#let's wing it fic exchange

[inkedinshadows]

A Matter of Firsts

Day 2: Virginity loss — Cassian x f!reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v

Word count: 2.229

A/N: my first non-Azriel fic ever! Both nervous and excited eheh

Things had never gone this far with Cassian.

You had exchanged heated kisses, hands had explored underneath clothes, but never before had you let things escalate so much.

Today felt different. You had thought about it a lot over the past few days and you had come to the conclusion that you wanted more. You and Cassian had been dating for a few months now, and he was the sweetest guy you could ever wish for. You knew he was the one with whom you wanted to share your first time.

When he walked you home after your date, you asked him if he wanted to spend the night. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before, but it usually didn’t go beyond cuddles and the occasional fondling.

But now you were straddling his lap, your lips locked in a passionate kiss that you broke only so you could take off your shirt. Cassian’s eyes widened when your bra came off next.

He swallowed, and you could have sworn his fingers twitched where they rested on your thighs. He didn’t touch you, though. He didn’t do anything besides slowly looking up at your face.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly. “Are you sure about this?”

His concern and gentle tone warmed your heart, bringing a smile to your lips—though it was a nervous one.

“I am,” you replied, fingers threading through his long hair. “I really like you, and I want you to be my first, Cass.”

Cassian’s grin was as bright as the sun. “I like you too.” He pulled you in for a soft kiss. “Thank you for trusting me, Y/N.”

His attention turned back to your exposed breasts, and you shivered as his callused hands caressed up your sides, stopping short of touching them.

“May I?” he murmured.

You nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yes.”

He immediately cupped the supple flesh, thumbs brushing over your nipples. Your eyes fluttered and you exhaled deeply. He had touched you before, but there had always been some kind of fabric in between, whether it was your shirt or your bra. Now, the slightest touch sent thousands of little shivers right down to your core.

Cassian didn’t waste much time. His tongue soon shot out to flick your nipple, eliciting a small moan from you. His mouth then closed around it and he rolled it between his lips until it was hard and perky. You were already breathing a bit more heavily when he moved to the other and repeated the process.

“Cass…” you sighed.

He trailed kisses up your collarbone and then your neck, until his mouth found your again. “You are… so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks, and he must have noticed it too because he chuckled, cupping your face and gently kissing you again. “Will you lay down for me, sweetheart?”

After pressing your lips to his one more time, you climbed off and settled down next to him, careful to avoid brushing against his wings as you did. Cassian waited for you to be comfortable, watching you move around with a soft smile on his beautiful face, and then his hands were on you, running down your stomach until they reached the hem of your pants.

He looked up at you again. “Can I take them off?”

Once again, you simply nodded. You lifted your hips to help him slide them down your legs and watched as he slowly draped them over the footboard of your bed.

Now only your panties covered you.

Cassian let his gaze wander over your almost naked body, but he didn’t pounce on you the way you had imagined he would. Instead, he took his time to caress your legs, gently parting them so he could kneel in between. Even then, he only lifted one leg to plant a trail of kisses that started at your ankle and descended all the way to your inner thigh.

You swallowed, breath itching as his eyes remained locked on yours the entire time. Each new kiss left a trail of goosebumps in its wake and seemed to make your core throb in anticipation. You could feel wetness pooling there.

When Cassian finished kissing your other leg and his mouth was close to your panties, he brushed them with the tip of his nose, breathing in deeply. You shivered again.

He didn’t speak this time, but you read the silent question in his eyes when he looked up at you again.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Take them off.”

He smiled, placed one last kiss right on the thin fabric, and then proceeded to remove it completely. Before settling down again, he also took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled body and the swirling tattoos that you liked to trace with your fingertips when you cuddled in the morning.

Cassian’s wings rustled behind him as he lay down again and spread your legs a bit more.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. His hands were on your hips, drawing lazy circles over them. “We can stop whenever you want.”

You hadn’t realized just how tense and nervous you were at the thought of what was about to happen. Not that you were having second thoughts, but it was still your first time. No one had ever touched you like this before. And the way Cassian was doing everything he could to take things slow, to ensure you were comfortable… you might have fallen in love with him right then and there.

You let out a deep breath, feeling the tension leave your body as you exhaled. You then reached out to take one of his broad hands in yours.

“I don’t want to stop,” you assured him with a smile.

Cassian squeezed your fingers. “Alright, then,” he smirked. “Let me make you feel real good.”

He lowered his head, and then he was licking a stripe up your center. You didn’t know who groaned first as you arched slightly off the bed, but it was the best thing you had ever felt in your whole life. And it only got better when Cassian’s restraint seemed to snap at the lewd sounds that came out of your mouth: his lips closed around your clit and he gently sucked on it while his hand on your stomach held you down, the other one still entwined with yours.

“Cass…” you mumbled incoherently, unable to stay still, too lost to the pleasure.

He paused as he heard you, looking up at you with a newfound concern in his hazel eyes. Before he could ask if you were alright, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled down at him.

“I’m okay, I just…” You paused, trying to find the right words. “I need more, please.”

The sight of his head between your legs, his eyes on you, and a smirk on his lips threatened to make you crumble.

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he murmured against you.

His tongue resumed its circling of your clit, but his free hand now joined in too. Keeping his gaze on you to make sure you were fine, Cassian probed your entrance with a finger, pushing it inside only when you nodded. You gasped at first, but quickly relaxed around him, allowing him to pump it in and out slowly.

You were racing toward an edge you had no idea could be so close, and right when you thought it couldn’t get better than this, Cassian added a second finger and curled them inside you, hitting a spot so sensitive that you tumbled over.

A loud moan broke free as you came, squeezing his hand so tight that it probably hurt, but you couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth and fingers still moving, and the white-hot pleasure that washed over you.

Cassian’s ministrations slowed to a stop as you came down from your high. Panting, you watched him sit up straight and lick your release off his digits and chin.

“You taste delicious, you know that?”

You let out a breathy chuckle as he climbed up your body, holding himself up with his elbows on either side of your head. You stretched your neck to kiss him softly.

“Thank you, Cassian.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “That was… amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He peppered your face with kisses until you were giggling again. “And thank you for trusting me.”

Your hands traveled down his sculpted body to hover near his crotch. “What if I want it all?” you whispered, biting your lip in an attempt to hide a sheepish smile.

Cassian just pressed his mouth to yours one last time before moving off you and standing up to remove his pants.

“Then you shall receive,” he said as his underwear was dropped to the floor and his body was revealed to you in all its glory.

He looked like an ancient statue with all that muscle, and the wings, and the defined jawline. The hard cock—bigger than you had expected. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight, but Cassian only chuckled, eager to keep things going.

Once he was settled again between your legs, though, he paused. “I just need to ask one more time if you’re sure.”

Your gaze returned to his face, warmth blooming in your chest as you offered him the sweetest smile you could muster. “I’m sure. I want you, Cass.”

“I want you too.”

He leaned down to kiss you, and then he gently guided the head of his cock inside you.

It was hard—so astonishingly hard that you winced and shut your eyes. But Cassian went slowly, pushing in only a few inches at a time and pausing to let you adjust around him. He left tiny kisses all over your face—from your jaw to your temple, from your lips to your closed eyelids—and he kept murmuring tender words to soothe you through it all as his hands caressed your body.

Still, a part of you wanted to cry. But not at the painful burn that came with every thick inch of him, rather at the sweetness of it all. Of him. And when Cassian was finally fully seated inside of you and the discomfort gave way to a warm feeling deep in your stomach, you opened your eyes and smiled up at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked even as he smiled back, brushing some hair out of your face. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No… no, it’s gone, I think. I’m alright. Can you try to move?”

Cassian obeyed, giving a tentative roll of his hips that had you both moaning. It stung a bit, but it diminished when he did it again, and by the fourth, careful thrust, there was only pleasure left.

“Gods, it feels… you feel incredible,” you breathed as he set a slow, steady pace.

Cassian chuckled. “And you feel perfect around me, sweetheart.”

It was everything you had dreamed it would be—and then some. You began to move with him, legs wrapped around his waist, hands exploring and holding on to each other. His lips never left yours unless it was to kiss or nip at your neck, and he picked up the rhythm as soon as you asked him. Pants and moans echoed in the room alongside the sound of his hips slamming into yours, but you particularly liked the groans that slipped past Cassian’s lips every time you clenched around him.

When his fingers found your clit again, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cassian…” you whimpered. “I— I think I’m close…”

He pulled away from where he was kissing your throat and he retreated to his knees, your legs draped over his powerful thighs. With the new angle, you could feel him deeper inside you and it made your eyes roll back.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he purred, fingertips dancing faster over your sensitive clit. “Come around me.”

You shuddered then, crying out as you arched off the bed. If you thought coming on his tongue and finger was amazing, then you had no words to describe how it felt to come on his cock. You were writhing beneath him, legs shaking and walls squeezing him while he kept fucking you through it all, his own groans louder and louder.

Cassian waited for you to calm down and sink back on the mattress before thrusting a few more times and pulling out. You whined at the sudden absence, a complaint about to roll off your tongue until you saw him fist his own cock. You watched in silence as he pumped himself once, twice, and then a stream of his warm seed coated your stomach with the third stroke.

Breathing heavily, you stared at each other for a moment, just smiling and enjoying the lingering ecstasy of your orgasms.

You sat up on wobbly legs to face him better and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “That was… life-changing.”

His laugh boomed in the now-silent room as he gathered you in his arms. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. No doubt the best compliment I have ever received.” He kissed your forehead, then stood up to walk to the bathroom, still cradling you to his muscular chest. “Now let’s go get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

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[jason-todd-rh]

Masterlist 12

It's been a while (4 years to be exact) since i have done a masterlist but I wanted to do one. Here is the link to the other ones. My organization for each post is random. Also some didn't have names so i just did a short name (sorry in advance). There isn't a specifc order to them and these are just some i liked from the last year-ish.

As a reminder, make sure to follow these blogs :)

Series "Birds of a Feather" (part 1) (part 2) by @zyhkoo "Guard Dog" (part 1) (part 2) by @mostly-imagines "Shower Surprise" (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) by @twilight-orchid "Learning to Love Slowly" by @to-the-stars8 (honestly one of my favorites 10/10 recommend)

Jealous/Protective Jason (love me this category) "Don't Tell Jason" by @siddyyyyyyyy "Who are your boyfriend" by @prongsx

Fluff "Moonstruck" by @mostly-imagines "Favors in exchange for kisses" by @prongsx "Scenes from an afternoon odyssey" by @mostly-imagines "MIA" by @indulgentdaydream "Hungry?" by @montagoves "How He Shows He Loves You" by @mistymisfit "Amnesia and Flustered Jason" by @sanguineterrain "Eat Your Heart Patrick Swayze" by @kitkatscabinet "Physical Touch" by @luv4jason "Bluetooth j.t" by @cipheress-to-k-pop "Falling Asleep for the 1st time" by @patchiko "Hiding Nightmares" by @stararch4ngelqueen "Perfect Match" by @msfantasy-comics "SFW Fluff Alphabet" by @kimberly-spirits13 "Late Night Bouquet" by @killxz "We Got Love" by @makethatelevenrings "For the hell of it" by @lambsouvlaki "As long as you're with me" by @maivolpe "Shelter in the Rain"

Angst/Angst-ish "Don't Go Disappearing on Me" by @rambling-at-midnight "So This is Love" by @mostly-imagines "Not hot enough" by @writeriguess "Kidnapped" by @sanguineterrain "Where Are You" by @millyhelp "Ghosts of Gotham" by @sexsylexi "Domestic Betrayal" by @yourlocalcringydaydreamer "The Arkham Knight" by @mostly-imagines "Never Let Me Go" by @froggibus "Misunderstandings" by @sanguineterrain "Broken Heart of Gold" by @jasntodds "Be with You" by @chaotic-birds "Text me when you get home" by @sanguineterrain "Puzzle Pieces" by @makethatelevenrings "O Me! O Life" by @makethatelevenrings

NSFW "Jason Birthday fic" by @spidernuggets "Trying to get s/o's attention" by @gay-dorito-dust "First Time" by @igotanidea "Doesn't Always Have to be So Black and White" by @hanasnx "Lazy Morning" by @k2ntoss "Soft" by @stararch4ngelqueen "Don't make me cover your mouth" by @patheticbabie "Shower's on" by @icameheretoreadstuff "For the Hell of it" by @lambsouvlaki "NSWF Alphabet" by @sunlight-wing

[hanafubukki]

Waking up before your husband was always a treat.

This time only between you two and no one else.

He was known for his golden locks. Charming and bright against the silver of his armor.

What you thought most beautiful of all?

The smile from one recently waken from slumber. Eyes a soft blue bright in a pool of pink, speaking of how relaxed he was of this moment.

He stares at you as if you adorned the sun in the bright sky.

How you wish that was so. If then, could you give him the freedom he so rightly deserves. Let him spread his wings far and wide to soar the sky.

“May I touch you?”

“You needn’t ask.“

But you did ask. You always will.

He was somone chained to duty and crown. Someone whose wings clipped.

You would always ask him. Give him this freedom of choice.

He knew. He would take your hand every time. Calloused from training but treating yours as fine jewels. Placing it over his heart.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

While his body might not belong to him, his soul will always belong to you.

“My light, what are you thinking of?”

You lean into the hand that cups your cheek before taking it in yours, lips grazing across scars and hardened skin.

“How much I adore you.”

A shuddering breath.

Hands pulling you close.

Kisses filled with smiles exchanged.

Was feeling soft for The Knight of Dawn and decided to finish this fic that I started months ago. ☺️💞💞 I’m quite happy how it turned out 🫶🫶 even though that middle section came and hit me out of nowhere lol.

This was inspired by this art piece of the Knight of Dawn from months ago. (Careful, it’s nsfwish; he’s naked waist up but he’s so beautiful 🥰🥰)

Story Notes: the reason why I said Dawn’s eyes are “bright blue in a pool of pink” is not only because he has aurora colored eyes like Silver, but also because when Silver is determined or fierce, you can see his eyes become more pink highlighted. So the soft blue eyes is a tell to show how relaxed and comforted Dawn is. 💚💕

[cryobabyy]

cooper adams has a mommy kink. take this where you please

what is it finna play.........WOAH

NSFW UNDER THE CUT (lowkey a whole ass fic)

Okay so obviously, the man has some serious rules. He's meticulous, well-organized, and a master at compartmentalizing each section of his various lifes; Work!Cooper, Dad!Cooper, Husband!Cooper, and ofc 'The Butcher' (He rolls his eyes when the media starts calling him that. He thinks it's corny and tasteless lol.). It's all neatly organized into little sections that never touch.

HOWEVER, he has an urge that doesn't fit in with any of the tidy little pockets of his life he's curated. He's in control. Everything has a time and a place. So he would have to carve out time to explore the urge.

ENTER YOU; a broke college kid who has a weird little escorting side hustle. Every weekend you let some well-to-do older guy take you out to dinner, and buy you something expensive in exchange for your time and attention. Sometimes they ask you to do weird shit, like send a video of you stepping on a cake, or spitting in their mouth. Textbooks are expensive, so you usually agree for a price.

You get a Tinder message from a dude named Cooper. He has two pictures. Cropped pictures from the neck down. One with his shirt on, one with his shirt off. He's got this fit dad bod thing going on. Nice.

At his request, you meet at a sports bar.

Oh shit??? He's tall? and attractive??? You're a professional though (kinda), so you remind yourself that it's strictly business.

Cooper is extremely charming, he makes you laugh, and he tells you he's divorced and never had kids. He's a police officer, nearly retired. He shows you his badge because he doesn't want you to feel unsafe. Seems legit. He tells you he's just looking for some company, but not anything more.

You tell him about yourself, that you're a sophomore in college, you're supporting yourself, and doing stuff like this was more enjoyable than signing up for Uber.

Cooper is having a blast listening to you prattle on about your cute little life. He thinks you're adorable and pathetically naive. You believed his song and dance, and for that he respected you. He liked that, in a way, you're a hustler just like him. In another life, he would have liked to keep you in a cage like a pet bird. But he likes you, so you get to live.

You're having fun..... like maybe too much fun. If this were a normal date and not a mutually consensual transaction, you would have wanted him to throw you over his shoulder and take you home.

You share buffalo wings and a couple drinks. It's so casual, you forget you're technically working. He's a gentleman, he walks you to your car. You're kinda disappointed the night is coming to an end, so you perk up at his request.

"I'm having a great time with you, and I don't want to be too forward, but do you think we can take the party somewhere else? I can make it worth your time."

You're at a crossroads. Prostitution is illegal, but is it still prostitution if you really, really want to fuck this 6'3 silver fox? You don't even want his money at this point, you just want him.

"What is this, a sting operation?" You're only half joking. He laughs.

"I wouldn't have told you I'm a cop if it was."

You tell him you don't want his money, that you're in the back of his black SUV, straddling his lap making out and undoing his belt buckle because you want to.

He looks up at you and nods. "Yes, m'am."

It clicks right then and there.

this man wants to be dominated.

you experimentally put a hand to his throat and squeeze.

He groans in response, bucking his hip upwards. You can feel him straining against his pants underneath you.

Holy shit, this 6'3 cop wants you to make him your bitch. The plot twist of the century. You thought you were going to be the one tied up.

"You gonna be a good boy for me, Cooper?" You use your free hand to push a silvery strand of brown hair behind his ear. You've done some weird shit before, but nothing like this. You didn't exactly hate it either.

He nods eagerly, his breathing labored. "I'll do whatever you fucking tell me."

You decide to test some boundaries and give him a sharp slap across the face, and he keens like a little slut. Holy shit this is really happening.

"Watch your fucking mouth."

He's a mess, cheeks red, hair in his face. He looks up at you, and you see something that looks like equal parts hate and admiration in his eyes. It's low-key scary, but you're also soaking fucking wet.

"I'm sorry." He grits out, rutting his constrained cock against your thigh.

You move your leg away, he groans at the loss. You hold his jaw between your index finger and your thumb.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry, mommy."

Whaaaatttt???? Okay be cool, be cool, you got this

"Good boy."

In the dark recesses of Cooper's mind, he observes the situation he's put you in as a third party. He came here to get an itch scratched, and what a fucking relief it was; to be safely out of control in a controlled environment.

He asks for permission to eat you out.

You make him beg for it. Tell him he doesn't deserve it.

"Show me how bad you want it." You tell him to touch himself.

He pulls himself out, you look down in between your mostly clothed bodies and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep your cool.

He's becoming incoherent, a breathless mess. He's begging you to let him touch you. Your resolve crumbles at the sight of him, wet lipped, dark-eyed, and heaving.

"Don't disappoint me, Cooper."

AND THATS ALL HE NEEDS TO HEAR

He wastes no time getting your back against the backseat door and your legs spread and your panties pushed to the side. You nearly forgot he was twice your size and could throw you around like a doll if he wanted.

He's ravenous. Like he was starving.

The man has talent for eating pussy, clearly.

You have a hard time keeping up your end of this dynamic because this motherfucker (lol) is making your legs SHAKE. You have to bite your lips to stop yourself from begging him to just fuck you.

You come in like 60 seconds obviously, the sound that rips from your chest makes you sound like a preening little bitch.

You grab a fist full of his hair to regain some control, and he groans into you.

You quite literally have to pull him off you lol

You're completely lost in the sauce at this point

You don't even know who's really in charge here??

Doesn't matter because you're already half hazardously pulling his jeans down his thighs and he's pushing your leg over his shoulder.

You use one hand to dig your nails into his ass, and the other to hold him by the throat.

Despite you being in control, Cooper sets a punishing pace, and you can't find it in you to reprimand him or whatever you were supposed to do. Instead, you just grit praises through your teeth.

"You're such a good fucking boy, Cooper. Such a- fuck. Say it. Whose mommy's good boy?"

He doesn't say anything for a second, so you plant a sharp little slap across his face. He groans.

"Answer me."

"I am."

"That's fucking right, baby." You croon.

That seems to send him right over the fucking edge.

When he comes inside you, he puts his full weight on you, wraps his hand around your neck, and makes the most intense eye contact you've ever had in your life. It startles the fuck out of you.

His final thrusts are punctuated by hissing swear words. "Fuck. Yes. Fuck."

And then??? it's just??? Over???

He pulls off of you, tucks himself back in his pants, and smooths his hair back into place.

(CONTINUED IN SECOND POST LOL)

[profound-imagination]

Flightless (Reimagined) - Azriel Shadowsinger

A/N - Okay so this is a rewritten version of this fic - I really hope you enjoy.

T/W: Very brief mention of S/A it isn't talked about in detail, the R word isn't used but please keep yourselves safe and don't read if at all triggering for you. Talks of violence.

W/C: 7.7K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a deep breath, steeled yourself against the biting cold, and approached one of the most terrifying males you knew. You wanted to do this, wanted to learn. "Excuse me, Lord Devlon?" He took his sweet time before he looked at you, before he acknowledged you. "What is it, girl?" He asked, no malice in his voice, but it wasn't kind either. "I was wondering if it would be acceptable for me to join training with the other girls in the mornings?" The two warriors next to him snorted, the third sneered, "What use would you be, girl? Your wings weren't even clipped, I don’t think there's a word for what happened to your wings, your missing half of one and the other is bent all wrong." A shudder ran through you at the memory, the agony, the heartbreak of never being able to feel the wind again, of never being able to answer its call again. 

Devlon paled slightly as he looked past you and snapped at the three warriors with him to get back to work, the third still sneering at you as he went. "I survived sir." You told Devlon quietly, "I survived what happened to me, I'm strong enough to train like an Illyrian." He ran a hand down his face, and you felt someone approach behind you, you did not turn but your spin straightened, and your broken wings flared as best as they could. "You'll get yourself killed, you'll be thrown into the Rite, just like the others. Besides, we start training as children, your age is against you." You looked up at him and met his eyes, "I can do this sir, please, let me try." He opened his mouth to reply but another voice came from behind you. "Why do you want to train so badly?" You turned slowly only to be met by the Lord of Bloodshed himself. The General of the Night Court stood tall, proud, and strong. The wind was whipping the lose pieces of his hair around his face. Seven ruby red siphons glinted in the sun. You had never seen him up close, but from here you almost crumbled under how powerful he clearly was.  

"I was held down as they mutilated my wings, my Lord. I was helpless, I couldn’t defend myself, I didn’t know how to." You could have sworn the air thickened, and the sky darkened as the Shadowsinger and the High Lord himself approached. "Who took your wings?” Cassian growled, glaring at Devlon as he did. “Well, it didn’t happen here!” Devlon snapped at the General who bared his teeth in response. These two clearly were not friends. “It happened at the Ironcrest Camp.” You told him quickly, your nerves fraying due to looks being exchanged between the two males you currently stood between, the last thing you wanted was to be caught between two fighting Illyrians. “This camp has been good to me.” You continued. “Devlon.” The High Lord greeted, “Rhysand.” Devlon gritted back. “Why won’t you train the girl?” Rhysand asked and Devlon gestured towards you, “Look at her, she’s in no shape to train, to fight. She wouldn’t last an hour in the Rite.” Rhysand studied you, “What happened to your wings?” He asked, his star flecked eyes meeting your own. “This isn’t a traditional clipping.” He said and you shuddered against the memory. “Let me see.” He said as you felt his power caressing your mind and then there, he was, in the middle of that night with you.  

Ironcrest was cold. Colder than Windhaven. There was a reason it was known as the cruellest camp, and it wasn’t just the biting weather that gave it that reputation. You were making your way back to your decrepit tent after clearing up after dinner. The males, as usual had eaten more than their share, your own you had split between the few daughters of the camp. Those who were discarded as soon as they were born. Urchins the males referred to them as. Stomach cramping with hunger you prayed to the Mother you wouldn’t run into Malakai, the Lord's son, the Male with the cruellest reputation, one that was well earned. You felt a flinch on the edge of the memory, and you knew it was the High Lord sensing your fear as you continued to walk through the dark. You had seen Malakai at dinner, drinking heavily and you knew that would do nothing to improve the perpetual sense of rage he seemed to live in. He, for some reason, had taken a shine to you and not in a good or kind way. You could see your tent in the distance, so so close, when all of a sudden, a hand wrapped around your mouth, trapping any sound, another arm around your waist, trapping your already weak wings from the lack of flying, females were not to be seen in the sky here, most of which had already been clipped. Everything went black before you could react. When you woke, three males surrounded you, Malakai and his two, equally sadistic friends. They were a band of brothers, much like the High Lord, the General and the Shadowsinger. You weren’t sure why you thought about them in that moment, maybe because they’d be the only ones to save you, but they wouldn’t come and why would they? You felt Rhysand flinch again at the thought.  

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Malakai crooned at you, you didn’t look at him, you kept your gaze downcast. A good, submissive female. “You’ve been struting around here unchecked for too long.” He said, “I made it quite clear that you were to be mine and seeing as you won’t submit on your own, I’ll take what is rightfully mine.” Fear shot through your entire being and your body went numb as his friends held you face down in the dirt. You couldn’t fight, couldn’t move due to their weight. Laying there helpless you cried as Malakai hacked at your wings. Not at the base as you had expected, as you had witnessed in previous clippings while on your knees, holding the unfortunate females hands, promising her everything would be okay. There was no one to do that for you as you felt your left wing tear, as you felt the right one break. No one to tell you it was going to be okay as he forced himself on you as his friends laughed while you were bleeding out in the snow. You weren’t sure how long you cried in the snow, naked, cold, broken, it could’ve been hours before the daughters you looked after came looking, before they dragged you as best they could back to your tent and sat with you. You weren’t sure if the Mother herself was watching over you because even though part of you died that night, you were still alive come daybreak.  

“Enough! Rhys, enough!” A voice like night personified spoke, close to your ear. You felt the cold seeping into your tattered dress as Rhysand retreated from your mind. There was a warmth at your back you noticed as you looked at the High Lord’s face and saw nothing but rage there. “Are you okay?” The same voice asked you, “It can be unsettling the first time he does that.” It continued, you craned your neck and saw the Shadowsinger, looking down at you and you came to the mortifying realisation that you were in his embrace, on the floor. You scrambled away from him, “I’m sorry my Lord, I’m so sorry!” You rushed out. The General let out a laugh and pulled you from the ground gently, setting you back on your feet and making sure you were steady before he stepped away. “She trains.” Rhysand spoke, authority coating his words, daring Devlon to argue with him. “If she wishes to train, to learn how to defend herself, she trains.” He said. Devlon was silent for a long moment. “With me.” It was not Devlon who had spoken but the Shadowsinger. “She trains with me, personally.” He wasn’t telling Devlon, nor was he asking permission, he was telling the High Lord that training you was going to be his task, and his alone. The two of them seemed to have some kind of silent argument if the tick in the Spymasters jaw was anything to go by before Rhysand finally said, “So be it Az, she trains with you.” You couldn’t fight the small smile that graced your lips, even if your cheeks were burning with embarrassment from having been in his lap only moments ago. “Thank you, Shadowsinger.” You said quietly. He didn’t smile, he just nodded. “Azriel, my name is Azriel.”  

As instructed you were outside one of the only shops in Windhaven at daybreak. The door clicked open, and a female slipped out. “Oh, you must be Y/N.” She smiled gently. You returned her smile, “Yes, are you Emerie?” She nodded in confirmation that she was indeed Emerie. She looked you up and down and you didn’t miss her eyes snagging on the half of a wing hanging from your left side. “So, you’re Azriel’s new project.” She mused. “His new project?” You asked, “He’s just training me?” You said. “He’s a wonderful male, kind, gentle, but he’s dangerous and he’s easy to fall for.” She warned, “Have you?” You asked, “Fallen for him?” You clarified and she laughed, “Me? No, I prefer the company of females.” She told you with a smirk. Oh, oh. “I have no plans to fall for him, I just want to learn.” You told her and she smiled gently again, “Just be careful.” was all she said as the most beautiful female you had ever seen appeared and gave Emerie a dazzling smile. She bounced up to you, “Hi, I’m Mor!” He voice was like windchimes. “Hello, I’m Y/N.” You smiled, “Ready to learn how to kick these males asses?” She grinned and offered you a hand as you nodded.  

Winnowing was a strange sensation, it felt like falling and staying still all at once and then you really were falling. The air left your lungs as you collided with something and then you were flying. “Welcome to Velaris.” You opened your eyes to see the High Lord and you were flying. A grin split across your face; it had almost been a year since you had last flown and the wind felt incredible against your skin. Rhysand smiled down at you as he did a couple of loops of the house below while you grinned before he eventually landed. You finally took in the view of the city he had called Velaris. “It’s beautiful here,” you breathed. “You should see it at Starfall.” A female spoke from behind you. Turning to face the voice you saw the High Lord with his arms around a beautiful female and you knew exactly who she was. You dropped into a courtesy, “High Lady,” you greeted. She smiled warmly, “Just Feyre is fine.” She told you, taking your hand and helping you straighten and regain your balance, the wind causing your wings to knock you off kilter. “Is that what you are training in?” She asked, referring to your tattered dress and your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “It’s all I have.” You admitted and she frowned at her husband. “It’s fine, really!” You insisted and she didn’t argue with you.  

“Are you ready?” Azriel’s voice sent chills down your spine. You took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I am.” You told him. “We’re training a level up.” He told you, “This place goes higher?” You gasped, “It does, all that’s up there is a training ring, slightly smaller than this one, Cassian will be training Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn down here.” You nodded at him, “Once you're caught up you are welcome to join them, Nesta has already extended the invitation.” You smiled, that was incredibly kind of her, you had never been included before. In anything. “Let’s go.” He said, walking towards the door leading into the house. The interior took your breath away. You had never seen the outside of the camps before and you couldn’t comprehend how grand this house was. “Do you live here?” You gasped, freezing in place and taking in the parlour room. Azriel turned upon hearing your footsteps hault. Due to your half a wing your steps had a telltale uneven sound to them. He allowed a rare turn up of his lips at the sight of wonder on your face. “Yes, with Cassian and Nesta.” You didn’t acknowledge his words, still taking in the rich wallpaper, the plus sofas and chairs. “I’m not here much though, I’m often away for work but whenever I’m in the city this is where I reside.” He continued, that seemed to pull you back to him, “Oh, am I keeping you from that?” You asked gently, concern coating your eyes, “I can train at the camps, honestly, its fine.” You rushed out. Azriel shook his head, “You aren’t keeping me from anything.” He inclined his head towards the door and you followed next to him, running your hand along the back of the sofa, “I’ve never felt something so soft!” You exclaimed; an amused raise of his brows was all he gave you in return. You struggled up the stairs, your wings leaving your gait uneven, stairs was something you hadn’t faced in a long time, and it seemed you could no longer go up them very well. Azriel didn’t push or hurry you like you expected, he merely kept a step behind you to catch you if you fell. You were exhausted by the time you’d reached the training ring but more than determined to prove yourself. 

Training that day was brutal. Not because you got hurt, in fact, Azriel didn’t touch you once, didn’t once enter your personal space. He had started you off with footwork. It was much harder than you thought simple footwork would be, but your uneven wings made life difficult as did the shadows that constantly danced around you, but you loved your new little friends and he couldn’t seem to call them back no matter how much he told them to leave you alone and find something useful to be doing, apparently they thought nothing was more useful than being around you. He never once lost his patience, he let you work through it. Let you pull yourself from the ground time after time with nothing but gentle encouragement. “Good,” he said at midday, “You did well today, we’ll do the same again tomorrow.” Sweat was pouring off of you by the time he was guiding you through a cool down. “How did it go?” Rhysand asked, appearing on the roof with the pair of you while you were lying on your back, fighting for your life trying to catch your breath. “It went well.” Azriel told him as you just stuck your arm in the air showing him a thumbs up. Rhysand just laughed at you. “Y/N, I have asked our healer, Madja, to take a look at your wings, just to make sure, if you’ll allow it?” He asked, your sat up, crossing your legs and looked at him, “Make sure of what? They can’t be fixed? Half of one is probably still in that field in Ironcrest.” You told him, “I know they can’t, but I’d like to know if they are causing you pain and if we can do anything about that.” He said a kind smile graced his face and you found yourself nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Azriel said shortly, his attitude suddenly switched, and storms seemed to be brewing in his eyes. “Okay.” You mumbled quietly, slightly scared of the person he now seemed to be. “Azriel.” Rhysand growled, “You are to leave it alone, do you understand?” He commanded, pure High Lord. Azriel levelled him with a look, nodded once and took to the skies.  

Azriel:  

“Half of one is probably still in that field in Ironcrest.” Azriel wasn’t sure why the words had gutted him like they had or why they were playing over and over in his head. He knew something tragic had happened to her, something unforgivable, Rhys hadn’t shared with him or Cassian what he had seen in her mind yesterday, but it had taken all afternoon, several glasses of whiskey and Feyre perched on his lap before his brother had calmed. All he knew was that when she uttered those words a rage like he hadn’t felt for a long time consumed him. He was to leave it alone. That was an order from his High Lord, not his friend, not his brother, his High Lord. So alone he would leave it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t investigate, Rhysand hadn’t said anything about investigating. So, naturally, he flew to Ironcrest. He kept quiet and out of sight of the main camp and sent his ever-helpful friends to investigate. He didn’t fail to notice the littlest one, the one that usually stuck to him like glue, rambling in his ear like an excited child, the one that hadn’t left her side all morning was the first to dart away at his command.  

It didn't take long before he heard a howl on the wind, they had found something. The remaining shadows engulfed him like a swarm. When they cleared again, he was in a small clearing. It was the little shadow howling for him and upon his arrival it came shooting towards him. "Look! Look! See, Master! See what they did!” It was frantically whispering at him. “Show me.” He answered it aloud and followed its lead. The smell of blood hit him first. Something that didn’t make sense, but he knew on instinct it was hers. Her injuries weren’t recent, not recent enough for the blood to linger, not with the weather up here anyway but it was as if her blood had permeated the earth and his wings unfurled with the anger that once again hit him like a tidal wave. He spotted it then, lying in the grass, half of a wing. Just like she said. The cuts were crude, as if the instrument used was too blunt for the cartilage of the wing. He knew, from his experiance in breaking people, that once they had sawed through the bone, they had torn through the skin with their bare hands, like one would with paper. Even as someone who inflicted pain for a living, he couldn’t imagine. His knees gave out without his permission, and he vomited. “Kill them! Make them suffer! Kill them all!” The little shadow was hissing as it darted around his head. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he forced himself to his feet. “I will little one, I will.” He told it, “I’ll help!” It insisted, “You’ll all help when the time is right, for now, some of you stay here, find out who did this to her, keep me informed.” He addressed all of his shadows, the sneakier of which took their leave at his command. The little one floating by his ear like an unofficial second in command.  

Y/N: 

As predicted, there was nothing Madja could do for your wings, other than keep you comfortable with them. Which Rhysand insisted she do despite your protest that they had already done far too much for you by allowing you to train. You left of course, with ointments, tinctures, and vials for your wings. You arrived at training the next morning, aching but determined as ever. “Go on up!” Nesta told you with a smile and you give her your best smile right back. Gritting your teeth you pulled yourself up the stairs to the second training ring. Azriel wasn’t there when you arrived so you wandered over to the edge of the ring, bending at the waist to feel the wind over the wall. Your right wing, the broken one tried hard to unfurl and feel the wind but shattering pain lanced through you and it quickly stopped its movement. You stood there, a small smile on your face, hair whipping around you. “I like it up here, I can feel the wind again, I can hear its song.” You told Azriel who looked downright shocked you knew he was there as he emerged from his shadows. You let out a small laugh and put your hair behind your ear, “This little one gave you away.” You told him, showing you the little shadow curled around your ear like it belonged there. Azriel glared at it and it dived into your hair. “Don’t be mean to my new friend!” You scolded him and half of his lip twitched up into a smile. He came and leant against the wall next to you, taking great care not to knock your wings, Rhysand must’ve told him about the exposed bone and nerve on the left one that you wouldn’t even let Madja touch. “It must be nice to live somewhere like this, up in the wind.” You told him, “Do you miss it?” He asked, and you looked at him to find him already watching you, “Of course I do, but this is as close as I’ll ever get now.” You told him with a shrug. “Shall we start?” You asked. “Not yet, let’s enjoy the wind a bit longer first.” He said. From that day on, the first 45 minuets of training, Azriel dedicated to sitting on the wall, enjoying the wind. Slowly and surely, the Shadowsinger started talking to you more and more.  

Azriel:  

Six months later Azriel had found himself looking forward to morning training. It was no longer a motion to go through. He found he enjoyed Y/N’s quiet company. Enjoyed that she had never once been scared to call him out on his shit. It was her that had finally gotten through to him about Elain. He was repeating old patterns, and he knew that now. “You’re worth more than you think, Azriel. You deserve real and true love, mate or not. But this thing you have with Elain, this isn’t it. You know it isn’t. She’s using you and you know it, deep down you know it.” She had told him three days ago. He was furious. How dare she think such a thing about Elain about him? All he had tried to do is help her! He hadn’t shown up for training the last two days, but he knew from Cassian that she had and stubbornly carried on without him. Today, he was swallowing his pride and apologising for his actions. He had reacted badly at the time and she had flinched, she had been scared of him in that moment and it made him sick. He knew she knew he would never lift a hand to her in such a way, but she had still flinched, and he would not forgive himself for it, for the scent of fear that filled the air as he walked away from her in the middle of a session.  

When he made it to the training ring, she wasn’t there. So he waited, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Emerie came bursting onto the roof, Mor on her heels, Cassian, Nesta and Gwyn behind them. “She never turned up this morning!” Emerie told him in one breath. “Mor and I went to her tent but she wasn't there either!” He met Cassians gaze and saw the worry there, the tick in his brothers jaw. Cassian ran these camps as best he could but even Cassian wasn’t enough to corral the old ways and he could read it on the General’s face that he was worried about what they would find. “Find Rhysand, meet me there.” Was all he said to Cassian before launching to the skies.  

Azriel wasted no time in heading straight for Devlon when he landed, his shadows skittering in all directions in their own search. The littlest one that she had become so fond of stuck with him, wailing in his ear. The commander met him halfway. “I know why you are here, Singer.” He said, “None of us had anything to do with it, we don’t know where she is, just that she’s gone.” “Truth, truth, truth.” The little shadow wailed in his ear. Azriel nodded once, “You and everyone here is to stay here, in the centre of camp and out of my way.” He said, his voice promising a cold death if they disregarded his order. Devlon nodded once and Azriel strode away. “Not here, not here, not here!” the little shadow repeated over and over again. “I know!” He growled at it, “Unless you know where she is, be quiet!” The shadow darted from his ear, up into his hair where it hid. He took to the skies again, circling the camp and the surrounding areas in slightly largest circles each time when Rhys and Cassian arrived. Rhysand took over sorting out a plan of action as the urgency and panic was starting to eat away at Azriel. He didn’t understand what was going on but the Spymaster almost suffocating with the frantic anxiety that was crawling up his throat and constricting his chest. His brothers shared a knowing look but did not enlighten him. He didn’t care. If it wasn’t her location, he wasn’t interested. The little shadow slid down his face, to its place curled round his ear and began to whisper once more. “Taken, hurt, taken, hurt.” “Where?!” He demanded and a swarm of shadows engulfed him, taking him to where they had found her.  

Azriel almost vomited again when he saw her, lying broken in the grass, in the exact spot where she had been broken a year prior. “Find out why she was at Ironcrest!” He snapped at a group of shadows that quickly departed. y she’s in Ironcrest!” He snapped at a group of nearby shadows. Whether she came here of her own free will or was taken against it, the outcome was going to be the same. The torture master of the Night Court was coming out to play and they were going to suffer. People were going to die and this camp would be red by the time he was done. Her favourite little shadow was already racing towards her. Azriel had never heard a shadow scream before, and it was haunting. A sound he would never forget for as long as he lived. He would wake from nightmares to that sound, just like he did to the sound of the flesh on his hands sizzling when he was a child. There was no way to describe the state of her already broken wings, or the amount of blood she was covered in. “Help her! Master! Help her!” The little shadow was screaming at him as he fell to his kness beside her, checking her breath. She was still breathing, that was a start. He heard Rhys and Cassian land behind him. “Not again.” He heard Rhys mumble and he whirled on his brother, “What. Do. You. Mean. Again?” He demanded, Cassian was the one who spoke, “Not now, she needs us!”  

Azriel turned back to the beautiful broken female lying in the grass. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” He asked, her eyes flew open, unfocused, and wild. Unsure of who was in front of her she went to move away and defend herself when she screamed. He assumed due to the pain she was currently in. “Y/N, it’s me!” Her eyes focused for a second and softened upon seeing him, she croaked his name, and a snap took place deep within his chest at the sound of his name and all of his instincts got stronger, harder to fight and he knew exactly what had happened. “There it is.” Cassian said to Rhys quietly who nodded back at the General. She went limp again. She would’ve hit the ground if not for Cassian catching her, placing her gently back down, from the seated position she was in. “No, no, no, baby, stay with me!” Azriel said desperately reaching for her. “Rhysand, help me!” He begged his High Lord, “Madja is the only one who can help her now, we need to move.” Rhys told him, Azriel stood, cradling her in his arms. Shadows were racing towards him from the trees. He handed her to Rhys as gently as possible. “You can winnow faster than my shadows. Take her.” Rhys nodded and was gone.  

“In the trees, in the trees.” The shadows told him upon reaching him. He and Cassian followed, both males freezing upon finding a young girl, no older than 4, crying softly under a tree. Cassian made himself as small as possible when he realised Azriel was in no state to deal with this and met the little ones eyes, “What are you doing out here all by yourself little lady?” He asked with a gentle smile at the girl. “Are you going to hurt her?” The girl asked, baring her little teeth at Cassian, Azriel would have laughed if he had it in him. “No, we’re her friends.” Cassian told her softly, “She helped me.” She croaked, “They tried to take my wings.” Azriel ground his teeth so hard he thought they’d break. “Are you hurt?” Cassian asked and she shook her head no, “Just a little cut.” She said, expanding her tiny wing so show them a graze. “Where’s your mother? Your father?” her bottom lip wobbled at the question, “Dead.” She said as another fat tear rolled down her cheek. She crawled towards them, completely by-passing Cassian and holding her little arms up to Azriel. He complied, picking up the girl and resting her on his hip. “Please don’t take me back. I want to go with her.” She begged, placing her little hands on either side of his face. Azriel and Cassian had a silent conversation between them. There was no question, the girl would come with them, they would find her a good home. She'd never come back to the camps. “You don’t have to go back,” Azriel said as calmly as he could manage, “But you need to go with Cassian now, okay?” She studied him some more, “Are you coming too?” She asked, why this girl had picked him to trust he didn’t know, especially now, with shadows pouring out of him and death radiating out of his pores. Azriel nodded at her, “Yes Little One, I’m coming too, but I have to go to the camp first.” She nodded at him and let Azriel hand her to Cassian, “Ready to fly little lady?” He asked her with a grin, “I can’t fly yet. Don't know how.” She told him, Cassian ruffled her hair, “That’s okay, I’ll fly us.” He said. Azriel was already walking away, “Where are you going?” Cassian called after him, Azriel didn’t stop moving as he said. “To work.”  

Rhys was waiting for him on the edge of the camp. Fucking Cassian. “Do not try and stop me, Rhysand.” Azriel warned and Rhys held his hands up in mock surrender. “Stop you?” He asked, “I’m here to help you.” That stoppped Azriel in his tracks. “To hurt an innocent like they hurt her is one thing, to be handled diplomatically as they see no issue with their ways, ways that I am trying to outlaw.” He said, “To hurt my brothers mate? That is another and for that, they will pay.” Azriel almost smiled. “You knew?” He asked, “I had my suspicions,” Rhys told him, “But I didn’t know for sure, not until today.” Rhys’ eyes glazed over for a second. “Cassian is on his way.” Azriel didn’t get time to ask his question before Rhys carried on talking. “The girl is fine, she's with Mor, she met Cassian halfway, she doesn’t know her own name though, so you’ll have to think of one for her.” Rhys told him, “Me?” Azriel asked, “Shall we start calling you Daddy Az now?” Cassian asked as he landed beside them. Azriel shoved an elbow into his ribs. “What?! Cassian asked, “She was asking for you and Y/N the whole way back.” The three of them strode into the camp, their intentions clear. Illyrians began to scatter but none got far thanks to the wards Rhys had thrown up around the camp. Malakai and his friends were easy to find.  

Once the brothers had gotten their prisoners situated in that chamber far below Hewn City, Rhys and Cassian once again departed, off to tell the Lord of Ironcrest his son would not be returning, Azriel got to work. Their deaths would not be quick, would not be merciful. He would not start with their wings, oh no. That would be a day two or three job. He wouldn’t take them too early, wouldn’t let them think they had lost that what Illyrians held most dear at the start, it would take all the fight out of them and that’s what he wanted, a fight. So he’d start small, Azriel knew exactly where to cut to cause the most amount of pain with the least amount of threat to life, but they would not leave here, not alive, not whole, and certainly not through the door. When the males were groaning, bleeding and full of Fae Bane, he left them hanging by their wrists. To spend their night being tormented by the beasts below.  

“Absolutely not!” Mor said as soon as she saw him. “Go and bathe.” Azriel growled at her, the need to check on Y/N and the tiny girl they had found pressing down on him so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “That little girl has been through enough without you showing up looking like that and terrifying her!” Mor hissed at him pushing him down the hallway towards his own room. “They are both fine, both strong.” She told him and the weight lifted enough for him to get a breath down. “Come back when you’re clean.” She said, turning away and walking back down the corridor.  

Once clean, he returned. His bath had done nothing to heal the tension in his body. He found his family gathered in a tight circle, whispering amongst one another. “I want to see her.” He said, garnering their attention and Rhys nodded at him, gesturing towards the door. He and Cassian followed Rhys him in. Every muscle in his body froze when he saw her. “Before you lose it,” Rhys said, “What was done was for the best, for her health.” “For her health?” Azriel repeated as a question. “Yes, she already had a nasty infection setting in and-” Azriel cut him off, “Her wings are gone! Gone Rhys, completely gone!” He roared. “It was for the best Az, It really was.” Cassian piped up. “With the new damage caused and the infection setting in, she would’ve lost the ability to walk as well, Rhys and Madja made a difficult decision, but it was the right one.” Panic was crawling up his throat, “I can’t.” He choked out, “I can’t be here!” Gods he was pitiful, she deserved a better mate than him. One that would sit by her bedside until she woke, one that helped her through this, but Azriel could barely look at her. “Az!” Feyre called after him as he fled the room, “There's someone in the sitting room whose been asking for you since they arrived.” She said catching up with him and taking his elbow, steering him towards the sitting room.  

“Mama!” Nyx called out, running into Feyre’s legs as soon as he spotted her. She picked him up, placing a kiss on each of his cheeks, “Hello my love!” She greeted him warmly. “She doesn’t know how to play.” Nyx whispered quietly to his mother and Azriel didn’t miss the longing in the little girl's gaze as she watched Feyre interact with Nyx. So, he took a deep breath to steady himself and crouched down, opening his arms to her in invitation, he was going to do something right today. She hesitated, for only a moment before a brilliant grin split across her face and she ran into his arms. “How’s your wing, Little One?” He asked as he stood with her, she extended it to show him, “The lady fixed it.” She told him and began rambling on and on about the light in Madja’s hands and the tingly creams she had used. He took a seat on the sofa, the one he clearly remembered Y/N telling him was the softest thing she had ever felt. He was going to buy her 12. The little girl situated herself in his lap, still talking a mile a minute.  “They tell me you don’t know your name.” She looked up at him, her big brown eyes shining, “Never had one.” She said and his face softened, even in that cell, all those years ago he had a name. Something that belonged to him. “Why don’t we pick you one?” He asked her, so wrapped up in this child he didn’t even notice Feyre and Nyx slip out of the room. “Okay?” She agreed, sounding doubtful. “Hmm,” He mused, “What about Luna?” He asked and she screwed her nose up, “No you’re right,” He said, “Sounds like a hounds name.” She giggled at him, placing both her hands on his face again, he took a mental note to figure out why she did that. “Selena? It means the Moon?” He asked and she shook her head, “I’m not a moon! I’m a girl, silly!” He huffed out a laugh, “My mistake, Little One, Lennox?” He asked, “No!” He grinned down at her, “This is hard!” He told her and she nodded her little head in agreement. “Theodora, Theo for short?” He asked, “Does that mean moon?” She asked, “No, Little One, Theodora means Gift of God.” She pondered it for a moment, “What god?” She asked, he had no answer for that. Azriel knew in his bones that this girl was a gift of God, but it didn’t suit her. “I don’t think it suits you,” He said, “Marceline?” He asked and her face softened at the sound of it. He watched her mouth the word, testing it on her tongue. Her smile answered his question, she was Marceline, she was his Little Warrior. 

Nyx came running back into the room, “Dinner!” He announced and Azriel caught the excitement on Marceline’s little face, and he wondered when the last time she ate a proper meal had been. His family would have fed her when she arrived, but a proper dinner, he didn't know. She scrambled off of his lap, “I have a name!” She told Nyx proudly, “What is it?” Nyx asked, “Marceline!” She told him, Nyx seemed to ponder the name she had told him, “Marcie.” He said, “I’m going to call you Marcie.” She grinned at him, “Let’s go!” She said, offering her hand towards Azriel to hold on the way to dinner and he felt lighter than he had in days smiling down at the two children clasping hands at his side. He made a note to talk to Cassian after dinner about turning the rooms that they used to share into somewhere for himself and Marceline to reside seeing as Cassian moved into the main bedroom with Nesta what seemed like years ago and to ask Mor to go with him for clothes and toys for the little girl. He had thought they would find her a good home, but he knew in the very marrow of his being that there was no better home for her than here, with him and hopefully Y/N. Besides, she had a built in best friend in Nyx here.  

“See, she’s not scary!” Marceline told him days later when she had coaxed him into Y/N’s room. He sat stiffly in the chair next to her bed, Marceline perched on the bed next to her. Wishing he could switch places with her. She didn’t deserve to be lying there. Marceline had been begging him to come with her for days and he had finally relented. “She wasn’t scared at all, Azzy!” Marceline told him proudly, “She hit him real good until the second and third one turned up.” Azriel knew she had. He’d seen the bruises on Malakai’s face himself. “I want to learn how to fight like her!” She continued, “Nyxie says when we’re old enough we can train together but I told him we’re not going to the camps to train.” She rambled on, “He said his Daddy went to camp, with you and Cassie?” She asked, “We did, Little One, that’s where we met.” He told her, “So, Nyxie is going to be High Lord, I’ll be whatever you are and we need a Cassie!” She said and his blood ran cold at the idea of this sweet little girl being anything like him. “Nyx will be High Lord,” He agreed, “But you, you Little One, you can be whatever you want to be.” He told her, “But what if I want to be like you? A hero? Brave?” She asked him, “My Little One, you already are those things.” He told her. Movement in his peripheral vision snagged his attention. After three long days, she was waking up, “Marceline, can you go and find the others for me please?” He asked, she nodded happily, jumping off of the bed and gliding towards the floor, her little legs already running before he feet touched the wooden floorboards, “Be careful!” He called after her. Unlike the little shadow that had chosen Y/N and that had not left her side since he had found her, the one that had chosen Marceline was bigger and clung to her little wings most of the time, “Go with her, keep her safe, make sure she doesn’t run into an important meeting if Rhys is in one.” He told it. Realistically he could’ve called the others himself, but he was unsure of how Y/N was going to react, what headspace she would be in, and he needed Marceline safe and out of the way. “Keep an eye on her and Nyx, make sure they are playing.” The shadow shot off after the little girl.  

Y/N:  

You could hear Azriel. He was nearby and talking to someone, move, move move. You urged your hand and to your infinite surprise. It did move. He was here, he had come. You had heard everyone else over the past however long you had been in this darkness, including a little voice you didn’t know, but it rambled at you a mile a minute. “Y/N, come back to me.” Azriel spoke again and you wanted to shout at him that you were trying! Your eyes darted around the darkness and a shimmer urged you towards it. The closer you got to it the brighter it shined. A beautiful golden thread. You grasped it in one hand and pulled as hard as you could. You heard a gasp, then felt a tug back and with that your eyes flew open. “Azriel.” You said, except it didn’t come out as his name, rather a garbled mess of letters. “Here,” He said, propping you up gently with one arm and bringing a glass of water to your lips with the other and you drank deeply. “I need you to stay calm,” He said, “But I have to tell you something.” You looked up at him, “My wings are gone.” You said before he told you. He nodded, “I’m so so sorry.” He said, “If I could give you back the sky, I would.” His eyes shone with nothing but truth. “Is she okay? The little girl?” You asked and a dazzling smile graced his lips, “Ask her yourself.” He said as a little girl with big brown eyes came bounding into the room, a shadow chasing after her. “You’re awake!” She exclaimed. “I’m awake.” You told her as she scrambled onto the bed next to you, helped the last couple of inches by Azriel. “Are you okay?” You asked her, “Are you?” She replied, “I think so.” You told her. “I’m okay,” She said, “Just one little cut that's going to be a scar like Azzy’s! How cool is that?!” She asked, extending her little wing to show you. Azriel visibly cringed that this little girl thought anything about him was admirable. “What’s your name?” You asked her and she looked at Azriel with a big grin before turning back to you, “Marceline.” She said proudly, “Azzy gave it to me!” Azriel cleared his throat, “Well, technically, we picked it together.” She ignored him. “I didn’t have one before!” She told you.  

Azriel sent Marceline and her shadow to go and find Nyx to play with and he was seated back in the chair next to your bed. “So, you're like a dad now?” You asked teasingly and he shrugged, “I guess so.” You smiled up at him, “It suits you.” He smiled bashfully. “Do you know?” He asked, “Know what?” You said, confusion washing over you, “What we are to each other?” He asked gently, it was then you remembered the thread and you gasped. “Are we, Mates?” You asked and he nodded. “How long have you known?” “When I found you. It snapped.” He told you. You just stared at him, “I understand if you want to reject it, if you don’t want me, I’m hardly the kind of male you deserve, hel, a 4-year-old had to drag me in here because I couldn’t face it, seeing you, looking so lifeless.” You cut him off, “Azriel?” He stopped talking, “Are those three males hanging in a dungeon somewhere, bleeding and wishing they’d never been born?” You asked and he nodded dumbly, “Of course they are, they laid hands on you, twice. You no longer have wings so neither do they.” He said, your smile clearly took him by surprise, “Then you are exactly the male I deserve, I see you, Azriel, all of you and I’m not scared.” You said softly, “Let’s just take it a day at a time, see where we end up.” He smiled, “A day at a time.” He agreed.  

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

✨Staticmoth wedding headcanons✨

Because I have a lot of thoughts but can't come up with the plot to turn it into fic

✨ Vox absolutely loses his shit. You would think that Valentino would be a groomzilla material but oh no no, Val just wants sexy dress and enough coke to last three days of partying. Vox needs everything perfect. He has his grand vision and is ready to tear with bare hands everyone who does not deliver. During the preparation time, he murders as many people as Val usually does. Velvette bails on being the wedding planner after just two weeks because it was seriously straining their friendship. But after a month, she's back in the game. Why? Because Vox strangled three other wedding planners in frustration, and things weren't moving forward, so Val was starting to freak out.

✨ The event is held at the Vees' Tower. I reckon they've got a venue suitable for hosting conferences and porn award shows.

✨ It's a grand event. I'm talking Grand™, like the Kim K and Kanye West of Hell kind of grand. But it's also elite, so the guest list isn't that long, around 200 invited people plus 50 ticketed spots for anyone willing to drop 100k hellish bucks to attend. Everything is dripping with gold and diamonds because "quiet luxury" isn't in the Vees' vocabulary. The whole affair reflects Val's aesthetic more, as it's Vox's love letter to him. Vox already had his wedding, and now it's time to fulfill his husband's dreams. So Val makes about 90% of the decisions without shouldering any real responsibilities. Which is fine by everyone because he's annoying as hell when it comes to picking roses, flamingo feathers, and starters. Nobody wants to put him in high-stress situations. Expect lots of red, pink, and gold, with heavy, decadent fabrics and neon lights; it's like an exclusive brothel meets the Las Vegas strip.

✨ When it comes to flowers, they settled on roses because they're Vox's favorites, which naturally made them Val's favorite too, given the sheer number of bouquets he's received. Vox, being the freak he is, counts every single bouquet he's ever given to Val. So, for their wedding, he ensures there are twice as many roses. Yes, he's a pathological overachiever.

✨ As for attractions, there’s a plethora of erotic dancers in cages and mesmerizing drone light shows. Karaoke, slot machines, live cooking stations, and all the drugs you can imagine. And let's not forget a fountain flowing with tequila. It's a true adult wonderland.

✨ Valentino skips the whole white dress thing and rocks a fierce red latex gown that's very Mugler but with a fetishcore twist. Vox keeps it sleek in a sharp black three-piece suit. His shirt's a bold blue, and his tie matches Val's dress. His shoulder pads are pointy, his waist is slutty, his ass looks divine. Oh yeah, about slutty waist - underneath the shirt he is hiding a leather corset, as a treat for the wedding night.

✨ Also none of them really have friends other than Velvette, just associates so there are no groomsmen/maids.

✨ Since there aren't any traditional churches or government officials in Hell (if there's even a government at all), Velvette takes on the role of officiating the wedding. Vox isn't entirely thrilled with this choice because there's always the risk she might crack a joke or publicly rib him, but hey, there's really no one else who could pull it off. I imagine that a wedding in Hell is also some form of magical contract but more about partnership than ownership. They do not exchange rings but blood sksksk also I don’t think that Vox can really wear rings with his claws? And they couldn't quite agree on a design that satisfied both of them. In the end, Val ends up wearing his illegally imported engagement ring from Earth, featuring four pink diamonds shaped like a moth's wings.

✨ Val's vow is, well, atrocious. It's the kind of thing that would definitely land him in one of those TikTok compilations of terrible grooms ruining their weddings. He mentions cream pieing Vox at least once. Vox at first freaks out but seconds later realizes Wow that's the man I'm marrying. I wouldn't want him any other way On the flip side, Vox's vow is immaculate. Crafted with the assistance of Voxtek's CMO and practiced to perfection, it leaves everyone in awe. He has out-of-body experience playing this role of prince charming.

✨ For their first dance, they opt for a steamy tango. Picture this: swirling red smoke on the floor, making it seem like they're dancing on the sky of the pride ring when the sun is setting down. Little do the guests know, the smoke is laced with drugs, sending most of them on a wild trip. The party quickly goes off the rails, but in the best way possible (according to the Vees’ standards).

✨ The cake is a five-tier monstrosity with five different flavors: tres leches and chocolate-cherry chosen by Val, confetti cake and strawberry cheesecake chosen by Vox and Red Velvet for Velvette because she couldn't shut up about it To top it all off, there's a big chocolate figure of Vox and Valentino dancing. Val is later caught drunk, eating it with his bare hands like the filthy animal he is.

✨ Velvette’s wedding gift is a pair of customized matching guns with small engravings that read "Partners in Crime."

✨ Valentino pulls off a surprise special pole dance performance as a wedding gift for his husband. Let's just say it's scorching hot and leaves at least 50 guests with, uh, visible excitement. Later on, things almost escalate to a full-on table bang, but...

✨ Velvette spends the entire evening reminding them that they can't just vanish to consummate their marriage because this whole party took months of preparations, and they need to be present. After all, people paid good money to be around them. The threat of cock cages hangs over their heads, but they promise to behave. However, Val being the horny beast he is, ends up taking Vox to the bathroom for a quickie anyway. Velvette decides to let it slide this time.

✨ At least 20 casualties mark the night. Vox ends up zapping one of the guests who gets a bit too clingy with Val during the dance. Meanwhile, Val gets into a brawl and, well, let's just say it doesn't end well for the other guy. Surprisingly, everyone seems to be having a great time, but hey, these are the Vees' colleagues we're talking about—they thrive on violence and sex.

✨ Yeah, there's no shortage of sex at this party. With a guest list mainly consisting of businesspeople, adult performers, and mobsters, tensions escalate rapidly. By around 3 A.M., half of the party is busy getting down and dirty in every corner imaginable.

✨ When Vox reaches the perfect level of drunkenness, he seizes control of the DJ station. Surprisingly, he's a natural, dropping beats like a pro and having an absolute blast. Val, meanwhile, goes absolutely wild watching him, thrilled to see Vox letting loose and embracing his creative side.

✨ Derek, Vox's assistant, is the odd one out, the only low-status person to snag an invite because Vox felt kinda generous. But truth be told, Derek hates the idea and wasn't keen on attending. However, when Melissa caught wind of his invitation, she practically dragged him there to be his plus one, desperate to get closer to Velvette. Derek's terrified of most of the guests, but Melissa's over the moon. She later fucks him as a reward for being a very brave boy. Angel is not invited because he would ruin mood of both grooms.

✨ Valentino had prepared the filthiest, kinkiest, most elaborate wedding night, but it doesn't go as planned. Surprisingly, things turn out very vanilla for their standards, with a lot of missionary, eye contact, and hand-holding. After 16 hours of non-stop action, they're both too exhausted to even think about getting creative.

Thank you @purrpleowl @watcherofeternalflame @canadianlucifer @aroromantic @malu897 @staticmothed @chaggieslovechild @gumm1defloor @mayflowersfly for your thoughts!

[ceruark]

May I please ask for some crumbs of Sunday and Reader’s childhood from the entwine au 😔

Was it love at first sight! What sort of shenanigans did they get up to! At what point did Reader start to become wary of him!

Doesn’t have to be a fully fleshed out fic or anything. I just wanna know!!!

Oh I am so glad you all are eating up entwined au... please keep doing so. Please keep asking about prince Sunday (or the other hinted suitors...). It fuels me.

It's very much puppy love in the beginning; you and Sunday stealing shy glances of the other from across the ballroom, flushing bright red when one is caught by the other (there's no need to be so embarrassed— the other was staring first). As mentioned in the fic, Sunday makes the first move by stealing flowers from the table centerpieces and handing them to you in an attempt to woo them. It's fairly effective, considering that you two are seen together at every ball.

From there, it's typical child royalty shenanigans. You two sneak out of the ballroom and into the gardens, where you complain about their ever-growing list of responsibilities and frustrating lessons and tutors. You two could talk for hours, settling for climbing up a tree and settling against the branches while basking in the other's company.

Sometimes, you play pretend; it could be a number of things depending on if Robin or other royal children are around, but Sunday much prefers the games where he is the king of an empire with you ruling by his side. His little wings flutter erratically when you take your role very seriously and hook your arm around his, holding your head high. He thinks you'll look even lovelier when you're both older and ruling over Penacony together.

Speaking of playing pretend— one day, when it's just you, Sunday, and Robin in the gardens, Robin makes the seemingly harmless suggestion that she could oversee your and Sunday's wedding. Sunday gets so flustered at the situation, but you just laugh, agreeing that it would be fun.

It's a fine ceremony for a couple of eight year olds, and for being held by a seven year old. You weave blades of grass and dandelions together into bracelets to use in place of rings. Robin uses her hairpiece to fasten Sunday's handkerchief over your face as a makeshift veil. Sunday uses every fancy word he knows to proclaim his undying love for you. Cheek kisses are exchanged, and bracelets are slipped onto wrists. It's the wedding of the century.

It's the promise he's never forgotten, the one he refuses to let go.

When you two become teenagers, everything changes. Sunday has started his tutelage under Gopher Wood, and you notice it's taking a toll on him; he's far more serious now, offering tight, practiced smiles in place of the childish, side-splitting laughter he would partake in with you and his sister. He's far too tense, too mature, too stressed for someone your age.

But despite the change, his crush on you doesn't wane— no, it only seems to grow the more you pester him, the more you ask about his wellbeing and curse his tutors for putting so much pressure on him. It grows with each concerned hand on his shoulder, with each time you fuss over him.

You promised you would rule by each other's side one day. You had a ceremony sealing it. And here you are, fretting over how much sleep he's getting and how someone ought to put his tutors in their place for overworking him, for Aeons' sake.

So why do you giggle and flirt back with the other royals? Why do you entertain your mother's notions of arranging meetings with the children of other kingdoms? Why won't you tell her that you've already found someone?

Why won't you tell her that you're his?

It's a frustration he doesn't express outright, yet it's also one he can't hide. He practically clings to you at balls, a second shadow walking in your footsteps. Each time someone gets just a little too flirty with you, your arm is seized in a vice grip and Sunday is at your side, a too-polite smile present on his face and an unspoken warning glinting in his eyes. Your pursuer flees the second they see him.

After all, who would risk upsetting the prince of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world?

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write a fic about Reader just always staring at Alessia because R just finds her really beautiful. Reader doesn't even try and hide her crush or staring and everyone knows. And if you wanted maybe add like Reader give Alessia a compliment everyday or every time she sees her (even if it's just saying you look beautiful or giving her something)

Muffin Top

Alessia Russo x reader blurb & request

-> Reader can't hide her crush on Alessia - who quite likes it that way

-> warnings: she/her pronouns, awkward flirting

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Oh god. Look at the big dope.” 

Beth’s gaze followed Katie’s finger, the defender pointing at Alessia who was currently falling over her own two legs, trying to re-tell a story to Lotte and Viccy. 

“What? You mean tiny?” Viv who had overheard her friends tried to make out who they were talking about. She thought they were talking about you. 

While you were not necessarily ‘tiny’ you had joined the Arsenal women’s team out of their academy when you were quite young – having quite literally grown into the team. And while you had grown, the nickname stuck. 

“Tiny? No! We`re talking about Less.” 

Now that you were mentioned, their eyes wandered over to you – sat on one of the benches at the side of the pitch. You had started braiding Laia’s hair when the Spaniard sat down in front of you. 

“She just can’t help it, can she?” 

No. you really could not – but who could blame you? 

Nobody that had ever laid eyes on the tall blonde striker – that’s for sure. 

Alessia had joined Arsenal at the beginning of the season and while you had always carried a deep appreciation for her talent, things had changed a little when she joined you at your childhood club. 

She was funny, so nice, and always listening to you when your quiet voice got swallowed in the chaos that was the changing room. 

The fact that she was stunning did not help your crush at all. You were falling – hard and fast. To everyone’s amusement you did not even try to hide it, staring blatantly at the striker – awkwardly flirting with her whenever the possibility arose. 

“Do you think we should help her? Poor thing – don’t think she’ll ever have a proper conversation with Less.” While Vivianne had compassion for you, seeing a little bit of herself in you, Beth and Katie did not – their eyes meeting and mischievous smiles taking over. “Nahhh.” 

Meanwhile, Alessia had joined you on the bench, handing you a bobble to finish off Laia’s hair, the brunette immediately skipped off, throwing a loud “¡Gracias!” into your general direction. 

Your heart was skipping as well, just not away from you but now that Lessi was sitting next to you, the staring was even more obvious – not that you cared. “Hey, Less?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You know what’s awesome? The top of a blueberry muffin.” Alessia wasn’t the least surprised that you actually handed her the top of a blueberry muffin, secretly swooning that you remembered that she didn’t like the bottom of it. “Tha-“ 

“Also, your face!” 

There it was. 

The incredibly bad flirting or rather blurting that the Italian loved so much, but only when it came from you. 

“Thank you, baby.” Not that the pet name wasn’t enough – she came closer, and closer, just to kiss your cheek. The blonde was satisfied after feeling the heat of your face, joining Lotte with a cocky smile on her face. 

“Just help the poor girl out, Less.” 

Katie had joined the childhood friends, her arms thrown over Alessia's shoulder, taking her quite literally under her wing. 

“Nah – I love her awkward flirting.” 

Like a proud older sister, the Irishwoman squeezed her shoulder “Atta girl.” 

--

Beth and Viv had been watching the exchange like everyone else, standing behind the benches, seeing you hold your cheek – still stunned at the kiss. 

“Please let me help her Beth.” 

“Nah – let her figure it out.” 

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧

Chapter Three: The Queen's Return

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak.

⛧Words: 3.2K

⛧Summary: Lilith's return brings a wave of tension, Lucifer navigates complicated feelings while you try to remain professional and devoid of emotion. As devastated as you are, you still have a job to uphold.

⛧Notes: Thank you all for the overwhelming support with this fic! I have never had so many notes and lovely comments! After much deliberation, I have decided to continue this series. I will tag as many people as I can.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic @elyssialumengard @lilteamushroom

As dawn broke over the horizon, you stirred in Lucifer's embrace. The events of the previous night felt like a dream, but his presence beside you reassured you that it was all real. You recall those sweet words that were exchanged last night, and how his lips felt against yours. His peaceful expression as he slept filled your heart with a sense of contentment you had never known before. You gently traced the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory.

The sunlight slowly illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over both of you entwined in each other's arms. Lucifer began to stir, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. A soft smile played on his lips as he pulled you closer, savoring the moment of quiet intimacy between you.

The idea of a relationship with the King of Hell was no longer out of the question, you were free to enjoy his attention and affection. Well, at least within the confines of the manor it was allowed. You decided it was best to Let Lucifer take the reins when it comes time for a public appearance. Regardless, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

As the day progressed, Lucifer and you found yourselves falling into a comfortable routine within the manor. The staff noticed a change in the atmosphere, a certain lightness and happiness that seemed to radiate from the two of you whenever you were together. It was as if a new energy had breathed life into the once solemn halls of the estate.

Lucifer seemed to walk a little taller, his usual air of confidence now tinged with a newfound softness when he looked at you. He would steal glances in your direction when he thought you weren't looking, a small smile playing on his lips. And you, in turn, felt your heart swell with love every time he reached out to touch your hand or brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. You both made sure the household staff never saw the two of you stealing kisses or holding hands.

Despite the unspoken rules and boundaries that still loomed over your relationship, you couldn't deny the connection that had formed between you and the King of Hell. It was a delicate dance, this newfound love between a monarch and his closest confidante, but one worth every risk.

But it was in those moments, behind closed doors and in the quiet of the night, that your bond with Lucifer truly flourished. He would share stories with you about his time in Heaven, about the burdens he carried and the sacrifices he made. You, in turn, would listen intently, offering words of comfort and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, the line between duty and desire began to blur. Lucifer would often find any excuse to seek your company, he would often summon you to his study for a few kisses and to feel your fingers running through his blonde hair. Late into the evening, you would wait until all the staff had left, and quietly slip down the hall and into Lucifer's room for some sleepy cuddles. Eventually, you would drift off to sleep and have to sneak back to your room the next morning without running into any of the maids.

You had delivered his mail to his study and set it on his desk. Lucifer grinned as he suddenly pulled you into his lap, you let out a small gasp as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled as he pressed his lips against yours tenderly, your face turned several shades of pink and you broke the kiss. His hands traced gentle patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Lucifer says as he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You couldn't help but laugh at his cheesy line, feeling the tension dissipate between you.

"Maybe it's just you," you reply, teasingly nudging him. You felt his fingers graze your cheek, tracing your jawline before He slowly closes the gap between you both once again. Another kiss that filled you with longing, but you quickly came back to earth.

“I have to finish up my work, I can’t stay.” You say with a giggle. Lucifer nuzzles your shoulder, he pouts and squeezes you a little tighter.

“Oh c’mon, you’re always working.” He says, hoping you’ll just give in and ditch the rest of your duties. As if you would ever consider such a thing.

"I promise I'll make it up to you later," you say, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before slipping out of his lap. Lucifer watches you go with a mixture of longing and amusement in his eyes. You exit the study with pink cheeks and a small smile.

Lucifer grabs the mail off the desk and sorts through it, one letter in particular stood out. The handwriting looked very familiar, almost too familiar. He grabs his letter opener and carefully opens the envelope. As soon as he saw the way his name was written he knew exactly who it was from.

“Lucifer- I know it's been a long time, and I know you might still be upset with me. I’ve decided to pay you and Charlie a visit. I do miss you both, despite taking my leave. Love always - Lilith”

Lucifer’s heart sank into his stomach, his hands trembled slightly as he reread the letter from his former lover and the mother of his daughter, Charlie. He had not seen Lilith since she left them both seven years ago.

Lucifer couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. What could have prompted Lilith to break her silence now, after all these years? And what would her arrival mean for him, for you, and for Charlie?

Lucifer knew he had to tell you about Lilith's impending visit, to prepare you for the storm that was sure to follow. He rose from his desk and tucked the letter into his pocket.

Lucifer made his way through the manor, a heaviness in his steps that matched the weight in his heart. He found you in the garden, tending to the roses with a peaceful expression on your face. As you turned to him, a smile brightened your features, but it faltered when you saw the worried look in his eyes.

"Is everything alright, Lucifer?" you asked, concern lacing your words.

He took your hands in his. "There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice tinged with worry. "Lilith is coming."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Lilith's name.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you - curiosity, apprehension, and a tinge of jealousy that you quickly pushed aside. You used to serve Lilith for a short time, learning about her power and the strong connection she had with Lucifer. You knew that their relationship was complicated and filled with unresolved emotions, even after all this time.

Despite the aching pit in your stomach, you squeezed his hands and smiled softly. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” You reassure him, his shoulders visibly relaxed at your words. Lucifer pulls you into a hug, seeking comfort in your arms.

"Thank you," he whispered against your hair, his voice barely above a breath. "I don't know what I would do without you by my side."

Those words trigger something in you, suddenly you have this overwhelming urge to protect him from such heartbreak. Lucifer never deserved what she did to him. To abandon him like that was just cruel and senseless. You hold him close and gently rub his back as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“What does she want?” You finally ask. Lucifer sighed, the weight of his past with Lilith evident in the lines etched on his face. He took a step back, creating some distance between you and him as he gathered his thoughts.

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But knowing Lilith, it could be anything from seeking forgiveness to stirring up trouble."

-------------⛧

As days passed and Lilith's visit drew closer, tension hung thick in the air. When Charlie learned that her mother would be visiting, she came to stay at the estate. She prepared a very detailed presentation centered around her redemption hotel that she intends to show mother.

Charlie's arrival added another layer of stress to the impending reunion with Lilith. As she busied herself with preparing for her mother's visit, you couldn't help but notice the mixture of excitement and anxiety in her eyes. Charlie had always longed for her mother's acceptance, despite the pain and abandonment she had caused. It was clear that Lilith's presence evoked a plethora of emotions within both Lucifer and Charlie.

When Lilith’s car pulls up to the grand entrance of the manor, you stand next to Lucifer, your arms folded behind your back. Lucifer's demeanor shifted slightly as Lilith emerged from the vehicle. His posture straightened, his expression unreadable as he watched her approach. Lilith's long, blonde hair cascaded down her back like a veil, and her eyes held a mixture of guilt and determination. As she drew closer, a tense silence settled over the courtyard.

"Lucifer," Lilith began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been too long." Her gaze flickered to you briefly, acknowledging your presence before returning to Lucifer. His eyes held a mix of nostalgia, longing, and perhaps a flicker of hope. The King's gaze softens as she says his name, you immediately take notice.

Charlie interrupts their interaction by rushing out to greet her. She envelops Lilith in a tight embrace and Lilith hugs her back.

Lucifer held nothing but love in his eyes as he watched the reunion between Lilith and Charlie. Despite the complexities of their past, he couldn't deny the swell of bittersweet emotions that washed over him at the sight of his daughter's happiness.

Witnessing this made your heart shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Despite your attempts to push away any feelings of jealousy or insecurity, they crept in and poisoned any hope you had of continuing this relationship with Lucifer.

Lilith turned to you. “It's been quite a while, Y/N. Its nice to see your familiar face”. You quickly bowed your head, placing your hand over your heart.

“The pleasure is all mine, my Queen.” You said, voice devoid of any emotion or warmth. Lucifer glances over at you, but you refuse to make eye contact. He’s all too familiar with that tone in your voice. Lilith may not pick up on it, but he knew you, something was wrong.

"Lilith," Lucifer said coolly, "to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Lilith bit her lip nervously, a hint of remorse crossing her face. "I've come to make amends, my dear," she said earnestly. "I know I hurt you deeply, and I regret my actions . I also came to spend some time with our daughter." Lilith looks over at Charlie, who is smiling from ear to ear.

Charlie’s smile softened some of the tension in the air as she looked at her mother with adoration in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mom,” she said, her voice filled with genuine happiness. Despite the past, Charlie's longing for a connection with her mother was apparent in every word she spoke.

Lucifer remained silent, his gaze shifting between Lilith, Charlie, and you. You could sense the conflicting emotions swirling within him – the desire to protect his daughter from any more pain, the lingering love he once held for Lilith, and the growing affection he felt for you. It was a delicate balance that threatened to tip at any moment.

As Lilith settled into the manor, attempting to make amends and reconnect with Charlie, you found yourself observing their interactions closely. There were moments of laughter and shared stories, but also instances of tension and unspoken words. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in your own home. How could you compete with such a beautiful creature?

She does everything with such grace and carries herself with confidence. She has a radiance that draws people in effortlessly, while you feel like a mere shadow in comparison. You no longer sat by Lucifer’s side during your meals, you would only speak when spoken to, and you definitely didn’t sneak into his room at night.

You spent your nights alone in your room, as did Lilith. They had an argument this morning during breakfast. You stood next to the door, awaiting your next command when Lilith started to complain about not sleeping in Lucifer’s bed with him.

“Luci, please? We used to share a bed all the time, and I miss that connection with you," Lilith pleaded, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Lilith, we've been over this. I can't just...go back to how things were." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His voice was steady and his gaze flickered towards you for a brief second.

“You are so cruel.” She says with a huff.

“Says the woman who left her family for seven years.” Lucifer retorts.

“How dare you! To think I married such a selfish man.” Lilith raises her voice as she rises from her seat. She leaves the dining hall through the door you stood next to. Lucifer held his face in hands, looking defeated. You wanted to comfort him, you really did. But you couldn't bring yourself to move a muscle.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. You felt a pang of guilt for not stepping in, for not being able to ease his suffering.

"It's not your fault," you replied softly, finally finding your voice. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you." Lucifer stood up from the table and walked over to where you were standing by the door. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He reached out a hand towards you, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping your face. "Thank you for staying," he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I know this is hard for you too."

You pulled Lucifer into a tight hug, he buried his face in your shoulder, attempting to hide the tears falling down his cheeks. You ran your fingers through his hair, offering silent comfort as he let out a shaky breath. After a few moments, Lucifer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love within them. "You'll never have to find out," you whispered, a promise lacing your words. You wipe his tear stained face with your thumb as you offer him a small smile.

Lucifer brought his lips to yours in a tender kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but soon deepened. It felt like the floodgates had been opened. It’s been days since you’ve had any physical contact with him, you didn’t realize how much you missed his affection. The world around you faded away, for a brief minute it was like Lilith was never there.

When you both part, he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the sound of footsteps disrupted the moment. Charlie appeared in the doorway, a curious expression on her face as she took in the scene before her. There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes, quickly masked by a smile.

"Mom told me about when you two first met," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with warmth. "She said there was something special between you and Dad from the start."

Lucifer turned to his daughter, a softness in his gaze as he reached out a hand to her. "Charlie, there is something I need to discuss with you," he began, his tone serious yet tinged with hope. Your gaze flickered between Lucifer and Charlie. “I’ll leave you both to it, I’m going to go help the kitchen staff clean up.”

Lucifer motioned for Charlie to sit down at the table.

"I know this may come as a surprise, but Y/N and I have grown incredibly close over these past few weeks," Lucifer started. "And I've come to realize that love takes many forms…”

“Are you…not in love with mom anymore?” Charlie asks, her eyes wide with a mix of emotions. Lucifer sighed, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

"I will always care for your mother, Charlie. But no…things have changed and I don’t…see her the way I used to.”

“Dad, why didn’t you just tell me? Here I am, hoping you two will find some kind of spark and I can have my broken family back. I feel so stupid.” Her voice is filled with a mix of uncertainty and sadness.

“Sometimes relationships change and evolve in ways we never expect.” He paused, meeting his daughter’s gaze with sincerity. “Y/N has shown me a kind of love and understanding that I never thought possible. It’s different from what I shared with Lilith, but it’s real and profound in its own way.”

Charlie processed his words, her expression thoughtful as she looked down at her hands. “So, what does this mean for us?” she finally asked.

Lucifer reached out to take both of Charlie’s hands in his own. “It means that our family is changing, but it doesn’t mean it’s breaking apart,” he said gently. “Love is not a finite resource—it can expand to encompass more than we ever imagined.”

“I just wish you would have told me sooner. I thought we were going to start sharing more and build trust between us.” Charlie says and looks away slightly.

“Char Char, I absolutely intended to tell you as soon as I understood what was going on in my head. I needed time to come to terms with how I felt.” Lucifer tries to explain. "I know this is a lot to process, Charlie. But I want you to know that your feelings are valid, and I understand if this is hard for you,"

"I... I just need some time to think," she murmured, standing up from the table. "I'm going to go for a walk." With that, she left the dining room.

You told yourself you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but you couldn’t resist pressing your ear to the crack between the door and wall. A tear falls from the corner of your eye as you listen to Charlie. Are you breaking up a family? Your heart ached with the weight of the situation.

Lucifer let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. This is definitely not how he pictured this discussion going. He knew things would get complicated once Lilith got here, but he really thought he would get through to Charlie. Lucifer heads to his study to spend time alone contemplating about how he can fix this.

[wildrangers]

The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned // William Nylander

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: The three times Willy almost asked you out and the one time he finally did

{This is my submission for the lovely @jackhues for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24, organized by the amazing @wyattjohnston!}

Warnings/tropes: mutual pining, poor communication, resolved (minor) angst, fluff, cursing, drinking

You were grateful that Auston was taking you under his wing following your big move to Toronto—seriously. It was better to be at a New Year’s Eve party where you knew all of one person rather than alone in your apartment. Though…there were a lot of loud drunk men at this party which wasn’t your favorite vibe. You’d much prefer enjoying a nice cocktail with a view of Toronto over being stuffed in one of Tony’s teammate’s suburban homes. But really—you were grateful for Auston and this somewhat odd built in social network that came with him.

You were drawn from your thoughts by a cheer from the pong table and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the intense excitement of the younger guys currently facing off there. You flipped your wrist around to see the time again just as a large, familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

“That’s at least the fifth time you’ve checked the time since we got here…what, an hour ago?” Auston teased, grinning as he took the seat next to you.

“It’s only the fourth” you grumbled making Auston raise his hands in surrender.

“My apologies for the slander, miss.”

You rolled your eyes and jostled your shoulder into his before settling your head there instead. “I’m just tired from the move and everyone here seems very…extroverted?” you tried, not wanting to speak poorly of the group you barely knew.

“Look, I get it” he replied, ruffling your hair gently. “Can I please get you a drink now? At least your hands will be busy then.”

You nodded against his shoulder before raising your head so he could go grab your favorite drink. You were surprised when his place was quickly filled by a blonde-haired boy with mischievous blue eyes.

“You must be Julia, I’m Willy” he smiled, offering his hand for you to shake. You smirked, gripping his hand in your own. You were not, in fact, Julia, but this should be entertaining.

“Nice to meet you, Willy. I hope Auston hasn’t said anything too horrific about me.”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure I talked to you before things got too serious with him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean a gorgeous girl like yourself should know that I am available and a much, much better catch” he stated confidently and you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well, I may as well hear the sales pitch now” you smirked, pleasantly surprised by the tipsy man before you.

“I mean first of all” he said, simply pointing to his hairline, which drew a gasp from your mouth as you whacked his arm, “I’m just saying!”

“What are you ‘just saying’ to my cousin, William?”

Will’s blue eyes widened as he processed Auston’s words. “Wait so you’re…not Julia?”

Auston handed you your drink, “No, this is Y/N, weirdo. I was going to bring Julia to dinner tomorrow night but maybe I won’t now. How long did she have you going?”

“Long enough to put my foot in my mouth” he admitted and you smirked, pleased at the pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “But not so long that I can’t recover?” he questioned.

“Stay tuned” you replied, maintaining eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. Luckily, Auston was called away leaving just you two again.

“I swear, I’m not usually like that” he began and you tilted your head slightly.

“Like what?”

He seemed at a loss for words so you chuckled, “You’re fine, I’ll stop fucking with you now. You were just so confidently wrong, I had to see where things went.”

He chuckled to himself, “Confidently wrong is kind of a good summary for me actually…”

“The great William Nylander? No, I’d say most the time your confidence is probably just right.”

“You even knew who I was and still let me make a fool of myself?!”

You giggled and nodded, “I obviously know who you are, I watch as many of Ton’s games as I can. You’re usually playing in them too.”

“Wait, so rewind. You’re Tony’s cousin?”

“Not by blood, but yeah. We grew up together and our families are super close. He’s been trying to get me out here forever, so when a better job opened up in my company’s Toronto location, how could I say no?”

“When did you move?”

You jokingly checked your watch, “About eight hours ago now.”

“Oh well, welcome! I love it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded, sipping his drink and you couldn’t help how your eyes were drawn to his mouth with the movement. “I moved around so much as a kid; this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. Minus summers in Sweden, obviously”

“I would love to go to Sweden” you admitted. “It looks so beautiful.”

As he began passionately talking about Sweden, conversation flowed seamlessly between you. He seemed genuinely interested in your answers to the questions he asked, eyes always remaining firmly on you in a way that made your stomach flip but also steadied you in the otherwise loud room.

You were dragged from your conversation as the countdown to the New Year began.

“Damn, it’s almost midnight already?” you questioned, checking your watch that had long since been forgotten.

“Guess so…do you want to ring in the New Year together?” Will asked and you were surprised by the tentative tone of his voice. Your eyes rose to meet his and you noted the nerves showing in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Yeah, sure” you smiled, scootching closer to him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t seem confident I’d say yes.”

“I mean I wouldn’t want to come in too hot, making assumptions—that would be embarrassing, no?” he joked as he wrapped a tender arm around your shoulders.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to make that same mistake twice in one evening” you teased back and you earned a rich laugh from him that made your toes curl and you dipped your head to hide your grin. As the countdown entered single digits, your eyes rose to meet his again but he was focused somewhere just beyond your shoulder before turning his attention back to you.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year!” the room erupted but your world had shrunk to just you and Willy. You had a sneaking suspicion it had been Auston who briefly grabbed his attention from you, which was confirmed as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cheek rather than going in for the kiss. You were disappointed until you felt his mouth brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

***

Once Will had given the bottle of wine and his thanks to Mitch and Stephanie for hosting, his eyes were scanning the room for you. He’d been kicking himself for months since meeting you for not getting your number on New Year’s but Auston’s stern stare had scared him off, as embarrassed as he was to admit it. He just hadn’t wanted to risk his friendship with his teammate, or worse, make you uncomfortable since you’d just met. Plus, the firm “If you hurt her, you’re dead to me” lecture Auston had given him the next day at practice had driven the point home.

So, some combination of your new job and Auston’s protectiveness had kept you away from any team, family, and friends get together’s until now, just as the regular season was wrapping up. Just as he had begun to give up hope that he’d see you again, Mitch mentioned that Auston had RSVP’d for 3 people, you and a plus one that he assumed was whatever girl Tony was currently seeing. Will didn’t waste another minute before confirming his own attendance.

His heart sped up as he saw you chatting with Johnny, your body language so much more relaxed than when he met you months ago. He made his way to you and when your eyes met his, the broad grin you sent his way knocked him out.

“Willy!” you called, standing to greet him with a warm hug.

“Hey, it’s been too long, how have you been?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to take you in. “You look beautiful tonight, of course.”

He was rewarded with a dip of your head as you hid your shy smile at his compliment, “I’ve been good, busy, so I’m glad Tony mentioned this dinner, it’s nice to see everyone.”

A long pause filled the air as he simply gazed into your warm, smiling eyes. “Hey Willy, I’m here too” his captain called from behind you and Willy laughed, greeting him with a handshake.

“Sorry man, it’s just been a minute since I’ve seen Y/N here” he shrugged sheepishly. John nodded, clapping him on the back, “Since New Year’s, yeah?”

Will shot him a questioning look but Johnny only smirked before walking off to chat with another group.

“Will, you’ve been having such an amazing season, I’m so happy for you” you smiled, settling back down in your seat and patting the spot next to you. He quickly sat where directed, pleased that the small couch made his outer thigh gently press into yours—he was even more content when you didn’t shift your leg away but closer to his.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Just trying to gear up for the Playoff’s now. How have you been, settling in well?”

As you two caught up with small talk, he wracked his brain on how to ask you out without making it weird in case you said no. This conversation flowed just as well as your first and your sly humor shone through even more now that you seemed more at ease.

“I’ve missed seeing you at other parties like this” he admitted when the conversation naturally lulled.

“I think Auston may have refrained from inviting me to a few” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “And then the last few just didn’t work with my schedule. I was happy when Ton mentioned you’d be here tonight though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful as his heart began pattering more intensely.

“Yeah” you grinned, knocking your shoulder into his. “I really enjoyed hanging with you last time.”

“Me too” he smiled, taking in the genuine joy on your face. “I was actually wondering…”

He trailed off as he saw your eyes shift behind him and widen. “Jake!” you called, standing up and waving over an unfamiliar guy who wrapped you in an embrace and quickly pecked your cheek.

“Hey pretty lady, sorry I’m a little late. The subway got delayed” he replied, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Is this Will?”

As introductions were made, Will’s heart sank as he realized your boyfriend was the plus one, not Auston’s girl. It looked like he’d missed his chance with you after all.

***

You worked your way through the crowd, pausing as people you’d grown close to since your move to Toronto stopped you to chat. Johnny and his wife were hosting the start of the season party, welcoming everyone back to Toronto after being wherever they called home in the off season. You were hoping Will would be here but had refrained from asking Auston to avoid his eye rolls and protective bullshit.

When you’d seen Will at that spring party, you couldn’t admit to him that you’d partially been avoiding him. Not because you didn’t like him, but the opposite—you’d felt so drawn to him on New Year’s only to have Auston insert himself in the middle of things. After enough time had passed, you’d finally let your coworker set you up on that blind date with Jake. Who was nice but had basically been wiped from your mind when you’d met Will’s eyes across the room that second night.

You’d let yourself get wrapped up in the press of his leg on yours, the intense focus of his eyes as you caught up. Had allowed yourself to slip into the flirtation that had flowed so naturally between you during your first meeting. Until Jake had arrived, and you’d noted Will deflate before excusing himself.

You’d seen him a few times since then but he kept a wide berth, which you understood. But it had sucked and drove home that as nice as Jake is, he wasn’t the one for you. Which is why, several months out from that split, you were determined to make your move on Will—enough with waiting.

You grabbed a drink and surveyed the room, heart fluttering as you heard Willy’s signature laugh from across the room. He was talking with a younger guy you didn’t recognize but you strode over anyway. “Will!” you called and he spun, wide-eyed, at your voice.

“Y/N?” he smiled uncertainly but you just pulled him into a tight embrace.

“How was your summer? Tell me all about Sweden” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself to the rookie beside him who made himself scarce.

“Sure, but you seem…different” he noted, scanning your form as if he could find the answer there.

“Do I? I mean, not much has changed except Jake and I broke up” you offered and his eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry?” he offered.

“Don’t be. He was nice but it just wasn’t it, you know?”

He nodded, eyes skimming around the room before pulling out his phone. “Here, let me show you some photos from back home.”

You leaned into the comfort of his warmth, your eyes either taking in each photo he selected to show you or tracing the familiar lines of his face as he swiped through his camera roll. He was just so beautiful.

“It looks like a great summer, are you bummed to be back?” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, I always love coming back to Toronto—this is home too” he replied, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached up to sweep a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, your hand lingering there, cupping his cheek.

“Y/N…” he breathed and you were surprised when his eyes left yours to once again scan the room. His phone lit up, drawing your attention, just as he began. “I actually am…”  

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you cut him off, drawing your hand back, eyes fixed on his lock screen—a gorgeous shot of him with a beautiful woman tucked into his side.

His gaze followed yours and he quickly locked his phone screen, mouth forming a hard line. “No, I’m sorry. I should have been up front but whenever I see you, I just…”

“You just what?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

“I can only think of keeping you close. Even when I know I can’t, so I’m sorry.”

You sadly shook your head forcing a smile, “No, I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? I get it. I hope she makes you happy Will, have a great season” you assured him, squeezing his shoulder before excusing yourself from the party altogether.

***

Will wasn’t one to believe in fate but it seemed like the stars may be finally aligning as he entered Auston’s apartment to celebrate New Year’s Eve. He’d done his homework this time, enlisting Steph to make sure you weren’t seeing anyone. After your last encounter, his fledgling relationship hadn’t lasted long—not when all he could think about was you. That wasn’t fair to her, so he’d broken things off and thrown himself into the season. It was a contract year for him, he had to focus. But that focus didn’t stop him from noting that some of his best games were ones where he knew you’d be in the crowd.

Will wandered over to the large windows filling Ton’s living room, taking in the city skyline. He’d done a few laps but had yet to see you. Truth be told, he wasn’t in much of a party mood—he just wanted to see you. So, he wondered off from the main party down the hallway to what he knew to be Ton’s guest room for some quiet. He didn’t hear any noise from behind the door so he gently opened it, startling when he saw you curled up on the bed.

You hadn’t noticed the door opening, your head buried in a book with Taylor Swift playing softly from your phone. He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him—you, dressed to the nine’s, feet wrapped in fuzzy socks, eyes fervently scanning the pages before you, heels forgotten beside him by the door.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, as to not startle you but you jumped anyway.

“Will?” you questioned, your head tilting to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, silly, what are you doing locked away in here looking so beautiful?”

He was thrilled when you ducked your head, trying to hide the flattered smile that bloomed on your face. “Promise not to laugh.”

“Scout’s honor” he promised, settling on the foot of the bed.

“I’m on the last book of this fantasy series and I just wanted to make sure everyone got through the battle okay” you chuckled, holding up your nearly finished book. “I said hi to everyone but when I didn’t see you, I just wondered in here to try and finish it before midnight.”

“Well, is everyone safe and sound? I wouldn’t want to disturb you” he teased lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I have like ten pages left” you chuckled. “I’ll come out and join the party in a few, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry” he shrugged, standing up but then stopped himself. “Would you actually care if I hung in here with you? I’m not in much of a party mood.”

“Sure” you beamed, scooting over on the bed to make room for him beside you. He slipped his shoes off, crawling up the bed to settle into your side, arm wrapped around your middle as you lifted your book.

“Is this okay?” he questioned quietly and you hummed in answer.

“Here, just lay down—that way I can rest my book on your shoulders” you motioned towards your lap and he didn’t have to be told twice, settling his head on your satin covered thighs.

A comfortable silence filled the room, broken only by you flipping the pages of your book. Will could stay this way forever, your scent wrapped around him, his breathing slowing to match your own.

As he began drifting off, you closed the book and set it aside. He felt your focus shift fully to him but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break this peaceful spell. He could have purred when your fingers gently ran through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp whenever your hand returned to the top of his head.

“I’m single” he murmured, nuzzling deeper into your lap.

“I know” you answered and he turned to look up into your eyes, confusion evident there judging by your chuckle. “I asked Stephanie.”

He let out a loud laugh, gently taking your hand in his own, “I may have done the same thing” he admitted, causing you to snort and shake your head.

“So, what does that mean?” you asked quietly.

“Hopefully, it means that when I ask you out, you’ll say yes” he questioned, nerves oddly not coming to his stomach. He knew how long you both had wanted this, the timing just never being quite right.

“Well, I can’t wait to say yes then” you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his brow bone as your alarm rang from the nightstand. “Oh, time to get up, it’s 11:55.”

He shifted in response, sitting up and stretching, attempting to smooth out his shirt.

“Here” you offered walking towards him, heels firmly on your feet. He paused his fussing, allowing you to straighten his collar and smooth out the wrinkles that had developed on his chest. Your hand gently ran through his hair, settling down any stray hairs that had fallen out of place. “All better. Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect” he said honestly, rising off the bed and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. As you both exited the room, he marveled at how perfectly you fit there, tucked into his side.

The countdown had begun and Will’s eyes scanned the room, noting Auston immediately finding the two of you in the crowd.

“He’s intolerable” you mumbled, eyes also falling on Tony across the room. As the crowd counted down from ten, a giggle rose in his throat as you jokingly raised your middle finger to your cousin before turning back to him.

His hands settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him as your hands cupped his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. With the New Year beginning, your lips finally met his and he wound his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. As your mouths moved in perfect harmony together, the rightness of this moment settled around him.

As the crowd picked back up again, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“You have a game tomorrow, silly” you answered, chuckling. “But you can take me out the next night.”

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed! Please forgive any typos, I am in fact working through a concussion currently. It turns out writing for Willy has become one of my new favorite things to do. Always happy to hear feedback :)

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 44

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 44 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

44. the god of death

As you savor the last days of early fall before bitter cold sets in, John seems way more interested in teaching you how to ride, than planning a wedding. You are perfectly fine with that. You studied up and took the permit test online the very next day. Most of it was common sense–or at least, you’d like to think so. A trip to the DMV in Clear Forks rendered you legal for the road. 

You go for rides together almost every afternoon, through the winding mountain roads, and down in town in higher traffic as well. You’ll be good and ready for your test come spring. You feel as though he has gifted you a set of wings, when you are flying down the highway together, the mountains looming majestically in the distance. Once you get the hang of it, it’s not hard to work the bike, it just takes focus–or you might die. 

Oddly–the risk seems totally worth it. Not just for your own enjoyment, but his too. You can tell that being on the bike soothes something in this man’s battered soul, and you’re rather honored that he’d share this hobby with you.

When the days get short and winter sets in, it’s too cold for the bikes, even with battery heated jackets, you fall into a new routine. John is usually the first one out of bed. Sometimes he wakes you with kisses and his beautiful cock before wandering down to the kitchen to make a simple breakfast for the two of you, usually eggs and sliced fruit with coffee. John disappears into his workshop repairing a set of first edition Beatrix Potter books, and you go to your studio, though true inspiration continues to escape you. You feel as though something is hovering just beyond your grasp; inspiration waits behind a curtain, if you could just find the right trigger to sweep it aside. 

After lunch you often sit together and read in the den with the fireplace burning. When the first snow falls it feels like magic, in that house with him. You make love on the couch and then watch the fat flakes fall through the window from under a soft blanket, John’s arms wrapped around you. Later you make dinner together, feeding each other tidbits while chopping up vegetables, bumping into each other on purpose just to steal a kiss. You close the evening with a glass of wine and sometimes a movie or a show, and sometimes you read some more. 

Sometimes, John looks at you with that smoldering warmth in his dark eyes, and you go to bed early.    

Life is so damn near perfect that it almost scares you. It really seems like the Camorra have convinced the idiotic young Dante to leave you alone, and a part of you deep down wonders if you could truly be so lucky? You know that John has not forgotten about him completely. He does not let you go to town by yourself, not even to the grocery store. This doesn’t particularly bother you–even something so mundane as pottering up and down the isles with your trolley is fun with this man at your side. You crack jokes in the wine aisle, and exchange kisses in the produce, and you’re sure everyone around you is rolling their eyes at your expense–you’re so in love you simply do not care. 

One morning John cuts up a pomegranate for breakfast, the juicy little seeds glowing brilliant magenta in the sunlight, and as he holds out one for you to try from his fingertips inspiration hits you like a shovel to the head. You accept the morsel between your lips, laving his digit clean with your tongue as you gaze up at this man in black towering over you: your lover, your protector, your captor turned your intended. Sensing the change in you, John tilts his head slightly, raven hair swinging into his midnight-dark eyes. You reach up to brush it behind his ear carefully, almost as though you are seeing him anew. 

“You like it?” he asks, and there is something fragile in his tone. Neither of you are sure he’s talking about the pomegranate. 

“I love it,” you assure him, putting him at ease. You tangle your legs with his under the breakfast table, further affirming your affection. But for the first time in a while, you cannot wait to get up to your studio.

You start with sketches, working manically to make a sort of storyboard, plotting out a whole series. You incorporate the symbols of the pomegranate and the narcissus, telling the tale of a girl who is snatched up from beside a Venetian canal by a God of Death–and how she falls in love with him. 

Though you work with your door closed, needing the privacy to create, you know John looks over what you’re making later. Sometimes he’ll place a pen or a sketchbook not quite where you left them, as though signaling that he’s been there. His most blatant admission comes in the form of a sticky note pasted like a caption below one of your gouache illustrations on thick paper, of a glowing girl clutching a bright white narcissus flower, gazing up at a man in shadow sitting upon a throne of skulls, “And the God of Death fell hopelessly in love.”     

Later, while you’re snuggled together on the couch with dog at your feet, he tells you, “If you make them on longer pieces of paper, I can bind them for you.” This quiet offer of collaboration on an art project fills your heart with a sneaking warmth that starts in your chest, and spreads all the way to your toes. 

“I would like that,” you admit, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

His next question comes quieter still; you see the worry written in those soulful dark eyes: “Are you still angry?”

You realize that the answer to that is complex. The truth is: you were, deep down, despite how good things have been. But putting all of it down on paper with ink and pigment has exorcized something toxic from you. Something that might have acted as a slow-leaching poison in your relationship, had you not administered these therapeutic paintings as your antidote. Something about reclaiming your story in the images drawn from your hand, and telling it the exact way you please, (with some stylistic embellishments borrowed from Hades and Persephone) acts as a healing balm. 

“Not anymore,” you tell him, and you mean what you say. 

John’s relief is a palpable thing; you feel the tension release from his body pressed against yours. It still has not ceased to amaze you, the power you seem to hold over this formidable man. But it goes both ways, and somehow, through blood, sweat, tears, and all the love in your hearts, you have managed to strike a balance together that makes both of you happy. 

Maybe you are young, but you are smart enough to know that is a rare and precious thing indeed. 

[whiskersz]

hiya, sos idk if you do platonic fics but if you do can you do a platonic husk x younger reader? maybe they knew each other when they were alive and meet again and husk is protective over them? thank u! :)

Hello! I sure do write platonic relationships :3 I hope this is good enough, in this I imagine Reader to be a young adult, around 20. Hope that's okay, thanks for requesting!

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Hell is…well. You wouldn’t really know how else to describe it, other than with its name. And deep inside you know you’re a sinner, there’s no denying that if you ended up here...but you feel like you could never get used to living like this.

Even in life, you’ve never been a fan of gory scenarios, robberies, violence and whatnot, and if anything you could say that the reason why you ended up here is because of a stupid mistake you made, but Heaven couldn’t take you in because of that, so now you find yourself here...in front of the Hazbin Hotel, hoping for a last chance at redemption.

Before you can even knock on the door tough, you’re welcomed by an eerie shadow quickly taking the form of an individual right before your very eyes;

“Greetings fellow Sinner!” He welcomes you with a wide smile, extending his hand for you to take, which you reluctantly do; “And welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! It’s a pleasure to be meeting you, I’m Alastor, and I will gladly be your host!”

His handshake is so firm it nearly makes you lose your balance; you compose yourself though, and nod, taking in all the information that’s been given to you – Alastor, the host...alright, that means you’re probably going to be safe with him especially once you’re inside.

“Thank you sir, I was just looking for someone willing to do that!” the nervousness is palpable in your voice, but you still try to match his energy by flashing him a smile. Alastor nods and opens the door for you like a true gentleman, which you thank him for.

The interior design of the place looks quite lovely in your opinion, the walls a deep red and pavements covered by gorgeous patterned rugs; various decorations make the main room more hospitable, and although you’re mesmerized by the place you carefully listen as Alastor explains that it would technically be a bit too early for newcomers to be welcomed, which is why nobody else other than him is around – you looked quite lost though, his word, so he decided to take it upon himself to at least bring you inside.

“Oh, I’m very sorry, I had no idea- I can always come back later, it’s not a-“

“Eh, what’s all the commotion about?”

A rough voice interrupts the exchange of words between you and Alastor; your gaze travels all the way towards the flight of stairs leading to the top floor, where a demon in the form of a winged anthropomorphic cat is standing.

His voice sounds curiously familiar.

“Ah, Husker! How goes it! Why don’t we start the introductions with you!” Alastor points at him with the staff he’s been using mostly to sustain his weight until now; “This is the bartender, dear.”

Husker? Now, that name sounds more than familiar.

“Husk?” you ask tentatively, studying his appearance.

His ears, formerly back, now stand up right, and his tail sways from side to side in what you can only assume is excitement.

“What...yes? Wait, it’s you?”  He whispers your name, still unbelieving.

You quickly leave Alastor’s side, running straight into Husk’s embrace instead; he immediately drapes a wing over you protectively, and you can’t really see it from where you’re positioned, but the glare he shoots the host is one of anger before his gaze softens looking at you once again.

“I’ve missed you...” you admit, before realization hits you; “Wait, you’re in Hell? Why?”

“I should be asking the same thing, kid. Let’s leave explanations for later, yeah? Always told you I wasn’t a good person.”

His wing pulls you closer, and you savour the embrace for as long as you can before you reluctantly have to separate from him.

“Well, I suppose that is my cue to leave!” says Alastor, clasping his hands together before eerily disappearing back into the shadows.

Shortly after, the rest of the residents of the Hotel sleepily make their own appearance. This time, it’s Husk’s job to introduce you to everyone, never leaving your side all the while. Charlie is especially excited to have one more patient who is also one of Husk’s old friends, as he doesn’t seem to have many after all.

Husk immediately makes sure to shelter you from Angel Dust’s dirty jokes; as much as he and Angel get along, he finds it uncomfortable to hear him flirting with you. The spider demon initially calls him ‘not fun’, but he understands where he’s coming from and actually agrees with him as you’re much younger.

Once you and Husk have the time to catch up, you both explain the reason why you’ve ended up here to each other. Yes, you were close in life, but he’s always preferred keeping his life quite private and so have you, both keeping your sins to yourselves. You’re both glad you’re here though, on the right path for redemption...in one way or another.

You distinctly remember how he used to amaze you with his magic tricks back when you were alive; he’d host little shows just for you, your smile contagious as he showed you all that he was capable of.

You also remember the sadness you felt when the time to get separated came, but he had promised you that one day you would meet again. And now here you are, indeed. Though your reunion was unexpected, you’re still glad it happened.

Husk is happy to see that you get along with all of his friends, too. He tries to encourage you to stay away from Alastor and you gladly do so, as you don’t really want to engage with the owner of who you consider your best friend, but still put on a smile every time he talks to you to remain on his good side. Everyone else though, you’re on good terms with, and he couldn’t be happier that you found a safe place to stay at even though you unfairly ended up in Hell.

[cleo-fox]

Fic Preview: Overtime

Full fic now posted

@sarahscribbles convinced me to post a preview of my TVA office romance fic. It doesn’t have a proper summary yet, but the text of the preview is kind of a good summation of the setup.

Warnings: None in this excerpt. There will be smut in the full fic.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles.

Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind the building—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz had rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need time two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Full fic now posted

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 2

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 1 794

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Of new names and teasing

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part

Duke knew that Dani was in their agreed meeting point, he even vaguely knew where she was floating but not much more. She used her invisibility, which was weird since she knew it didn't work correctly on him. It was fifth time they met, of course they knew. 

"Hey Signal, remember how you said that I need a codename if we're going to hang out in future and that all my previous ideas were horrible names?" a disembodied girly voice asked. Duke smiled. Ever since he raised the idea, the girl would come up with ridiculous names to be called, proposing them with absolutely straight face. It was expected from someone who thought Dani Phantom was a good alias. It didn't make her ideas any less amusing.

"Of course I do. Whatcha got for me today?"

"Alright, since you don't let me be a name stealer, I decided to take a sheet from local nightlife's notebook–"

"You mean take a leaf from their book?" He was sure she was rolling her eyes on him, but it didn't stop him. No one could maim English language like that with him around.

"Whatever. I chose to steal their idea and became a bird. It's only fair since I can actually fly!"

"Can't exactly disagree. So, what did you get this time?"

"You'll like that, I promise. But now, I introduce to you…"

Duke got ready to shut down every Robin iteration and all Birdgirls he could think of.

"HOOPOE!" Dani yelled, popping back to the visible spectrum. She was covered in bright orange cape with weirdly shaped hood and flimsy mask "I even did some costume changes to fit the name better–" in all honesty, one, yeah, he wasn't blind he realized, two, he needed a moment to remember how these birds looked (his first thought was 'wait it's a thing?!'). But then he got it and yeah, those were funny little creatures, just like Dani. It fitted her "–so even if you don't like it, it doesn't matter," she added, sticking her tongue out.

Duke patted her on the head. He was there, he knew it mattered.

"It's a great name Hoopoe"

Dani visibly though probably unconsciously, relaxed. Her mouth curved into a proud grin and her aura brightened. Normal auras didn't do that. He got used to Dani surprising him like that sometimes.

"Of course it's great, I made it."

Duke chose to not remind her about almost two dozen times she came up with absolutely not great names or about the fact that technically she didn't quite make this one either. He wasn't in such a petty mood. Maybe in future if he needed blackmail.

Oh, it was such a Bat thing, wasn't it? He needed to spend some more time with his civilian to get it out of himself, he liked his ability to interact with normal people in a healthy way. 

*

"Wait, is your mask a paper?"

"What else could it be, titanium?"

"If you stop three muggings on the next three patrols each I'll get you a better one, okay?"

"Hey, my mask is perfectly fine"

"Yeah, but it can tear too easily. I can get you a mask that is more sturdy."

"Aha."

"It's the same material every Robin and Nightwing wear…"

"Don't care, my mask is flawless"

"..."

"Okay, better mask would be cool"

***

On the third patrol Dani joined, about a week and a half ago, they exchanged numbers. Duke knew how hard it was to come to terms with new powers on one's own and God strike him with a lightning or something if he ever lets anyone go through similar bullshit. Especially since she didn't seem to have anyone taking care of her. Girl her age shouldn't be able to hang out or respond to messages within ten minutes at any given time. Only twice she didn't do that, because she was on a celebrity hunt for autographs as she later explained. He would be teased endlessly if any Wayne or their associate learned about it, but he considered introducing Dani to Bruce. She needed help, okay?! He didn't inherit adoption tendencies.

But he hadn't done that, partially because he didn't want to scare Dani off and partially because of fear of teasing. And bet. Because of course in the meantime somehow there happened a bet. 

He smirked at the video Dani sent as a response to the hydration check. She was tossing a coin and playing an elimination game to pick one juice from eight drinks she had. Steph jumped over the back of the couch to join him. At the start she was in front of him so to do that she had to run around the furniture but such minor inconveniences couldn't even wish to stop her dramatics.

"You're smiling at your phone ergo you either text your secret girlfriend/boyfriend/enbyfriend or watch memes. Show me the memes," she demanded, nudging him in the arm. Duke chuckled.

"Wrong guess. I'm texting my sidekick," they agreed it would be a funny way to introduce Dani to people who asked. Duke tried his best at this whole having sidekick thing anyway. As well as he could without help from other Bats because of this damn bet.

Steph froze for a moment.

"Your what–"

"And the lucky winner is… an apple with mint juice! Damn I really hoped it would be lemonade,"  Dani from the video announced cheerfully before opening the bottle" Shame it didn't make it past semi-finals. Happy hydration break. I'm going on an autograph hunt so I may not respond for the next two hours or so. Wish me luck, bye~"

Duke paused the video before it replayed. He glanced at Steph who finally rebooted.

"How come you got a kid and I learned about it just now?"

“In my defense I'm like 60% sure you're the second person in the family to learn about her. Depends if Tim got his ‘I have to know everything, gotta check body cams’ paranoid spree in the last two weeks or not. There was no teasing from Babs or anyone else if I'm being honest and no lecture from B, so they have no idea.”

“First was Alfred?”

“First was Alfred. I still don't know how.”

“That's our grandtler for you. You are forgiven but you have to tell me everything about her,” Steph demanded excitedly. “And show me the photos''

Duke snorted.

“She goes by Hoopoe and is about Damian's age. She can tell you her real name when B inevitably finds out and tries to interrogate her.”

“What if Spoiler drops by during the day?”

“You can try but give it another week and a day, okay?”

“Why?”

“We have bet that I'll hide her from B for three weeks. Tomorrow is the end of the second week. We both know how he is, he'll have questions if you randomly show up during the day."

"Stakes?"

"Speedster worth of winners favorite Batburger meal, 2 quarts of chosen drink and cookies"

"Valid. I ain't snitch, but I want to know more. Is she a meta?”

"Yeah. Powers I know of are invisibility, intangibility, superspeed, enhanced hearing and flight. Probably more. I think she already had some training with it because she has quite amazing control over this stuff. Like, it comes naturally to her. But her hand to hand is atrocious."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Omg, you totally are! Don't be, she is just a baby with a better idea of what's going on with her powers than you have with yours. There is nothing to be mad about Duke, it's okay Duke–"

"Keep going and I won't tell you anything about her," he dared, trying not to snort. 

"Sorry, sorry, you're doing great, please continue," she nudged his arm again "Don't be such softie, dude" He stared at her at the comment, disbelief clear on his face. Steph at least then looked a little ashamed "Okay, sorry. You're honestly doing far better than any of us would. Excluding Cass and Alfred."

"Excluding Cass and Alfred," he agreed easily enough.

"So, you think your kid has some training with her powers," she recalled eagerly.

"Yeah, probably from when she was helping her cousin. He is a hero in Amity Park, Illinois, his name is Phantom. It took very little digging even though Hoopoe does her best to stay mysterious. I swear this kid has no brain-mouth filter. But! I got my second shovel talk from her cousin!”

“The what?”

“After a week of hanging out with her, I got message on Signal’s twitter from Phantom that basically read as ‘I have nothing against you, really dude I’m a fan but here is list of my most powerful enemies, and let me tell you, there were some scarily powerful guys there, I won with all of them, if something bad happens to Hoopoe I can and will destroy you.’ After some research, yes, I think he could try and have considerable chance of success. Even if he didn’t fight would be painful enough to be a lesson. He and Hoopoe have the same powers and she worked with him for some time. She most likely learned then. She was called Dani Phantom, boy went by Danny Phantom then”

“Dear gods, their aliases were so horrible, who even let them go with it?! Are those their first names?!” Steph sounded genuinely offended by it.

“I don’t know,” Yeah, he knew, but he preferred to keep at least this secret to himself ”In boy's defense, because Hoopoe came much later,  he was fourteen and Amity went to shit really fast, so alias was probably not his first concern. And it’s much better than Invioso-bill, name he was given by the press. And he uses some intense gaslighting to make people believe it’s just Phantom now. And allegedly they’re both ghosts. Apparently ghosts don’t exactly have secret identity”

“You doubt it”

“You would too. She eats, she breathes and she is tangible by default. From what I know, ghosts don’t do that”

“They don’t, I checked. I went on a research spree when I first learned about Deadman. I just thought it was so cool you know. Ghosts being real and all,” Steph leaned towards him, almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Really?” he asked, knowing what he was getting into.

“Yeah, you see…”

And on she went, releasing expected infodump as if she waited for this opportunity ever since she first read about it.

********

Some additional name getting shenanigans

Signal: I won't call you Dani in the field

Dani: Why?

Signal: Ever heard of secret identity? Name is, like, half of it. Disguise is other half but it can be exchanged with lore. Superman made it work. Just make up enough lore for people to not question it.

Dani: Oh, okay *gremlin^2 mode activated*

Random they just rescued: And who are you little one?

Dani: *looking them dead in the eyes* I am clone of dead child hero, travelling around the world to find identity separated from my template befre mistakes made during my creation make me turn into puddle of primordal liquid and my conciousness fades forever

Random: *petrified* What?

Signal: *internally* I have miscalculated

Dani: Kid Signal

Signal: No.

Dani: It works in Central

Signal: We're not in Central

Dani: Signalgirl

Dani: I mean, Batgirl exists

Signal: No.

Dani: Monochromatic Signal. Y'know, Red Robin route?

Signal: ...

Signal: Just no. Don't make my name part of your name

Next part

Do you want to see some Hoopoe doodles I made? There were redesigns!!!

[perseephoneee]

okie dokie does a Dean Winchester x reader fic work? Had an idea way back in s1 when jess first dies, (older sister, who kinda takes sam under her wing) reader ended up meeting dean through sam. They had similar personalities but (reader) was more of a hopeless romantic than Dean. Sam on the other hand could totally see them together but Dean always denied it.

“Stop eyeing her like she's a piece of steak, you creep” “The hell? I do not do that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

so they left ca and travelled and maybe in s2-3 (doesnt have to be accurate) they end up back in ca because of a case or cause reader called sam for help. (not expecting dean to show up as well) and after shes not in danger, turns out they get along really well.

"Im not an arm rest, dean." "Mhm, then why are you so short?" "I'M 5'3 THATS NORMAL"

and just fluff..? idk man let me know if its not what you want to write, i can totally change it💜

not a steak (dean winchester x f!reader)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ 1k celebration

wow remember when i could actually write things in a timely manner? yeah, me neither. i miss those days (that never existed). whomp whomp.

You don't necessarily remember the exact moment that you met Sam. He's been a constant in your life since you were his TA as an undergraduate, watching this freakishly tall freshman so eager to succeed in your class. He made your heart soft, and he made you feel protective. Even though he was so much bigger than you, a naivety in his persona made you take extra time to ensure he succeeded. He ended up getting an A in the class.

You do remember when you met Dean, however. You had heard stories of Dean from Sam the few times you'd catch lunch outside of school. By this point, you were a grad student, filling the void of the older sibling that Sam unconsciously needed filled. You never pried for too many details, and that's how you got people to shut up really fast. But you did meet Dean right as he left town to look for his Dad. Dean was coarse and dismissive of you as if you were just another roadblock stopping him from taking his brother. When you finally got his attention, it was just to size you up before wordlessly climbing into his car. Sam seemed apologetic, but mostly, you were just worried. You had every right to be. Jessica died a week later.

The thing about you is that you can't let a dead dog lie. Where's the fun in that? You'd much rather figure out ways to raise them.

Sam was brilliant, but he let enough details slip to allow you to research him. And you were a law graduate student; you knew a thing or two about studying. Random newspaper clippings, shoutouts of various names, and blog posts allowed you to figure out the supernatural aspect of his life that he had kept from you. You should've been more surprised, but you were more excited than anything. There was more out there. What a strangely relieving thought.  

This knowledge proved helpful when you realized you had a poltergeist.

The new place you moved into was charming and Victorian, the dream of everyone with a Pinterest board. It was in fairly decent shape, and with your roommates, you guys thought you could polish it up to something livable during your suffering years of graduate school. Unfortunately, the price was too good to be true, which led to the unfortunate circumstance of hauntings culminating in one of your roommates in the hospital, barely alive. You called Sam that night.

"Hey Sam, it's me…" you trailed off at that, feet tucked under you as the machines' beeping cut through the silence. "I need your help."

The next day, he was at your door, enveloping you in a hug. He smelled exactly the same, and you didn't realize how much you missed him. Dean was with him.

"I'm Dean," he nodded, holding out a hand. You raised a brow.

"We've met."

"I would've remembered someone who looks like you," Dean scoffs, an easy smirk on his lips that probably made many women swoon. You just rolled your eyes, going back into your house and hoping Sam followed.

A week later, the boys were still here. This ghost was frustrating, and it was more the principle of it that was pissing you off more than anything. You let the brothers stay at the house since it was safer in numbers and cheaper. Plus, your roommates took a wide berth of the place before returning. A routine developed in the short time they were here. You cooked breakfast, Sam made coffee, and Dean woke up at some point. You and Sam would enjoy the paper before something happened (usually related to the crossword that Dean was totally not interested in), and you ended up bickering with the older Winchester until Sam got fed up with it and shut it down.

"Stop eyeing her like she's a piece of steak," Sam muttered to Dean when you weren't around, having stormed off to some other corner of the house. Dean almost spit out his coffee.

"The hell? I do not do that. I have no clue what you're talking about."

Sam just nodded, hiding a smirk behind his book as Dean grumbled about not checking you out.

For the first time that week, Sam was out that night. He was following "a lead." What that lead was, no one knew, but it meant you were alone. With Dean. In a house. Without supervision.

You grumbled something about making dinner. Dean followed you.

"Are you lost?" you asked, hands on your hips as Dean plopped himself at the counter.

"I'm following the food."

"Of course you are."

"Please, no more rabbit food," Dean groaned. "I can't take it anymore."

"Oh no, definitely not," you smirked, pulling out some steaks from the fridge you had been saving. Dean's eyes immediately lit up. "You're helping me cook these. I'm not letting your dumb ass sit around while I prepare a meal."

"You're bossy," Dean grumbles but doesn't complain further as he removes his flannel and sets it on the chair. You ignore that he looks really good in a t-shirt and return to grabbing ingredients. To his credit, Dean is good at letting you tell him what to do and following through. He is definitely a better chef than Sam, who has burned many things in your kitchen. Dean is an excellent sous chef. You tell him as such.

"The hell? I am not a sous," he says while furiously stirring butter.

"It's a compliment, you knobhead."

"Knobhead? What 1950s show are you living in?"

This conversation went back and forth for a while. But you finished cooking a meal, which is always considered a success in your book. Dean devoured him almost immediately before you could even finish cutting through it. Then, it was just you attempting to finish your meal in peace. This was difficult, as Dean continuously kept eyeing your food, hoping you might give it to him, and then would complain outwardly when you didn't.

"You're not going to finish it," he drank his beer, once again looking at your dinner. You glared.

"I can finish it."

"A girl like you doesn't finish an entire steak."

That comment pissed you off. You finished your steak in two bites, shocking Dean, and then proceeded to grab his glass of beer and down it in one gulp. You slammed the glass down, raising a brow. "You have no clue what type of girl I am."

You grabbed both your plates and made your way to the kitchen, putting them in the sink and starting to clean the dishes. You barely made it through a plate before Dean pushed you out of the way.

"Dean—"

"I'm not questioning your ability, but in my world, the one who doesn't cook cleans. So, sit your ass down," Dean said before you could chew him out. You bit the inside of your cheek and sat down, still glaring at him as he washed each dish meticulously and put them either in the dishwasher or on the drying rack. When he was done, he threw the dishtowel over his shoulder. The domesticity made you soften. "I'm sorry for earlier."

You blinked, not really expecting any sort of apology from Dean Winchester. You did expect that you would not get anything besides those words.

"I don't understand women."

You laughed at that, leaning on your hand with your elbow on the table. "Aren't you a self-proclaimed ladies' man?"

"I know how to sleep with women, but I don't get what goes through your heads," Dean leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You want one thing and then a different thing, and I can't keep up."

"So, you're admitting you're slow." Dean threw the towel at you. "Women aren't that complicated; men are just bad listeners. You included."

"I can listen."

"Really? What was I frusterated about at dinner?" you challenged, getting off your seat and leaning over the counter. He blinked a few times.

"That I kept asking for your steak?"

"No, that you presumed that as a woman, I couldn't finish a steak."

"Well, that's not what I said," Dean replied, getting defensive. You just rolled your eyes, grabbing the wine bottle on the counter.

"Oh, also, insight into women; they lie about how good men actually are in the bedroom," you winked, leaving the room and taking the wine with you. You could almost hear Dean's jaw drop.

"It ain't a lie, princess," he intercepted you, his stupid legs moving much faster than yours. You frowned but didn't say anything. Dean took a breath, locking eyes with you. "Why do you insist on always pushing my buttons?"

"Because it's fun? Because you're both annoying and easy to annoy?" you shrugged, clutching your wine bottle to your chest. You didn't know why you picked on him, besides the fact he could be an absolute ASS sometimes that needed kicking. No, you suppose it goes back to early schoolyard days where instead of 'flirting,' you'd push the person and maybe claim to the entire class that they had cooties. To this day, you still had no idea what cooties exactly were, just that you never wanted to catch them.

"I think you like me," Dean smirked. He had crowded you against the wall leading to the living room. Your wine was an innocent bystander clutched to your chest. Maybe not as tall as Sam, but you still had to look up to see him. "I'm gonna prove it."

"Excuse me?" you breathed any sort of bite to your words caught in your throat as he reached up to your face and stroked your cheek. His hands found purchase holding your neck, tilting your face even higher and infinitely closer. Dean took the wine bottle out of your hands, your last line of defense, and stepped away for a second to put it back on the counter. His hands found your face again.

"Hey princess," he whispered, voice sultry. "Breathe." You couldn't do such a thing even if you wanted to because his lips were on yours, and he tasted like the draft beer in your fridge and apple pie. He was gentle, too gentle, and you wanted more. Your hands, first unsure of what to do, grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. One of his hands moved to your waist, thumb brushing the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. He was everywhere all at once, masculinity encapsulated, and you were drowning in it. He pulled away, letting you breathe, the command you forgot to follow. "I wanted to do that since I saw you."

"Bullshit."

"Honest to god— well, not god, but honest— but then you had to go and be increasingly difficult," Dean scoffed, still holding on to you.

"You don't even remember the first time we met."

"Of course I do; it was a week after my Dad disappeared," Dean responded. "You were wearing pajamas and had a raincoat wrapped around you as you asked Sam not to go so that you could figure it out together. I was curt, and you looked like you wanted to call me a thousand horrible names, but you let it go as we drove away."

You smiled a little at that. "You do remember."

"What can I say? I like pushing your buttons."

You smacked him on the chest, earning a laugh as you fought off your smile. You did finally get your wine and let Dean choose something to watch. About halfway through your movie (and three glasses of pinot noir in), you got distracted by a makeout session that would've made your teenage self swoon, but it didn't progress more than that. Neither of you wanted to go too fast. Most of the time, it was just light conversation, cuddling, and the realization that maybe you two were much more alike than you thought.

Both of you fell asleep like that on the couch, blissfully unaware of the morning light. Sam came home early in the morning, dropping his bags before seeing the both of you entwined on the couch. A smile crossed his face.

"Finally."

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