#the most aptly named baby in the word

[mxwhore]

i am infected with love for amyas btw. i'm afraid it's incurable

AND extremely contagious too, we're on yam yam lockdown over here

[cannebady]

The worst thing by far about all the fuckin' fur was how hot it was when he'd get properly nervous. It was mostly annoying, Husk thought, because he never used to get this fuckin' nervous, but these days he feels like he sweats through his fur at least every other day.

It's a byproduct of exposure to Angel Dust, he thinks (and fuck is the spider aptly named). Initially, it was anger that got him heated, being subjected to the spider trampling on his painstakingly constructed boundaries, then it was the realization that under the performance, Anthony was a spitfire with a vulnerable streak a mile wide and legs even longer. In other words, Husk's fuckin type, both topside and in Hell.

Which brings him to now; sweating through his fuckin bowtie as he paces outside Angel's room, hands so damp that the fuckin' paper wrapped around the stupid bouquet that he couldn't not buy for a certain leggy demon was getting damp and who the fuck wanted to open their door to see a sweaty, anxious, drunk failure of an overlord handing them damp shitty flowers?

Probably not the prettiest guy Husk has ever laid eyes on. His best guy, even if only in his own head.

But he'd heard Angel and Vaggie talking about her plans for her anniversary with Charlie and how much Charlie loves getting flowers. Angel's eyes had sparked up a bit, mentioning that he used to bring those home for his mother and sister, back when he'd been alive, but hadn't ever received any.

Husk knew how to spot a weak spot, and Angel was projecting to anyone paying attention, "I'm a hopeless romantic that would burst into heart shaped confetti if someone gave me flowers" and the thought hadn't left Husk's mind since.

So on his way back to the hotel, when he'd spotted a white and blush bouquet that reminded him of fur he wanted to dig his claws into and-

Well.

So he bought the stupid fuckin' flowers and now he's being a big fuckin' coward again as he's still pacing and sweating and definitely not knocking on the door and saying, "You deserve only the best, baby", and handing the (sweaty, damp, probably embarrassing) bouquet to the guy he spends every waking moment thinking about.

It's not that he even expects anything to come of it. He has nothing to offer besides a well mixed drink and an ear to bend, so he hasn't got any expectations, he just thinks that maybe someone should make Angel feel a bit less like he exists only in service to others. And sure, maybe in his drunkest flights of fancy lately he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be the kind of guy to get a gift like Angel and care for it. Care for him.

Stupid.

He should just leave the flowers against the door.

Yeah.

But as he drops them against the door, cringing at the sweaty paw stain against the soft pink paper, the door moves inward and there he is.

Nine feet of the most gorgeous man Husk's ever been so close to, ever been lucky enough to be close to, staring at him with wide eyes and fuck, he's gotta get out of here.

"I-" he starts, but his coward voices fucks off to parts unknown, leaving only his rapid breathing and the distant sounds of the Pride ring to fill the space.

"Heya Husky," Angel says, sounded a little breathless himself.

Don't think about that.

"What's all this?" he finishes and is staring right at Husk as he tries to figure out an explanation that doesn't turn him into a pathetic creep with a hopeless crush. Fuck he's too old for this.

"Saw 'em, thought you might like' em," he settles on. True, but vague.

Coward.

"Ya got me flowers, Whiskers?" Angel says, voice a bit high, tight. His eyes are blown wide, and his mouth is open a little, like he can't get enough air in and Husk understands because he stopped breathing himself the moment the door opened.

He doesn't respond right away. Husk's been a gambling man since before Hell. Maybe this is worth gambling in, because Angel looks about a second from collapsing in his own doorway and there are only so many things that could mean.

He stands, pressing the bouquet into Angel's second set of hands, damn the fuckin' sweat and anxiety. The only way forward is though and it's the only honest way to go.

"You deserve beautiful things, sweetheart." he says, channeling a man he once was, that had the right words and tone to make someone look his way, to make them feel seen.

Those mismatched eyes go huge and glassy, and Husk is about a quarter of the way to a panic attack before he's pulled into the tightest hug he's ever experienced.

"Ya can't say things like that and expect me not ta squeeze ya, Husky," Angel murmurs into his neck, sets of arms wrapping Husk up entirely, fingers dug into his fur (he hopes he isn't too sweaty, hopes he's nice to touch).

"You deserve to hear nice things too," he whispers, and his voice is low and strained, fuckin' obviously besotted.

He feels all those lanky limbs tremble a bit (oh fuckin', Christ his knees are weak, I did that, fuck), before he decides to give into his impulse to drag his claws through that fluffy hair that's always falling into Angel's (gorgeous, incomparable, hypnotizing) eyes.

"Husk," Angel nearly whines, breathing going a bit funny at that and Husk decides to roll the dice one last time.

"Fuck it. Can I kiss you, Legs?" he says, aiming for sexy and ending up closer to desperate.

There's a shit starting grin creeping across that beautiful face when he pulls back to wait for Angel's response.

"I dunno Husky, can you?" Angel snarks and oh fuck him (literally, figuratively, any fuckin' way).

"Brat," he breathes before he pulls down to align their mouths and oh fuckin' fuck that's good.

Angel's lips are syrupy soft and sweet, tasting of vanilla and peaches and all of the good things pieces of shit like Husk shouldn't get to taste. He makes a perfect huffing whine right into Husk's mouth and he has to pull back before he loses his composure entirely.

He wants Angel, wants to show him what it's like to have someone only aim to please him, and he will, he thinks. Just not yet.

He cups the side of Angel's face, giving him one last kiss before pulling back.

Angel's eyes are half lidded and he looks like every wet dream Husk's ever had. This isn't Angel Dust, the porn star. This is Anthony, and he's fuckin' perfect.

He reaches down and tangles his claws with one of Angel's hands, rubbing a thumb along a soft cheek bone.

"Have dinner with me," he says.

"Ya wanna have dinner," Angel says, "after a kiss like that?"

"I want to do a whole lot more," he replies because he knows Angel wants to hear it and, fuck it, he wants Angel to know it. "But I want to do this right. So, dinner tomorrow?"

Angel is looking at him like he's trying to solve a very difficult riddle. It goes on long enough that he wonders if he should apologize for overstepping. Fuck knows he's not in his right mind (how could he be, standing so close to Angel like this).

But then it's like the sun breaks through and he gets one of those rare, fuckin' stunning, smiles.

"Yeah, I'll have dinner with ya, kitten," he says, breathless and playful.

"Alright then, it's a date," he says, just so that Angel knows what he's offering (so he knows it's being accepted), "Wear something nice. I ain't takin' you to any kinda dive." Because he wants that to be clear too.

He can be a gentleman, when he's fucked to be.

"Oh," Angel says and he's blushing high up on his cheeks and Husk can fucking feel the heat of it.

He raises up onto his toes to kiss one of those honeyed blushes, before bestowing another kiss to the back of the hand he's still holding.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he says before forcing himself to walk away (lest he never leave at all).

He only looks back once he's ready to turn the corner down the hallway, and sees Angel brushing his cheek where Husk's lips had been and cradling the flowers to his chest as gently as he does with Fat Nuggets.

Maybe Husk's onto something here. Maybe caring for (loving, because that's what it is whether he's ready to name it or not) Angel is something he'll be good at. Fuck knows the spider makes it easy.

If he weren't a very jaded, former overlord he'd be skipping back to his room on a fuckin' cloud.

As it is, there's just a little pep in his step, like some of the weight of the world's been lifted from his shoulders.

[dao-the-starlight]

I've been writing for hours and need to cool down my brain for a minute, so uh here are some fun facts about my olnf MC Marceline over the different steps! Feel free to reblog this with your own MC fun facts, I'd love to hear them!

Step One:

Marceline doesn't really know how to speak English and they never really seriously learn (As in they don't ever take proper lessons), this is mostly due to their apraxia of speech! Back in France, Marceline was already facing enough grief over being unable to speak their native language "properly" and Opal recognized this and didn't want to add the stress of learning an entirely new language onto them as well. So as a compromise Opal would encourage Marceline to learn how to understand English, but never ever made them learn how to speak it. Course once they moved to Golden Grove Marceline just sorta picked up English naturally over the years, but for a while they could only really speak French!

They own a lot of animal plushies that are all named after the sounds they make, and Marceline loves to hold tea parties with them! (They've always wanted to hold a real tea party with their friends, but no one ever really accepted their invitations back in France)

Their favourite plushie is the first one they ever got as a baby, it's a sheep plushie with a cute bow and bell that they aptly named Bê-Bê. They get very protective over Bê-Bê and never let anyone else handle her, doesn't matter how close to them you are, hands off!

The white part of their hair is actually due to vitiligo! Basically the entire front part of their scalp is affected which causes their hair to be the white colour it is! (Yes the vitiligo does spread to other parts of their body as they age)

Step Two:

Says they don't have any hobbies or interests (Don't believe them they're lying to themselves, they just don't recognize their hobbies as hobbies since they feel they aren't important or "stand-out" like Qiu's ballet or Tamarack's cello playing)

Got really into growing flowers and has a ton of them growing all around the house (This is the main interest they say isn't an interest btw)

Also got ridicoulously fixated on praying mantises and dreams of owning one as a pet someday

Has their arm in a sling cast, it's a long story (No it's not they fell off their roof and got driven to the hospital by Mr.Baumann)

Step Three:

While they still don't speak often, when they do it's in a very melodic way that many say sounds like they're sorta singing. This is because they found out that talking to an imaginary melody is actually the easiest way for them to form words and sentences

Is quite literally never home. Like, ever. The only time they're home is in the early morning and/or when they need to tend to their flowers. Other than that they are always out somewhere in the town, and most often with no purpose they'll just go out and sit on a bench for the entire day and be like "This is the good life :)"

Got that praying mantis pet!!! She's actually a very recent addition to the house, her name is Giroflée (Or just Wallflower)

Secretly wants a tattoo and is conspiring to get one with Qiu now that they're 18 and don't need parental permission. Neither end up really going through with the idea though, not until step 4 at least

[rockinlibrarian]

Author Interview

@littlerit has tagged me to complete this whole Author Interview question list in its entirety! So I'm gonna! Writing the answers right after the questions because otherwise I get too confused!

How many works do you have on AO3? 34 I think if you count anonymous ones

What's your total AO3 word count? 176,382

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? "The Invitation: an epilogue" at 126; "In Which Jason and Chidi Rob a Bank" at 113 after a month and a half!; "Chapter 19.5: Hidden. Safe. Somewhere." at 103 which I KNOW is wrong, most of those have to be bots or a glitch or something, not that it's bad, there's just no way; "Not Just Stupid Kids" at 101; and "The Puppy-Fly Effect" at 82. Those are all different fandoms, I'm kind of proud of that.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I answered this one here, and also still haven't caught up on all those Yuletide comments!

What fic has the angstiest ending? "Exploration of the Astral Plane: An Immersive, Multidimensional Study, by Cary Loudermilk, PhD, and Oliver Anthony Bird," on account of it canonically has to. I'm such a happy ending person. But I didn't shy away on this one. I fully made myself cry writing it.

What fic has the happiest ending? Having just said I'm a Happy Ending person, I wasn't sure how to choose (and to be fair, a lot of my endings aren't so much "happy" as "hopeful"), but scrolling down the list "Syd's (Third) Childhood Begins" sticks out, maybe because it's the alternate timeline ending of my ANGSTIEST ending choice, but maybe also because it's Oliver Bird psychically bonding with a baby and it's the cutest thing and I'm getting teary-eyed thinking about it.

Do you write crossovers? I LOVE CROSSOVERS! I've only posted two, the aptly named "Introduction to Infernal Crossover" and "A Captain With Seven Children...What's So Fearsome About That?" OH SHOOT, and also "Tesseract," I can't believe I almost forgot that one. So, three. And "The Magic Man of Oz" which isn't a true crossover, but an AU using another story. But I feel like crossovers are, like, the pinnacle of fanfiction. You can't DO that in any other kind of writing! So I actually haven't written a LOT of crossovers, but I really appreciate that they exist.

Have you received hate on AO3? No. I can barely handle indifference on AO3.

Do you write smut? No, but sometimes even just acknowledging that smut is happening off-screen makes me blush and I'm like do I need to up the rating on this? Does this count as needing to warn for Underage because he's a sixteen-year-old slut who won't shut up about his conquests? (actual question I have asked myself). Look, I have one fic posted "anonymously" just because it LINKS to someone else's smut fic!

Have you had a fic get stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

Have you had a fic get translated? No, pretty sure not. Unless of course, it was STOLEN then translated.

Have you co-written a fic? This was also answered over here.

What's your fave ship? *Sigh* Yes, still can't get over Fiktor. Reading or writing. I just started writing another one, too. Looks like it might be multichapter. Also looks like I've started weaving in mysteries I don't even know the answers to and I don't even know if I feel like getting into it, but that's just where the premise is going, darn following the premise to its logical conclusion.

What's a WIP you want to finish but never will? Never say never. Though I have got some hanging out that I haven't looked at in ages. I keep teasing that old Firefly fic-- that's probably the oldest with no further development on it-- but I SWEAR SOMEDAY especially if someone else has any interest in me doing so?

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue. I tend to draft in dialogue actually.

What are your writing weaknesses? Adding the stuff that comes in between the dialogue. Also finishing. Also plotting.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages on AO3? Little bits and phrases here and there, hey, go for it. Longer than that makes for a hard read.

What's the first fandom you wrote for? This is answered very enjoyably over here, and by "very enjoyably" I mean "There's a link to X-Files Crack, you should follow it."

What fandom/ship have you not written but want to? I think until "Jason and Chidi Rob a Bank" the answer was The Good Place, although technically I wrote a little of that (but no MAIN characters!) in "Intro to Infernal Crossover." Now I'm not sure. Nothing's sticking out. Also ever since I saw that Yuletide nomination I've been obsessed with the concept of Sal and Gabi fic, but I can't do it, I need someone who actually knows Cuban-American Spanglish to do it for me. Speaking of other Yuletide nominations, Lemony Snicket would be fun. Haven't tried that yet.

What's your fave fic you've written? Honestly I don't know. It depends which one I haven't reread in awhile and am not sick of yet. I like to go with "Two (or Three) Mutant Freaks Against the Fourth Grade" because the number of hits it's gotten is WAY out of proportion with the amount I love it. But now it's actually got more hits than "The Magic Man of Oz" which is my newest favorite, so maybe I have to start hyping that one up, too.

So @uniasus, I will tag you to answer all the other questions I didn't ask you before then! Who else hasn't gotten tagged? Everyone else who writes and hasn't gotten tagged!

[wordtowords]

Chick-A-Chick-A BOOM! The Residual Effects of War

residual - adjective - remaining after the greater part or quantity has gone (Google).

There can be no debate. Nothing good comes from full-scale destruction. Obviously, the weightier the war, the more consequential the effects on the people who experienced the fray head-on in the trenches. Yet the deleterious outcome or outcomes are not limited to the participants. Successive generations can feel the sting of violent opposition. Hatred can obliterate the capacity to love over decades. 

Case in point: take the damaged men of my generation, most aptly named the Baby Boomers. The moniker is not meant to stand as onomatopoeia attached to the soundtrack of battle as in "Boom went the bombs" (but if the shoe fits...). No doubt, boom could be a play on the word boon (windfall) or the slang term booming (as in increasing), representing the surge in population after World War II. Let's face it, after being deprived of physical love for such a long time, the soldiers wanted to make up for lost time,"boom-boom"legitimately with their significant others, and they did. The results of which produced about 2.5 babies per household, many more if the vet dads ascribed to a specific religion. Yet the shoe does fit in the literal sense. Many Boomers are suffering from the after effects of the bombs that fell around their desperately ducking dads on the battlegrounds. They are damaged goods and got that way due to the residual effects of the war. Sorry, men of my generation. You are inextricably blemished, and I have the common sense to prove it.

World War II left its participants torn, bleeding, not merely physically (in some cases), but psychologically. Most who had survived combat walked away with PTSD. There was no way around it. However, these men were expected to "get over" their feelings perceived as "weak." Of course, they couldn't do it themselves; consequently, having no choice, they went on with their daily lives, thankful to be alive. These psychologically impaired men continued on to become the flawed fathers of Boomers, who couldn't authentically be available for their children. The halved vets were incapable of being whole, and their sons, who really needed them as role models (Moms couldn't do everything but often did), found them to be feckless examples as absentee parents. 

The most tragic residual effect of World War II? Male Boomers' inability to love. Okay, fine. I'm not saying all of them are cursed in this sense, but many of them are. (Most of the single ones are. Believe me.) Just listen to the complaints of us female Boomers, who often are creased as well but who have ironed out better and can function well emotionally because we are wired that way. There are men of my generation who hold topnotch degrees and successful positions in their places of employment, but these same people can't seem to love in the true sense albeit they think they can. Ironically, they can commit to academia and the demands of their vocations, and perhaps even their offspring, but they are clueless when it comes to intimacy in the form of romantic love, hence the growing rate of divorce and mass loneliness. As for the predecessors of the Boomers, are they better off? I think not. Many of them can't commit to anything at all, no less love.

Maybe the defect I'm underscoring has nothing to do with war at all? Maybe it is just part and parcel of human nature? I can't give you a definitive answer because my thesis is based on opinion and personal experience. But this I do know to be factual. Nothing good comes from war. So if you feel the solution to the miscellaneous confrontations making front-page news today is bombing the antagonists all to oblivion, think again. A solution can never fall under the nomenclature of HATE and pan out well. I think Martin Luther King, Jr. whose birthday we recently celebrated, said it best: "Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." 

So man up, Boomer men, and learn how to love your women well. Gender and generational differences aside, we all need to stop blaming our parents for whatever they might have or might not have done and commit to full-scale love.

[leggigoesabroad]

SO! We pick up in the morning at Bateleur Camp. They prepared the most epic breakfast, like I was the queen of Kenya. I was simply gutted to leave. We did a site visit of the adjacent camp, Kichwa Tembo (head of the elephant, translated) on our way out which was good for #knowledge and #work. We drove to the air strip and took an exactly 6 minute, 44 second flight to another area of the Maasai Mara, where our guide from Mahali Mzuri, Betty, picked us up. I’m thrilled any time we have female anything - pilots, servers, drivers, chefs. It’s a very male-dominant country still (for example the men still don’t go in the delivery room with their wives, but the men choose the child’s name. I’d simply end my husband’s life if either of those were true, but when I hear the stories I of course have to be respectful and not explain how whack that is bc their patriarchy is catching up to ours. Don’t they know what Taylor said about the keychain???) Betty was a woman of few words and I still lose sleep wondering if she liked me or not. Because don’t worry, I’m still the same in Africa. But she DID say she guided Demi Lovato and family TWICE! And that they had to clear all alcohol and all mention of alcohol out of the vehicle / her room / etc. because it was post accidental overdose and rehab stint. Kudos to Demi for knowing thy boundaries and temptations. (And don’t worry, Betty said she was very nice.) Also, Sir Richard Branson owns Mahali Mzuri, and I asked everyone on staff if they’ve met him. They all said “oh yes of course, plenty of times” and when I ask if he’s nice, they say he’s incredible and the kindest boss ever etc. I’m like guys are there cameras?? You can tell me the truth! I know we all get one comfort billionaire and mine recently went from Rihanna to Taylor once Taylor got promoted!!

Mahali Mzuri (translated to “beautiful place”, aptly) is built on a big hill/cliff, and each of the 12 tents are on tall decks looking over this river and plains below. When we first arrived, a herd of elephants was grazing just below our lunch spot. There are also hippos, which until the last day, I only heard, not saw. We were treated all night to the MOOOOOOOO UNGFGHHHHH MOOOOHHHH MAAAAGGHH of the African hippopotamus. How lucky*. Read: sleep did not come easy.

While our rooms were lovely, I instantly knew I preferred Bateleur still. You can’t beat the elevation and positioning of Mahali Mzuri, but the vibe at Bateleur is simply IMMACULATE. Mahali Mzuri was much hotter, somehow? Not sure if it was the way the tents were built or the positioning of the rooms in relation tot he afternoon sun, but I was sweltering during the day, even with the fan on. Like untenably hot and stuffy and as soon as I’d leave the tent, it was normal outside again. Even with all the tent flaps up and the breeze coming through the screens. Something about the thermal design of it all! At night, it’s lovely, as the night chills and the breeze brings in the cool air as I’m snuggled under covers, listening to my best friends, the hippos. Also there’s a little rodent-type animal called the hyrax, which looks a bit like a possum and a meerkat had a baby. It likes to crawl all over the top of the canvas tent, so there’s a permanent scratching noise above your head, leading to some fucked up dreams. And constantly battling with yourself as to: ARE they in my tent with me?? (They’re not). The staff calls them the “landlords”. They also make a high-pitched EEE EEE EEEEEEE sound which just didn’t do much in regards to endearing them to me. The only cute part was when I found two napping in the metal frame of the tent outside. Love is love.

Have to run to afternoon game drive in Tarangire, but much more to say about the Mara and Mahali Mzuri - but time to write and catch up is at a premium here, so I tell myself anything I get down is better than nothing and it’s better to chip away at it. Off to find the elusive wild dogs, which are arguably the cutest thing in the entire ecosystem and are apparently widely despised and wreak havoc and chaos on any population they enter. Like roving gangs of assholes who run into town, steal your wives and children, pillage your stores, destroy your land, and leave everyone in a stunned daze. Metaphorically speaking. But my god google “wild dog babies Africa” and you’ll simply pass away.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐

❝ I'm telling you that I love you. In a million little ways, in so many quiet, tiny, little ways, that they all add up to be greater than the biggest love in the whole world. I love you in so many little ways that it almost hurts. It almost hurts to love you. ❞

❓ #QOTD If you had a second chance at a lost love, would you take it? ❓ 🦇 Gemma Jacobs is ready to start her new life with fiancé Josh Lewenthal and their soon-to-be-born baby. Everything changes right before those two, beautiful words—"I do"—when Gemma has a seizure at the altar. It's not until after she wakes up from a coma (three months later!) that she learns she had pre-eclampsia. Having also suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Gemma finds she no longer feels the love she once had for Josh. Can their love story survive what happens AFTER happily ever after?

💜 Sarah Ready does a wonderful job at highlighting socially relevant topics. While the first novel focused on the struggles of IVF, the sequel discusses medical subjects like TBI, pre-eclampsia, and the aftermath of nearly losing a loved one. There might have been more emotional enlightenment if we saw part of the story from Josh's perspective, though—namely while Gemma was in her coma.

🦇 Sarah Ready returns to Josh and Gemma's love story in an unnecessary sequel. Unfortunately, this book reads as more of a redemption story for an over-exaggerated villain than a true love story. Nothing is given the full extent of attention it deserves. Gemma abandons her plan to rekindle her love for Josh too quickly, there are few one-on-one moments illustrating the disconnect between her and her daughter (aptly named Hope, which I'm sure triggered a flashback for The Originals fans), and though the novel tries to bring attention to TBI and pre-eclampsia, we don't learn much about either diagnosis. This plot might have worked better as a stand-alone for two new characters, or as a novella from Ian Fortune's point of view. Due to Gemma's diagnosis, she's emotionally distant for most of the book, which keeps us as readers at arm's length. Even the smut feels rushed, with none of the love you'd expect from these characters.

🦇 Recommended for anyone desperate to dive back into Josh and Gemma's story. Don't hold out for any real emotional connection to these characters, though.

📚 Sequel 💜 Second Chance Romance ⚖ Redemption Arc 🧠 TW: TBI, Pre/Eclampsia, Coma, NICU

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.

[irregodless]

in pokemon the first two games were red and green and the protagonist was named red and the rival was named green but then they released a third updated game blue and red and blue were the ones that were released elsewhere so while the protagonist retained the name red green became blue

then in the next gen gold and silver the rivals name is silver but the protagonist is named ethan in english (hibiki/echo/sound in japanese) and with THAT third game it introduced the ability to play as a girl in crystal aptly naming her kris for short

so when they remade the first games using only the two that were in japan (fire red and lead green no water blue) they needed a female protagonist and presumably because outside of japan had made green blue to avoid confusion they made a new character with a separate name, leaf after the game, but because red already existed they did not create a protagonist named fire so the main trio is named red green and leaf (green) in japan and red blue and leaf (green) elsewhere yet when they recreated gen 2 they invented a new female character by the way of lyra who replaced kris despite a few visual similarities presumably as the absent female choice for gold and silver and in japanese her name was kotone a word used for some instruments (like lyre-a) and apparently also means sound although not really sure where the sound motif came from unless one was colors and the other was sound which are senses that make up most of the material world but most importantly features of the gameboy

are you keeping up

so anyway leaf in some japanese media took on the name blue for her new persona who is very similar yet distinct from the character known as leaf (who in games like masters would become associated with leaves and the color green as well) until they introduced green (blue) in lets go as yet again her own distinct character alongside baby versions of both red (red) and blue (green) and the real versions of red (red) and blue (green) and so in japan red (red) and green (blue) are the names of the gay rivals who had their honeymoon in fantasy hawaii and blue (vriska) the one with a slave kink and red (red) and blue (green) the gay couple and green (not leaf) the dominatrix elsewhere

any questions

[sebsxphia]

Said I was going to show up now here I am!!!

Switch!Bob agenda going strong today. You just finished edging him until tears flowed freely down his cheeks (you tease him for crying)

But now it’s his turn. Edging be damned, it’s overstim time. And he’s going to do it until your sobbing, wailing even. And he’ll mock and degrade you for it. Calling you the filthiest, most depraved things. And I’ll die on that hill.

- Teddy 🧸💖

@thesluttyarchivist YEAH BABEY

cracks knuckles. lets get into it <33

it started off with innocent intentions. you loved hearing your sweet bobby talk to you about some new tech that had just come in or the history of aviation. this time it was some new tech for the wso’s that came in that day. he was rambling on and you found yourself moving your head further and further down his torso until you reached his cock, both of you resting in bed. he stopped his talking to look down at you with a quizzical look. “keep going, my love. but if you stop talking, i stop.”

bob took that as his signal to carry on eagerly. what divulged was you edging bob for such a long period of time that the tears started to fall down his hot cheeks and flowed freely as he was desperate to come, but couldn’t get the words out and oh boy did you mock him for this. “awh, baby boy. less crying, more talking hm? seeing as you want to come so badly.”

he finally snapped and came hot down your throat with a deep groan and shakey breaths. “there you go, sweetheart. who knew talking could be so hard?” for most people, the post orgasm haze tends to knock them out, but for bob it only gives him more energy and your words were his last straw.

“you bitch.” both bob’s words and quick movements to haul you onto your back took you by surprise. though to be honest, you should’ve known better. you let out a muffled squeak as he wraps his hand around your throat, pressing you into the mattress. “you really are just a needy slut aren’t you? one hand around your throat and you’re already whining. it’s pathetic.” there’s a line of spit that falls from his lips and onto your cheek. he smears it with his thumb and orders you not to move. he reaches into your drawer aptly named, ‘the punishment drawer’ and reaches for multiple vibrators and one set of ties.

your wrists are bound to your ankles and you’re completely at his mercy. he places the vibe on your pulsing cunt and switches it on the lowest setting. you feel the vibrations instantly and you buck up your hips, letting a moan fall freely. “you’re going to come again and again for me, because that’s all you’re good for. you’re only a mouth and cunt for me right now, sweetheart.”

three orgasms later and the vibe is still placed on your now soaked and swollen clit. your tears are flowing freely over your cheeks and your throat is hoarse from wailing out sweet pleas to bob. “awh, darlin’. you’re crying now? too bad, honey. you shouldn’t of made me cry. it’s not nice when someone mocks you for such a pathetic display. now you know how it feels.” he momentarily removes the vibe to place a harsh slap on your cunt, stopping the vibrations but giving you a new sense of pain that makes you wail. “don’t cry darlin’. it’s not even that bad. you’re just an over dramatic dumb baby.”

yikes

thank you so, so much for indulging me with this insane thot my beloved!! i love you to the moon and back!! 💌💖🫶🏼

[novel-sugar]

“I’M IN LOVE WITH AN ANIMATRONIC BALLERINA!?” Chapter. 1

A Ballora x Reader fic I’ve been been working on and off all year since Ballora has absolutely no longform “X Reader” content and as the unofficial #1 Ballora Fan™️, I had to do my girl justice!

Nothing nsfw just fluff with a long story (which is why it’ll be broken into parts)

You were nervous, there was no denying that and who could blame you? It was your first night on the job at one of the biggest names in animatronic entertainment as an after hours technician. The job description seemed simple enough in the ad of that magazine you read at the dentist's office a week prior, you were in desperate need of some easy cash and this seemed to be it. Getting paid just to tweak a few robots that acted funny every now and then, piece of cake right? You soon realized just how HORRIBLY mistaken you actually were not long after.

  At the time, the animatronics that you pictured yourself working on would be nothing more than the basic, run-of-the-mill, bots in animal costumes you'd see at a place like Freddy Fazbear's Pizza (which ironically enough was part of the same conglomerate you work for now, before its closure), but that fantasy came crashing down the following day once you received your company-issued catalogue in the mail. It must've been sent to help you familiarize yourself with your new "coworkers" (and if you had little ones of your own: entice you to use your lovely employee rental discount of 2% off), a massive wave of dread washed over you as you flipped through the pages of the flimsy, paper booklet. These animatronics were NOTHING like anything you had ever seen before in your entire life, they were fully metallic, predominantly white in color, and the most jarring part of all was the way all of their faces seemed to be segmented into various pieces. You read each character's bio in detail, for the most part is was the typical flavor text tied to each animatronic you'd expect, but to the sides were specifics and features that immediately made you start reconsidering this career choice.

Here you were several days later, not feeling better about your decisions in the slightest. Despite all better judgement telling you not to; you decided to follow through with the job you felt that you were EXTREMELY underqualified for. "Maybe it'll be fine." you thought to yourself. "The ad said that no experience or higher education was required! It couldn't be that bad . . . could it?" You felt slight comfort in your words, but a lingering unease remained as you stepped foot into the elevator in front of you. The elevator was large and looked like something straight out of a futuristic metropolis you'd read about in a sci-fi novel, only made more jarring by the two animatronic posters hanging flimsily on the metallic walls. You had made it a point to memorize the characters' names from the catalogue and were able to recognize them immediately, the one on the bottom left was the main star of the facility: Circus Baby, a juggernaut of a clown with reddish orange hair tied up in pigtails & her small, bald, child-like companions the Bidybabs. Your attention turned to the poster on the upper-right of the elevator doors, the animatronic in the poster was a tall, slender, ballerina named Ballora. She had companions of her own aptly named the "Minireenas" that weren't portrayed in the poster, you only knew about their existence from the catalogue. "Ballora" the name rang throughout your mind, there was something about her that seemed to have stuck with you since you first laid eyes on her page in the catalogue days before. Was it her strange but charming name? The blue motif of her hair and clothing? The welcoming smile that was formed on her face? Or maybe it was her noticeably feminine physique? Never before would you ever think it was possible for a kiddie oriented company like this to make a character, so...so, anatomically accurate.  You felt if you didn't know better, she looked like she could easily pass as an actual woman (at least from afar), your gaze returned to the poster and fixated on the image of the ballerina once again.

As your descent into the underground workplace continued, your mind started to wander as you grew lost looking into the image of her once again until suddenly- a loud voice came blaring throughout speakers hidden inside the elevator, startling you and snapping you out of your trance. The disembodied voice explained that it was an automated guide (with a long name) that you could simply call the "HandUnit", once that was explained an immediate rush of relief was felt all over your body. It had finally made sense to you why the job description seemed so simple despite the animatronics being so advanced, it's because you had a guide to point you towards the right direction the whole time, guess this'll be easy money afterall! After trying (and failing) to input your name on the small yellow tablet, your elevator had finally reached it's destination, a small, happy jingle began to play through the elevator for a few seconds. Once it was over, as if on cue, the elevator's lights had shut off leaving you in complete darkness if not for the dim, white light outside and the large, red, glowing button to the right of the doors. HandUnit's voice instructed you to press the button to open them, allowing you to exit into the emptiness outside, the only thing you could see in front of you from the lighting was an opening to a ventilaton shaft. With no other places to go from what you could see, you crawled into the vent hoping that it wouldn't lead into a giant fan at the end. Your fears were put to rest once you heard HandUnit's voice again, as you crawled through cramped space the voice gave a brief history about the company and it's rise to success after the closure of Freddy's. By the end of it's monologue you could see a bright light at the end of the metal tunnel. You slid out of the vent carefully pulling your legs out one at a time and being mindful of your footing as HandUnit explained this new area was known as the "Primary Control Module".

It was a small room bathed in eerie green light, pipes and wires of various shapes and sizes lined the walls. Your eyes scanned across the room, there were two small filing cabinents (with assorted miniature animatronics on top of both) that stood parallel to each other on the sides of what appeared to be another vent that was located at the bottom of the wall in the middle of the room. Ironically enough, there was indeed a giant fan like you had worried about but it was behind a grate in the wall to your front, lastly you spotted more company memorabillia (a clock with Baby's face and a poster of the character "Funtime Foxy") on the walls to your left and right accordingly. The most unnerving aspect about this room however (aside from the clown mask hanging on the wall in front), were the giant windows on both sides you hadn't noticed up until this point, it felt almost as if you were in a zoo or aquarium of sorts but for what you weren't sure. Your question was soon answered when Handunit went on to explain that the rooms connected to the other sides of the windows were apparrently for the animatronics themselves. The room behind the left window was Ballora Gallery, the moment the AI voice uttered those words you felt your heart skip a beat. The thought of being able to get to see Ballora on your first night on the job left you with a strange feeling, a mix between anxiety and elation, like meeting a celebrity. You stared at the buttons on the control panel in front of you, there were two in total: The one on top had what appeared to be a sun and the one below had a lightning bolt. The voice instructed you to press the one on top to access the lights in Ballora's room, you were nervous but you'd do as you were told. "She's just a robot, what's there to be afraid of?" you thought to yourself as your finger pressed the blue button.

The lights in the other room activated in an instant, but to your confusion Ballora and her Minireenas were nowhere to be found. HandUnit's response to the situation made it seem that this problem was a regular occurence and that it could be easily fixed with a "controlled shock"? Your eyes glanced down to the red button that your guide had informed you about, your finger hovered above the button for a few seconds before you pressed it. Suddenly, a loud, blaring sound pierced your ears and a quick flash of blue light could be seen in Ballora Gallery. The mysterious light had vanished as HandUnit implored you to check the lights in the other room once again. That is, once you recovered from your mild heart attack after this whole experience. You had no idea what just happened but apparently your guide thinks that it helped, so who were you to question it? You had pressed the blue button, once again the lights in the left room activated, but only this time; there she was. You could see her standing under the bright lights of the room, she stood on a large, metallic stage that seemed to be not too far from your window. Her Minireenas could be seen gathered around her, 2 on each side, 4 in total. The little mannequin-esque figures bobbed up and down with their arms in the air doing what seemed to be part of their dance routine as Ballora herself spun in place. You were in awe at the sight of the beautiful display, it could be described as something you would see from an old fashioned music box. Seeing the way Ballora had her hands held high over her head, her slender frame perfectly executing a 360° turn, something about this left you mesmerized for the few seconds you could watch before the lights abruptly shut themselves off.

HandUnit's voice broke the awkward silence congratulating your handiwork and directing your attention to the window on the right. You repeated a similar series of events but this time with Funtime Auditorium and one of it's two namesakes, Funtime Foxy (you had no clue on the whereabouts of Funtime Freddy). Once that was over, you were advised to proceed to once again crawl through a vent into another room (you began to sense a pattern here), the small door guarding the vent unlocked itself allowing you to crawl through to the room in front of you called "Circus Gallery". After traversing through another long stretch of metal, you found yourself standing in another room but only this one was much dimmer with the only sources of light being the large, bright multicolor lights above the giant glass window in front of you. There was a small doll dressed in blue held high on strings to the left of the glass, and another dressed like a magician sat on top of a large, confusing looking control panel coated in a variety of buttons, dials, switches and other devices. There was a giant window directly past it, and behind the pane of glass was supposedly Circus Baby (if HandUnit's words were to be believed) and her Bidybabs. You did as you were instructed before in the Primary module with the smaller control panel to the right side of the room but despite your best efforts (in this case mashing the buttons your guide told you to) neither Baby nor her little friends came into view on the other side of the window. Despite this, HandUnit confusingly seemed satisfied with your results. You couldn't understand but you felt no need to question it, the voice seemed satisfied so you might as well roll with it. HandUnit informed you soon afterwards, that was the last of your tasks for the night and that you were free to go back home for now. You had a feeling you could get used to a job like this.

After crawling back into the control module, you turned your head towards Ballora Gallery before exiting into the vent you first entered at the start. The vision of Ballora practicing her pirouette with the Minireenas danced within your mind once more as you stared into the inky, black void on the other side of the window. You returned home later that night and immediately flopped face down into your soft, warm bed exhausted from a night of not really doing much. You fell asleep almost instantly, pausing for only a moment to take your shoes off and casting them to the side of your mattress, slowly you drifted into a deep slumber not long afterwards. As you slept, your mind couldn't stop fixating on her. The enviornment in your dream was hazy but you could make out just enough details for a clear image, you could see you were the only one in what appeared to be an old fashioned performance theatre. A large, bright purple curtain hung over the stage, there was a dark blue trim at the bottom and the shape of dark purple roses were woven into the fabric. You heard an unseen announcer speak from somewhere in the room, "Ladies & Gentlemen, Boys & Girls, please stay in your seats and give a warm welcome to the beautiful, the lovely, Miss Ballora!" Upon hearing her name, without any recollection of moving you found yourself sitting in the front row of a sea of empty navy blue seats, your view directly to the center of the curtain which slowly started to raise. The lights around the theatre dimmed as the curtain rose into the rafters above, the room had been plunged into darkness until suddenly the stage lights overhead cast down a pale blue light. There Ballora stood on stage, she bowed gently towards the "audience" (if you could even call it that since it was just you) and soon enough the silent theatre was filled with music. It was unlike anything you had ever heard before, it was somber but wistful. Ballora had begun dancing as the music filled the room and as soon as she did, the world around you seemed to disappear almost instantly, all that remained was Ballora still dancing in a now empty void of purple clouds. She danced seemingly without a care in the world performing an ensemble of ballet routines and you were enjoying each and every second of it. It truly felt like paradise. Eventually after what seemed like hours, her dancing had come to a stop and she took a bow as you clapped vigorously. At that moment, you woke up. Your eyes opened to the ceiling in your residence, bathed in moonlight seeping through the window from the bedroom wall. Realizing the dream you just had, you came to a disturbing realization and could only utter two words in shock: "Oh no."

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[honey-baby-blossom]

The Devil's Advocate - matt murdock

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

summary | Mai and Matt adjust to their new partnership that starts to be plagued by new fears and old memories

warnings | none!

word count | 2.6k words

notes | this one isn't all too exciting, but I'm excited for the possible directions my fictional babies could go in the future !! enjoy !!!

Matt was drawn awake in the early hours of the morning to the sound of hushed whispers. He had completely forgotten the girl in his living room as he jerked awake, trying to assess the possible danger in the apartment just to slump slightly in remembrance. Quickly, he recognized the bell-like voice, muffled by pillows and blankets, whispering in another language. His head cocked to the side as he heard the slowness of her heartbeat, signifying she was still asleep.

Carefully, he stepped out of his bed, kicking away the stained comforter he hated that took the place of his normal one which was draped lazily over his guest. His fingers reached out tentatively to find the sliding door, pushing it open further to get a better picture of the girl. In the darkness of his mind, he visualized the neon outline of her body. Her chest rising and falling steadily; her arm draped over her face, covered in a thin line of drool from her lips; her feet sticking out from underneath the blanket even though the blanket is big enough to cover her tiny frame three times over.

He couldn’t understand what she said, most of it sounding like incoherent mumbling even if he knew the language. With a small smile, he turned to get back into bed, only stopping when his name rang through the apartment. He frowned and listened for her heartbeat to signify consciousness, which it didn’t.

“Matt said I could stay,” she mumbled, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. He heard her breathing start to shake the way a startled infant would. “Don’t let them take me back, Matt.”

Matt’s chest felt hot like a star was burning through his lungs and tissue. He swallowed and nodded in the darkness, silently answering the question she would never know she asked. His skin felt hot as he stepped back to his bed, his fingers pushing the blankets further away since the warmth was bursting from inside him.

It took a long time for him to start falling asleep again. He liked the night and the quiet. Gave him time to think, finally. He decided he couldn’t let this go, or more aptly, let her go. The voice in the back of his mind that worried about the dangers she could present went silent long ago. Instead, it was replaced by curious questions for when she woke up. He decided she would stay in his life for as long as she wanted. He would help her start a new life. A safe one. Get her an apartment, a job. She could help at the office and Karen would go blind with excitement to have it not be such a sausage fest. He wouldn’t crowd her. He’d stay in the shadows, keeping a close eye while she lived in her newfound freedom.

Selfishly, Matt considered an alternative idea. He could redecorate the apartment, give her a room all to herself. She could live with him and take classes at the university, maybe. She wouldn’t have to worry about bills or work, he would handle all of it. All he’d ask for in return was the sight she gave him. Matt mentally scolded himself for even imagining it, using her in such a way. He shook off the idea as much as he could, trying to forget how soft her hands felt against his, how tiny her fingers were in comparison. It wasn’t just her gifts that he wanted to keep for himself, he thought.

No. That wasn’t going to happen. The very notion of a relationship blooming between the girl and himself sent a shudder down his spine. He thought of Elektra, how deafening her absent heartbeat was to him. He thought of Karen, how much fear she still lived in. It wouldn’t happen to Mai. She was asking him to keep her safe. Staying an arm’s length away was the only way to do that.

But unconsciously, Matt’s mind betrayed him in his sleep. He dreamed of her voice and her fingers dancing across his skin. The only sound that woke him from such a sweet dream was her voice, calling his name again.

Two months later.

Mai checked over her shoulder before opening the small door to the mailbox, the metal squeaking harshly before she even touched the handle. The stack of soft paper was rolled sloppily to fit inside and ripped at the edges when she tried pulling from the box. She let out a soft sigh and tucked it into the crook of her elbow before closing the door and locking it back with the key Matt gave her.

She flipped through the mail while walking up the dark stairway, her feet following muscle memory by now. When she reached the door, she pulled back out the set of two keys the man trusted her to have and unlocked the big heavy door. She smiled slightly, proud that she got it unlocked on the first try this time. The door was easily Mai’s biggest enemy in her new world, always fighting to stay tightly locked and protected. It eased her nerves a little at night when the anxieties caught in her throat. If I can’t open the damn thing with a key, there’s no way a criminal could without it, she would tell herself. But in Hell’s Kitchen, people were full of surprises. . . .

“I got the mail for you,” she announced into the apartment, sensing his presence before she could land her eyes on him. He stood in the living room, his shirt collar flipped up as he fixed his tie.

“Anything good?” he asked, his lips turning up into a small smirk.

“Not really. Just bills and the newspaper,” she answered, setting the thick stack of envelopes down to open up the thin folds of the New York Bulletin. Matt nodded and tightened his tie a little more, his neck twisting to get comfortable.

“You don’t normally leave that early,” he said, turning to face her as he flipped his collar back down. Mai looked up, mentally scolding herself for thinking he wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of the apartment before the sun even began to rise.

Early on into her stay with Matt, he noticed how much of a routine she needed. She woke up when the sun just barely reached over the trees and made tea. She would stretch and meditate then leave to explore the city. Mostly she was just exploring the park a couple of blocks away, but sometimes she would run errands. She moved like clockwork, leaving at the same time and coming home with the same cup of coffee Matt’s been drinking for a decade.

“You’re up earlier than normal, too,” she shrugged, avoiding his face. She didn’t want to admit to him the nightmares she’d started having again or how lucky she would be to get four hours of sleep on a regular night. She didn’t want him to worry like he used to. She hated making him worry.

Despite her best efforts, Matt knew everything. Even if he decided to ignore the way her heartbeat gave away her lies or how she’d started locking the door twice every night before bed, he still heard her voice while she slept. He was getting a little more familiar with the language, but he didn’t have to be to hear the absolute fear that plagued her mind while she slept. It started with whimpers a few weeks prior, then moved up to full crying that woke herself up.

Matt argued over whether or not to ask her about it. Finally, when he did, she told him about the nightmares but promised they were just silly things she’d had since she was a child. She apologized if she had disturbed his sleep (something Matt denied extensively) and told him they would go away soon, just like always. And to her credit, that was the last night she woke herself up in a panic. But it was the first night Matt nearly leaped out of his bed from the pounding noise ringing through his ears.

Her heartbeat sounded like a jackhammer next to his face, not eased by the loud, wheezing breaths that escaped her lungs. He couldn’t figure out how she could possibly sleep through it, or not hear it in her dreams. That insistent pa-thump pa-thump made Matt wish it was his hearing he lost in the accident instead of his sight. He could hear how tightly her fingers gripped the sheets and the tension grinding in her muscles. He wanted to wake her up, to brush his fingertips along the muscles of her back until she relaxed, and that deafening heartbeat went quiet again.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t cross the line. First, it would be comforting her out of her nightmares then holding her while she slept then sneaking kisses when he thought no one but God would be watching. So, he stayed in his bed, holding the pillow around his ears to muffle the noise until he fell back asleep.

“The silence woke me up,” he said, walking through the apartment to the kitchen. She noticed the space he put between them whenever he was showing care for her. If he mustered up the courage to say “I love you” to someone, it would be from across the planet, she thought with a small smile.

“I couldn’t sleep and got tired of laying around. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said gently, making sure that nothing she said was technically a lie. Matt was quiet for a moment, tracing the edge of his coffee mug with his fingertip.

“I’m blind, not stupid, Mai,” he said finally, his voice low. He listened to the symphony of noises around him as closely as he could. Her drumming heartbeat seemed to quicken with every second, the softness of her breathing which remained steady (with conscious effort, he guessed); everything mixed lazily with the low mumbles of a waking city outside his window.

“I haven’t been loud again, have I?” she asked with a frown, trying to remember if she had heard the crying and screaming in her dreams again.

“Not like you used to be,” he answered, his eyebrows coming together in thought. “Look, I don’t know what it is that you’re afraid of. I could take a guess, but... I know you’re not sleeping and I’m not either, to tell you the truth.”

Mai chewed on the inside of her lip, the guilt and shame bleeding through her veins like poison. She wished she had told him the truth earlier, about being scared to leave his apartment, about being found by them, about losing any little control that she still held onto. He told her she couldn’t stay forever. And she agreed to let him set her up with her own life in the city. She helped at the office. She took her morning walks. Everything, but moving somewhere new. Without him.

“I’m...scared, Matt,” she finally said, the word burning on her tongue.

“Of what?” he asked as softly as he could, knowing how sensitive she tended to be to the tone of his voice.

“I don’t want...to leave. I-I like it here. I like...” She trailed off, looking across the apartment at the man. She couldn’t find the will to finish the sentence, to admit to the man how dependent on him she still was, or how much she enjoyed being near him. She noticed how his jaw clenched and felt grateful that she didn’t finish the sentence.

“That’s all it is?” he asked, his head tilting slightly in amusement. She only nodded in response.

“Basically, yes.”

“Sweetheart,” He smiled, stepping closer to her, “You can stay as long as you need to. I just wanted you to feel like you had all the freedom you could imagine.”

She felt her heart hammering against her chest and hoped that maybe he would attribute it to a different emotion, anything besides what was blossoming in the pit of her chest.

“I don’t want to be by myself. Not until I know they’re not coming. Plus, I just learned how to unlock the door,” she said, her thin lips twitching up into a smile. The man matched it, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Then you’ll stay. I promise I don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

Matt listened to her heartbeat calm in her chest and her breathing returned to normal. The voice in his head panicked and ran over everything he said, double-checking for anything that crossed the line he was trying so hard not to touch. He could tell she wanted to say something more, but the sound of his phone echoing through the apartment cut her short. His head tilted to find the noise and answer the call, but as the sound bounced through his apartment, he felt her cool fingers place it into his hand.

“Thank you,” he mumbled quickly and answered, preparing himself for the verbal beating Foggy was about to lay on him.

“Please tell me you’re on your way and not passed out in an alley,” Foggy said, the humor and worry laced equally in his tone.

“We’re about to walk out the door. Got caught up in conversation is all,” Matt explained, his eyes twitching up slightly towards where he imagined the girl.

“Oh, okay. Well, don’t forget to grab the file on the Rose case. Karen’s got it in her head that she wants to organize everything we’ve ever done today,” Foggy sighed.

“Still waiting to find out if she can go back to The Bulletin?” Matt asked, his hand patting the back of the couch until he found his suit jacket.

“Uh-huh,” Foggy hummed in response. Matt smiled to himself and moved to pick up the file he mentioned.

“Take it easy on her. She’s foaming at the mouth to get back to investigating.”

“I know. I just wish she would investigate the case of how many times can she wear that same shirt this week- I'm on the phone!” Matt heard Karen’s sarcastic voice over the line, scolding Foggy for talking about her behind her back.

“I’ll be there with the file soon. Tell Karen to go for your bad shoulder,” He smiled against the phone, listening to the chirping laughter from the woman in the background of the call.

“Will do. Be careful,” Foggy laughed before hanging up the call. Matt’s smile remained as he tucked the phone into his pocket.

"My cane?" he spoke towards the girl, the remnants of the smile still lingering on his lips. She handed it to him quickly, always anticipating his needs. He gave a small smirk in her direction, his own way of saying "Thank you."

He tucked the cane and the file into the crook of his arm, reaching out with his other hand to find her. She held out her arm, letting his hand fall safely against the fabric of her sweater. Despite the slowly warming weather of the city, Mai always made sure she had most of her skin covered so she didn't surprise anyone who happened to bump into her on the street. Matt suggested gloves once, but she just blushed and made up something about not liking the feeling. Really, she just enjoyed having the constant option to show the man everything she saw, including him.

"Lead the way, ma'am," he said softly, his lips only a few inches away from her ear. She blushed and opened the heavy door for both her and the man holding onto her, making sure it was shut and locked securely before starting the walk towards the familiar office.

[terrence-silver]

What would Terry be like during the birth of his child and then seeing them for the first time?

Nobody on earth can ever love you more than your parents.

Terry Silver's convinced those universally acknowledged words were designed specifically for him and him alone in that moment, once the immaculate nurse of an equally immaculate private hospital on Beverly Hills, entirely cleared out for the occasion, at his leisure and explicit demand, brings him a bundle, handing it to him tenderly, like providence at 0300 in the morning, military time; ideally healthy and controlled measurements. The average length of a full-term newborn baby, 19–20 inches (in), or 48.2–50.8 centimeters (cm), wrapped in a pale, pristine cashmere wool blanket.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect in every way.

Even though he didn't speak of it often, Terry's life was hard.

First, there was the destructive despotism and the subsequent chaos of growing up with his parents. Then, there was his childhood and formative years cut short by Vietnam. Then, there was Vietnam itself and all it brought upon him. Then, came a great respite and a great climb after the war. Up, up, up. Always up. From Dynatox, to becoming a businessman of renown, to sponsoring and co-founding Cobra Kai to growing into himself. Into Terry Silver. There was also a great loneliness on those heights. A great sense of isolation hard to describe to others. Even to Johnny himself. To anyone. His own head, at times. But, Terry supposed as he held the most fragile thing he's held in his arms in a while that there was a sense of bafflement and awe and all those years of loneliness seem like a good investment now. He made that. He made a great many things, but none of them so acutely designed from his blood that he feels an acute sense of inherent kinship, intricately tied at the tips of his fingers as he cradles the head of the newborn, staring at it. Mine, he tells himself. That's mine. Literally speaking. They belong to me. After all, when it’s time for a baby snake to hatch, it will break the rubbery shell of the egg with its razor-sharp tooth. This tooth is sacrificed for the great escape and falls off once the hatchling comes out of the shell. It is aptly named the ‘egg tooth’. His offspring has no egg tooth. In fact, no teeth at all --- not in a great, long time to come --- just a weeping gurgle in its tiny, saliva-coated, opened mouth.

There was no need for a symbolic egg tooth --- not here.

Terry Silver would ensure the world would be soft, unlike it was for him.

Soft like frosting atop of a cake, easily digestible, easy to feed on --- consume.

Easy to devour, so when his child bites into it, it can bite into life itself with relish.

Laugh as it demands seconds and thirds from their silver platter.

[pascalpanic]

Stubborn (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is a difficult man, and well, you’re just as difficult. To your surprise, the stone wall of a man might have some weaknesses too: one of them might happen to be you.

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: some cussing

A/N: This was written as part of an art swap for a friend of mine! Reader is heavily inspired by her, but gender neutral- Miki, if you’re reading this, I love youuuu <3 Follow her on instagram @miknickles, she’s a FANTASTIC artist!

You were starting to fall in love with him, you had to admit to yourself, and you hated it. You might be too hardened for love, you thought, even if you knew hardened was one word that more aptly fit the Mandalorian you worked with. His steely exterior was perpetuated by few words and his imposing physicality. He was scary, you acknowledged, when he wanted to be. Your hardness was far different; you were a warrior too, growing up on a harsh planet with harsh citizens and a harsh family. Your hardness was made of your resilience, not your fear-striking abilities. The two of you were similar: hard-headed, intelligent, committed, and damn if you both weren’t stubborn. Stubborn is one word commonly tossed around on the Razor Crest, used to describe you and Mando- Din, you catch yourself, he had told you his name- and the little green baby who lived with the two of you. Stubbornness was what drew Din to you when you first met, repairing droids in the hangar of a local port. Your obstinance was what convinced him that you could hold your own on the Crest when he’s off hunting a bounty, that you could tame the equally stubborn child he had taken into his care.

Pushing aside the revolting emotions curling inside you, you bite your lip and spit out a cuss as a spark flies between two wires you attempt to connect. “Careful, cyare. Little ears are listening,” teases Din from above you, holding the little green child that put you in this very situation.

“Shut it, tin can,” you grumble from your crouched position in the wiring console. “The brain between those little ears is exactly what caused this.” You shoot the baby a teasing glare, and the green being giggles in response, causing a smile to light up your face. “Yeah you, you little womp rat,” you tell him with a teasing snarl, scrunching your nose in pretend anger. That earns another giggle from the kid and the snarl falls, leaving you smiling. “I can’t stay mad at you,” you coo at the baby before turning back to the wiring. “Well, Mr. Djarin,” you drawl, appreciating the intimacy of finally using his name, “did you have something to say or did you come to stare at me?” You ask drily, focusing on the pieces in your hands. 

Din shakes his beskar-covered head. “I came to ask if you needed help, and clearly you do. One more spark like that and you’ll make this whole ship burst into flames.” “I don’t need help. Maybe the ship’s so flammable because this thing is a piece of junk,” you retort back, looking up at him again and holding back a smile by biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s the only pre-imperial ship that hasn’t become a fireball by now.” “It can’t be such a piece of junk if it’s still running,” he fires back, setting down the baby and scooting into the wiring console before squatting down next to you. “Let me help you, mesh’la,” the Mandalorian man offers, grabbing one of the various tools scattered around the floor.

“No. I have this under control. I’m almost done anyway,” you tell him, picking up the tape and ripping off a piece with your teeth.

 “Need I remind you that the Crest has been mine for longer? Maybe you’re better suited to droids,” he says, playful yet stoic as he takes the wires from your hands and applies the tape to fix them together.

You scowl at him and then start fiddling with a filament implanted in the wall, letting him deal with those wires. “If that was true, I could’ve and would’ve hit your reset button a long time ago. Leave me alone, I can do this on my own, Mando,” you turn to him with a playful fire in your eyes.

He shakes his head again under the helmet, bending and picking something else up. “We both know that isn’t true. I’m helping you and you’re going to like it.”

“Aw, you almost made me think there’s a human under that beskar,” you taunt, raising your eyebrows at him and challenging, rapping on the beskar of his chest with a closed fist’s knuckles. “Nope, it’s empty,” you say with a mocking frown.

Smacking your hand away, Din almost laughs through the helmet, the quiet sound he makes too low to pass through the voice filter. “I could say the same about you, cyar’ika.”

“I’m fully human, Mando, all flesh and blood,” you say in a jokingly seductive voice, pouting in a flirtatious way at him. Just like always, you remind yourself, this is just normal flirtation between two friends. As you think about what he just said, you look at his helmet, studying the curves and sharp lines chiseled into the indestructible metal. “When are you going to tell me what all these goddamn Mando’a words mean?” You ask suddenly, curiosity getting the better of you, turning to him and looking him right in the eyes through the visor of his mask. You’ve asked many times, and he always deflects it, giving either a bullshit answer or making something up to chide you.

It always amazes him how you can always find his eyes under the helmet. No one else has ever been able to always see right into his soul, through the beskar and everything, when they look at him. He turns his face away from yours, the direct eye contact too intense even though he knows you can’t see his eyes. “When you stop being so damn stubborn and let me help you.”

“Maker, Din,” you groan and continue to look at him. “You’re really trying to call me the stubborn one? You won’t even take off the helmet when I promise not to look. You won’t tell me about your life, you hide everything about yourself from me even though I tell you all of it. The only damn thing I know about you is your name. You never let me come on a hunt, even after I prove my aptitude to you.” You unintentionally start venting your frustrations with him, angrily ratcheting a bolt into the control panel to hold something else in place. “And yet you still like to call me the stubborn one,” you grunt with a particularly hard push on the wrench. 

The honesty of the words takes Din back for a moment. He didn’t expect you to actually criticize him, only be playfully harsh as the banter between the two of you normally is. The words sink in and he gives a soft nod. “Maybe I am stubborn,” he sighs and stands, leaving you to it.

It surprises you that he left that easily, and that he almost seemed like he had shown his emotion. It was rare that he gave anything away. “Wait, Din,” you call and sigh as you stand, shimmying out of the wiring space hidden in the wall. He’s already walking away, dramatic as always, and climbing up to the cockpit. You follow after him, climbing up and standing behind his chair, daring to rest a hand on each of the beskar pauldrons covering his shoulders. “Din,” you say, somewhat sharp, needing his attention back on you. He spins in his chair and you remove your hands, bringing them to rest on your hips. “That’s new, you listened,” you mutter to him. 

“Do you really want to know about me, cyar’ika?” He asks you, a hand reaching out and taking one that hangs at your side. After a beat of silence, you nod and he pulls you to him, setting you on his lap and continuing to hold your hand. “Well, then I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me what those words in Mando’a mean first,” you ask him, tilting your head and looking down at the black line carved into his mask, where his eyes are hidden.

He sighs and you can feel it in his chest, which your shoulder leans against. “Cyare means beloved. Cyar’ika means... something like sweetheart.” Your heart flutters in your chest. It’s hard to believe he’s been calling you these things the whole time and you had no clue, his brazen flirting in his native tongue being indecipherable to you. He takes a deep breath. “Mesh’la means beautiful,” he admits, voice lowering softly.

The butterflies in your chest have moved to your stomach, settling there and fluttering aggressively enough to cause a hurricane. Your natural coping mechanism comes out again, as always. “Aw, you mean it?” you ask teasingly, moving a hand to the side of his beskar helmet. 

He’s baring his emotions now, so he might as well continue, he figures. “I do,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper as it comes out of the modulator.

You’re taken aback, truly. Your mouth opens softly to say something else, but you stop, biting your lip and looking away from him. You turn back, a smile falling across your face. “I have to admit. I’ve never seen your face, but I think you’re beautiful too, Din Djarin,” you say, voice soft, and press a kiss to the beskar, exactly where his forehead rests beneath it. His breath hitches for a moment and the smile widens a little. “I like you, Din. A lot,” you admit, hand moving to his arm and gently rubbing the space between the beskar armor.

“I like you too, mesh’la,” he breathes out, a hand coming to your waist. “In fact, I absolutely adore you.” He brings you into a keldabe kiss, his forehead meeting yours with the layer of armor between them. It’s the most intimate gesture he can give while in armor, you’re fully aware, and it makes the butterflies scatter all over your body, making you absolutely tingle with the appreciation the Mandalorian’s voice held for you. 

“Din,” you ask softly, breaking your face away from his and smiling gently down at him. He cocks his head in response, waiting for the question that’s sure to follow. “What do you look like under this?” you ask, caressing the cheek of his helmet with your fingertips. 

He chuckles, a low rumble through the modulator. “You can find out when you stop being so damn stubborn, cyare.”

[ketamineharry]

Hush Little Baby ~ Harry Lewis  Requested: Yes ~ Hello, idk if you’re doing requests rn but your writing is honestly amazing!! Could you do a Harry imagine where he and reader have been together forever and reader gets accidentally pregnant and it’s just baso the journey if ygm? Like telling him, his friends family fans and then baby being born kinda like a time line typa thing ? If not dw I love you so much !!!! And ~ Please could you write a Harry imagine where he has a daughter Tags: Fluff Word Count: 1.5k

It had been a full hour. A full hour of babysitting Rex Minter, Simon and Talia’s first-born child. They had wanted a date night and it was Harry’s turn to look after the little one. Yet, the whole time you had felt a sickness in the pits of your stomach, you were absolutely sure it would fade when you had eaten something. Here you were, a full large domino's pizza down, and the sickness had not faded. Going against your better judgement, you left Harry with the toddler and made your way to the bathroom.

You were acutely aware of the fact that Simon and Talia were planning on having another little one, so you knew that they would be well stocked on at home pregnancy kits. You carefully took one out of the glass bathroom cabinet, and walked over to the toilet. Deep down, you were hoping that you were wrong. That you were not pregnant. You knew for a fact that you were not ready for a baby and if you were completely honest, you knew that Harry wasn’t either. He was a brilliant uncle and loved having the boys’ children around, babysitting for them so they could have date nights, but he was always able to give them back at the end of a long night. You weren’t so sure how he would feel about not being able to do that. Not having the freedom to do what he wanted anymore, because he had to put this tiny life first. It just didn’t seem like the Harry you knew and loved.

The alarm of your phone pulled you out of the deep thought that you had found yourself in. In no world did you think that having a quiet night in babysitting for some friends would lead you into something so life changing. You carefully picked up the little stick from in front of you, taking a deep inhale of breath. Two lines. Positive. Fuck. As you cleared away the rubbish of the box, you slipped the pregnancy test into your pocket.

As you made your way back to Harry and Rex, all you could hear were joyous screams. Harry really was the fun uncle he had promised to be in a Sidemen Reacts video, many moons ago.

“Y/N!” Rex beamed as he ran up to you. “Uncle Harry was saying that I could have a chocolate for pudding. Usually mummy and daddy say no, and I have to have yogurt or a piece of fruit.”

“Oh that’s great buddy!” You reply, trying to force enthusiasm through the nerves and worry. Although you had no confidence in the fact that you were very successful in that. Harry sent you a glance that confirmed your thoughts. He hadn’t bought it for a second.

As you took Rex’s tiny hand in yours, and made your way to the kitchen, you slipped the pregnancy test to Harry, hoping beyond hope that his reaction was a good one. ‘We need to talk later’ he mouthed, increasing your anxiety tenfold.

-

The ‘talk’ Harry had referenced that night, didn’t amount to the negative that you had convinced yourself it would. You had agreed to keep the baby. Surprisingly, Harry was all for keeping the little one. He hadn’t expressed to you how much he had wanted a child, because he didn’t want to pressure you into anything. The fact that it had happened was such an unexpected surprise. A good surprise though!

You had been to a few scans together, watching your belly swell and get bigger as the months progressed. When it came to finding out the gender though, you chose not to find out. So, you had taken to calling the baby ‘Peanut’. Telling the other boys was an experience to say the very least. These were the men that had watched Harry grow up, from a reserved teenager to the extroverted man he had become. You had both agreed on telling them all at the same time.

The plan had been to get the children that had already been born into mini Sidemen FC t-shirts, starting with the oldest and ending with the youngest, your bump. Which would be painted black, with the number five as your little one would be the fifth addition to the Sidemen extended family. As it stood, the line was as follows: Ethan’s twins Oscar and Olivia who he shared with his wife Kayleigh, JJ’s son Morphius who he shared with his fiance Bella and little Rex. Nervously you went and stood next to Rex. Thankfully, with baggy clothes you had managed to hide the fact that you were pregnant. You took a hold of Rex’s hand, more for your own comfort than anything else. As if the reactions of your friends were wrapped up in the little hand of a toddler.

Slowly, you lifted your jumper up to reveal the paint that was on your stomach. Showing the number five that was painted on top of it. Suddenly, there was an eruption of cheers. The girls became overly emotional, which was expected. They had just found out that one of their best friends was carrying a new member of their extended family. The boys crowded around Harry, patting him on the shoulder and taking him in for hugs. The love being experienced in the room was tangible and you just knew that no matter what happened, your child would be growing up in such a loving environment.

Telling each of your respective families had been a totally different kettle of fish, however. This is where most of the nerves were mounting from for you. Your parents had become parents at a very young age, and had made a lot of mistakes, you were terrified of having history repeated. Having a baby in your early 20s, wasn’t the plan. You felt like you needed to learn more about yourself first, and one of your deepest fears was to have this confirmed by your own parents. Instead, the reaction that you received was nothing but positive. Your dad had warned Harry that he couldn’t drink as much beer, whilst your mum had warned you about the severe lack of sleep you were about to get. Overall though, they were beyond excited to have their family expanding. Harry’s parents had cried when you revealed the news to them. His sister, Rosie had got Peanut a little stuffed giraffe which she aptly named Gina.

-

Setting up the nursery was probably the most enjoyable part of the ordeal. Partly because you loved unleashing your creative side; and partly because decorating the nursery came at the latest point of your pregnancy. You had opted for a pale yellow paint for three of the walls, opting for a feature wall which was decorated in a safari print wallpaper.

You were helping Harry with the final touches of the room, you placed Gina giraffe in the corner of the cot, next to the pillow so that your baby always had comfort. Thinking about it, you were sure that you had a ragdoll from when you were a baby at your parents house. It’s funny how it’s the little things that you remember in the biggest moments.

As you turned around to admire your handy work, you felt an immense pressure, causing you to grip onto the cot and double over. You had never experienced anything like this before and you were pretty sure you knew what it was. Your baby was arriving and it was arriving fast.

“Harry,” You screamed, trying your best to stay calm as you knew this was a pivotal moment for the both of you. He was definitely as nervous as you, as he didn’t understand the mood changes, or the pain that you felt. Despite having attended every pregnancy class and read upteen pregnancy books. He had put a lot of opportunities that had presented themself to him on hold for the sake of you and your child as he wanted to be as supportive as possible. Which a meer nine months ago, you would have never imagined Harry doing.

You heard pounding up the stairs, Harry’s usual cheery disposition changing as soon as he saw the immense panic that had taken over your face. “I’ll grab the pregnancy bag, make your way to the car, it's already unlocked.” He informed me, as he grabbed the pregnancy bag from the other side of the room, helping me down the stairs as it had become near impossible to do the simplest of tasks, now that I was carrying our baby.

---

Labour was without a doubt the most painful thing you had ever experienced. It was a quick birth, having arrived at the hospital at seven, and giving birth to your daughter at exactly fifteen minutes past seven. Harry had fallen asleep in the chair in the corner of your room.

Your daughter, however, was screaming blue murder. Despite this, Harry still wouldn’t wake. So, with all your might, you scooped your little one into your arms. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry. We swear that we’ll never leave your side and if we do, remember this love like ours never dies.” You whisper, rocking her into a soft slumber as you placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Your little family was already complete.

[azrielsbxtch]

I’m back👀kinda….

BABY BATBOYS : A NEW ARRIVAL

“Alright. Here’s how it’s going to go down”

Rhys, Cassian and Velaria sat before a handmade map of Camp Windhaven’s kitchen and it’s surrounding areas.

They hadn’t had access to pens or pencils so late at night so they’d had to use Velaria’s coloring crayons. The makeshift layout of the camp was done in pinks,reds and yellows. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was what the two boys had aptly named “The Heist”. Velaria thought it was a bit on the nose but the boys didn’t care. Not when the camp cook’s famous cinnamon rolls were at stake.

She made them only once a week for Lord Devlon and his commanders. And once when there had been leftovers and she’d offered it to Rhys who had shared with Cassian,their entire lives had been transformed and now they’d been planing “The Heist” for 3 hours straight. Tomorrow another batch of rolls would be made….and if they played their cards right,they could get away with stealing at least a dozen. Velaria would get a cut since she’d generously offered her crayons.

“We’re going to sneak out at 8 in the evening. We’ll hide on the kitchen roof. Cook comes in at 9 and begins baking. When they’re done,Cassian will cause a distraction and me and Velaria will grab the rolls. Unfortunately we won’t have time for her to frost them with the lemon glaze because we’ll be late and Mom will notice we’re not in bed.” He paused and sighed, “It’s a loss we’ll have to endure. Does everyone understand?”

Velaria and Cassian nodded fervently with the most serious looks on their small faces.

“Okay.” Rhys turned to Velaria.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

She nodded and the three of them got into bed and proceeded to dream of the fluffiest,sweetest cinnamon rolls.

**************

The next day,Rhysand’s mother woke them up to go for training at dawn. As they got ready,Velaria sat on the side grumbling because she couldn’t join them.

Cassian ruffled her hair and told her they’d teach her everything they learnt before they rushed out and joined the other boys heading to the training grounds. They passed Eric who was shoveling snow as punishment for coming late yesterday. His lips were already blue but no one paid him any mind as they all trudged past. If they were caught talking to him they’d join him.

When they arrived on the training grounds,Devlon was already there along with a few older Illyrian soldiers. The scene looked normal except today,standing next to Devlon was a dark haired boy with a scowl on his face. He wore Illyrian leathers and was a bit taller than them. His hands were hidden behind his back.

The boys got into their usual formation and Devlon stepped forward.

“Last night I got a report from the soldiers. Apparently some of you have taken to sneaking out in the middle of the night. Rest assured if you are caught,I will personally dole out your punishments. And I assure you won’t be able to walk for a month”

Someone standing at the back of the line gulped. No one wanted to be whipped by the Commander.

Devlon continued “Training will be cut short today and we’ll only have time for flying drills. We’re expecting visitors and I trust you’ll be on your best behavior” he said glaring at them intently. They could hear the unspoken threat underneath the words.

“And finally,we have a new recruit joining us. This is Azriel” he said motioning to the boy at his side. “He’s very far behind. He’ll have the grace of today to watch and see how things are done. Tomorrow he’ll be joining you. I expect you to work with him as a team”

The boys nodded and Devlon told Azriel to go sit on the rocks at the side and watch. As he moved toward the rocks, Rhys noticed his hands. They were scarred. From burns. He knew because last winter he’d seen the wounds of an Illyrian soldier who had burned his leg in an accident. The scar tissue has been twisted like gnarled branches before it had healed. But Azriel’s hadn’t healed. He wondered what had happened to him.

Devlon snapped at them and they rushed to begin. Starting with flying lessons, they practiced sparring in the air,aerial formations and defense tactics.They worked for hours until Devlon finally allowed them to go on a short break. Most of them ran to the water station including Rhys and Cassian.

They were in the middle of drinking their water when a scuffle got their attention. Adrik,one of the bigger boys had made his way over to Azriel who had been sitting on the rock quietly observing everything with those piercing eyes.

They couldn’t hear what Adrik was saying but they knew he was stirring up trouble. He liked to think that he was the strongest trainee. Cassian always got annoyed when he gloated because he knew he could beat him…easily. Lucky for him they hadn’t been paired off together yet. But Azriel….he’d never trained. Was brand new and fresh meat to Adrik.

“Come on” muttered Cassian to Rhys.

The made their way over to where the boys had surrounded Azriel and Adrik. Azriel still ignored him as Adrik made some scathing comments they were too far to hear. And then suddenly,he tackled Azriel to the ground.

The boys gasped as Adrik started punching him. Azriel threw him off and stood up. Adrik stumbled and then lunged forward fists at the ready but then everywhere went dark.

It was as if the lights had been turned off except it was in the middle of the day and they were outside.

Rhys felt his power rumbling in defense but he tamped it down. He heard Cassian muttering “What the hell” beside him. A few boys were panicking while others were scared but didn’t want to show it. And then suddenly all the darkness drew back as if being sucked away and surrounded Adrik and Adrik alone. And standing before him….controlling the darkness…..shadows Rhys realized, was Azriel.

And then the screams started.

“He’s a shadowsinger! Run!!”

The boys scattered and only a few remained including Rhys and Cassian. Azriel had surrounded the shadows around Adrik who was slowly suffocating and gasping inaudibly. Azriel watched without even a shift on his cold face.

They had heard stories…legends about shadowsingers and their dark powers. How they were extremely rare and as far as Rhys knew,the boy standing before them was the only shadowsinger in the night court. And he was about to kill someone.

Rhys rallied his power and sent bolts of night into the shadows. Azriel turned to him with a glare granting Adrik a brief reprieve. He started coughing and gasping for air. Rhys and Azriel glared at each other,their powers at the ready to strike like snakes. Cassian watched warily,ready to intervene when they heard Devlon’s voice around the corner.

“Where the hell is everyone!”

Shooting Azriel one final glare,Rhys drew back his powers. Azriel did the same and returned to his seat on the rock as if nothing had happened. Devlon turned the corner and stopped short when he saw them.

“What in Cauldron’s name is Adrik doing on the floor!”

*****************

A few hours later,Rhys and Cassian trudged through the Illyrian Steppes. The large forest bordered the camp and they usually ventured into it to play and explore. Plus they could get away from all the hustle and bustle of the camp. They had just reached a clearing when they heard rustling.

Rhys put a finger against his lips signaling for Cassian to be quiet,then they flew up silently up into the trees. There they spied Azriel standing atop a short ledge,rustling his wings.

They watched silently for a while before he said in a beautiful small voice “ I know you’re up there”

They exchanged looks before Cassian shrugged and flew down to the clearing.

“We’re not scared of you. Shadowsinger or not”

“I don’t care” Azriel said.

Rhys flew down and joined Cassian. Azriel ignored them and continued to flare his wings up and down.

“Were you going to kill Adrik?” Rhys asked.

Azriel ignored him.

“Why are you just joining training?” He asked again.

“Leave me alone”

“Or what?” Cassian retorted.

Azriel glared at them and then rolled his eyes and turned ignoring them once more.

Cassian walked forward and shoved him which led to them scuffling on the floor while Rhys stood to the side shaking his head. It wasn’t a real fight because Azriel wasn’t wielding his shadows and Cassian was pulling back on his punches.

They continued “fighting” until Rhys used his powers to seperate them and threw them across the clearing.

“Enough!”

Azriel stood off at the side,scarred fists clenched panting softly. He put them behind his back when he noticed Rhys looking at them.

Rhys stepped forward.

“I’m Rhysand. That’s Cassian. And if you want….we can teach you”

“Teach me what?”

“How to fly. You don’t have to tell us why you’re just joining training if you don’t want to. But you have to keep up and we can help”

Azriel stared at him warily….

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping me? Most people are scared of me..of what I can do”

“I know what that’s like.”

Cassian scoffed before saying “Baby high lord”

“Shut up Cassian”

“You’re the High Lords son?”

Rhys nodded.

“So do you want our help or not?” said Cassian dusting himself off.

Azriel slid his eyes between them,wariness still lingering in them but he nodded.

“Okay. We start tomorrow because tonight we have a date with a certain camp cook”

******************

On their way back to camp,they filled Azriel in on “The Heist” and when they finished he said

“You don’t have to do all that. I can get them for you.”

“What? How?”

“You’ll see”

At precisely 8 in the evening when it was dark,the three boys climbed up the side of the slanted kitchen roof. They positioned themselves against the window and some time later,Cook came bustling in and began making the cinnamon rolls. She made 8 dozen rolls. Higher than usual because of Devlon’s guests. When she brought them out to cool,she turned to the other work table and began to make the frosting.

Azriel,through whatever dark power he possessed winnowed directly into the kitchen. Cassian and Rhys gasped when they saw him appear inside. They knew what he’d done but full Illyrians couldn’t winnow and Rhys hadn’t been taught yet. They watched in awe as he grabbed two rags off a shelf,cloaked himself in shadows and stole a tray right off the table. He then winnowed back to them and presented the piping hot rolls to them.

Cassian grinned happily as Rhys asked still in awe “How did you do that?”

Azriel just shrugged and said “We should get out of here”

They nodded and scampered down the roof and ran to Rhysand’s house. They flew up the window, and Azriel winnowed straight into the room. A few seconds later,Velaria stormed into the room whispering viciously,

“You’re late! You were supposed to be here hours ago and now-“ she stopped when she saw the rolls and Azriel.

“Who’s this?”

“We made a new friend” said Cassian as he took a roll and moaned with pleasure when he took a bite.

Rhys said to Azriel “This is my sister Velaria.”

“Hello. I’m Azriel”

Velaria smiled at him then sat next to Cassian. Azriel and Rhys sat with them and together,the four of them went through the rolls happily.

And the next day,when Rhys introduced Azriel to his mother…he officially became part of their family forever.