#just another wren asked

[tmntaucompetition]

hey mod! would you mind if I drew kadeen coming in and stopping the fight(she's only really here to support Rabbits Broach cause she's not in the comp lol)

Well you should probably ask the main people in the fight first, not me.

[kanansdume]

A Rogue One Everybody Lives AU where Chirrut and Baze end up seeing Sabine on a rebel base one day where she's trying to train with Ezra's lightsaber and just... not doing well. She knew how to use the Darksaber and she'd used Ezra's lightsaber to beat Gar Saxon, but something was just... different this time. Not quite as easy, and she's not sure why. Chirrut can tell she's struggling and, being Chirrut, immediately decides to go over and help. I like to think that both Chirrut and Baze would've probably trained other Guardians in combat sometimes, so this isn't exactly new to them.

Chirrut tells her to stop using the lightsaber for a while and has her go back to using a staff. When she keeps struggling and starts complaining, he forces her to wear a blindfold or a mask or something and she complains that she can't see. Chirrut responds with a totally shocked "Really? I hadn't realized." Sabine is rightly mollified by the gentle reminder.

Chirrut isn't gentle with her, but he's not harsh, either. He doesn't let her get away with being a brat, nor does Baze. He pushes her, refuses to let her wallow in her own feelings for too long. He asks her how old she is once after she gets snippy and when she tells him that she's in her twenties, he tells her he thought she was a teenager and when she responds with an indignant "I'm not a child!" he tells her to stop acting like one.

But he doesn't dismiss her, either. He refuses to just walk away from her or let her walk away from herself. He wasn't a Jedi, he's not Force sensitive, but he's learned to trust in the Force and believe in it. He knew the Jedi, he understood them, and he held similar beliefs and practices from his life as a Guardian. He can tell that Sabine is struggling with some emotion that she's refusing to face and, like Kanan before him, he knows she won't get anywhere until she acknowledges it and overcomes it. He knows she's better than this, knows she can rise above this struggle.

Eventually he gets her to admit that she's still grieving Ezra, still feeling guilty that she was the one who saw him leave to sacrifice himself and chose to distract the others so he could go, still scared that she won't be able to live up to the example he set and the responsibilities he left her with. Only once she's let it all out does he finally let her use the lightsaber again, and this time it doesn't feel quite as heavy. This time it feels more like she remembers it felt when she used it to defeat Gar Saxon so long ago.

And then Baze finds Luke Skywalker and brings him along because he's the only person around who also owns a lightsaber and can spar with Sabine. Sabine beats his ass because poor Luke has gotten next to zero training in how to use it and Sabine now has the chance to pass along some of what she's learned, both from Chirrut and Kanan before him. She doesn't just pass on lightsaber tricks either, she tries to pass on things she heard Kanan teach Ezra, sayings he would repeat every so often to bolster Ezra's confidence, the things he taught HER about facing her fears.

She also conveniently remembers an exercise Kanan had them do with Ezra where they threw fruit at him that Ezra had to block while standing on top of a moving ship and Chirrut and Baze think this is an EXCELLENT idea and are very happy to help set this exercise up for Luke. Luke is perhaps less enthused about it.

Sabine manages to remember Kanan saying "do or do not, there is no try" to Ezra but not knowing what it means and how she and Zeb thought that this was HILARIOUS and it became something of an inside joke between them (they never heard Kanan explain it better once he figured it out), so she passes it on to Luke who also doesn't get it. But then Luke goes to Dagobah and meets Yoda who tells him exactly this and Luke exclaims "Did every Jedi just go around saying this without knowing what it meant?" Yoda probably thwaps him with his cane for that. A few years later, he sees Sabine again after the Empire falls and he tells her that he finally figured out what it means. Sabine asks him to explain it and he tells her it's something everybody has to figure out for themselves. She nearly throttles him. Chirrut and Baze reveal that they knew what it meant the whole time but thought it was funny to watch the two of them struggle over it. Luke and Sabine form a truce immediately in response.

[idk-im-just-here-now]

"Hey, it's April from Queen of the Birds here! I'm goin' around and asking everyone- counselors AND campers- for their groups favorite two or three songs- could also just be a song you relate to!

We usually have karaoke night at our place, so we figured- why not share around the camp?"

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

Nobody else was able to get a song suggestion in because the theater kids got here first.

(And yes I know like maybe 5 musicals so if these are weirdly specific that is why)

[thelamebat]

hey I am. REALLY sorry for the ask

I'm coming from the ROTTMNT font post- is there a way to get the font on ibispaintx that you know of?-

HELLO! dw, i love to help

the links i added have the .ttf of the fonts, thats the raw font file a computer or cellphone uses to display fonts! on computers it needs to be installed to be implemented. i'll be honest, idk how to install fonts to a phone.

i also dont know how ibispaint works, if it reads from its own font pool or the device's fonts. either or, i googled a bit and people say its as easy as importing the .ttf file to ibis paint, others say android has changed and now doesnt allow that. it would require you to find out what you need for your version/device (ibis is on pc? i didnt know!)

(post this refers to)

[ocprompts]

THSNKYOU FOR PROMPTSES

I can rarely ever get started writing so these will help me get SOMETHING out even if it's not lore relevant or anything!!! THANK

always happy to help!

[luveline]

kbd —You gather the family consensus on a fifth baby. mom!reader x dad!Steve, 2k

The first baby you and Steve have is a ringer for him. She’s his copy down to the eyelashes, and she has his good heart. She’s a good sister, a beautiful daughter, and she’s a brilliant student. 

But growing up makes you curious.

“Mom, why are you in the bathroom again?” 

You laugh nervously. “What?” you ask, gaze on your hands. 

“You’ve been in here like ten times today! Are you okay?” 

She sound so, so cute when she’s suspicious. Her voice twists up and her concern feels too big. She knows it’s not normal to go to the bathroom this many times and she’s clearly not okay with this new development. 

She knocks the door hard. “Do you need me to get dad?” 

You open the door and pull her in quickly. She giggles, startled to be grabbed and put on the counter, her hair falling into her eyes the same wavy pattern as her dads. He’s got strong genes. Steve stamps the kids as Harrington’s, all except your Beth, who looks just like you. 

“Mom, what the heck is going on?” 

“I’m gonna ask you a huge question and you have to tell me your first answer. Don’t worry about anything else. Be honest, okay?” 

“Okay. You’re making me nervous.” 

You show her your pregnancy test. “You know what this means?” 

She wrinkles her nose. “Did you pee on that?” 

“I did. Babe, do you know what that means, though?” 

“You’re having another baby?” Avery guesses. You go quiet. She beams at you. “Wait! Wait, mom, are you having another baby?” 

“I don’t know yet.” One positive test and six negatives makes you think it was a mistake, but you’ve been pregnant four times before. You’re starting to feel like an expert. “If I did have another baby, what would you think?” 

She tips her head back. You put the test aside and take her smaller hands into yours. She’s so pretty, all your babies are beautiful, and they’re all so special, and maybe you do want another one. Is that crazy? 

You nibble your lip as Avery thinks. 

“Well, we need a bigger house.” 

You nod agreeably. “We do.” 

“I love being a big sister.” 

“You’re the best one there ever was.” 

Avery holds your hands back, still smiling. “Well, mommy, I think it’s good. Then I will have four sisters. That’s even more than Stacey K.” 

You look her dead in the eye, but it’s all love pouring between you both. “So if mommy wants to have another baby, that’s okay? You’d be happy?” 

Avery puckers for a kiss, which you give. You wrap your arms around her and push her head into your neck. “Have another baby if you want, mommy,” she says, laughing, “I love babies. Um, most of the time. More now you got us the sound machine.” 

“Avery… don’t tell anybody, okay? Can we keep this our secret? I don’t know if I’m gonna have another one yet. I need to make sure everyone’s happy first.” 

Avery pats your back. It’s adorable. “Sure, mommy.” 

You ask Beth, next. Stealing her away from her colouring sometime later that day, you pull your second eldest against your chest outside in the back yard and watch the clouds move in the sky as it changes from blue to carnation pink. “Bubby?” 

“Yeah?” Beth asks. 

“Can I ask you a secret question?” 

“Yes.” She looks away from the sky. “Why?” 

“Because I care about what you think, okay?” 

“I know.” 

You ask Beth if another baby would be too many. She says no. She says she needs a brother, maybe twins if you can manage it, but it’s fine if you can’t. You kiss her cheek and spend another ten minutes with her staring up at the changing colours.

The first test being positive rocked your world. You were happy, but shocked to find yourself grinning at the two pink lines, because you thought four was enough. There’s a few years between each of your girls and you’d never expect to be pregnant again so soon after the last —you and Steve had one good night a fortnight ago. Wren’s not even a year old. 

Why do you want another baby so badly? 

You kiss Beth again. You love your kids, and you finally, finally got that promotion at work, and you’d been thinking about moving anyway, because two of the girls are sharing a room. You didn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting your sentimental husband before it was necessary. All your babies grew up here. This is where you and Steve started your life, and it’s never perfect but it’s amazing, and he’ll not want to leave it. 

He would be much happier if you left to make room for another baby, though. 

If you ask Dove what she thinks, she’ll probably say yes and grumble, and then spill the secret, so you don’t ask, but you watch her carefully for a while when Steve demands you and Beth come back inside. 

You let Beth run off and sit down. 

“You’ll catch a bug,” he says, leaning over your seat at the kitchen table to kiss your cheek. “You’re already freezing.” 

“We were watching the sun go down.” 

“Watch from the window.” He squints at you, his arms wrapping around your front. “Something wrong?” 

“No.”

“Okay, liar.” He taps your chin until you lift it and kisses you soundly. “It’s a good thing you’re this beautiful. You wouldn’t get away with your shit if you weren’t.” 

“My shit.” 

He grins into another kiss. “Sorry,” he says, kissing you softly. “I’m kidding, I love you, don’t frown at me.” 

You entrap him for a skewiff hug. He couldn’t be more eager, nosing at your cheek, the baby and Dove giggling at something where they sit at the table eating skinny banana slices. 

“They’re like us,” Steve says, following your gaze, “best friends.” 

You push him away from you gently. “Shush. Don’t you have stuff to do?” 

“I bet you think so. But no, I don’t, I’ve done everything.” 

Four kids is a lot, and somehow you and Steve have gotten really, really good at being their parents. You have four healthy, happy girls, with all the food they could ever eat and more princess dresses than they could ever wear. Now it’s six thirty on a Saturday and all that’s left to do is watch some TV. 

Maybe you’re an idiot to mess this up. 

“I need to pee really badly, so watch the baby.” 

“Jerk,” you say. You do not need to be told to watch your own baby. 

He snickers as he leaves. 

It was the high of the test. That first positive test was just a shock, is all. Your life is perfect now, nothing needs to change, because Steve loves you more and more everyday, and you adore him —you’d do anything for him and your girls. You and Steve would treasure another baby, but some things aren’t meant to be. 

But– but you could have another one. So you’re not pregnant right now, so what? Steve would have another baby with you if you asked. He’d probably spin you around in circles and call you the best, sweetest woman alive. You could spend the next nine months on the couch and he’d still think that way. 

“Baby?” Steve calls. 

“What, dad?” Bethie asks. 

“Not you, baby. Mommy, can you come here?” 

Your system gets another shock. Shit, the bathroom. 

You grab Wren to her horror and Dove’s jealousy and chug her along to the bathroom. You could’ve left her in her high chair, but soft bananas are a scary task for an unsupervised baby who eats mash for every meal.

Steve’s waiting in the doorway. It’s a small bathroom, and you can see as quickly as he can the mess of pregnancy strip tests you left on top of the bathroom trash can. There’s two in his hand. 

“Steve, I was gonna tell you about it,” you say, frowning. 

He frowns back. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Really. I mean, obviously I would have,” —you tell each other everything— “but I was trying to work out how I feel, and the girls too. Avery always wants more sisters and Beth said she wants a brother and–” You smile. “I know I said we were done having babies for a while, if ever again, I know that was me, but when I thought I was pregnant again I got this rush of happiness going through me like a wave.” You shift Wren and her frowning higher up your chest. She’s appeased by a quick kiss pressed to the top of her head. “I don’t know why but I think I really want another baby.” 

He leans against the doorway, his arms crossing, with a strange expression playing on his mouth. 

“You can probably tell. I took like, twenty tests,” you exaggerate, embarrassed by your impromptu speech. “I kept hoping they’d come up positive. I got one positive first and the rest were negative, so I guess it was just a fluke.” 

“Ohhh,” he says, smiling around it. “Oh, that makes more sense.” 

“What makes sense?” 

“I think they just needed a little more time to cook, honey. They’re all positive.” He isn’t good at hiding how happy he feels. “You really want another one?” 

He’s achingly hopeful. 

You close the gap between you to lean on him and check the tests. “It must be super early,” Steve murmurs. 

“Well, it was only two and a half weeks ago,” you murmur back, seeing the double pink lines for yourself. Both tests are positive. “The ones in there, they’re…” 

“They’re all positive. When was the last time you had your eyes tested?”

“It was dark in there,” you joke, not sure what to say, even as a crest of pure joy begins to rise through your entire body. Your hands hum. 

“You want another baby?” he asks, pulling you tightly against him. “Then let’s have another baby. Let’s do it. You can have everything you want.” 

You stare at him. 

He nods. “We can do it. Let’s have another baby.” 

Heat in your eyes, the barest line of tears in your waterline as you give him a one-armed hug. “You want to?” you ask. 

He breathes out by your ear. “That’s a dumb question. And it’s pretty good luck, right? I mean, we weren’t trying, I didn’t even know you wanted another one, so for it to catch…” He does that groaning pleased thing where he buries his nose against the side of your face. 

“I didn’t know until the test was in my hand.” 

He laughs happily into your skin before he pulls away. He kisses you, he kisses Wren, and he flicks your tummy gently. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of Harringtons.” 

You get another loving kiss for all your efforts. “Steve?” you ask, eyes still closed, his face hovering just an inch away from your own. 

“What, honey?” He says it like light of my life, angel, sweetheart, all the devotion you're used to. 

“We’re probably gonna have to move.” 

“Are you kidding? I already figured it all out. We’re gonna convert the attic.” 

You laugh as he dots a kiss against your cheek. “We are?” 

“I got a quote a couple of months ago, I figured if Beth and Avery got too picky we could give Avery a new room upstairs. But it’ll still work, don’t you think?” 

You finally descend into giggly happy tears and Steve pretends he’s immune, but you hear him sniffing as you stroke Wren's chubby cheek with your finger. “What do you think, sweetheart?” you ask softly. “Do you want a baby sister? How about a brother? What are you thinking?” 

She gurgles her own laugh. “Da,” she says, pointing at Steve like he’s funny. 

“Do I get to decide?” Steve asks her, gasping happily. 

Steve has a lot more to say about it all later that night when the kids are sleeping, baby Wren on his chest, just for an hour before you both sleep too. 

He starts with asking if you’re sure, which you are for now, then the scary stuff, because you got really exhausted last time and it’s not going to be easier. He talks so much and you just lay there, in awe, because he means what he told you. You can have everything you want. Steve’s gonna make sure of it. 

“I’ll get you some prenatals in the morning, okay?” he promises, stroking hearts into Wren’s sleeping back. 

You shift over the pillow to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, H. I love you.” 

“I love you so much I don’t think you get it,” he says, tipping his head your way.

But you do. It’s why five kids feels like a gift, and not a curse. You get how much he loves you. 

[daycourtofficial]

Bad Idea

Summary: feeling a bit neglected by your mate, you decide to try to make him jealous by dancing with another male. Very little plot, mostly just smut ngl.

Warnings: Azriel is a mean dom, so uh literally.. spanking, cockwarming, degradation, light choking.

Author’s note: fuck it, I want jealous Az, and dammit I’ll have jealous Az. Also I’m headcannoning that Az wears boxer briefs idk why I feel like he’d like the sleekness of them.

-

You knew it was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid idea. You couldn’t help yourself, though. Your mate had been gone all week on a mission, his return culminating in everyone at Rita’s - dancing, drinking, having a good time.

Your mate kept talking to his brothers, hardly passing you a second glance when a male approached you at the bar. You looked to see if he’d noticed, and growing tired of his lack of attention, you decided to indulge the man at the bar. Truth be told, the man wasn’t really interested in you. You two struck up a conversation about your shoes, leading you to discussing your own mates.

Wren, he told you, was here because he loved dancing, but his mate did not. You could understand the sentiment, the same opinions being held by you and your mate. So you asked Wren to dance and made your way to the dance floor.

You danced for what felt like hours with Wren, having an incredible time. Lost in the music, through the haze of alcohol, it was easy to push aside your feelings of neglect. Every so often you’d look towards your mate, only to find him looking elsewhere. You and Wren left the dancefloor for some water, him telling you he should be on his way home. You bid each other farewell, and you realize your mate is nowhere to be found.

You stumbled home, forgoing your heels a block from Rita’s. The house is dark, not a single light on inside. You roll your eyes walking up the steps to your door, assuming Azriel was still speaking with Rhys and Cassian somewhere.

You slipped through your house, tossing your shoes on the floor as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom. You pushed open your bedroom door, closing it softly behind you. You pad through the room, reaching to unzip your top when a heavy weight presses into your back, pushing your front into the wall.

You start to scream, but a scarred hand wraps around your mouth. The force has your hands above your head with one hand, your mouth covered with the other.

“That’s no way to greet me, my love.”

Your mate’s voice eases the primal fear deep within you, but the tone of his voice causes a new fear to ripple through you.

“In fact,” he says, his whisper sending chills down your spine, “nothing you did tonight was an appropriate way to greet your mate after a week away.”

You muffle some sounds, trying to explain to him that he wasn’t even looking at you for most of the night, but he keeps his hand steady on your mouth, curling some fingers around your jaw to keep it locked in place.

His wings wrap around both of you, coccooning you from the world, as if his next words were meant only for the two of you.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, “my mate, my wife, my soul.”

He releases your hands, but the loss of contact is quickly replaced by his shadows holding your hands together.

“I’ll spend however long it takes to remind you of that fact, until you’re so fucked out you’re just left a drooling, twitching mess.”

He releases you from the wall, your weight sagging from him holding you up, but before you can fall, he holds you around the hips, dragging you to the bed. His shadows were in a frenzy around you, and he pushes you down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

“I’m not the only one possessive of you,” he says, as shadows start swirling around your legs, your arms, your waist, your neck. You tried to lift yourself up, but they held you down. Azriel turned, walking to the bar cart you two kept in your room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as his shadows held you down.

“They were so upset with you,” he says, the whiskey coming close to his lips. “They wanted me to make a big show in Rita’s about who you belong to, but I told them to wait, and I’d let them have their fun.”

Two shadows traveled up your thighs, and your eyes widen, remembering what’s underneath your skirt.

“Don’t worry,” he drawls, sitting in his leather chair to have an unobstructed view of you. A shadow swirls behind your back, unzipping your top and pulling it off of you. They do the same with your skirt, but they leave your overly optimistic crotchless panties and matching bra on. “I’ll make my way to you, eventually.”

Your mate tsks as he looks at you, his shadows holding you down so you can’t move. They start touching your entrance, their cool, airy touch leaving you needing more.

He stands a few feet away from you, his drink in his hand as he watches his shadows hold you in place to keep you from squirming. Your back arches as they snuck under your bra, pinching your nipples. He chuckles into his drink as a few shadows start circling your clit, your moans a clear indication of how good they feel against you.

His shadows found their way in your shared bed, usually assisting Azriel in touching you or holding you down. On rare occasions such as this, Azriel lets them do as they please, allowing them to lay as much claim to you as he does.

It was euphoric the way they caressed against your exposed skin, never staying still. They whirled and swirled up your legs, your arms, through your hair, around your waist, your breasts. They were enjoying this time with you.

Azriel walks over to the bed, lust coating his eyes and his scent as he asks, “had enough yet?”

You open your mouth to speak, but some shadows circle your neck, applying a light pressure so you can’t speak. Your futile attempts to respond cause him to smirk and in a flash the shadows have stopped roaming your body. Your skin warms at the loss of their cool touch, and you start to move your arms when scarred hands replace the shadows, keeping a harsh grip on your wrists.

He leans down, practically laying on top of you as he leans in and tells you, “undress me.”

Your thoughts still, that need for his skin coming back to you. You sit up immediately, reaching to unbutton his shirt, but he stops you.

“Undress me without touching my skin.”

You whine at your mate knowing exactly why you did everything that led you here. You sit up, hands shaking as you unbutton his shirt. He even turns around so you can undo the buttons underneath his wings. You can’t stop yourself from staring at them, their veins just calling out to you to stroke them, that one spot that you know drives him wild calling to you like a siren.

He chuckles at how long you’ve spent observing him, your eyes taking in every inch of his back. The toned muscles, the tattoos on his upper back, the spot where his back meets the wings.

You find yourself starting to reach out, your fingers inches from his wing when he clears his throat.

“I’m still wearing pants,” he says, in an unimpressed tone. You gasp, the trance on his wings broken as he turns around, allowing you access to his front.

Your eyes roam his torso, the tattoos on the front completing the shapes from the back. You watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes, as your eyes get caught on that line of hair that delves into his pants.

You reach a hand out to undo the laces of his pants, your hands shaking a bit as you do so. From need for him and from fear of punishment if you break another rule, you’re not sure which is influencing the shaking of your hands more.

You take a deep breath as your hands find the top of his pants, taking extra care to avoid his skin. You start pulling his pants down, receiving no help from your mate until they are around his ankles and he steps out of them.

You look at him, standing there in his black boxer briefs, practically drooling thinking about what lays underneath them. You’re gazing at his thighs, looking at the toned muscles he trains every day. He flexes a little at your gaze and you gasp at the movement.

The urge to run your hands up and down his thighs is taking over your senses, until his hand grabs your jaw, moving your gaze to look at his clothed hardened length.

His silent command gets you moving again, and you grab the waistband of his undershorts, pulling them down, taking care as it moves over his length.

His hard cock springs up, hitting his abdomen as it’s freed. You moan at the sight of it, but continue your quest to pull them all the way down. He steps out of them again, and moves to the side of you to lay down on the bed.

He lays there for a beat, his Adonis-like stature warming you from the inside. He grabs your waist, moving each of your legs to straddle him, but keeping you about a foot away from him.

He lines up his hard cock to your entrance, leaving you to hover a few inches away from him. You moan, needing him to let you slide onto him, needing him inside you.

“P-please,” you moan, practically drooling at the sight of the pre-cum spreading down him. He purrs, “My greedy little mate needs my cock, does she?”

You nod your head, but he tuts at you. “Use your words.”

You look at him, his teasing smirk telling you just how much he’s enjoying this. “Can I p-please sit on your cock, feel you inside of me?”

His smirk deepens, and he tells you to go ahead. You start sliding him into you, moaning at the way he’s stretching you. He’s still keeping you in place with his hands, and he helps you guide down onto him.

Once you feel him completely fill you up, you start to move, only to be held back. His hands keep you still, not allowing you to budge. You whine, needing to ride him, needing to fill him pumping in and out of you. He sees how desperately you need him and smiles.

“But darling, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

It’s too much, you need to move. His hands were pressed so hard into your hips, keeping you both in place and keeping himself as deep into you as possible. You can feel them digging into your skin, leaving perfect finger shaped bruises to be found tomorrow.

You could have been sitting there for minutes or days and you’d have no clue. Time crept on, your mate keeping you in the same spot, despite your whining and pleading.

His shadows kept busy, keeping a hold on your hands behind your back, but also by circling your nipples, pinching you. They continued swirling up your thighs, enjoying overstimulating you.

The stimulation becomes too much, with tears eventually leaking down your face, which the shadows gently caress away. Azriel finally speaks, his long silence another form of punishment. His words are usually full of praise for you, except for when you misbehave.

“Now, why am I doing this to you?” He asks, looking into your face.

“Because I was a bad girl.”

He spanks you, hard, the action startling a whimper out of you. His hand rests back on your hips, keeping you in place. “Tell me every bad thing you did tonight.”

And so you did, each action earning a swift slap on your ass.

“I left you to go to the bar by myself.”

Spank.

“I talked to another male.”

Spank.

“I danced with another male.”

Spank.

In between each confession, he held tightly to your ass, rubbing the pain in. At this rate, you’ll hardly be able to sit tomorrow without feeling the sting of this punishment.

After finally reaching the point of the night where you had greeted him with a shriek, the tears were streaming down your face, your ass covered in his hand prints.

“Now, who do you belong to?”

“You.” You tell him, tears clouding your vision. “I won’t disobey you again.”

He chuckles lowly, “oh I know you won’t.” He lifts you off of himself, a whine coming from you as he pulls you off his cock. “Now you’ve made quite a mess on me,” you look down, his thighs and cock covered in a sheen of your juices. “Clean it up.”

Hands still behind your back, you lean forward, licking his thighs, tasting yourself mixed with his sweat.

“Can you taste the desperation?”

You whine, as he holds your head down to his thighs. After successfully cleaning both of his thighs, he guides your head right in front of his cock, the tip mere inches from your mouth.

You’re staring at it, needing it inside you, watching pre-cum leak out of the tip, when he laughs at you.

“Drooling over my cock already?”

You blush, not realizing you had actually drooled over the appendage in front of you.

“Do you want a taste?” He asks, and you nod vigorously. “Stick out your tongue,” he tells you, and you immediately obey. He allows you to roam his cock with your tongue, tasting both of your juices mixed together.

“Put me in your mouth.”

You open your mouth, allowing him entry, and he immediately begins pushing in and out of you. He grabs your hair, holding you in place. You look up at him and he makes direct eye contact with you as he pushes himself as far into your mouth as he can go. He tells you, “I’m going to cum in your mouth, but you’re not allowed to swallow it. Got it?”

He pulls a little harder on your hair to tell you he’s serious. His shadows hold you in place as he fucks your mouth, until you feel him pick up the pace.

After a minute of his intense thrusting, he’s cumming in your mouth, his hot seed shooting into your throat.

“Now open.” He tells you, and when you open your mouth, he smirks at the semen in your mouth. Before you realize it, he spits in your mouth and tells you to close it.

“Now,” he tells you, his face right in front of yours, “no swallowing. I want you to be full from my cum in your mouth and your cunt, in hopes you can get it through your dumb little head that you belong to me.”

He’s pushed you onto your back and has slid back into you. An attempt at a moan comes out but is blocked by the semen in your mouth.

He chuckles, “you don’t want to know what will happen if you swallow before I tell you to.”

He starts pumping into you, filling you with his cock. He’s thrusting in and out of you, and you’re not sure you can take anymore when he moves a hand down and begins fingering you.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back in pleasure, unable to moan because of the cum in your mouth. You’re getting close, all of his attention and teasing being too much. You feel it building for both you and your mate. You know he’s close, his speed increasing drastically.

“You’re going to swallow right as I cum in you. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for one minute?”

You nod your head yes, but the ecstasy you feel is making thoughts incredibly difficult. He wraps a hand around your throat, his thumb stroking the front of your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

It all happens so fast. You swallow the mixture of spit and cum, the salty tang sliding down your throat. Azriel finishes inside of you, his cum filling you up triggering you to finish.

You lay there, him on top of you. Both of you are panting, unable to form thoughts or words to describe what just happened. Azriel rolls off of you, moving to your side.

He strokes your cheek and asks, “You okay?”

Your hand slowly rises to his field of vision, and you give a thumbs up. He laughs, caressing your face before getting up and getting you a rag. He comes back, helping you clean up while you’re half asleep.

“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” you tell him, falling asleep as he discards the washcloth and crawls into bed with you, wrapping you into his arms.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Alex: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [wheeeeeeze] Byrd: Woah, lady-.. I know karate! Wren: No, you don’t. Byrd: [whispers] She doesn’t need to know that. Wren: It’s Alex, dipshit. Byrd: Ohhh-.. wait, really? Wren: Sure looks like her.

Alex: Oh my god, I found you-.. and I followed your CAT! I missed you so much!! I hope you’re not mad at me-.. I’m so SO sorry for not writing! I thought I was being organised by printing some labels out to save time, y’know? But then I forgot them at home when we went to my uncles and dad said we’d only be gone for a month, so I figured it wasn’t a huge deal, but then we stayed for what felt like it’d be FOREVER and I couldn’t for the life of me remember your address which is ridiculous ‘cause I SHOULD’VE had it memorised by now and I felt so awful as the months passed. I tried to remember it a couple times but you never wrote back so I figured I obviously got it wrong-.. then I tried finding your house on a stupid online map but the internet was crappy at best and the Bay is WAY bigger than I thought it’d be and I’ve never really seen your house in full view from the street either so, like.. I barely knew what I was looking for, and what if that camera car didn’t even map your house, y’know?!

Ava: That was.. a lot. Alex: Sorry-.. you’re not mad, are you? [Robin shook his head and took a breath, but nothing came out] Wren: Oop. Byrd: Yeah, I think he broke. Ava: Ooh, do you know sign language? Alex: No-.. I totally should’ve learnt! I guess I didn’t know I’d be coming here though… Byrd: I can teach you! Well, some, I’m still learning, but Robin knows a bunch. Ava: He’s not mad, by the way. He was just worried. [Robin shot his younger siblings a look, fruitlessly warning them not to embarrass him] Byrd: I’m sure he’d say hi, if he could. Wren: I bet he’d say you look pretty too. Byrd: He’s been extra mopey without your letters-.. or maybe that’s just what puberty does. Ava: He has to wear deodorant now, otherwise he STINKS! Wren: You should stay for supper, dad’s baking something.. again. Alex: Ough.. I was supposed to be home ages ago, dad’ll kill me.. wait, what school do you go to?! Byrd: Bay C-… Wren: Not us-.. he goes to Copperdale. Alex: Ohh, yay! I promised dad I’d finally unpack tomorrow but the day after that is Monday, right? Wren: Well done. Alex: Okay-.. ahhhh! SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!

…

[Robin deflated as soon as Alex liberated him from another bear hug and sped off, releasing a breath he’d kept tucked beneath his ribs for an uncomfortably lengthy amount of time] Robin: Ouuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Robin: Why-.. why am I like this? Wren: You’ll spew something out eventually. Oscar: Alright losers, pie’s-.. what’s up with him? Robin: I’m fucking BROKEN. Wren: I mean.. you’re a little fucked, but still good! Oscar: Quit it with the swearing-.. what happened? Wren: Alex showed up n’ he broke. Robin: I didn’t even get to say hi or ask why she’s here, or for how long-.. and you just had to be embarrassing! Oscar: What’d she say? Robin: She said Alex was pretty on my behalf and I’ve never said that and she’s a DICK! Oscar: That’s tame-.. for Wren. Robin: I hate you all right now. Wren: Not as much as you hate yourself. Oscar: Hey, too much! Robin, c’mon-… Robin: SHUT UP! Oscar: Right, you’re on dish duty. Wren: Seriously?! Oscar: You reap what you sow, honey.

[childrenofcain-if]

AS THE WREN SHEDS HER FEATHER (ELIAS’S POV AFTER SEEING YOU OFF TO UNIVERSITY)

one of the servants unlocked the door to the manor and elias stepped inside, the peculiar quietness pressing down on him like an unexpected weight. it was strange—to be met with silence when he expected his little apple to come bounding downstairs or to be already lounging in the living room to greet him. he thought he’d have an easier time getting used to it, but now? he wasn’t so sure.

elias handed his tailor-made suit jacket to another servant, glancing at the framed picture on one of the mantles near the fireplace: you, as a young kid, perched on his shoulders, a grin lighting up your face. your mother’s arm is looped around his, a laugh in her eyes so identical to yours as she holds onto the two of you.

he could remember the day that picture was taken, but it wasn’t enough—just memories which grow blurry each day. so he went to his study, where he kept the home videos. the cabinet was hidden behind a stack of old books, almost as though he’d been trying to bury it. but tonight, with you miles away at yale and his heart feeling like it was suddenly too big and too heavy for his chest, he wanted to see her. he wanted to see both of you.

after a few minutes of sorting through the SD cards, he found one simply labeled, “to be remembered.” he slid it into the player, and the screen flickered, a bit staticky, before the familiar image of the manor’s living room filled the screen.

the camera was shaky at first, moving around as your mother laughed, “elias, you’re terrible at this. here, let me…” her hand appeared in the frame, reaching for the camera.

“no way!” elias’s voice, younger and far more cheery, filled with laughter, protested from behind the camera. “i’m the cameraman. you, mijn liefje, are the star.”

“oh, so you just get to sit back and watch, huh?” she teased with a fond roll of her eyes.

the camera settled, a little less wobbly, as elias zoomed in on you, toddling around with your hands outstretched for balance, your whole face lit up with excitement. you must have been barely two, still unsteady on your feet, wobbling a little as you reached for her.

“come here, sweetheart,” she said, crouching down to your level, arms open. “you can do it, just a few more steps.”

elias chuckled as he watched her coax you forward, a surge of warmth flooding his chest. he remembered how her face would soften every time she looked at you, the way her eyes would light up. and then he saw it again—how she laughed when you finally tumbled forward into her arms, her joy bubbling over.

the tape lurched forward in fits and starts, as if elias had just recorded whatever seemed meaningful at the time without thinking about how it would piece together later. the screen shifted to a birthday, candles on a homemade cake—your fifth birthday. you were wearing a crown made of a long balloon that you’d insisted on, sitting cross-legged at the table, and there were flecks of icing smudged on your cheeks. your mother was holding the cake, careful to keep it level, beaming as she leaned toward you.

“go on, make a wish!” she encouraged.

you closed your eyes so tightly, putting your hands together with exaggerated seriousness, lips moving silently as if asking the universe for something only a child could imagine. then, with a deep breath, you blew out all the candles in one go. the room erupted in cheers—your mother, your father, your kindergarten classmates, even some of elias’s business partners they’d invited over that day.

“what’d you wish for, apple?” elias’s voice asked from behind the camera.

“i can’t tell you, dada, or it won’t come true,” you said, grinning, eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

the camera lingered on your face, the pure joy and belief shining in your eyes. elias could remember how the moment felt then, with both of you so young and so certain that everything good could be held together just by love and laughter. he felt a pang in his chest, a memory too nostalgic to hold without pain.

the video cut to the christmas morning of 2009—your mother was filming this time, narrating with a chuckle as she zoomed in on the chaos of ripped wrapping paper and new toys scattered across the floor.

“look at this mess! who do you think is going to clean all this up?” she asked, mockingly stern, zooming in on you hiding behind the couch.

“dada!” you’d shouted, giggling as you peeked out from your hiding spot.

“wow, selling me out, huh?” elias’s younger self chuckled as he leaned into the frame, pretending to growl and chasing you around as you giggle and try to run away from him.

the frame then jumps to another clip of you in the center of the frame, small and wide-eyed, your tiny hands busy, your concentration fixed on hanging ornaments on the lower half of the tree. you were talking to yourself in that way only small children do, a quiet monologue about which ornaments went where and how important it was that they were balanced just right.

“that’s the glittery one!” your mother’s voice came through, rich with warmth and humor. the camera wobbled slightly as she adjusted the focus, trying to capture your handiwork up close. “are you sure it should go there?”

“mama,” you said, in that exasperated tone only a preschooler could muster, “i know where it goes.”

“oh, i see,” she laughed, the sound a warm, gentle ripple through the screen. she shifted the camera to capture elias as he stepped in, feigning seriousness, hands on his hips.

“is the decorating committee open to suggestions?” he asked, crouching down to your level with a grin.

“no,” you replied without missing a beat, making him chuckle.

he then reached over, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion, swinging you in a wide circle. you shrieked with delight, half trying to wriggle free, half clinging to him.

in the background, your mother could be heard laughing too, her voice just as bright and full of love as your giggles. as he lowered you back down, she moved closer, still holding the camera as she leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“who’s the little ornament expert now?” she murmured, voice so close, so impossibly tender. she kissed you on one cheek, and elias joined in, kissing you on the other, making you squirm between them, giggling with each kiss.

“stop, stop!” you squealed, caught between pushing them away and clinging to them. “you’re both squishing me!”

“we just can’t help it,” your mother said, a soft laugh trailing off as she kissed you again. “you’re so loved, my sweet baby, you know that?”

elias’s voice was quieter but equally warm as he added, “we love you so, so much, little apple. more than anything.”

he pressed another kiss to your cheek, lingering, his voice almost catching, as if he was holding onto the moment where he truly felt like he was the richest man on earth.

elias hit pause. the screen froze on her face—her smile bright, eyes crinkling at the edges. he swallowed hard, feeling the tears well up before he could stop them. the years had done nothing to soften the edges of her absence. the house still echoed with her laugh some days, in small ways that felt like nothing and everything. he let the tears fall, a quiet acceptance of how deeply he still missed her.

finally, he pressed play again, as if he couldn’t bear to stop watching. he watched you grow through that grainy screen: you with your first lost tooth, your first day at school, your proud insistence on making dinner—omelette burnt to a crisp that elias and your mother had eaten anyway, praising every bite.

and then the last video came, a quiet day at the beach. the camera showed you and your mother on the sand, the waves lapping at your feet. she held your hand as the wind whipped through her hair, her smile soft and quiet as she watched you point excitedly at the seagulls swooping overhead. she bent down, saying something to you that he couldn’t quite hear over the sound of the waves, but he remembered the feeling of that day, of everything feeling just right in that one moment, sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of color.

he watched as the sun began to sink lower in the video, casting a warm orange glow across the sand. and then she looked back at the camera, at him, her gorgeous eyes meeting his through the lens.

“come here, darling,” she called, beckoning him with a smile.

the camera dropped slightly as he walked toward her, and for a moment, all that was visible on the screen was a blur of sky and sand. then he set the camera down in the sand, angled just so, and the three of you were together, laughing as you stood side by side, the waves lapping at your ankles, the horizon stretching endlessly behind you.

and then, just like that, the tape ran out, the screen going to static.

elias sat there in the silence, his chest tight, the memories pressing in on him, so beautiful and aching all at once. he hadn’t let himself revisit these moments in years, too afraid of what they’d stir up, but now the memories felt as vital as air. he could almost hear her voice, feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder, see the way her eyes had softened every time she looked at you both.

he leaned back in his chair, one hand covering his mouth as he closed his eyes, letting the repressed emotions wash over him. the tears spilled over, hot and unbidden, the kind that left him feeling vacant and full at the same time.

he never cried in front of you like this, too afraid that it’d break the fragile tape that held the dam of your devastation upright. but now, elias didn’t even try to wipe the tears away. he let himself feel it all, the bittersweet ache of love and loss, the memories that filled the empty spaces your mother had left behind.

the silence seemed different now though, less hollow, filled with echoes of laughter and whispers of promises he’d made, long ago, to keep always keep going—for you, and for her.

[austinswife]

PRANKS DAY — Austin Butler

FROM SERIES — THE BUTLER FAMILY CHRONICLES

SYNOPSIS — Life with Austin Butler has been nothing short of adventurous. Married with a beautiful two-year-old daughter, Wren, you and Austin share a loving relationship built on playfulness, deep affection, and a lot of laughter. One afternoon, while preparing for a photoshoot, you decide to prank Austin by asking him to leave the room while you change. This simple request spirals into a hilarious back-and-forth filled with tender moments, teasing, and the deep love you both share. But when you slip off your wedding and engagement rings, Austin’s playful tone turns serious as he worries he’s done something wrong, setting the stage for an adorable and heartfelt resolution.

WARNING(S) — Fluff, mild nudity references, childbirth mentioned, playful tension.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION, REQUEST — TO AUSTINSWIFE

It was one of those lazy, warm afternoons where everything in the house moved just a little slower. Sunlight poured through the large bay windows of your bedroom, dappling across the floor in soft, golden patches. You stood in front of the mirror, shifting through a heap of clothes laid out on the bed, trying to decide on an outfit for an upcoming photoshoot. Meanwhile, your two-year-old daughter, Wren, was bouncing between playing with her stuffed bunny and babbling to herself—seemingly in her own little world.

Austin was on the bed behind you, lying on his back with one leg hanging off the edge, scrolling through his phone in his signature relaxed, slightly-too-cool-for-anything posture. His tousled blonde hair framed his face in soft waves, and every now and then, you’d catch him glancing up from his screen to look at you with that boyish grin he always had, the one that never failed to make your heart do a little flip.

You caught his eye in the mirror and smirked. The idea of stirring things up hit you, because, really, Austin was way too comfortable right now.

“Hey, babe,” you called out casually, holding a top up against yourself and pretending to examine it in the mirror. “Can you leave the room for a sec? I need to change.”

You could feel his gaze snap up, immediately puzzled by your odd request. Austin sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion.

“Leave the room?” he repeated, voice dripping with disbelief. “Why would I leave? What, have you gotten shy all of a sudden?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, tossing the top onto the bed and picking up another. “I just need some privacy. No big deal.”

Austin’s eyes narrowed playfully as he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, clearly intrigued by your sudden demand for privacy. He crossed the room slowly, that easy smile tugging at his lips.

“Babe, I’ve seen you naked, like… a million times,” he said, drawing out the words as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Privacy doesn’t exist between us anymore.”

You turned your back to him, pretending to concentrate on a dress you’d picked up, but really, you were trying not to laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I want some mystery back.”

“Mystery?” Austin echoed, incredulous. You could hear the smile in his voice as he stepped closer. “Pretty sure we left the mystery behind when we had a kid. I saw you give birth, babe. There is no mystery.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin. “That was different.”

Austin let out a soft chuckle as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Different? How is it different?”

You leaned back into his embrace, your body relaxing against his even as you tried to maintain the charade. “Because… that was a medical thing. This is just me changing.”

Austin nuzzled your neck, his breath warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite yourself. “You’re saying you’re shy now?” he teased, his lips brushing just below your ear. “With me?”

You could feel the laughter bubbling up in your chest, but you pushed it down. “Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He pulled back, clearly delighted by this game, though you could sense he was becoming more curious by the second. “You know I’m not leaving, right? I love watching you change.”

You turned in his arms, raising an eyebrow as if his statement was the most absurd thing you’d heard all day. “You love watching me change? Really?”

Austin’s grin widened, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “Absolutely. It’s one of the perks of the job.”

You tried to hold back a smile but failed miserably. “Wow, romantic.”

His hands slipped to your hips as he leaned down to kiss you softly, murmuring, “You knew that going in.”

You kissed him back, feeling warmth spread through you, but then decided to up the ante of your prank. Slowly, you pulled away, letting your hand fall casually to your side. Without making a big deal of it, you slipped your engagement ring and wedding band off and set them on the dresser next to you.

Austin’s brow furrowed immediately. His hands stilled on your waist as he caught the movement, his gaze flicking to your now bare finger. “Wait… what are you doing?”

You kept your expression neutral, pretending to be absorbed in sorting through the clothes again. “Oh, nothing,” you said breezily. “Just taking these off for now.”

Austin’s eyes narrowed further, the playfulness in his voice ebbing into something more cautious. “You never take your rings off, unless… Is something wrong?”

There it was—his vulnerability creeping in. You felt a tiny pang of guilt for messing with him, but it was just too funny to stop now.

“Nope, nothing’s wrong,” you replied nonchalantly, pulling a random top from the bed and holding it up in front of the mirror.

“Are you mad at me or something?” Austin asked, his voice quieter now. He reached for your hand, lifting it up as if to confirm that the rings were really gone. “I mean… you wouldn’t take these off for no reason.”

You fought back a grin, turning to face him with an exaggerated sigh. “I just… don’t know. Maybe I’m rethinking this whole marriage thing.”

His face paled slightly, and his fingers tightened around your hand. “Wait… what?” His voice cracked with a mix of confusion and panic. “What do you mean you’re rethinking it?”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer—you burst out laughing. Austin’s face shifted from concern to utter disbelief as the sound of your laughter filled the room.

“Oh my God, babe!” you gasped, doubling over. “You should’ve seen your face! You looked so freaked out!”

Austin blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You were… messing with me?” His voice rose in exasperation. “You were messing with me the whole time?”

You nodded, wiping a tear from your eye as you tried to catch your breath. “I couldn’t resist! You should’ve seen how worried you looked! It was priceless.”

Austin shook his head, a mix of relief and frustration crossing his features. “I seriously thought I did something. You had me thinking I was gonna have to, like, apologize for something I didn’t even know I did.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything,” you said, still giggling. “But now I know how easy it is to freak you out.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m not letting this one go,” he muttered, though his lips were twitching with a reluctant smile.

Just as the playful banter settled between you, Wren decided to make her presence known. “Mama! Dada! Look!” she chirped, toddling over with her bunny raised high above her head like a trophy.

Austin’s expression softened instantly, and he bent down, scooping Wren into his arms with ease. She giggled as he swung her up into the air, her little face lighting up with delight.

“Look at you, Wrennie!” he cooed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she squealed in response. “Such a big girl with your bunny.”

You watched them with a smile, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of your husband and daughter together. Austin held her close, planting kisses all over her cheeks, and Wren dissolved into fits of giggles.

“She saved me,” Austin teased, giving you a pointed look. “If it weren’t for this little one, I’d be in pieces.”

You laughed and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around both of them. “Okay, okay, I promise not to prank you for a while. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Austin quirked a brow. “You know, payback’s gonna be sweet.”

“I’m not scared,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue playfully.

“Oh, you should be,” he whispered, leaning in close with that playful glint in his eyes. “You should be very scared.”

Before you could respond, Wren wriggled between you two, demanding attention. “Mama, kiss!” she babbled, pointing at Austin’s cheek.

You grinned, leaning in to plant a kiss where Wren had directed. Then Austin turned, giving you a quick peck on the lips, his expression softening as he looked at you.

“See?” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Our little family. No one’s going anywhere.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, your hand gently running down Wren’s back as she snuggled between you. “No one’s going anywhere,” you repeated softly.

The three of you stood there for a moment, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, the playful prank long forgotten as the afternoon sun bathed the room in a golden glow.

And as you looked at Austin, holding your daughter close, you couldn’t help but feel that this—this beautiful, messy, love-filled life—was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

[azsazz]

Lips of an Angel (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the song ‘Lips of an Angel’ by Hinder. Azriel left you for Elain. After finding out that he has a child he didn’t know about, he’s furious.

**Daddy!Az AU**

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,805

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

_________________________________________

The glass in his hand is empty again, the bottle next to it too. 

Azriel sits at his desk, thinking about everything that has led up to this very moment: nursing the wounds he’d amassed from Rhysand as well as the full liquor bottle that he kept hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk in a secret compartment where Elain would never notice.

His left eye is swollen shut and throbbing. Bruises and cuts litter his body from the brawl he’d had with his High Lord in his office only an hour ago, over his ex and the fact that she’d had a child and never told him about.

The High Lord still packs a pretty good punch, he thinks as he shifts to pull open another drawer. His entire body aches with each movement but the alcohol has made it a touch easier. He’s burned through most of the bottle with his anger, but he could’ve sworn he had shoved another bottle in there somewhere.

Elain hasn’t arrived yet and he hopes that she doesn’t. Hopes that she doesn’t walk into his home with her striking smile and eager aura. Right now what he needs is to be alone. Alone with his thoughts, in the dark, silent and nurturing like they were when he was a child and his father trapped him in the dungeons.

The age his child is now. Wren. His chest aches an insurmountable amount when he thinks of the child, so much like him despite having never met. Eyes so strikingly similar to his own that Azriel knows you think about him everytime you look at your son. With tiny wings to match and the most stoic face he’s ever seen on a child, there was no doubting that Wren was his.

But you hadn’t even denied it when he asked, couldn’t, and that made him all the more angry at himself. That he had pushed you so far away from him, had hurt you so badly that you didn’t even tell him he had a child? That you had gone so far as to tell the High Lord and the rest of his family but not him?

“I deserved to know about my child,” he screamed into Rhysands face. The bellow was followed by a blow to his jaw, his bones reverberating beneath his skin from the force of it. It had been a long time since they’d come to blows like this, not training, but actually fighting. Azriel thinks the last time they’d had a real argument that had led to injuring each other like this was when they were still learning in the camps and Cassian and Rhysand had teased him, pushed him to his brink before accepting him into their found family.

“And you could have,” Rhys spits back, the utter fury in his voice shaking the paintings on the walls. The High Lord’s power had unleashed then, slamming Azriel back into the wall. His head crashed into the plaster with a harsh thunk and when he blinked the spots from his vision Rhysand was already pouncing towards him, ringed-fist raised. “We all put it together before you ever made a move on Elain. The signs were right there! Think about it! They were right in front of your fucking face and you didn’t even care.”

“Gods,” Azriel groans. He’s been leaning over his chair for far too long and the broken rib his brother had given him makes it hard to breathe.

But Rhysand had been right, all of the signs were there, he was just too infatuated with finding a mate that he overlooked them.

When you’d started having dizzy spells and he’d passed it off as you not drinking enough water, or when you’d told him you missed your cycle, he remembers that like it was yesterday and curses himself for being so dimwitted. 

All of the times you’d tried to cuddle up to him or kissed him just the way he liked but he still pushed you away because it had felt wrong to kiss you back when Elain was standing right over there. He was so busy chasing after Feyre’s middle sister that he didn’t notice your scent shifting, thinking you were coming down with a sickness that would keep you in bed for a day or two so he could have some time with Elain and didn’t have to worry about you finding out.

It was all right fucking there, and he hadn’t been able to see it.

Even when he’d come home to find you sitting in the guest room one night. The door had been cracked open and you’d been sitting on the edge of the bed looking around the room with a look on your face he hadn’t even cared to decipher, but he remembers it now. It was awe, excitement as you clutched your belly, probably thinking to yourself how exciting it was going to be to decorate a room for the babe growing in your belly. But all Azriel had done was pass it off as you starting to realize the distance he was forcing between the both of you and maybe you had decided to sleep in there that night instead of the room you shared.

There is no denying that he’s fucked up. Fucked up to the point of never finding love again. He realizes in this moment how badly he’s treated you, treated the little boy that dons his face and doesn’t even know him. Wren already thinks that Malik is his father, and with the way that the fae male looks Azriel can’t blame him. While you clearly had a type, your current boyfriend doesn’t seem to be as broody or cruel to you as he’d been.

Azriel sighs, saddened by the lack of alcohol he’s hidden in his desk, and sits in self-pity instead.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Azriel wipes his hands on his pants because truly, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Sitting across the table from you, Malik, and Rhysand was not something he’d ever thought he’d be doing. Let alone being in the same room as you again.

And fuck, you’re as gorgeous as he remembers, even with the guarded way you’re sitting, arms crossed over your chest and your mouth set into a firm line as you stare him down like it’s not fucking burning you up to see him as much as it is for him to see you. 

Rhysand looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. They’ve both healed up due to the nature of their fae healing, but his brother’s glare makes Azriel want to allow the shadows curling around his ankles to shroud him behind their blackness.

And Malik. Malik is here, with his arm around the back of your chair. He’s slid his own closer to yours for comfort, and even the cheerful male he’d seen with his son doesn’t seem so joyful right now. His straight brows are drawn and he keeps glancing over at you in concern. 

Azriel can’t even find it in himself to hate the male. The one who’s taken care of you, of his son all of these years he’d been so oblivious. He wants to hate him with the fires of a thousand autumn fires, but, after the way that he’s treated you, he can’t help but to feel a little bit grateful for the male.

Wren hadn’t joined you, of course not. Feyre had taken him and Nyx down into the Rainbow for an afternoon art class followed by the most ice cream they could even imagine. Normally, you wouldn’t allow Wren so many sweets, but he’s been more than stressed lately with the information of seeing his birth father, and you’ve been trying to help him work through his own feelings on the matter.

Feyre even helped place Wren into an art therapy course with one of her good friends. Everett owns the studio next door and you’ve heard nothing but the best about the therapist. She’s been a light in Wren’s life as of late, and he seems to be responding well to the therapy. So well that he’s mentioned he might be open to meeting Azriel one day.

Today is not that day.

He doesn’t know what to say. His throat is clogged with years worth of emotions. Azriel prides himself on his cool, calm exterior, but right now, there’s none of that front on display. His palms are slick with sweat, leg jerking up and down to try and dispel some of the anxiety wracking his body. It’s no use at all.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he starts, and it’s more than a little awkward. He watches you and Rhysand share a glance and deflates in his chair. He’s more than a fucking prick.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you start, and he’s never heard your voice so cold. “I’m doing this for Wren.”

Azriel looks up at the sound of his son’s voice. There’s a hopeful note in his golden eyes that you don’t want to diminish, even if there’s still a sting as you’re reminded when his eyes had lit up like that at the sight of you. Your hands fall from where they’re crossed across your chest as the dread settles in, and you can’t seem to fight the tingling of your sinuses. You don’t love him anymore, but seeing him so often after years spent apart brings the feelings of everything he had done right back. 

Sensing your shifting emotions, Malik drops his hand from the back of your chair to your lap, threading his fingers through yours. Azriel’s shadows relay the way that you cling to his hand tightly, and he shifts in his seat.

He watches the way that your eyes go glossy, unfocusing from his and he knows that Rhysand is speaking to you, mind-to-mind. Azriel is sure that his brother is doing his best to reassure you, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. It should have been him reassuring you. It should have been him by your side all of this time.

Just the thought of Elain pains him. Everything that he has fucking done to you because he thought that he wanted her plays over and over and over again in his head. He will never forgive himself for any of this, but the road to making things up to you, up to his son, starts now.

Rhysand takes the reins of the conversation, and Azriel doesn’t like the way that he’s looking at him like any one of his courtiers, hands folded together as they sit on the table. 

He’s even wearing his crown.

“Wren has decided that he wants to meet you. Properly, this time.”

The floor falls out from under Azriel’s chair.

[uniquexusposts]

The politician's daughter (2)

Main characters: James Beaufort x reader Genre: fanfiction, fluff, TV show  Word count: 3335 Requested by: @marjoriesemente Note: there will be a third part because the ideas keep on coming into my head :))

Summary: the first house party for Y/N, how will that end up?

Click here to go to part 1

One week later, Y/N and Amelia were invited to a house party. It was a girl from their class who happened to share the details, so Y/N and Amelia, being curious, showed up to see what was happening. They heard so many different stories about it that they didn’t know what to believe or expect. They arrived at Wren’s house, the thumping bass and laughter spilling into the night air. The mansion was lit up with twinkling lights, and the sound of people enjoying themselves filled the atmosphere. As they walked up the driveway, passing some of the most expensive cars and their chauffeurs, Amelia glanced at Y/N with a grin. 

“You ready for this?” Amelia asked, excitement in her eyes. 

Y/N smiled back. “Absolutely. You have been to this before, right?” 

“Yeah, a couple of times,” Amelia said and pushed open the door. 

They stepped inside, immediately greeted by the warmth and energy of the part. The living room was packed with students, some dancing, others chatting in groups. The kitchen island was covered with various drinks and snacks, and the air smelled faintly of perfume and cologne, mingled with the scent of various beverages. 

The smell of the rich and expensive. 

Amelia led Y/N through the crowd, introducing her to a few familiar faces. Y/N looked around and recognised Wren, who was holding court in the centre of a group, his infectious laughter rising above the music. These people were so different from where she came from… Y/N ignored it and looked back at her group of people. They grabbed drinks and started dancing in the living room. The music was loud, and the rhythm infectious. Y/N found herself letting go, swaying to the beat and laughing with Amelia as they moved to the music. 

Unbeknownst to them, James stood on the other side of the room, leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand. His eyes followed Y/N as she danced, and his frown was on his face. He watched her interact with the others, her laugh genuine and carefree. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen before, and it intrigued him. Just like her outfit, he first saw her in clothes other than the school uniform. She was wearing straight-legged trousers; he couldn’t tell what colour they were, but they looked cherry red. And it looked like it was leather. She wore a black top, and her hair perfectly framed her face. 

Cyril nudged James with his elbow, a knowing smirk on his face. “She is interesting, huh?” 

James rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Just making sure she’s not causing any trouble.”

“Right,” Cyril said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because she’s such a troublemaker.”

James ignored Cyril’s comment and took another sip of his drink, his gaze still fixed on Y/N. He watched as she threw her head back in laughter at something someone said to her, her eyes sparkling with joy. There was something magnetic about her, something that drew people in, and it was clear she was fitting in effortlessly. Yet she was an outsider. 

The next song came on and everybody seemed to enjoy singing along; Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars. His eyes were fixated on Y/N; she was singling along unashamed with her friends. At some point, her group became the main show to watch as they seemed to have the most fun of all. It wasn’t annoying; people enjoyed seeing them so passionately. Y/N’s eyes briefly met James’ and he left like all the air got squeezed out of his lungs. 

The Y/N effect. 

As the night wore on, Y/N and Amelia took a break from dancing and headed to the backyard, where people stood around the pool, chatting and dancing. Y/N sat down on a pool bed while Amelia was getting some drinks. 

Just then, James appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He approached Y/N, his eyes locking while he walked over to her. 

“Mind if I join?” He asked, his tone casual. 

Y/N raised her eyebrows, being impressed by his behaviour. “Even if I said no, you still would sit here,” she mumbled under her breath. 

James wanted to sigh out of frustration, but he held it back. He sat down next to her. They sat there in silence, both looking in front of them. 

The reflection of the twinkling lights danced on the water, creating a serene backdrop for the tension between them. The distant sounds of laughter and music from the party filled the air around them, but they felt like they were in their own little bubble of quiet tension.

After a moment, Y/N broke the silence. “So, what is your deal?”

James glanced at her, his eyebrows lowered and squinting his eyes slightly. “My deal?”

“Yeah,” she replied, turning slightly to face him. “What’s your deal? During class you don’t even bother to show me around, like a buddy is supposed to do. And suddenly, you’re sitting next to me at a party.”

He let out a low chuckle, more of a sigh than a laugh. “My deal? I don’t owe you any explanations. If I felt like sitting here, than I sat here. Simple as that.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched, irritation flickering in her eyes. “Well, lucky me,” she sighed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I must be so honoured to have your charming company.”

“Believe me,” he replied, his smirk widening into a sneer. “The feeling is not mutual.”

The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and suffocating. Y/N felt her temper flaring, but she bit back her retort, not wanting to satisfy him.

They sat in silence, the distant sounds of the party serving as a stark contrast to the hostility between them. Y/N’s mind raced, trying to devise a way to diffuse the situation or at least escape it.

“So,” James spoke up, breaking the silence. “What’s the deal with you, huh? Why are you even here?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, refusing to let him see how much his words stung. “I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back, her voice dripping with disdain. “What, did your ego need stroking or something?”

James chuckled, a dark, humourless sound. “Please,” he replied, his tone mocking. “I don’t need anyone to stroke my ego.” He looked at her. “But can I at least offer you a drink now we’re mocking around?”

“No, thanks,” she replied. 

“Wine, beer…” 

“No, thank you.”

“Anything else?” 

Y/N sighed loudly, turning to him. “I don’t drink. Besides, I don’t want to be served by you.”

“Oh, you are the driver, I see. Where is your chauffeur from daddy?” James said, his smirk growing wider. 

Y/N licked her lips and scanned his face; there was something she liked about snapping towards him. Maybe because she disliked him, it made it easier to shoot back at comments he made. “I did not drink yesterday, I do not drink today and I will not drink tomorrow.”

“Scared of a public scandal?” James smirked, referring to his scandals within the family that got publicly. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Y/N faked a smile on her face. “Trauma,” she mentioned cynically. “Brother who almost died because of alcohol poisoning.” 

James’ face straightened, and he parted his lips. He did not see this coming, and he immediately regretted saying it. His eyes followed her when she got up. 

“It’s the most dangerous thing to ever make assumptions about people, James. Enjoy your night,” she professionally smiled and walked away from him. 

As Y/N walked away, James watched her, a mix of regret and curiosity flickering in his eyes. He hadn’t expected that response, and it left him unsettled. Maybe he didn’t know her after all. She looked like a girl who was an open book, but he was wrong. She wasn’t just the daughter of a politician; there was more beneath the surface.

* * * 

Y/N walked off the stairs in her house when she heard the doorbell ring. She immediately looked at the time on her phone: who could this be? She expected to be home alone all day since her mum was out of town with friends and her brother was cycling with his friends. Wondering, she walked to the front door and opened the door. 

“James Beaufort.” She blinked, genuinely surprised. “What are you doing here?” Before he could answer, she asked him another question. “How do you know I live here?” 

“Have you started the project yet?” James asked, putting his hands casually in the pockets of his trousers. 

Y/N squeezed her eyebrows together. At the beginning of this week, they got paired up for a project that needed to be finished on Monday. In two days. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Have you?” 

“No.”

She sighed and looked away. “That’s why I didn’t start on it either. Did you really think I would do this project on my own and let you benefit from it?” 

“That is why I’m here, Y/N L/N,” James amusingly smiled. “You’ve got time today?” 

Y/N hesitated, then stepped aside. “Come in, I guess.” 

James walked in, glancing around the small hall. The house was semi-detached, completely renovated and quite large for this type of house. If he was honest, he expected more. He expected a home that reflected the wealth and status of Y/N’s family. This wasn’t how Maxton Hall students lived. Y/N led him to the living room, where the sunlight streamed through the patio doors. 

“Expected more?” Y/N smirked and stood in the middle of the living room. James only looked at her. “How’s the hangover? Or are you still drunk to think that this is a great idea?”

James chuckled, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “No hangover, and no, I'm not drunk. Just determined to get this project done. But thanks for your concern.” He showed a forced smile. “I figured we should actually get the project done, and it’s better if we work on it together.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You mean it’s better if I do the work and you take credit?”

He had a slight smirk playing on his lips. “I’m here, aren’t I? That means I’m willing to put in the effort.”

She slowly nodded. “Alright then,” she breathed. “Let’s set up the table outside; the weather is nice.” She opened the two patio doors, letting the outside in on the house.

The fresh air and the soft sounds of birds chirping filled the living room. Y/N walked outside and grabbed the cushions from the shed. She put them on the chairs and put a tablecloth over the wooden table. James stepped outside and looked at the garden. Again, it was small, but it was cosy. There was a small field of grass, many flowers, and a tree. It was a well-maintained garden. 

“Take a seat,” Y/N invited him. “Can I get you a coffee or something else?” A small smile peaked through her stubborn look. 

“A coffee, please,” he replied and sat down on a chair. 

“Black, cappuccino, iced?” 

James looked at her after he had taken a moment to appreciate the serene surroundings. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and linen shorts. Her hair was up in a claw clip. No makeup on her face. Then his eyes fell on the massive blue bruise on her thigh. “Whatever you have,” he said, still looking at the bruise. “What happened there?” 

“Fell off my bike. Braked too late and slid off my bike,” she briefly mentioned. 

James watched as Y/N disappeared into the house, still thinking about the bruise. It didn't quite fit his image of her: controlled, composed, almost untouchable. He shook his head slightly, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes roam over the garden again. Despite its small size, it was inviting, a little oasis of calm.

Y/N returned a few minutes later with two glasses of coffee. She handed one to James, who took it with a nod of thanks. “Iced cappuccino,” she said and walked back inside again. She brought some snacks and glasses of water to the table. Once she settled into the chair opposite him, she opened her laptop. “The project.”

“Yeah. We have to set up a fictional company. Any ideas?” 

“I don’t want a clothing brand or something with politics-related stuff.”

“Noted.”

It was silence. They both were thinking about company ideas. While they were thinking, the birds chirped around. 

“Technology?” James proposed. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Perhaps…” Y/N took a deep breath. “I would say makeup, but no.”

“If you want to do makeup, we can make it work.”

“Hmm, no.”

It went on for almost thirty minutes. They exchanged ideas ranging from eco-friendly products to various services, but none seemed to stick. Each time one of them felt convinced about an idea, they struggled to back it up with a solid plan.

James was fidgeting with a pen and sat slumped on the chair. “The first thing that comes to your mind,” he said, bored and pointed at Y/N. “Three… Two… One… Go, say it.”

Instant panic flickered through her eyes. “Uh… Coffee!” They looked at each other. “It’s the first thing that came to my mind,” Y/N shrugged. 

“Uhu, not judging you,” he replied, putting his hands up in the air. “And what about coffee?”

She blew her cheeks up. “A subscription box?” Y/N sat up and straightened her back. “Honestly, I would love to have a subscription because then I would never run out of coffee. And if there’s a physical store and I only have to scan my subscription for a coffee and bill afterwards, the world would be a lot better.”

“Are you addicted to coffee?” He tilted his head, and a smile played on his lips. 

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows. 

“No, for real. I drink one coffee a day, not more.”

“If you say so.”

As they brainstormed and exchanged ideas, the initial tension between them seemed to fade. They found themselves working well together, their ideas complementing each other’s. The conversation flowed naturally, punctuated by the occasional joke or sarcastic comment.

While they were working on the plan, a woman entered the house. Y/N didn’t look up at it, but James couldn’t help but steal a glance. It could be Y/N’s mother. When he saw the woman nearing the backyard, he quickly looked back at the laptop. 

“Good afternoon,” the woman greeted the two students. 

“Hey, mum,” Y/N smiled warmly when she saw her mother entering the garden. “How was your day?” 

“Perfect, couldn’t imagine a better day for afternoon tea,” Y/N’s mother replied. Her eyes shifted to James. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Y/N’s mother.”

James stood up politely and extended his hand. “James Beaufort, nice to meet you, Mrs. L/N.”

She shook his hand, a pleasant smile on her face. “Nice to meet you too, James. Beaufort? From the clothing brand?” She squinted her eyes. 

“Yes, that is right,” he nodded. 

“Ah, from the school uniform. And your dad has suits from Beaufort as well,” Y/N’s mother said to Y/N. “Anyway, I won’t disturb you two anymore,” she smiled. “But let me know if you need anything.” 

“Thank you, Mum,” Y/N replied, her smile still in place as her mother left the garden.

As her mother stepped back inside the house, James could hear her mumble that she wanted to take the scarf off her head. He watched her remove the scarf from her head, and his jaw dropped. His eyes quickly met Y/N’s eyes. 

“Do you mind me asking…” James began, his voice trailing off.

Y/N looked questioningly at him, but then realised her mother had removed her scarf. “Cancer,” she answered. “But she beat it. She’s still recovering.”

James’s expression softened, a flicker of empathy crossing his features. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “It’s okay. She’s a fighter. It’s been tough, but we’re getting through it.”

James was silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words. It was a side of Y/N he hadn’t seen before, a glimpse into her challenges outside of school. He felt a pang of guilt for the way he had treated her, the assumptions he had made. 

Just a few moments after that, Y/N’s brother entered the garden from the back. He looked like a professional cyclist, wearing tight cycling gear and a helmet tucked under his arm. Y/N’s brother introduced himself to James and greeted Y/N, quickly sharing his cycling journey of the day. 

Y/N slightly blushed. “Sorry, it’s always a bit chaotic when everybody gets home.”

The corners of James’ lips curled up. “Don’t worry. It’s different. My house is usually pretty quiet. When is your dad coming home?”

“Not,” Y/N mumbled, looking down. “He doesn’t live with us anymore. He lives in London.”

“Oh.” 

“He had always been working in the politics. When I was ten years old, he became a minister. Two years ago, he became the vice president. My mum got cancer at the same time. My brother the alcohol poisoning. It didn’t work. So a month ago, when my mum got cancer-free, they decided to separate for now. My mum, my brother and I moved here; my dad has a career in London, and yeah, that’s life,” she shrugged, keeping her tone casual. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered. James felt a pang of guilt for his earlier comments. He had been quick to judge her life based on surface impressions. “I’m sorry I called your mother with your last name. I…”

“It’s fine. They are separated, not divorced. Everything is under my dad’s last name. Don’t worry about it,” she smiled. 

An awkward silence settled between them. James could sense there was more to Y/N’s story than she let on, but he didn’t want to pry further.

“Anyway, the company,” Y/N said, switching the subject. 

Hours passed as they worked side by side, bouncing ideas off each other and gradually shaping their project into something they were both proud of. James felt a genuine sense of collaboration and understanding with Y/N for the first time. It was a refreshing change from the tension that had defined their previous interactions.

When they finally wrapped up their brainstorming session, Y/N stretched and looked at James with a satisfied smile. “I think we’ve got a solid plan. Thanks for coming over and working on this with me.”

James returned her smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “Yeah, we make a pretty good team. Who would have thought?”

Y/N chuckled softly. “Certainly not me.”

As James prepared to leave, he glanced around the garden once more, appreciating the tranquillity it offered. “You have a nice home, Y/N. It’s... cosy.”

“Thanks,” she replied, her tone sincere. “And thanks for understanding.”

James nodded, a newfound respect for Y/N settling in. “If you have time, we can meet up tomorrow? For the presentation and the finishing touches?”

“Sounds like a plan.

“At mine? Twelve o’clock?”

“Sure, see you tomorrow. And send me your address; unfortunately, I don’t have my ways,” she smiled. 

“I will,” he smirked. 

As he walked away, James couldn’t help but feel that this project had given him more than just a grade—it had given him a glimpse into Y/N’s world, and a chance to reevaluate his own judgments and assumptions. 

Click here to go to part 3

[nullusreimorio]

Degrees of Lewdity AU: Actor AU

Yes, you heard that right, folks! DoL:ActAU will now be a thing in my blog.

Re-reading this made my brain go BRRRR, because in my head a random person getting their costume's head off is that funny, and from there it all spiraled down.

The Whitney breaks Syd's glasses scene in particular is stuck in my head, because I imagine that at some point, right before Whit can grab the glasses, Syd would scream to wait, making Whit shit himself cuz dude what is happening. The director screams cut, of course. "I'm so sorry, these are my real glasses-" while laughing, and taking them off to give into custody before putting on the props, with Whitney just wheezing in the background.

The genderbent version of LIs would mostly be people that really resemble each other, except for the Kylar duo. They are twins who love to scare other people by just staring at them (it is a running inside joke on set).

Bailey is actually a sweet parental figure off-character, always making sure he didn't actually hurt the other actors (think Jason Isaac in Harry Potter as he switches between the cruel Lucius Malfoy and actually caring for Tom Felton, asking him if he's ok and apologizing when he did in fact hurt him by accident)

Another running gag on set is Harper just.. being there. Smiling at everyone with cold eyes, bombing pictures and selfies. Sometimes they stay in the background of the scene, looking directly at the camera. They say it's funnier to stay in character. Off-character they are very fun to be around, but they enjoy unsettling people. Them and the Kylars are sometimes banned from being in the studio if the scene doesn't need them.

GH got tangled up in the fly system. Everyone laughed and took pictures and videos, but promptly eliminated them at GH's request. They are shy.

The Averys enjoy their role very much. What they don't enjoy is having to drink grape juice or scented water instead of actual alcohol. They do get a nice glass of wine once off-set are over.

Whenever the Wrens are in the studio, F!Whit, M!Robin, the Wrens, F!BW, the Edens, F!Avery and the Baileys get a bit too much into playing cards. Blackjack, Durak, Scopa, Rummy, Machiavelli... the list could go on. They always manage to rope technicians to play with them as well.

Everyone hates the Kylars because their makeup doesn't need much time, while everyone else (ESPECIALLY GH, BW and IW) need enough time to always look polished/roughed up, depending on the situation.

M!Jordan is actually atheist, and whenever he has to talk like a true Christian guy, once his line is over he mocks himself. He enjoys wearing his costume off-set just for shits and giggles, and other actors often visit him in the confessional just to say "I'm sorry daddy, I've been naughty~" "Jail for a hundred years. NEXT"

F!Jordan and Ivory Wraith are actually cousins, and sometimes M!Jordan and Ivory Wraith swap costumes to see if there is any difference other than Jordan's massive tits.

Aaaand that's it, for now! As of now this is how far my brain thought while in the middle of exams, I will slowly add more into it. I don't know if it was already done, but thinking about these jackasses actually play-pretending makes me feel better ^^

[munsonsmixtapes]

Sew Far, Sew Good

model!Eddie x fem!fashion designer!reader

summary: your designs are finally being showcased in a magazine, but it turns out that you slept with the model the night before

cw: MDNI (18+) backseat make out session, Eddie sucks on readers tits, reader receives a hickey

Not proofread!

You entered the building, nerves building up in your stomach. You were so excited but nervous to finally see your designs on someone who wasn’t yourself or one of your friends. The rumor was that they had actually gotten Eddie Munson to do it and you couldn’t have been more honored to have the biggest male model wear your clothes.

You greeted everyone you passed and they all returned warm smiles as you headed towards where you needed to be. The place was packed and it seemed like they all had a job to do which made you feel better than everything that was being done was for you and your photo shoot.

After looping around in a circle and asking for multiple directions, you finally got where you had been instructed to go and Wren, the photographer rushed towards you with open arms. Thank god, someone who was a hugger.

“There she is!” She smiled and pulled you into a tight hug has if you had been old friends and you took it, grateful for the gesture.

“Hey!” You greeted, pulling away. “I’m not late am I?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?” How could it be both?

“Yes, technically, but no because the model isn’t even here.” Of course.

“He’s not?” You didn’t know why you were surprised. He had a very bad reputation including being late to everything including thing like being late to his job where he was getting paid.

“No, he’s not. He’s in his way, but I heard that he was out late last night.” Another thing was that he was almost always getting drunk, even the night before a shoot. What a walking stereotype.

You were about to panic when someone bumped into you, causing you to spill the coffee you were holding. The brown liquid spread all over the floor and you just stood there, making no move to clean it up. You were moved out of the way as someone came with a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess.

You turned around to see who you had run into and you gasped. It was the guy who you had hooked up with the night before. He was the model?? He was Eddie Munson? You couldn’t blame yourself for not recognizing him since both the bar and his apartment had very low lighting. And the beard he had been sporting had been shaved, making him look much younger than he was.

“What are you doing here?” You asked at the same time.

“You’re wearing my designs,” you answered.

“And I’m the model.” Right, of course. You knew that. But everything was starting to feel like something out of a movie. Of course the one time you intend on having a one night stand, it turned out that you were going to be working together.

“You lied to me.” You crossed your arms over your chest and he mimicked your actions, forming his eyes into a glare.

“How?”

“You said your name was Ed.” You felt ridiculous for calling him for something as silly as that, but you just felt like you should have been upset.

“It’s a nickname for Eddie so it wasn’t a lie. And you’re one to talk, you said your name was Daisy.” You supposed you couldn’t blame him for that one, but you only did that for your safety.

“Because I’ve learned to not give people my real name because they get a little crazy.” Eddie only scoffed at that.

“I’d hate to break up this reunion, but we’re running behind, so can we get this started?” Wren interrupted. You turned to her, suddenly remembering why you were there. This was way more important than some stupid spat with someone you didn’t even know.

Eddie was pulled off to wardrobe and you just stood there, seeing that Wren was talking to you, but not hearing the words that were coming out of her mouth. You were too in shock. You didn’t know why, but it was surprising. Out of all the losers you had been with, you had finally gotten someone who had made a name for himself.

All of a sudden, you were being led to wardrobe because they wanted your input on the outfits Eddie was going to be put in and you put on a smile, trying your best to forget the events of the night before. You could still hear Eddie’s moans, his mouth licking and sucking on your cunt, the way he fucked you senseless until you were sure that you couldn’t walk.

The head of the department showed you the rack and let you pick what you wanted Eddie to wear for the first set of photos. You settled on your favorite. It was a black suit covered in black sequins that took you fucking hours to do and it made everyone who had tried it on look like a dream.

You turned away as the woman helped Eddie into the suit even though you were sure that he wouldn’t have minded and the fact that you had seen all of him only hours before. But this was a professional setting and you both needed to be as such even though it was not professional in the slightest to sleep with people you were working with.

Once Eddie was dressed, you turned back around and your eyes lit up. You were convinced that he was able to pull off anything and it was almost unfair. The suit fit like a glove, almost as if he was made for him. It looked so good and you were eager to see what it looked like with the hair and makeup that had yet to be done.

You headed back to the shoot area and waited for Eddie to be ready. Over time, your anger at each other had dissipated and your attraction had only grown. There was something about seeing him in the stuff that you designed made you wet.

He emerged from hair and makeup and you were sure that your underwear couldn’t get any more damp. His hair was teased in a messy look and black eyeshadow was packed into his eyelids with eyeliner lining his waterline.

He moved to the backdrop and Wren headed over to the camera to get things started. Watching Eddie pose, it was clear why he had become such a big name in the industry. He was a natural and it was obvious that the camera loved him.

And he was so complimentary, letting you know exactly how much he loved every single article of clothing. You didn’t even care if he was just trying to flatter you, you were so close to letting him take everything home. It had been collecting dust in your closet anyway.

No wonder everyone was so impressed by him. Maybe the rumors were all untrue. Sure, he had been late, but he had more than made up for it for his behavior. He was so nice to everyone working on the shoot, thanking them for their work and making them laugh.

After a long day and multiple outfits later, the shoot was over and you and Eddie gushed over the photos. His hand rested on your back as he whispered in your ear, being nothing but sweet, telling how much he liked the outfits. So, that was how he ended up taking them all home, promising to wear them any chance he got.

So, the two of you left the building hand in hand, feeling good with the results of the shoot and you lingered at his car, neither one of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye first. You couldn’t. Not when he looked so fucking hot in his makeup, the red lipstick and gloss making his lips so much more inviting. Not when he had a perfectly good backseat that both of you could fit in.

You grabbed him by his shirt and pressed your lips to his roughly, Eddie taking no time to respond to it, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulders while the other rested against your back. You were both so desperate for each other, wanting to take whatever you could. Your hands went to his jaw, moving his head so you could have more access to his mouth as you licked into it.

He pushed you against the car and brought your tongue between his lips and gave it a suck which caused you to let out a whimper which caused a tent to form in his pants. He had wanted to hear that sound since you had made it the night before, the exact noise had been ringing in his ears ever since.

Eddie gave your tongue one more suck which elicited a moan from you, causing him to pull away before opening the door to the backseat. You nodded and slid across the seat, him following you before slamming the door closed. You both kicked off your socks and shoes and Eddie unbuttoned your shirt as he laid you down in the backseat.

“No bra, hm? How scandalous.”

“Left it at your place remember?” He did remember. The lacy thing was still on the floor of his room. “It doesn’t matter, though anyway. It’ll just slow it down.”His lips immediately went to your chest as he gave your tits some love, licking and sucking your nipples, just as he did the night before.

“God, I love your tits,” he said, his breathing labored and his voice raspy. He was so hot that it was almost unfair. He mouth was on your nipple again as he licked and sucked again, warming you up before he brought the thing between his teeth giving it a pull.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned and he bit down harder, loving to hear the sounds that escaped your lips. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing.”

“I remember what you like,” he winked and move onto your other nipple, pulling it between his teeth and biting down the hardest that he could without actually hurting you. He kissed his way down to your stomach and you thought he was going to pull off your pants, but he didn’t. He just moved his way back before attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

He licked into your mouth and you wrapped your mouth around it, giving it a suck. He whimpered at the sensation then quickly pulled away, giving you a glare.

“Hey,” he whined. “That’s my move.”

“You’re just mad that I do it better than you.” You did, you really did. He’d let you steal his moves any time.

“Oh, honey, you do everything better than me,” he winked and pulled off his shirt before pressing his lips to yours again, softer this time.

He put his full weight on top of you, his hands grabbing onto yours, intertwining your fingers together. His lips were so soft despite them being chapped and they tasted just as good as they did the night before with the mixture of tobacco and mint. How that combination tasted so good, you had no idea.

Eddie kissed you until you both were breathless and his lips moved down to your neck and he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the skin before giving it a gentle suck, just light enough for you to let out a gasp. Eddie then sucked a little harder and you moaned, maybe a little too loudly, but he was eating it up.

He loved your moans. They were always an indicator that he was doing things right. He has slept with more women he could count, but none of them had ever been as enthusiastic as you had, not even with making out with him. They were all just eager for his dick, but he had admired that you were different from them.

His teeth grazed the sensitive spot and you moaned even louder, his dick getting even harder at the sound. You felt it against you and your pussy got even more wet at the thought of him getting inside you, but you didn’t have it in you at the moment.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he took that as an invitation to continue, letting his teeth slide against the sensitive spot even harder. “So good.”

He gave the spot another suck, this one, the hardest hi could manage and your hands moved to his back, digging your fingers into the skin. As he licked and sucked, you continued to moan, eventually scratching up and down his back and he was loving it.

Once he felt like he marked you up enough, he pulled you into another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than all of the others. His lips moved against yours, as if he had all the time in the word as his head moved this way and that, wanting to reach every part of your lips that he could.

Eddie then pulled away, the two of you breathing heavily and looked down at you, still loving the way you looked with his lipstick smeared all over you. He’d definitely have to do that more often. That was, if you’d give him another chance. Maybe he’d take you on a date. And maybe if that date went well, he’d be able to call you his girlfriend. He would’ve liked that. He would have liked that a lot.

He laid his head on your chest and your hands moved up to his hair, scratching his head. Maybe if you had played your card right, he’d give you another chance. Maybe he’d take you on a date. And maybe if that date went well, you’d be able to call him your boyfriend. You would’ve liked that. You would have liked that a lot.

[luveline]

is it too late to request a Father’s Day request for kbd steve?🥹

KBD —Steve starts his Father’s Day. mom!reader, 1k

“What does that mean?” 

Steve leans back, baby toothbrush in hand, baby toothpaste dripping down Dove’s chin. “What does what mean?” 

“Father’s Day.” She licks her lip. 

“Dove, don’t eat it.” He rinses her toothbrush and beckons her carefully on her stepping stool to the sink. “Come spit, honey.” 

Dove spits her toothpaste. Steve grins, leaning over her, turning on the faucet and grabbing a handful of warm water to wipe her face. She spits again into his hand, but he’s unphased, wiping her down and turning off the water. 

She turns expectedly for a towel. Steve brings it to her face and dabs her dry gently. “Father’s Day just means a day for dad’s.” 

“Day to do what?” 

“It’s sort of like a birthday. Like, a day for children to show they love their daddy’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So if you really love me, Dove, today’s the day to show it.” 

Her lashes kiss her eyebrows as her eyes widen. “Today?” 

“It’s today, yeah.” 

Steve looks down on her, his little baby with her mom’s surprised face and his everything else, give or take. She’s getting so smart, but she’s still so small, Steve can pick her up like a couple of cans of tinned pears. She’s never heavy, just whiny. She looks up at him and he can see a few cogs still turning. 

“Babe,” he says, holding her face softly, “it’s not a big deal. Every day we spend together is a good day, so you don’t have to worry. I love my girl, I love all my girls, and I’m just excited for mom’s big breakfast.” 

“I love you, too,” she says seriously. 

He smooths the temporary wrinkle from between her eyebrows. “I love you more. Are we all done in the bathroom? Do you need to pee before we go have breakfast?” 

She doesn’t need a pee. Dove offers her hand and he takes it, helping her down from the stool, and guiding her out of the bathroom back to the master bedroom. You’re sitting on the made bed with Wren laying down beside you, freshly changed and dressed for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Hey. Did you brush?” you ask him. 

“We both brushed, duh.” Steve leans down behind Dove to frame her shoulders proudly. “Show mom your pearly whites, baby.” 

Dove beams. You pick Wren up and prop her, smiling and quiet, on your knee to see Dove’s teeth. “Woah, look at that, Wren. Look at Dove’s clean teeth, aren’t they perfect?” 

Wren gurgles with a distinct sense of sisterly love. Wren and Dove get along well, all the girls do, but Steve believes there’s been a faction forming between Beth and Avery, so he’s glad for Dove’s fondness as she steps away from him to try and give the baby a hug. Wren doesn’t know enough to hug back yet, but you do. 

“Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” Steve says, sparing a glance behind you for the spoils of Father’s Day. There are some clothes, some candies, and a favourite tray of crafts made through teamwork for Steve to display at his discretion. He couldn’t be any luckier. 

You’re smiling too as you follow him out of the bedroom. You usually are, to be fair to you, you’ve always smiled around Steve because you’re both remarkable idiots in love with one another after everything, because of everything. Steve can’t believe he gets to be in one of those marriages that get stronger each year, and occasionally you return the sentiment aloud, whispering something kind in his ear when you’re both almost sleeping. They don’t have a word for how much I love you, H. 

He catches you for a quick kiss pressed to your cheek as you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh, thanks,” you mumble, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder in a mock demureness that actually makes his heart skip a beat. If he does it enough times, your faking it will become real. 

He kisses you again. “Beautiful,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you say again, your tone tipping into shyness, just a touch. 

“I’m beautiful,” Dove says. 

She paws at Steve’s leg. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, ushering her forward to make room for everyone to keep walking. “Dove, I think you’re the most beautiful three nearly four year old in the whole wide world.” 

“Am I the most beautiful…” Bethie pauses, standing on a chair at the table, her nightie creased but her hair done and out of her face. “How old am I?” she asks. 

“Six!” Steve says. “You don’t remember how old you are?” 

“I forgot.” She frowns, and then she shakes it off. “Daddy, we’re setting the table.” 

“And you’re doing such a good job!” He turns his head one way and the other, searching their tired kitchen for his eldest girl. “Avery, where’d you go?” he asks. 

She pops up in front of him with a roar. “Got you!” she declares, wrapping her arms around his legs. 

“You think so?” He grabs her under the arms and lifts her. She’s much heavier than the rest of her sisters, but she’s his big girl, so of course she is. Steve isn’t too old as to carry her yet, letting her torso fall forward, her back to his chest as he hangs her upside down. 

She bursts into terrified laughter. “Dad, put me down! You’re dropping me!” 

“How many times do we have to go over this, Ave? I have never dropped you. I will never drop you.” He chuckles nonchalantly. “Looks like I’m the one that got you.” 

“You’re not funny, dad!” 

“I’m very funny.” He manages to get her the right way round again, and puckers his lips for a kiss. She doesn’t kiss him. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day. You can’t be mad at me ‘cos that’s illegal.” 

“You’re illegal.” 

“Just one little kiss?” he asks softly. 

“You have to!” Dove says, attempting to climb onto the chair with Beth, your hand behind her back. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day.” 

“I know, Dove, he just said that!” 

Still, Steve gets his kisses and a good hug, too. He lets his voice go all melty and corny as he rubs his nose into her cheek, “Thanks, my little nugget. You give the best kiss in the world.” 

“I am not a nugget.” 

“Are you sure? How do we check?” 

You put the baby in her padded high chair, convince Dove and Beth that they’ll be happier sitting in their own chairs on their booster pillows, and then slide behind Steve and Avery to push at them. “Come on, I’m making breakfast.” 

“What are we having?” Steve asks, smiling over Avery’s shoulder as she nuzzles her face against his neck. She used to fit in one arm, but he doesn’t mind wrapping both of them around her as he sits down, his long girl tight to his chest. 

“Everything,” you promise. “The whole works for my guy.” 

“Whole works,” he says, kissing the top of Avery’s ear. “Can you believe that?” 

[seasidefae]

daylight (and other magical phenomenons) oscar/carlos | 1.8k words

Oscar was at the library, casting a spell on the copy of Spellman’s Syllabary to levitate back to the shelf where he got it, when he felt a wisp of magic behind him.

It’s funny. There is magic around the Hogwarts Library that nobody really notices unless you really look for it. A shield pulsing strongly around the Restricted Section is different from the gentle vibrations of the newly returned books by students floating around the floor, looking for its home.

This one is different. Stronger but more pleasant. Lighter. It leaves a trail of light blue, a tinkling bell echoing with it. The magic coats the area with happy feelings that immediately eases Oscar’s initial weariness from pulling yet another all-nighter.

They finally discussed Patronus charms in D.A.D.A. class a couple of days ago. Professor Hamilton told them the basics of the spell, as some sort of preview for next week’s full lesson. In just one quick Expecto Patronum, out comes a snow leopard from the Professor’s wand.

There were a few demonstrations, like Max with his lion that upset the actual Gryffindors, George and the horse he swore looked like the one he had back home, and Franco conjured a falcon.

The others tried in class and tried again in their free period. Oscar sat at The Quad while his friends tried to conjure, at the very least, a ball of light to ward off potential dementors. George tried to help, but the Ravenclaw’s clipped replies didn’t really do much.

Oscar didn’t want to try in front of them. Besides, he and Lando had some homework to catch up on.

The corporeal patronus in the library ran in circles, its mouth open and laughing. Oscar knows whose this Wirehaired Pointer was. It was the thin and tall dog that bounded over the lake in between Sparrow Hall and Wren Manor, and greeted Oscar with a happy bark from way across it every time they met.

That bark was usually followed with a snarky remark from his owner, which would then begin a spar of some kind. A back and forth of insults about the other’s flying skills and horrible taste in Quidditch teams. They were never serious enough to hurt, really. Oscar had a good laugh every time Carlos’ nose scrunched in that displeased, disgusted way. Carlos seemed to have his fun, too, when Oscar stared at him deadpan. It was the highlight of those first few summers Oscar had spent here.

Patronus Piñon stopped at Oscar’s feet like it was waiting for a good petting. Oscar laughed to himself. Whatever it was, Carlos still did it.

The dog barked once before Carlos’ voice overtook it.

Impressed? I even got an eighth year to teach me a few tricks to do with it, like send it to you with voice message. ¿Que? Oh, Max says hello. Unless this isn’t Oscar Piastri, Mr Slytherin Prefect, then fuck off and stop listening. If you are, then HA! I did it first, vida. I can teach you tomorrow morning before our morning ride.

And then Max’s voice interrupted him, It’s literally as simple as thinking of your happiest moment. That is lesson one and done. Just ask him to sneak into the tower to make out like a norma—OW FUCK!

After a quick spin and a jump, the patronus evaporates, leaving glowing particles that disappear before they hit the wooden floors.

Oscar did his rounds that night, thinking of morning and a surprise disruption from their usual morning broom ride. They were both going to be Quidditch captains next year; extra training wouldn’t hurt.

When morning finally came, and he was the first one in their room of four to rise, he washed in haste and changed into a nondescript grey sweater and pants, briskly walked back to his desk to grab a few papers, and ran to the main door of the dungeon. He almost collided with Carlos in the hallway.

A smiley Carlos was a sight for sore eyes in the morning. Oscar pushed him gently, more so to stop himself from kissing him than anything.

“Are you ready for your patronus lesson?” Carlos said. He had a satchel with him, white like his hoodie, and he hitched it up on his shoulders as they walked.

“That depends. Do I get to beat your record first?”

“Would we have time before Charms? This lesson might take hours with you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Oscar chuckled, punching Carlos lightly on the arm. “I bet I can think of a happier memory than yours. What is it, anyway?”

Carlos’ laugh reverberated against the stone walls of the stairwell.

“Think of something nice and we will work from there.”

“Something nice.” Deadpan must be Carlos’ favourite brand of Oscar. “Like chocolate?”

“Just think, Oscar.”

This could be one, Oscar thought, as the first splashes of dawn cast an orange glow around the Quidditch pitch. Carlos, dead centre on the field, his broom and satchel discarded on the grass beside him and his wand at his side. Carlos worked with his wand in a cool, almost detached demeanour, like the pureblood didn’t need it. Oscar knew Carlos practised wandless magic with Professor Alonso on weekends. But even the most powerful wizard needed a wand to cast a patronus.

“Focus and think of nothing else. Do not get distracted,” Carlos said, pointing his wand at Oscar.

“I’ll try,” Oscar quipped, winking and failing.

“Shh. Behave,” said Carlos in between huffs of laughter. “Bueno. I will give it a go now.”

Patronus Piñon returns briefly, running and jumping around again. Carlos howled and cheered, reaching for Piñon before realising what he was doing, and retracted his hand. It was magical. Oscar still marvelled at all displays of magic but he liked seeing Carlos excel at it, satisfaction obvious in the way Carlos cheered every time any spell worked.

The patronus looked different in the daylight. It glowed golden, not blue, like it reflected the light the sun offered. Piñon bounded towards Oscar like the real one would by the lake or that first time Oscar finally tore the invisible barriers of Wren Manor down and was invited inside.

Carlos then nodded at Oscar, as Piñon disappeared into the sun, signalling his turn.

He tried to think about the first time Oscar stepped into Carlos’ house. Christmas, 4th year. Carlos’ mum Reyes offered him seconds and his sisters were there on their break, too, from Beauxbatons. He tried to ignore the dark side of that memory, of the snide remarks from their other relatives, questioning how a muggleborn wormed (ha) its way to Slytherin house.

Oscar said the incantation, willing it to be enough. A trail of gold flowed out of the tip of his wand, but that was it. He sighed, expecting Carlos to tut and tease.

“Good try. Do it again,” Carlos said instead.

That gentle smile could make Oscar move mountains for him.

So, he thought of another memory. The first time Mark brought him to Diagon Alley, getting his first wand, and the train ride to the castle. But then the sorting hat ceremony followed that, the isolation from the other Slytherins because of his status, and how he didn’t have any real friends until 1st year Charms when Lando had asked for his help on a spell and by lunch time he had one Slytherin friend, a handful of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Gryffindors at his side. That included Carlos, who had initially ignored Oscar that whole first week of classes.

Oscar felt a hand wrapping around his knuckles. He felt another easing his shoulders down.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be real, really, but it needs to be positive. And you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it.”

So close to his ear. So gentle, like the breeze.

“Now it looks like you’re teaching me archery,” Oscar whispered back.

Carlos dropped his hands, but the warm feeling they left behind stayed with him.

“It looks like you are preparing for a battle. You are not fighting anyone here.”

Oscar dropped his arm to the side and turned to ask, “So what did you think about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Carlos replied as quickly as a snitch would be passing in front of him.

But Oscar’s a seeker, in every which way. “If it helped you do what some think is impossible, then yes, it matters, Carlos.”

Carlos glanced away, following a singular cloud at the sky. He heaved a heavy breath, sighed, and—

They were standing so close, Oscar could count Carlos’ eyelashes and knew he would lose count at a hundred. He moved away, not so far, but enough to give them space. It gave Oscar a minute to breathe.

But Carlos pulled him back in, closed the distance with a kiss that tasted of mint and Carlos, a familiar taste, and told him against his lips, “What’s nice is the thought of you, right now. That I get to have the privilege of being your friend, and more, and staying by your side. That’s what I think about.”

His heart pounded but he had never felt more at ease as soon as Carlos squeezed Oscar’s neck.

Words failed Oscar a lot of the time, so he did what he does best.

He swished his wand, thinking of winning the final Quidditch game last year against Gryffindor and seeing Carlos wearing Oscar’s green scarf in the viewing area where most of the Ravenclaws are wearing green in support of them. He thought of faintly hearing Carlos cheer for him as if he was using a sonorous charm, but he knew it was all in his head and his heart swelled with it anyway.

“Expecto patronum,” Oscar said with confidence and out of his wand, following a trail of gold, came an Ocicat.

Oh.

They blinked at each other.

Huh.

It sat there, polite, waiting. The patronus cat glanced between Oscar and Carlos before moving towards the Ravenclaw, purring between Carlos’ legs.

“Jesus Christ,” Oscar grumbled, pleased and disgruntled at the same time. He found his inner companion, his given light in the dark, and it’s a freaking cat.

Carlos was so pleased. If he could pick the cat up and cuddle with it, he would.

“Oscar! It’s just like you,” he cooed.

“No, she isn’t.”

“She is a she? Perhaps you know that best, of course.” Carlos dropped the teasing when the cat disappeared and so did Oscar’s initial excitement at having done something. “It was incredible, vida.”

“I guess it was,” Oscar admitted, scrunching his nose. He searched himself and found that: yes, he felt good. “I mean, it wasn’t a snow leopard.”

Carlos grinned, running to get his broom. “No, but you can still prove you are just as fast as one,” he called, just as Oscar caught up and grabbed his own.