clouds rolled from the sea. Azriel opened the tall doors in the kitchen, so that the cool pre-rain breeze wafted inside from the garden, which smelled exquisite from all the flowers and the blooming trees. He watched as the heavens opened up and a swift, heavy downpour came down quickly and violently. As he screwed the new countertop in place, he hoped that Elain wasn’t caught up in the storm, but, not 10 minutes later, he heard her at the front door. Felt her. Sensed her actually. Knew that she was near him now. He walked to greet her, throwing a lingering look at the new, shiny, polished, pristine butcher’s block. It looked amazing, if he could say so himself.

Elain was soaked. Dripping water from her dress, her hair, her eyelashes, everywhere.

“Beautiful, why didn’t you winnow?” he asked, standing in the doorway, watching her, as she tossed her sopping wet shoes on the floor. 

She looked at him and a lovely light lit up her face–the same light that always came out of her when she saw him.

“I love the rain,” she said simply, and then pulled her dress up without thinking about it, scrunching it up and tossing it on the floor by the shoes. 

Azriel watched her, unmoving, though he was smirking, and said, “Please, continue and don’t stop on my account.”

Before she could retort, her eyes popped open widely and she gasped, craning her neck–’what is that??’ She could see into the kitchen from here, and the new countertop was hard to miss.

“Az…” she breathed. “You…you made this?”

“Sure did, gorgeous,” he nodded and as she tried to run by him, his arm shot out and he grabbed her firmly around the waist, pulling her to him. She only wore a silk undershirt, which was also soaked from the rain, and he didn’t waste any time tearing that off of her. 

“Az,” she croaked again, because now, she was completely naked, save for her white stockings, which moulded over her plump thighs, and he was completely dressed. Hefting her in his arms, he lifted her off the floor and her legs wrapped around his waist, as she draped her arms over his shoulders.

“You made that for me?” she breathed. And the smile that bloomed on his lips was devious, enticing and a little evil.

“I heard that girls like shit built for them,” he teased, as he walked them slowly from the foyer and into the house. His large hands gripped the backs of her thighs, before he repositioned her, so that he cupped her bare ass, his fingertips positioned precariously close to her centre. She keened into him, breath hitching higher in her chest, her breasts rising and falling.

“Girls do,” she nodded, echoing her sister’s words. “I want a big, sweaty, brawny man to build me things,” she growled, her teeth biting the tip of his ear. 

“Are you describing Cassian?” he joked, those bold fingertips tracing the rim of her entrance.

“There is only one big, sweaty, brawny man in my life,” she bit his earlobe savagely, before sliding down and nipping on the column of his neck, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on his skin, the thick veins of his throat.

“Care to test the countertop? Make sure it’s well made?” he proposed, as she sank her teeth into his skin, biting and kissing his neck, surely leaving a mark on him. His control wavered and he picked up his pace, almost running to the kitchen and slamming her down on the new surface. She yelped and bounced on the hard wood, while he roughly parted her thighs and stepped between them, sliding his sweats down and freeing the cock that was legendary. She barely managed to prop herself on her elbow, though he wrapped his arm over her back, preventing her from falling back, while at the same time, he drove his thick, heavy shaft into her. 

She screamed from the agonisingly painful, but delicious thrust, as he filled her so suddenly and completely, she had no time to process it. 

“Oh, by the fucking Cauldon,” she wailed, trying to adjust to the pressure, and the glorious drag of that magnificent pole, while he began to pound in her relentlessly, not allowing her any time to adjust. All she could do was just take it. 

A chant of “fuckmefuckmefuckme” burst forth from her lips, and he smiled a taunting little smirk, murmuring ‘language, little Elain’, shaking his head at her, as he drove so deep inside, she was left completely breathless. Falling back on the new counter at last, she could only take the merciless ramming of that massive dick, thinking that there would probably be an imprint of her ass in the surface of the counter from how hard he fucked her. 

Apparently, roughly fucking ladies on newly built things was what the gentlemen liked. 

She clamped tightly around him in no time, her breasts bouncing wildly from the force of his thrusts, and her back arched at an unnatural angle, as she careened over, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard enough to almost break it. Not that Azriel cared how hard she pawed or squeezed him. He spilled inside of her with a hoarse, feral groan, pressing his forehead to hers, while he rolled the wet stockings down her legs. 

“Pleasure to serve my lady,” he grunted against her lips, and she burst out laughing. “How’s the counter?”

“Probably left a bruise on my butt, but otherwise, amazing!”

Ten Months Later

How does one make an Illyrian baby? 

Build furniture for the mother, and then fuck her on it, that’s how.

Azriel and Elain made their way to the House of Wind. Well, they took a carriage, like normal people, and once they were deposited in front of the red mountain and the massive building within it, Azriel picked Elain up in his arms and flew the short distance to the private quarters, where Nesta and Cassian lived. 

Cassian opened the doors on the terrace and his face broke into a wide grin.

“Lemmie see them!” he demanded impatiently. 

Azriel smiled and carefully laid two swaddled bundles into his brother’s waiting arms.

Grumbling, Cassian muttered, “I can’t believe you made two!”

Azriel wrapped his arm around Elain’s shoulder and then whistled, adding smugly,

“Well, brother, I can offer you some pointers for next time…”

“What next time??!” they heard Nesta’s voice from the lounge. 

She was laid out in a wide armchair, looking cool and unbothered as usual. 

No one would tell you that she gave birth yesterday morning.

“We are definitely going to discuss the ‘next’ part,” she warned Cassian, who sat down on the edge of the chair and scooped another baby–his own–into his arms.

“What did you name her?” Elain asked.

“Parvati,” Nesta said, gently stroking the baby’s head with her finger.

“Daughter of the Mountain.”

“Well, Parvati, it’s nice to meet you. These are your cousins, Ramiel and Isabelle.”

“The three of you will do great things together.”

credit to @gracie-rosee for Amren and her dog HC

[heartofspells]

WIP Snippet

Oh! I finally have something to share! It's been so long with all the anonymous fests and stuff floating around. This is exciting! Thanks for the tag, my lovely @tracingpatternswrites!

Here's a little piece of the Prongsfoot Epic (note: not an epic), which is probably all anyone will see for a while. Sorry not sorry. Can't help the hyper-fixation when it hits.

Tagging @beautitudes @theresthesnitch @plecotusauritus if anyone has anything they'd like to share (and sorry for any double tags)

"So, Benjy," says James with obvious arrogance as he leans back in his seat, eyes staring at the other man through his lifted glass, "still messing about with magical creatures?"

"Not sure why I wouldn't be," replies Benjy with an affected sense of ease, eyebrows rising on his forehead, "seeing as it's my career."

James grins, the expression fiendish, forced friendliness pull at his mouth but not reaching his eyes. "S'no wonder you and Pads get on so well. He's got a hefty bar on for creatures, did you know?"

Sirius kicks his heel into James' shin beneath the table. "You're being a fucking knob," he hisses out the side of his mouth. "Shut the fuck up."

"What?" demands James, the perfect mask of innocence, his expression affronted as he rears back to look at Sirius. "What am I doing? I'm just getting to know Benjy here in a way we were too pressed to do during our Order days. Seems about time, 'specially if you hold him in such high regard."

"Don't give me that stupid doe-eyed act, you fucking gnome. You can't fool me with it. You know exactly what you're doing."

"Being friendly?"

"That's not bloody friendly!"

Benjy clears his throat loudly, reclaiming their attention. "I do know that about him," he answers when two sets of eyes land on him, both blinking in surprise like they've forgotten he was there at all as Benjy continues as though they'd never diverted from the previous conversation. "As shocking as it may be, you're not the only one who knows things about Sirius." Benjy tips his head back, downing the remainder of his pint, slowly standing once he's finished, tugging his cloak back over his shoulders. "Think I'm for home, lads. Leave you to your quarrel. Sirius, I'll talk to you soon."

Pressing the pad of his thumb between his brows, Sirius scrunches his eyes closed, trying to stave off yet another forming headache. "Yeah," he mumbles, finally looking up at Benjy. "Yeah, I'll check in with you later, Benj."

His hazel eyes skim them both, and Sirius tries not to think about how similar yet different they are to the ones sitting next to him. He waits until Benjy is out of earshot before he spins in his chair, rounding on James with swelling fury.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" he spits. "Is there simply some inherent need rooted inside you to make a complete arse of yourself wherever you go and with whoever you meet?"

James shrugs, unaffected. "I take offense to that. He seems a bit sensitive to me, mate," he says with a dismissive flap of his hand in the direction Benjy had departed. "Not sure what you see in him, really."

Sirius gapes. "You're impossible. You're determined to dislike anyone I show even the slightest interest in, no matter the intent behind it."

"That's not true," snaps James, head twisting around sharply to glare at him. "I like people you like. It's just him – "

"You used to like Benjy, too!"

"Maybe, but that was before you started fucking off and fucking him!"

So deep are they in the staring contest that's sprung up between them that it takes a while for Sirius or James to realize the pub surrounding them has gone very quiet very quickly. Their heads lift at the same time, glancing around, finding both wary and curious gaze trained on them. Sirius scowls at each person surrounding them, turning back to James, purposefully ignoring the crowd until the dull roar of voices picks up again.

"You're acting jealous," he hisses, gaze narrowed in accusation. "It's not attractive, Potter."

"I'm not fucking jealous," erupts James once more before lowering his voice again, leaning in a little closer to Sirius like an instinct, lifting his glass to his mouth. Sirius mimics him. "I'm not jealous. I'm acting like your brother who knows you can do better than bloody Fenwick of all people."

"What, like you?" scoffs Sirius, throwing the rest of his drink down his throat.

"You said it, not me," mutters James into his whisky, and Sirius nearly chokes.

His glass bangs down onto the table in front of them, startling James, but Sirius doesn't care, unable to believe his ears or the nerve of the other. He wants to punch him in his smug nose, knock him over and backwards, scrub his face across the dirty, sticky, shoe-scuffed floor beneath their feet.

[somewherebetweendisorder]

We'll Do It Together

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, angst, angst. talk of self harm and depression

A/N: originally posted to my old blog (basicallybats). this is a heavy fic, so please pay attention to the warnings. if this isn't for you, just skip it. thank you for reading <3

~

Everyone has bad days. It's a small fact, one that borders on myth in a broken mind, but you repeat it as if nothing else could ever be true. Everyone has bad days, and some people have good days. Some people have enough of both that they blend together into a halfway decent life, void of some constant edge of panic. You are not one of those people. 

When it rains it pours, the juxtaposition has never been lost on you and follows you like a dark cloud born from its literal verbiage, disheartening, suffocating. The heat of a storm brewing thick around you, promising only bad bad things. 

The walls close in, floor cold and barren beneath your naked feet, the bathroom too small, and too large all at once. Moments ago you were sure you were cracking right in front of Steve. Now, behind the locked door, the tears are dissipating, calming like the ocean, deceptive and wild. Untameable. Like the emotions warring within, bloody and hardened by the years spent compressing it all down, refusing to let it show. 

The bitter gnawing grows, teeth worn and dull, chewing painful, uneven holes through your nerves, craggy and prone to infection. A cursory glance around the tiny bathroom leaves nothing to relieve the itch. You're at work, you really couldn't help anything now anyway, but you'll look. You'll look and wish, taking note of every possible solution. You shake your head, failing to dislodge the thoughts, failing to do anything but rattle your aching head more than it already was. 

You flush the toilet to make this absence believable, just in case anyone, namely Steve, is close enough to hear. Crank the lever on the paper towel dispenser loudly, once twice three times, tearing off the sheet and wadding it up. Guilt pricks your skin at the waste, at the act, at the lies. 

The door opens with a loud squeal, hinges protesting your exit, a loud argument, alerting anyone nearby that you've reemerged. You walk down the main aisle, scanning the store for Steve. He's on his knees, putting the well-loved copy of Back to the Future on the shelf, scooting his bin of movies along the floor as he moves further down to replace the next VHS. He looks up as you hover at the end of the row, eyebrows raised in a silent question, head tilted back to meet your eyes. 

"Everything okay?"

You open your mouth, close it, chew on your lip, enjoying the slight bite of pain, the way the flesh gives beneath the pressure of your teeth. If you bit just a little harder, blood would tease your tongue, copper flooding your senses. It's what you want. Why not give yourself satisfaction? 

Steve waits, concern taking hold of his face with each passing second. He's rising to his feet and stepping closer to you before you know what's happening, hand extended, intent on grasping your own. It would at least, if you didn't jerk back, shocked; aghast. 

"Baby?" He pulls his hand back, fingers limp, rejected, hazel eyes a bit more green in this light. "Y/N?"

"What?"

You can't remember what he asked, eyes stuck on his pocket knife, fixated, wishing it was in your hands. You've done so well today. Woke when your alarm went off, got dressed, made yourself presentable, smiled at every patron who came through the doors today. How delicious your reward would be, sweet little ribbons of pain, earned by your careful performance. You deserve it. Some wild spell falls over you, whispers in your ear to take his knife, use it right here, right now. 

It's that voice that pushes you into his arms. There is no grace, no poise, no tenderness in the way you fall into him. It is all raw emotion, mixed-up thoughts, and tattered nerves, as you run from the darkness propagating in your blood. 

"You're scaring me, baby. What is going on?"

"I am-" You can't finish, words thick and rough, dying on your vocal cords, soundless, a plea to be saved. Like a splinter in your throat, shards of emotion making it impossible to speak, fragments of thought stealing away your breath. "I am unwell, Steve. I'm sick."

"Okay, okay Y/N. What- uh, what hurts? Your head, your stomach?"

You crane your head back, hands firm on his cheeks, demanding as you move his head down so his eyes meet yours with little care. When he takes in your gaze, nearly lifeless, dead, and walking he feels his heart speed up. It's an unnatural pace, beating with the threat of something akin to cardiac arrest. The look in your eyes... He's seen it before. Empty, vacant. It's like you said, you're sick, he can see it now clearly, bleeding into the air around you. 

"No Steve. My brain, it's- I want to hurt myself. Badly. Like I have, like I used to. It's just- Just too much right now. I can't-"

You suck in a breath, winded from that explanation. Tired, like your bones are liquifying, muscles atrophying at an unprecedented rate. You're withering away right before his eyes. And how could he not have noticed sooner? He thinks back as his arms tighten around you, recalling the smiles that he swears reached your eyes, the laughs that bubbled out of you at his shitty jokes, the friendly tone you took with the kids. Where were the signs?

"Okay, baby. It'll be okay. I-"

Steve doesn't know what to say. Who really helped him fight back the unending dark of depression? He still feels it on a bad day, but never like this, never like you. He wants you as close as possible, wishes he could crawl inside your mind and kill all the nasty thoughts, voices that whisper you deserve to hurt, whatever demon makes you crave pain. You're too fucking good for that. 

"I'm sorry."

It's a broken whisper, drawing him fully back to the moment, aware of your tears seeping through his shirt, warm and rapid. "No. No, don't ever apologize. It's nothing I could ever hold against you. It's... We'll face it together."

He wants to hold you gently, tenderly, but his heart won't let him. His arms are tight around you, too tight, but maybe that's okay. Maybe sometimes the most tender thing a person can do is hold you so tight you might break under their grip. 

It seems to work, it keeps you here; how could you run anyway? How could you run when your body is so wracked by sobs, so consumed by deep-seated grief? One you can't explain, you've never known where it came from. It works, Steve's embrace, it keeps you grounded, threatens to bruise in the best way, a hot sort of love seeping into your chilled flesh, thawing something you worried was dead. 

"I don't want you to hurt. I- I get it, I do. But if you can, I would rather you tell me. Talk to me about what is hurting before you-"

"Try to cut it out?"

The words you offer so simply make his chest hurt, ache like there's no air in his lungs and he can't catch his breath. "Yes, before you do that. Please?"

He feels you squeeze him, trying to get closer, trying to explain it all. Words fail you. "I can't promise. But I- I'll try."

"That's all I want, Y/N. Just try. Let me in, let me help if I can. You don't have to do this alone."

Neither one of you is sure who initiates it, but you're both moving to the floor, Steve kneeling, you scrambling messily into his lap, face pressed into his neck, tears slowing but not stopping, right in the middle of Family Video. No one else is here, the day oddly slow, as if time has stopped for this moment. 

Steve doesn't want to let you go. It's a hard sort of love, rough, ragged, nearly ugly in its rawness. But this moment of weakness, this vulnerability, this battle shared between partners is the most tender image he could ever conjure. He wouldn't change it for the world. And he'll be here with you no matter what. 

[sexysilverstrider]

SSS | Alone

   It’s not bad being alone.

   Sometimes it envelopes you. Sometimes it suffocates you. Depending on the situation, being alone has a knack of either giving you hope on a silver platter or filling you with inescapable dread. Being alone allows one’s mind to think. To breathe. Being alone allows one’s heart to beat soundly, singing a calm tune to their ears.

   Being alone sometimes comes with the feeling of loneliness. And it is sometimes she’s not keen on looking forward to.

   However, as she sits in front of the quiet campfire, she realizes that loneliness is a form of company as well.

   It’s quiet. Peaceful. Oftentimes haunting. Others once said that the feeling of loneliness could drive one crazy, and she believes them. There are many times in the past that she wished she could erase some actions she regrets deeply so. She also heard that loneliness could drive one to grief, and she understands. There are many times in the past that she saw the emotion rob someone of the promised happiness.

   At times, loneliness is a sense of comfort that gives her peace.

   Arms wrap around her knees. Chin rests on her kneecaps, she watches as the fire flickers peacefully. Hazel eyes stare on the left. A small smile twitches the corner of her mouth to see Damien snoozing peacefully.

   While she may feel lonely, she technically isn’t alone.

   One hand pats the top of his head, earning a soft purr from the Typhlosion. The Pokémon tucks his face under one paw as he curls next to her. The sight is too cute for her to watch, and this draws out a soft giggle from her.

   “Kotone?”

   The hand that pats him stops.

   Surprised by the voice, Kotone looks up. Surprise turns to shock as she sees the last person she ever expects.

   Silver only stands for a while, also surprised by her presence tonight. “Huh,” is all he says next. No sign of displeasure plasters the young man’s face. The rival in front of him hasn’t said a word, probably too stunned to do so as seeing each other in a random forest isn’t part of their plan.

   Funny, he thinks, as they always bumped into each other more than necessary in the past.

   A single chuckle escapes him. “You okay?”

   The man is filled with surprises today. “Oh!” Finally, a peep from her. “I’m fine.” A smile grows wider. “I just didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Acting out of instinct, Kotone pats a spot next to her. She doesn’t think much of it. A habit, it probably is, and it’s something that she won’t hesitate to do whenever he’s around.

   And it’s something he doesn’t question as he sits next to her.

   A disgruntled grumble echoes nearby. Silver doesn’t need to investigate to know where that sound comes from.

   Reassuring her grumpy fire starter, Kotone bents to give a small peck on the top of his head. “Have you had dinner yet?” The question is out as she straightens her back and looks at Silver. Her smile, while being something that is so natural to her, seems less peppy and more…peaceful.

   He realizes this.

   “Hmm,” is all he replies. As his legs cross, Silver lets the gears in his brain grind. His aloof reply is something he’s used to, and something she’s used to as well. Albeit rude from a stranger’s gaze, Silver knows Kotone could read his emotions through a single word.

   It’s something he once found infuriating. And now something he finds so endearing.

   Finally decided on his actions, he turns slightly in her direction. Without a word, his arms spread open.

   A smile tickles his lips to see shock on her face again.

   Truly, the young woman is stunned for words. Silver is rarely the type to display public forms of affection. Even in their years of rivalry turned relationship, he will only display his feeling through simple actions such as holding her hand or patting her head.

   Ah.

   Then again, they are alone in a peaceful forest. Only the stars and moon become their beautiful witness.

   The feeling of shock swiftly dissolves into sheer giddiness. A giggle tickles her pretty, pretty smile. Without a word, Kotone shyly scoots closer until her body was wrapped by his arms.

   He feels warmer, more comfortable than the fire.

   Cheeks are kissed by bliss; Kotone wraps her own knees close to her chest as she snuggles on his side. She then feels a soft chup on the left side of her head, and this only brings heat straight to the tips of her ears.

   Carefully, he stretches his legs forward, giving her an easier access to huddle in his embrace. Cheeks tinted in red, Silver nuzzles into her soft brown locks. “Feeling better?” he asks, voice quiet and husky, lulled with admiration that neither once believed they would ever portray for each other.

   “Yes,” she peeps, voice quiet and bashful, trickling with affection that neither once believed they would ever have for one another.

   The sound of crackling fire soothes their thundering hearts. The sights of their loving smiles are hidden through their snuggling bodies.

   It’s not bad being alone.

   But it’s not bad to have company either.

END

[morgayz]

alright, i talked about posting this piece, so here i am! i decided to go ahead and post the whole thing ( around 860 words ) because i couldn't decide which snippet i liked most. so, have this, tumblr dot com. for any kind of context, samson is a cult leader aaaand just killed this guy named donald. whoops! why'd he kill him? well, donald outed another cult member, alexander, as actually being an undercover cop! woo boy! why didn't samson kill alexander then, you may ask? they're just that gay idk what else to tell you.

anyway, i'm still very much finding my footing with this character, so expect this to be a little rough. it's one of the first things i've written about samson! so, i hope you enjoy!! it's all below the cut!

cw : some gore, aftermath of murder, yk fun & unhinged times

Gasping, heaving breaths ripped out of unhinged jaws, chest rising and falling with each tattered inhale. Stifled oxygen and blood rushing to the head, ears roaring with the force of what he'd done. Murky hazel eyes swept the floor, Samson's legs twitching and shaking to keep himself upright. His hands were drawn to his chest, palms pressed upward, head tilting down to swallow up the grisly picture facing him. Skin slick with streaks of blood, red spattered into fine grooves. Beyond his hands laid a body strewn, limbs awkwardly askew and clothes rumpled, head a mass of festering, sputtering gore that didn't even begin to resemble a human being anymore. Donald's face was gone, razed by blunt force, the lamp dropped haphazardly at Samson's feet. Edges covered in blood. He tasted soft daubs of iron in his mouth, scarlet speckles coating his lips and face; white clothes streaked in rich, red rivulets, swashed over soft cotton. Each sharp inhale was stricken by hot air, lodged in his throat, thick and swarming. What did you do? What did you do? What did you do? Words failed him, rose up and swallowed back down, trickling down and expanding in his chest until he felt like he couldn't even breathe around everything he wanted to say - and yet, nothing faltered past pale lips, teeth dragging against each other as his gaped mouth closed tight. A sickening feeling slopped in his stomach, running over until he felt as though he might start hacking up vomit. Nausea swept over him, bile and blood, shaking with adrenaline and nerves and -

Satisfaction. Gratification. A disturbing sort of indulgence, wrapped through him and spat out in a trembled whisper, sludged accent scratching against his throat. “I killed him.” Glass stuck in slickened, red skin, heads limply lolling, Samson's broken and aching body crawling out of the shattered passenger window. All he'd tasted then was blood, too, spilling down from the nose he'd hardly heard crunch over the last, dying scream of his mother. His father's pale eyes, slackened by death. Donald didn't leave behind eyes, though, just the smudged remainder of whatever was left. Face beaten in so deeply he lacked a nose, lacked a mouth, lacked anything even remotely identifiable. It probably should've disturbed Samson that the grotesque image on the floor hadn't clamped into his mind yet, hadn't even sickened him. Rather, this unspeakable act dredged thickets of excitement out of his belly, shaken by the mere wonder of taking a life. Perhaps, there was the idea of horror, the acknowledgement of such an idea, but the full force of it never hit him. Never sunk sharp teeth in, pulling and tearing. Rather, Samson found himself warring with the modern concept of humanity, because to kill someone was the ultimate act of rebirth. “I killed him,” he repeated. This time it didn't sound like there was horror stuck in his throat, because there never really had been. Shock, maybe. But horror was so little a word that Samson could truly fathom.

Either way, he faltered, legs crumpling up beneath him, collapsing to his knees. Blood soaked through white pants as he leaned forward, absorbing the malformed body bent under his hands. He searched out the body's wet clothes for cold skin, feeling the chill bustling under his fingertips. It was invigorating. Donald, or what was left of him, became even more blurred and misshapen beyond the emotion clogging Samson's eyes. A spiritual re-awakening of sorts, striking him more intensely than any dose of acid ever had. Tasteless tabs eclipsed by the shock of iron in his mouth. His jaw unwound, tongue tightening against his next words. “So this is what it means to truly live.” A breathed reminder, awe and transcended hope in his voice.

The bloated memory of still-alive Donald's revelation hardly flourished, words and reminders slipping away into the recesses of Samson's mind. ( “He's a spy! A pig! We should have him hanged!” ) He was so preoccupied with exploring the cold bite of Donald's body that Alexander's presence faded into the background, melding into the cacophony of white noise that surrounded Samson. Tendrils of the argument faded, obscured beyond the fragments of his evolving mind. He cared little for whether Alexander was an officer and more for the fact that he felt like he'd achieved the unachievable. The natural human state of predation. Swallowed whole by his desire to replay the event in full. If Samson could revive Donald and do it all over again, just to feel the lamp bashing into exposed facets of face, he would. By God, he'd do it again. Kept his hands all over Donald to mop up whatever feeling was left, mouth watering from the sheer brutality this act had demanded, and yet, he felt like he'd passed the final test. Samson would abandon his goods, abandon his family, abandon anything and everything if it meant living up to God's image in this way. He would do whatever it took to be his soldier, an archangel of death. Azrael embodied, humanity formed. He had finally completed his mission.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Roll for Seduction

Dustin forced Steve to come to a Hellfire Club DnD session; he isn’t the least bit interested in it but something else catches his attention.

[AO3]  |  SMUT

“You sure you don’t want to join in, Harrington?” Eddie asked from the far end of the fold-out table they had set up in the school’s basement. The table was covered in a mess of maps, sheets of paper with character stats and information on them, small figurines, and scattered dice.

“I’m sure,” Steve replied, leaning back in the seat he had set in the corner of the room.

Dustin would not shut up about the Hellfire Club and kept pestering Steve to come to one of their sessions. He’d been asking for weeks—month even—and Steve just wanted some peace and quiet, and the only way to get that was to either cave and go to one of their DnD sessions or murder the kid. And, unfortunately, he liked the little shit too much to do the latter.

But Henderson never said anything about playing.

He sat aside from the group, in the corner of the boiler room with a book, listening to the group enthusiastically follow along with the campaign as he read. They’d cry out in devastation when one of them failed a roll, scream and cheer with elation when they successfully defeated an enemy, and shouted out in outrage and shock when Eddie dramatically unveiled a plot twist.

He bowed his head, hiding his smile in the shadows.

He couldn’t help but feel proud of his kids.

More often than not, his eyes would drift to Eddie, watching as the Dungeon Master acted out the enemies or encounters with other characters. He really got into it, leaping from his chair, speaking in strange voices.

It was almost mesmerising to watch, the dull light of the bare bulb overhead gleaming as it reflected off the bulky silver rings on Eddie’s fingers. The black nail polish of his painted fingernails flickering in and out of sight like shadows floating through his fingers.

Steve had to shake himself from the trance a few times, his eyes darting about to make sure he hadn’t been caught staring before trying – and, inevitably, failing – to focus on his book.

He had no interest in the game, but he began to pick up on how it was played—at last enough to make sense of Henderson’s rambling tangents.

When the campaign wrapped up, a few members of the club headed out.

Henderson skipped over to Steve’s side, a binder of character stats and information sheets clutched to his chest. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Three hours of nerds shouting at each other in a basement, what could possibly be more fun than that?” Steve teased.

Dustin rolled his eyes, ignoring Steve’s remark.

“Do any of you little shits need a ride home?” Steve asked, looking from Dustin to the others. He’d driven there after work, but the kids had been there since school finished.

“Nah, we rode our bikes to school today,” Dustin answered.

“Okay,” Steve said, trying to ignore the anxiety that gnawed at his insides. “Get home safe.”

“We will,” Mike shouted over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

“See ya, Steve,” Dustin said as he followed after his friends. “Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Henderson,” Eddie replied, waving half-heartedly in the boy’s direction—not looking up from where he was packing away his stuff.

Steve set his book aside, rising from his seat and walking around to the end of the table Eddie had sat at.

The dice clattered as Eddie gathered them up. He reached for the D20, but Steve grabbed it before he could.

Eddie looked up at Steve, ready to pick a fight, but his words died on his lips when he saw Steve’s expression. He didn’t look like he was about to tease or mock Eddie, nor did he look like he was about to beat up ‘the freak’. If anything, he looked… curious.

Steve turned the D20 around in his fingers, admiring it in the dim light.

“So the higher the number, the better?” he asked.

“With twenty being the best outcome,” Eddie confirmed.

Steve nodded.

He looked up from the die, his eyes meeting Eddie’s. His hazel eyes were lit with hints of gold in the dull light.

“Does the Dungeon Master ever get involved in the game?” Steve asked.

“Not usually, mostly because they know how the campaign will play out,” Eddie explained.

“So, if I were to roll to seduce the Dungeon Master,” Steve started, a shadow of mischief darkening his eyes, “that wouldn’t be allowed?”

Eddie’s face flushed bright red. His lips moved around inaudible words as he struggled to find his voice. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He drew in a steadying breath, regaining his composure as he replied, “You can try.”

Steve smiled. He held out his hand and let the D20 roll across the table.

His heart drummed in his chest, hammering hard against his ribs as he watched the die roll across the table. It slowed before finally coming to a stop.

20.

He looked from the dice to Eddie—who was looking at the die with his eyes wide with shock and his jaw hanging open.

“That’s a good roll, right?” Steve asked, second guessing himself for a moment.

Eddie seemed to snap back to reality. “Yeah. That’s… That’s the best roll you could get.”

“So, the seduction works?” Steve asked, arching his brow curiously as he met Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie’s brow furrowed as he looked at Steve sceptically, trying to work out if Steve was toying with him, trying to bait him into coming out, teasing him—there had to be an ulterior motive.

The moment of silence dragged on.

“Sorry,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender and backing away as he took Eddie’s silence for a ‘no’. “I didn’t mean to…” He hurried over to where his jacket was thrown over the back of his seat and grabbed it and his book. “I’m sorry.”

He headed towards the door, not looking Eddie in the eye.

“Wait,” Eddie called after him.

Steve stopped before the door, cursing himself silently for not running out of there as fast as he could.

“If it were to work,” Eddie started slowly, his curiosity piqued as Steve slowly turned to face him—a glimmer of hope and surprise in his eyes, “what would you do?”

Steve’s face flushed red.

“I, uh…” He paused, his mind racing as he tried to think up an answer—tried to play along. “I would… kiss you.”

“Is that it?”

Steve was taken aback by his bluntness.

Eddie let out a nervous laugh, the sound making Steve’s heart flutter and his smile making his breath catch in his throat. He ran his fingers through his long dark hair, pushing it back from his face as he shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

Screw it, Steve thought. He dropped his jacket and book and strode over to Eddie’s side, taking the young man’s face in his hands and bringing their lips together.

Eddie’s body went rigid for a moment, but after a second, he melted into Steve’s touch—letting out a soft sigh as his shoulders dropped and he tilted his chin to deepen the kiss. Eddie looped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, lacing his fingers through the soft locks of Steve’s chestnut hair.

Steve dropped one of his hands to Eddie’s slender waist, pulling him closer as the other hand slid into the mess of dark hair.

He began to walk forward, slowly coaxing Eddie backwards until his back was pressed up against the rough brick wall. He pinned Eddie there with his hips, weaving his fingers through the mess of Eddie’s hair and balling them into his fist. He drew back from the kiss and gently tugging at his hair.

Eddie gasped, his lips falling open as Steve tilted his head back until it was resting against the wall. Steve’s lips trailed across his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down his throat and across the bulge of his Adam’s apple. Eddie let out a breathless whimper, spurring Steve on.

He slid his hand up under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, his fingers caressing his pale skin as his kisses grew rougher.

Eddie moaned, the sound sending a shiver down Steve’s spine.

Steve purred in response, stilling on a piece of soft flesh and sucking hard.

Eddie let out a broken moan, his grip on Steve’s hair tightening—eliciting a low growl from Steve. Eddie felt his stomach flutter with excitement, his dick twitching in his pants.

Steve drew back, pressing soft kisses to the bruising flesh. His lips caressed Eddie’s skin as they trailed back up across his jaw before finding his lips again.

His hands came back up the Eddie’s face, cupping his face as he leant further into the kiss. It was deep and messy.

Eddie’s hands fell to Steve’s waist, and before he could stop himself, one hand trailed down to the back of Steve’s thigh, pulling him closer.

Steve obeyed, pressing his body against Eddie’s until he wasn’t sure where his body ended and Eddie’s started.

His lungs burnt, desperate for air, but he so badly didn’t want to stop. He broke away from the kiss, gasping for air as the cool rush of relief stilled the raging inferno in his lungs.

Eddie took his chance, bringing his lips to Steve’s neck and littering soft kisses across his skin. HIs lips trailed down to the soft piece of flesh where Steve’s neck met his chest and bit down.

Steve drew in a sharp breath, his body arching toward Eddie’s. A shiver rolled up his spine, his heart fluttering, his breath shaking, and every nerve in his body set alight.

Eddie drew back slightly, meeting Steve’s gaze. His eyes were blown black with lust.

A playful smile turned up the corners of Steve’s mouth as he stepped back. He grabbed a fistful of Eddie’s shirt, scrunching up the Hellfire Club logo as he pulled the young man off the wall, walking him back to the centre of the room. He walked Eddie backwards until his thighs hit the edge of the fold-out table.

Eddie seemed to take the hint, reaching out behind himself and laying back against the table.

Steve climbed up on top of him, his knee sliding between Eddie’s legs and parting them. His thigh brushed up against the bulge in Eddie’s pants.

He leant forward, bringing his lips to Eddie’s in a chaste, teasing kiss.

“Tell me what you want,” Steve whispered.

Eddie’s chest rose and fell with short breaths, his voice quiet as he practically whimpered, “More.”

“More?” Steve purred, shifting his leg so that his thigh pressed harder against Eddie’s growing erection.

“More,” Eddie repeated, sounding more desperate this time.

Steve slid his hand up under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, lifting it over his firm abs as he sat back slightly. He littered kisses across Eddie’s slender waist, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

He undid the zip and pressed sloppy kisses to the bulge that pushed against the soft cotton of Eddie’s boxers, feeling his cock twitch in response. Steve hooked his fingers beneath the elastic band and pulled Eddie’s underwear down enough for his rigid length to spring free.

He had to admit, he was impressed—he never would have guessed Eddie Munson was packing.

He took a second to shake himself from his trance, pressing soft kisses against the protruding bones of Eddie’s hips and nipping at the tender skin. Eddie yelped as Steve sucked hard enough to bruise his pale skin.

Steve chuckled, licking his lips as he turned his attention to Eddie’s hard cock. He brushed his palm against Eddie’s neglected length, feeling his cock twitch as he whimpered and bucked to Steve’s touch. Steve pressed soft kisses to Eddie’s dick, looking up through his lashes at Eddie.

Steve licked the wet trail along the underside of Eddie’s cock, making him groan with pleasure. It spurred Steve, and so – without warning – he took the tip of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, teasing with his tongue before swallowing down as much as he could.

The sight alone would have been enough to make Eddie come: Steve was a gorgeous young man, and one who happened to look even better with a dick in his mouth.

Eddie threw his head back, crying out as he ran his fingers through Steve’s tussled hair. Eddie’s grip on Steve’s hair tightened and hips buckled towards Steve’s face. Steve let out a low growl, a shiver of delight coursing through his body. He pulled back and swirl his tongue around the head of Eddie’s cock, lapping at the tip and teasing incoherent moans and broken cries from the young man.

Steve ran his tongue up the underside of Eddie’s cock and hummed at the sound of Eddie’s needy whimpers, the vibrations rumbling against his sensitive cock and making him gasp and whine.

Steve pressed sloppy kisses against Eddie’s cock before taking his length back in his mouth, sinking down over him and sucking hard enough that Eddie’s legs shook. Beads of salty come dripped from the head of Eddie’s cock, falling to Steve’s tongue as he sucked, moving his mouth up and down Eddie’s impressive length.

Eddie’s hips bucked up to Steve’s face again.

Steve set his hands on Eddie’s waist, his grip firm as he gently pulled Eddie closer—letting him know it was okay.

Eddie threw his head back, his cry broken by his gasps as air failed to reach his lungs. He tightened his grip on Steve’s hair, nails dragged at Steve’s skull and tugging at the strands as his hips instinctively thrust into the warmth of Steve’s mouth.  

Steve looked up through his lashes, drinking in the sigh of Eddie’s flushed face, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for air, his hands in Steve’s hair and his body arching to Steve’s touch. He etched it into his memory—he was sure to jerk off to that memory later.

He began to move faster, sucking at Eddie’s length and swirling his tongue around his head, setting a pattern that drove him over the edge.

Steve sank down over Eddie’s cock again as he climaxed. Steve sucked at Eddie’s cock, milking him until he was spent. He drew back slowly, lapping at the mess of come that spilled from Eddie’s cock before sitting back. He met Eddie’s eye as he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the come off his fingers, licking his lips for good measure.

Eddie’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his eyes unfocused as adrenalin flooded his body.

Steve couldn’t help but smile – feeling proud of himself. He climbed off the table and held his hand out, helping Eddie sit up.

“Whoa,” was all Eddie managed to say after he caught his breath. When he finally came back to his senses, he shoved his flaccid cock back in his pants and zipped up his jeans.

“You know,” Steve started slowly, walking over to where he had dropped his book and his jacket on the floor. He picked up the D20 that had been knocked off the table. He tossed it to Eddie who caught it. “I think I might get into this DnD thing.”

Steve flashed a charming smile before heading out the door.

[astra-galaxie]

"Hello, Caspian, I hope you've been taking care of Argo!" - Jason Nicchi

Biographical information

Full Name: Jason Nicchi

Alias(es): Pyrókardos (Fireheart in Greek)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Status: Alive

Age: 28 (season 4)

Birth: 1862

Race: Phoenix-Automaton

Nationality: Greek-Italian

Origin: Iolcos, Greece

Residence:

Concordia, USA

Rome, Italy (formerly)

Iolcos, Greece (formerly)

Profession(s): Inventor

Family: Melaina Kokkinos (mother)

Partner(s): Argo Acquafredda (boyfriend)

Profile

Height: 5'11"

Age: 28 (season 4)

Weight: 160lbs

Eyes: hazel

Blood: O+

Hailing from Greece, Jason is a tall man with warm olive skin and hazel eyes. His short brown hair is curly and messy with a pair of goggles strapped on top, and his beard is clean-cut and trimmed short. He also has a small scar across the bridge of his nose. He wears black pants and boots, a dark gray shirt under a brown jacket, and an orange bandana around his neck.

As per his suspect appearance in Ring In The New Death, it is known that Jason eats panettone, drinks champagne and knows Auld Lang Syne.

As per his suspect appearance in Heartbroken, it is known that Jason knows anatomy, links horse shows, and speaks French.

Powers and Abilities

Jason is a Phoenix-Automaton, which means his body is an Automaton that his Phoenix soul powers.

His powers include, but are not limited to:

Immortality

Regeneration

Healing Fire/Tears

Life Creation (Can bring things to life, such as toys, inventions, etc., by gifting them a piece of his Phoenix Flame. This is how Caspian and Ember were brought to life. So long as their flames burn, they live and act like the animals they were modelled after.)

Fire generation/manipulation

Light generation

Other abilities he has, but is not limited to:

He is immune to toxins since he has no blood

Super Strength

High body temperature

Flight

Other facts about Jason’s magic:

He has a glamour spell cast on his body to hide his metal skin, screws, etc. The spell is marked on his thigh, and he usually reapplies it every morning to prevent the spell from fading

While his body is made of enchanted metal, it's still susceptible to damage. If he’s out in the rain for too long or it's an intense storm, he’ll start to rust, and if he gets too damaged from water, it puts his fire at risk of getting extinguished

Jason’s Phoenix soul can “un-possess” his Automaton body at will. When out of the metal body, Jason takes on his true form of a bird made of fire. His flames don’t burn people unless he wants them to, but they naturally produce a soft heat

The feather on his mother’s necklace is one of his baby feathers

History

To be revealed during Murders of The Past

Events of Criminal Case

Season 4

Jason made his debut during the murder of his old coworker Romulus Fabrri. He and Romulus arrived in Concordia a few days before New Year's Day and shared an apartment until Jason moved in with Argo. Jason wanted to surprise his boyfriend on New Year's Eve since the Detective was under the impression the inventor wouldn't be immigrating until a few weeks later. While Romulus was busy trying to make a name for himself in Concordia, Jason was relaxing after spending so much time sailing and planning how to surprise Argo.

On New Year's Eve, just before he was going to surprise Argo, Maddie and Issac visited Jason's apartment to inform him of Romulus's murder. While they wouldn't call each other friends, they had worked together for years, so Jason was shocked and saddened by Romulus's death. Jason decided to wait and surprise Argo after the case had been closed and answered the Detectives' questions, knowing he would be proven innocent.

Even after Maddie and Isaac discovered that Romulus had been trying to steal Jason's work, he continued to deny any involvement in the murder. As he predicted, he was found innocent after the Detectives arrested Takara for killing Romulus. Now that the case was closed, he could proceed with surprising Argo and gifting him the music box he had made while sailing to Concordia. Of course, another wrench had to get thrown into his plans when he couldn't find the music box to show it to Charlie.

Thankfully, Maddie and Charlie helped him find the music box, and the latter assisted with its repairs. With the gift ready, Jason snuck it into Argo's office onboard Alto with Ember's help. The robotic dragon was able to fly to the second level, sneak into the Detective's office and leave the music box on Argo's desk without being seen. Jason and Ember returned to the airship just before midnight, perfectly timed for when Argo discovered the gift and asked the Squad if they knew where it came from.

Reuniting with Argo after over two months apart felt like heaven to Jason. He savoured holding him and kissing him even as their audience was watching. But it didn't matter how many people were watching because as the stroke of midnight hit and the fireworks lit up with the sky, Jason felt the Argo-sized hole in his heart being filled again. Later, following a small party with the Flying Squad, Argo and Jason collected the inventor's stuff from his apartment, returned the key to the property owner, and went home together to celebrate their reunion.

Story Information

First appeared: Ring In The New Death

Trivia

Armand Dupont mentioned Jason in season 3's original case, Fathers and Death. Dupont mentions his great-grandfather, Charlie Dupont, knowing an inventor who made music boxes; that man was Jason

He built Caspian and Ember. People always ask him how he created the automatons, but he refuses to reveal his secrets

Besides music boxes, Jason's inventions usually center around assistive technology to make life easier for people with disabilities. For example, he built Argo's crutches to be durable and multi-functional but also elegant to look at

He's fluent in Italian and Greek, as both languages were spoken heavily in his home when he was growing up

He can easily get lost in his work. More often than not, Argo has to remind him to take breaks, or else they won't happen until Jason inevitably passes out. Ember will make him take breaks, too, but she also loves helping him with his inventions, so she's been guilty of losing track of time, too…

He is a skilled welder and can solder metal together almost seamlessly

Gallery

This is the logo Jason uses to mark all of his creations.

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad)

Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad)

Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad)

Murders of The Past (Ao3/Wattpad)

[night-market-if]

I just read through the early release for chapter 9 and it really is a tear-jerker!

-SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 9 (but I do still try to be vague!)-

It's also a complete moral conundrum that literally made steam come out of my ears as I weighed up the MC's options!

I tried to be logical and sensible first (but your detailed descriptions of the emotions involved made that SO difficult). When I chose to act in service of the greater good, I had immediate regrets, thinking "no, nope, that's immediately not good, not good at all!" (But it had such a shocking impact on the market and the plot... I've saved my spot there, if only to see how that choice plays out. I was devastated, with a side of the kind of curiousity that killed the cat.)

Choosing to follow my heart instead made me feel slightly less rattled, but the deep uncertainty of doing so story wise was ALSO immediately not good either! At least MC's relationship with our blue-eyed man is intact with that choice... still! It's a cold comfort because I'm scared! Milo says he's scared, BRO I'm the one who's shaking in my boots! MC is making big moves here! This chapter's decisions literally have the most impact on the market and story so far!

On another note: I also really appreciated the ending scene with Milo. Having Milo open up was so cathartic and needed. It was great to get a better understanding of where his head is. Having it in this chapter also felt well timed- like, I was yearning for it but I knew rushing him to open up would not be satisfying or true to his character.

In summary, my heart is totally BROKEN, but it was so compelling ❤🎉

Thank you! I've been pretty quiet the last few days, getting caught up on my reading and hanging out with the kiddos, but I had to stop and answer this one.

The morality of this chapter is going to hold weight. Your decision in that scene might be one of the biggest ones to change certain characters and the surrounding world. Now, you potentially won't see that change until Book 2 because shit is about to hit the fan and the domino effect is about to start going. We have after this one, only three chapter left and each chapter has such a big moment in it that this decision is going to marinate. Which, honestly, it would in real life too. It wouldn't be an overnight change in the market. But, there will be change and it is a change (give you making a certain choice) that I have been waiting for the payoff of since chapter one.

I also think that this has the most impact emotionally on Gabriel and Hazel (depending on if you take her or not). That choice and what happens following that is huge.

And while Milo isn't affected by this now, something he does in the future will be a call back to this moment and how the MC responded will be fresh in his mind.

I am so glad you liked it! This was by far the chapter I have been most nervous about given EVERYTHING that went into it. But it makes me so excited for whats to come.

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

        Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi

[libidomechanica]

At the Pelegrini, she reproach, leaning

She broad and moon, and blink in his     functions, a people ignoring in it. That seemd but writ     it; for she take thy bier. And thus, her boy, you have to your     many deaths wound. I to

the terminal In such gentle     streets in other’s stormless show nothing but remove. Yet hangs     like things are forth between two women are for meals. I was     not a sudden a parting

politics of morning delight;     whereby ribbands touch the image in every where before     how the Patrician left-legs, which he foremost firmly     set on Vertues feet. The

tunes, an encore. Life, she loved Mozart     becomes the green and infant’s complain. No, but a waking     hazel bowers, such Consummation that happy therein     blossomed up from human

clay, dove-like life: and I love     in Egypt, one is of my wealth would have you grasp—his army     defeated there some by Jews, how long has he picked from     a branching through the one

look? That dewly adayes counsell     me, and lust, thought, not to learned for he had dated—to     bless that flower, and sinless steel so free or Of course but     prepare those shapes these lines

above us, last assizes     keep this guides. With winged aspect through. Scorched for if they embrace     of too much time—not just as the black and stiles, over the     status as one walked the

wise a day, or his gold. The sun’s,     and to some patience, it shock: his airy harp shall not fooles.     At the Pelegrini, she reproach, leaning. As in     the womb—it is, so the

spoke few words nor me the World—no     Road to give no copy now disjoin, what wicked upon     the snow has learned back again. Turned meadow and silent—     the wing, like a shooting

on her ears, he hugs his owne each     the Sabine how far have market I stand among the glass     on the eavedrops fall, and, your daughter. And I lov’d friend     or to smooth, scarce said, that

hour I die! I love be seen the     messengers through my unkind to master that I may never     lost labour to kill; but once may changing storm and gold     tomb of Tutankhamun.

Full of stair—lean on me, and vows     for the body is, and set me drum for Death nor atom     that’s the lighten in delight, like a weasel on a     suddenly wonder, you can’t

win her fathers smiles of steel by     carry a ten-foot scarf, let Vertue haue so fond kiss the grass     like a comfort still, and gone! Is not a subway railing     fountain on whom pale, lost

for all the morning the cob. To     swerue, my courage earnest eyes holding wretched his     Individual; and, when the hour back if only ones. Thetis     baptized here in the deserve

this demurre our to my eyes,     and so long presence, not copy fairer far into thee     only watching Picnic again and sleep and reading to     act in Sicily all

silenced to do with dread, and sung     their fate: no strong. Because the spies, that I stand my echoing     souls, so the valleys, half wonder is comes too much, as     we once adventures for

moved; they do well, yet I love me;     there he feigneth, looking for giraffes. A turtle built anew,     grows dull red ball above us in the wine. Where the     lay; surely be a

tedious tale o’ lovely be a     fountains; small clouds chase their own crown, still find that we are dead     then calm with its own. Blanc- mange adventurous chatter’d by     a fretful, I hae seen

too barbarous, would not the purple     Tyrant said? The rain, love-distracted on its to invite     all her head and perfect beauties play, and subject their     lips. So you sat beside

me, correspond with knives in the     rack and for fame—a hundred maiden babe, a doubt too he     them both, show what party, juan replied: we scarce avail to     pipe in my poor that scorn.

[sataniicmajesty]

@antlerrd sent,

“ what did you do? ”

gasping, heaving breaths ripped out of unhinged jaws, chest rising and falling with each tattered inhale. stifled oxygen and blood rushing to the head, ears roaring with the force of what he'd done. murky hazel eyes swept the floor, samson's legs twitching and shaking to keep himself upright. his hands were drawn to his chest, palms pressed upward, head tilting down to swallow up the grisly picture facing him. skin slick with streaks of blood, red spattered into fine grooves. beyond his hands laid a body strewn, limbs awkwardly askew and clothes rumpled, head a mass of festering, sputtering gore that didn't even begin to resemble a human being anymore. donald's face was gone, razed by blunt force, the lamp dropped haphazardly at samson's feet. edges covered in blood. he tasted soft daubs of iron in his mouth, scarlet speckles coating his lips and face; white clothes streaked in rich, red rivulets, swashed over soft cotton. each sharp inhale was stricken by hot air, lodged in his throat, thick and swarming. what did you do? what did you do? what did you do? words failed him, rose up and swallowed back down, trickling down and expanding in his chest until he felt like he couldn't even breathe around everything he wanted to say - and yet, nothing faltered past pale lips, teeth dragging against each other as his gaped mouth closed tight. a sickening feeling slopped in his stomach, running over until he felt as though he might start hacking up vomit. nausea swept over him, bile and blood, shaking with adrenaline and nerves and -

satisfaction. gratification. a disturbing sort of indulgence, wrapped through him and spat out in a trembled whisper, sludged accent scratching against his throat. “ i killed him. ” glass stuck in slickened, red skin, heads limply lolling, broken and aching body crawling out of the shattered passenger window. all he'd tasted then was blood, too, spilling down from the nose he'd hardly heard crunch over the last, dying scream of his mother. his father's pale eyes, slackened by death. donald didn't leave behind eyes, though, just the smudged remainder of whatever was left. face beaten in so deeply he lacked a nose, lacked a mouth, lacked anything even remotely identifiable. it probably should've disturbed samson that the grotesque image on the floor hadn't clamped into his mind yet, hadn't even sickened him. rather, this unspeakable act dredged thickets of excitement out of his belly, shaken by the mere wonder of taking a life. perhaps, there was the idea of horror, the acknowledgement of such an idea, but the full force of it never hit him. never sunk sharp teeth in, pulling and tearing. rather, samson found himself warring with the modern concept of humanity, because to kill someone was the ultimate act of rebirth. “ i killed him, ” he repeated. this time it didn't sound like there was horror stuck in his throat, because there never really had been. shock, maybe. but horror was so little a word that samson could truly fathom.

either way, he faltered, legs crumpling up beneath him, collapsing to his knees. blood soaked through white pants as he leaned forward, absorbing the malformed body bent under his hands. he searched out the body's wet clothes for cold skin, feeling the chill bustling under his fingertips. it was invigorating. donald, or what was left of him, became even more blurred and misshapen beyond the emotion clogging samson's eyes. a spiritual re-awakening of sorts, striking him more intensely than any dose of acid ever had. tasteless tabs eclipsed by the shock of iron in his mouth. his jaw unwound, tongue tightening against his next words. “ so this is what it means to truly live. ” a breathed reminder, awe and transcended hope in his voice.

the bloated memory of still-alive donald's revelation hardly flourished, words and reminders slipping away into the recesses of samson's mind. ( “ he's a spy! a pig! we should have him hanged! ” ) he was so preoccupied with exploring the cold bite of donald's body that alexander's presence faded into the background, melding into the cacophony of white noise that surrounded samson. tendrils of the argument faded, obscured beyond the fragments of his evolving mind. he cared little for whether alexander was an officer and more for the fact that he felt like he'd achieved the unachievable. the natural human state of predation. swallowed whole by his desire to replay the event in full. if samson could revive donald and do it all over again, just to feel the lamp bashing into exposed facets of face, he would. by god, he'd do it again. kept his hands all over donald to mop up whatever feeling was left, mouth watering from the sheer brutality this act had demanded, and yet, he felt like he'd passed the final test. samson would abandon his goods, abandon his family, abandon anything and everything if it meant living up to god's image in this way. he would do whatever it took to be his soldier, an archangel of death. azrael embodied, humanity formed. he had finally completed his mission.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

All It Took Was One Look - Chapter 45a

*Warning Adult Content*

Aiden

My heart was beating so hard it was painful.

My grip on Liam's hand tightened but of course being who he was it did faze him a bit.

Holding my breath I watched as Liam pushed open the door.

Forget holding my breath, it caught in my lungs as a sea of faces came into view.

Oh my God... I'm going to die.

Liam had to practically dragged me up to a podium in front of the huge crowd.

Can a person die from sweating too much?

Because I think I'm heading in that direction right now.

I forced my head down and followed Liam reluctantly, peeking up at him under my lashes a few time and saw a blank face and expressionless eyes.

He was pulling this off better than me... that's for sure.

We headed up the stairs of the stage where his parents were at smiling at us.

That made me feel a little better.

Taking his place in front of the podium Liam pulled me close by his side.

I had a sinking feeling as I looked out to see exactly how many faces were here.

'I'm going to throw up,' I thought but Liam's hand tightened in mine as his gaze was staring out into the crowd.

"I've called this meeting to discuss something very important to you all," his voice rang strong and loud and I watched as everyone gave him their undivided attention.

It was amazing to see a whole groups of people of all ages staring up at my boyfriend as if he were king or in this case prince.

I wanted to giggle but I was too scared to do that.

It's one thing to have humans hate your gut because of what you are but a whole different thing having supernatural beings hate you.

They can kill me without breaking a sweat.

'Ugh... What have I gotten myself into?' I scolded myself.

"First I want to start off by saying that I will be taking over my father's position in the next month."

There was an eruption of cheers and claps.

After a while Liam rose his hand to silence them... Instant silence.

"As you all know to get this position you have to have a mate," he paused and I got a bit bold and looked back out to see a lot of people looking over at me with either knowing or confused expressions.

While the others... more of the younger crowd were staring at Liam waiting for him to finish.

I guess the group that had eyes on me knew just like Liam told me they would.

My face was beginning to turn red from the embarrassment.

How would you like it if a whole room of people could smell that you had sex?

"And I have found mine and nothing in this world would make me change what the Spirits have gifted me with."

He turned to face me and I looked up to his 6'2 frame as he gazed down at me with those beautiful soft hazel eyes.

I bit my lip as I stared at him... my heart thumping loudly I'm sure everyone in this room heard.

"Aiden Carlisle has been chosen as my life mate, my other half and I am honored to be his," Liam told his pack but I knew he was mainly talking to me.

There was a sudden knot in my throat but I held it in.

He was really ready to face the wrath of this worlds ignorant assholes for a life with me.

There was a collective gasp and I closed my eyes and awaited the oncoming slaughter that was to befall us.

Liam lifted my chin up with his forefinger and thumb.

I opened my eyes to see him smile encouragingly at me.

"We can do this," he whispered to me and I nodded as my heart became a bit lighter.

He turned back to the room and none to surprising it was filled with loud murmuring as they talked over each other.

"I know this is a shock..." Liam tried to talk but it was to chaotic and I looked up at him worried.

"If we can act civil..." his word were on deaf ears and I could feel him getting frustrated and I squeezed his arm in support.

The uproar was becoming louder, ringing off the walls in the room.

Liam gripped the sides of the podium... the muscles in his arms straining with the amount of force he was putting on the wood... he was going to break it.

He was glaring at the crowd as I looked back at his parents who were staring out with disappointment.

Mr. Jacobs caught my eyes and smiled sympathetically.

This caused me to snap my head back towards the loud angry crowd.

Anger was building up in my chest as I watched them argue and caught a few disgusted stares sent out way.

The weird this was I think a lot of that anger was coming from Liam and channeling inside me.

"Everyone... shut up," I screamed.

My voice rang off through the room causing the room to become quiet.

They were looking up at me in shock.

I took a deep breath as I peered back at Liam, he had a stunned look himself.

But I wasn't finished, I was going to go along with this momentary courage as long as I could.

I stepped around the podium and stared them all down with a look of disappointment.

"So you're all angry about this match?" I asked them my voice traveling across the room.

A lot of them nodded and yelled out in outrage while others just stared.

I didn't wait for them to get started up again.

"That's too damn bad," I cut them off.

"I don't know much about your kind but from what Liam has told me, there is no chose with this. We were meant to be, so what the hell do you think you can do about it?!This is what you're Spirits wanted apparently so are you going to go against what your Goddess or whoever... destined for your Alpha?"

There was silence.

"This is all because I'm a male... I get it. This is all because I can't give this pack an heirs like a woman could and I'm sorry. No one asked for this but you know what? I wouldn't change a thing. Liam has been like an angel to me, helping me though my problems, the same problems that you seem to have with me and I love him for it. I love him with all my heart and I don't care if you ignorant bastards have a shit storm because of it. You can whine and moan about how wrong it is, but to me this is life. This is my life and Liam is my life and I will stand by his side no matter what you throw at me."

I stood there glaring at every shocked and disgusted face.

"So if you have a problem with that you can leave, this is me, your future 'GAY' Luna telling you that if you have a problem with Liam and I being the same gender you can take you worthless ass and get the fuck out. But I'm not sure Alpha Jacobs will be too happy about your blatant disrespect to him and his family. I may not have been here long, only a day but I am tired of the same crap. Of being told I'm an abomination... that I'm going to hell. I'm tired of putting up with all the bullshit being gay comes with and this is where it ends. You will either respect your Alpha and his mate or will not be in this pack and in this house for long," my harsh breath burned my lungs and my vision was blurred with unshed tears.

I felt warm hands placed on my shoulder... I knew it was Liam from the tingles running through me.

He squeezed and the angry haze that clouded my mind soon melted away and I was left with a hundred faces looking at me with wide eyes.

Then everything that just happened shot through my head and my face brightened with humiliation.

I can't believe I did that... I spun on my heels and threw myself in Liam's arms.

He hugged me tightly to his chest as I buried my head in it.

Oh God they were all going to murder me in my sleep.

"If anyone has difficulty understanding my mate's words, it means those of you that have problems with this union are to deal with me and my father," he growled at them and I felt the rumble from his chest against my head.

"So those of you who don't like this can step up now," he ordered.

This caused me to turn my head to see very few members of the pack stepping forward hesitantly.

Most of them were younger members... altogether there were about ten people who didn't seem approve of us... six of them were males... three of which were older with mates of their own.

And one girl who was glaring at us with disgust like the rest of them.

All in all I was shocked... I would have thought since how the whole place became a yelling ground earlier that there would be more.

Liam shook his head at them asked them to wait outside.

"This meeting is dismissed," Liam told them.

They inclined their heads and I saw most of them keeping their eyes from the ten standing by the door as they left.

Liam pulled back grinned down at me.

"You were so damn impressive," he praised and I blushed.

"Thank you."

He lifted me off my feet and twirled me around laughing.

"You are perfect."

He set me down and crashed his lip to mine.

I was caught off guard by his his affection but I wrapped my arms around his neck escaping in his mouth.

"Alright, enough of that, you can take that upstairs."

We pulled apart when Mr. Jacobs interrupted us with a smirk.

Liam and I both blushed deeply as Alpha Jacobs put his hands on my shoulders looking at me with such a proud look I felt a flutter of pride coarse through me.

"You are going to make a damn great Luna Aiden... I can already see it," he smiled at me.

"Really?" I asked and he scoffed.

"Hell yes boy, you changed about more than half the packs mind in the span of two minutes," he commended.

'I did?'

"Welcome to the family Aiden," he told me patting my shoulders and soon Mrs. Jacobs took his place giving me a warm hug.

"I'm so glad my son found you," she whispered in my ear before kissing my cheek.

I watched as they left, walking past the group by the door, who shrank at Mr. Jacobs glare as he motioned them to follow.