#their kids were basically raised together too

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part three

summary: as feelings progress and truths unfold, you're left with a decision that could end your entire existence as you know it. the mother has a path for every soul, perhaps this was where yours was supposed to end.

warnings: swearing, mentions and brief descriptions of sexual abuse, consensual sexual themes, mentions of death and suicide.

word count: 5.8k

series masterlist

Feyre Archeron could never begin to imagine the pain and horror her older cousin had faced in the mortal lands. Rhysand hadn’t shared that image, hadn’t shared the memories he’d witnessed when he took some of that pain away from you. 

She didn’t need her mate to share those visuals. Not when she felt every ounce of anguish through their bond. And every day since then, she had not been able to forget it. 

Another two weeks had passed since your arrival, three in total of your being in the Night Court, and you were finally beginning to work through your trauma. 

The offer had been there to find your own place of residence, to have that independence if you so wished. But after speaking with Feyre and Rhysand, after learning it was in fact Nesta who had imposed the leave Y/N be rule… you realised just how much you loved living in the House with your family. 

Your friends. 

So when you’d finally accepted Mor’s desperate pleas to take you shopping and fill your empty wardrobe…

“You’re going to need another dresser.” 

You blinked, taking in the mess around you. Your entire closet was stuffed to the brim with dresses, blouses, sweaters, coats…

And the pile on your bed…there was no chance of those articles of clothing fitting in the closet too. Nesta was right, you definitely needed another dresser. 

“Rhys is going to lose his shit when he finds out how much we spent.” 

Your eyes widened at Nesta’s words, not quite picking up the teasing tone she spoke in. Mor shot her a look and threw a sweater at her face. 

“She’s kidding,” Mor reassured. “My dear cousin has more money than sense. This won’t have even made a dent in his wealth.” 

A relief, but that guilt began to creep its way into the pit of your stomach nonetheless. You were ashamed to admit that while you had fun shopping with Mor and your cousin, you hadn’t even taken a moment to realise how much everything had cost. 

Nesta threw herself onto your bed, right on top of the throng of clothes you needed to find a place for. “I’m thinking we raid Rhys’ wine cellar tonight…”

A gleaming smile radiated off Mor’s face in agreeance and they both turned to you with upraised brows, expectant. 

You pursed your lips, an apologetic smile on your face. “I told Rhys and Feyre that I’d babysit Nyx tonight.” 

Nesta huffed and threw herself back on the mattress again, clothes bouncing and crinkling as she did so. Mor raised another brow, as if that wasn’t a good enough excuse. 

“So? I’ve gotten drunk while watching Nyx loads of times.” 

Nesta seethed at her. “One, that’s my nephew and I never want to hear you doing that again. And two, Y/N’s tolerance to alcohol won’t be as strong as ours. Two glasses and she’d be borderline incapacitated.”

Despite the slight insult, a laugh bubbled up your throat at just how right she was. Because you’d never even drank a sip of wine in your life, and Nesta knew that. 

“I’m surprised you don’t have plans with Azriel…” 

Mor was prying, you knew that. But you had no control over the heat that made its way across your neck and face. 

“We’re just friends.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d spent a lot of time together the past couple of weeks, and he was one of the only people you felt truly comfortable around. 

Mor gave you a knowing look. “Mhm, tell that to his shadows.” 

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nesta scoffed, sitting up again. “Az’s shadows are basically an extension of himself.”

Mor hummed. “They don’t do anything unless Azriel commands it. Or sometimes, they’ll do something based on his emotions or thoughts. They’re so friendly with you because Azriel likes you.” 

Your cheeks burned. You hadn’t realised his shadows touching you was a product of Azriel’s emotions. And the more you thought about it, there hadn’t been a time since you met him that they hadn’t touched you in some way. 

You didn’t say that, though. No. Azriel clearly had no qualms about other people noticing, but that did not mean you were willing to gossip about it. 

You did not need to allow silly fantasies to root their way in your mind. Azriel was your friend. And you were okay with him only wanting you as such. 

Within an hour, Mor had disappeared to tend to her own duties and just as Nesta was about to leave for hers, she grabbed your wrist and motioned for you to look at her. 

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

She didn’t need to say anything more. Those words were enough—more than enough. She saw you, she recognised everything you had been through and everything you did every day to overcome it. 

I’m proud of you. 

The last and only person to have ever told you that was your mother. 

And because you saw her too, because you remembered fhe young mortal woman she was before her own struggles of turning Fae and adjusting to her new lifestyle, you found yourself saying, “I’m proud of you, too, Ness.”

Nyx had been wonderful to look after that night. 

You’d gotten all the cuddles and boyish giggles, the beautiful little smiles and a few stinky diapers to go with it. You loved every moment with the little babe, and when Rhys and Feyre returned from their night off early in the morning, you offered to sit with him again whenever they needed it. 

But despite how fulfilling and wonderful it had been, it had also hurt. You wondered if you’d ever be blessed with the opportunity to carry and birth your own child. Wondered if you’d ever even find someone to want you in that way. 

Especially within Prythian. 

It was another late night for you, though your reading sessions had taken you from the lounge to the library. And you no longer spent them alone. 

Azriel sat on the couch opposite you, his nose deep in a book as you watched him. In the past week, you’d spent a lot of time together. It ranged from walks into the city to sitting and reading in the library until early hours of the morning. 

You’d grown accustomed to his presence, his scent often able to calm any anxiety or qualms you felt. He had noticed, of course, he wasn’t a Spymaster for nothing. But Azriel did not mention the change in you whenever he was around. 

He basked in it, in the way you appeared so much more comfortable with him. You weren’t afraid to speak up, to ask questions or acknowledge whatever was on your mind. 

You were coming out of your shell and it warmed Azriel’s heart to know that he was somewhat of the cause for it. 

“What does salacious mean?”

Azriel blinked repeatedly as your voice broke him from his thoughts. Salacious? His throat tightened. You’d often ask for definitions of things you were unsure on, sometimes even asking how to pronounce words you had never come across. 

But salacious? 

“Are you reading Nesta’s romance novels?” He quirked a brow. 

Your lips involuntarily pouted at him, your own brows furrowing just slightly as you rested the open book back into your blanket-covered lap. “Yes. Why?”

Anxiety creeped its way into your stomach, rooting deep into your flesh from the inside out. Reminders of how this used to go flashed through your mind and suddenly, it felt like you were back in the village, back in the mortal lands and living with Rafe. 

A tendril of darkness peaked at the corner of your vision and you focussed on it, watching it slowly dance across your knuckles and weave between your fingers in a calming manner. 

Shadows. Azriel. Library. Velaris. Safe. 

And just like that, the anxiety un-clawed its roots and crept away. 

Azriel nodded ever so slightly to the book, knowing exactly what had just happened with you but acting as if he didn’t. “Salacious means…having inappropriate interest in sexual matters.”

There was no hiding the heat on your cheeks—the way it burned your soft skin. You tore your gaze from his as quickly as you could, unable to contain your slight shame and embarrassment. 

But Azriel did not mind one bit. 

Azriel had secrets. He supposed that being the Night Court’s Spymaster, it was to be expected. But these secrets were different from the others, something he kept locked tight in his mind for the past month. 

And it wasn’t the secrets that had him moving closer and spending all of his time in the lower level of the House. No. That was very much you and your presence and whatever it was in your soul that called out to his. 

He couldn’t stay away—though, it wasn’t like he even tried—for that pull was far too strong for even his willpower. 

He had suspicions. Suspicions of a golden thread that started in his chest and ended in yours. He knew it was far fetched, knew he was only hurting himself by entertaining the complete insanity of the idea. 

You were human. Mortal. And mortals didn’t have mates. He told himself so every day, and right after, like clockwork, he countered his own sound advice with the one thing that had been troubling him the most.

Because what mortal could plant and bloom a patch of tulips with nothing more than a thought and a touch. What mortal could speak so clearly to the earth and create life right before another’s eyes. 

Despite the possible threat that could pose for his court and his family, Azriel had kept that tidbit of information to himself. Just for now. Just until he could make sense of it. Then, and only then, would he bring that information to light. 

Because Azriel did not feel any ounce of danger or ill intent from you. He did not feel anything but warmth and intrigue and that godforsaken sensation when you grew excitable over something. 

He couldn’t take that from you. Not when you were finally coming out of your shell, finally talking and laughing and going as far as joining him and Cassian for training twice a week. 

“If sex makes you uncomfortable, there are other romance novels without that.”

Heat warmed your skin again. Shadows dared to intertwine with your fingers. 

“No, it’s not that.” You played with his shadows, allowing them to caress your skin. “Sex doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I’ve just never had a good enough experience to understand much.”

He didn’t push, didn’t ask further questions. You wouldn’t be embarrassed for this, for something that was not your fault. You wouldn’t cower anymore, hide what you felt or thought. No longer would there be repercussions for speaking your mind. 

So you spoke again. 

“Rafe was the only person I’d ever…it’s just different to read it, to have it described as something enjoyable.”

Azriel’s knuckles turned white. Something enjoyable. He’d never experienced it to be anything but. His soul almost cleaved in two at the thought of what you’d endured. 

Azriel dared to glance at you again. “Sex with the right person can be very enjoyable. It should be nothing but beautiful.”

He stiffened then, blood thumping in his ears. His shadows stilled, noticing the shift in your scent just as their master had. Sweet, all consuming arousal, and Azriel did not miss the way your thighs pressed together in impulse. 

He swallowed thickly. 

You broke his gaze, your own heart thumping sporadically as you stared at the pages on your lap. You couldn’t help your mind wandering to thoughts of him, of experiencing that with him. You knew it was wrong. So, so wrong. 

“The thought of being intimate like that with someone new…” You couldn’t find the words to express the fear and anxiety that came with that thought.

Azriel listened intently, breathing deeply. 

“I want to experience life the way it should be experienced. Not the way others have pushed it upon me.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his book on his knee. “You control your life now, nobody else. If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.”

You wondered then if he could see into your mind as Rhysand could. If he could feel that shift in the air. If he could smell it on you. That want and desire. You would not apologise for it. Not anymore. 

“But if it feels wrong, is that not my guts way of warning me?” You countered. 

Azriel smiled, just barely. His knuckles still white. “It’s your guts way of protecting you. Because you’ve never experienced anything beyond what others bestowed upon you.”

Gods above. 

An ache fluttered in your chest, just above your breast and you absentmindedly rubbed at it, disrupting the neckline of your shirt. Azriel’s eyes squinted at the exposed skin, at the mark that adored your flesh. 

“Are you hurt?” His tone was primal, protective. 

You paused your movements, following his gaze. “Oh, no.” You pulled your shirt a little lower. “Just a birthmark.”

He needed to compose himself, needed to stop allowing his mind to wander about other areas of your concealed skin. He felt like nothing more than a big brute. 

Your soft, airy giggle woke him from his daze and he looked over to find tendrils of darkness caressing any inch of your skin that they could. Gods, if he didn’t have a leash on his emotions around you, how could he control his damned shadows. 

“It’s like they have a mind of their own.”

They didn’t. But he couldn’t correct you. Not without exposing the fact that they only fed off their masters emotions and desires. Not without exposing the fact that Azriel wished he was the one touching your skin and not his shadows. 

He swallowed again, throat dry. 

“Nesta told me that they’re an extension of yourself. That they only act if you will it.” You didn’t know why you said it, why you thought you had the right to speak that truth. 

But you would not apologise, even as Azriel remained silent for a few moments. Partly out of shock, partly in awe. But that was another thing he would not speak aloud. 

“Sometimes they can act on behalf of my emotions. My desires and wants.”

You dared to meet his honey eyes. “And that’s what you want?” You were breathless, a feeling in your stomach that you’d never once experienced before. “You want to touch me?” 

Neither of you knew where this confidence had come from, but Azriel did not question it and you did not apologise. 

He shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t repeat the words that echoed in his mind and soul and body. But, Gods…he could not seem to regain any semblance of control when he stared into your eyes. He could not lie to you, could not hide what he felt. 

“I want to do a lot of things.” The admittance was barely audible, nothing more than a breath he’d been holding but you heard it all the same. As though you’d demanded the words out of him. 

You couldn’t look away, even if you tried. Your entire being was encapsulated by him. Your chest heaved, legs ached. The shadows slowly left your shoulders and neck, returning to their previous position at your fingers. 

“But above all, I want you to be comfortable. Happy.” 

Something compelled you to stand, the shadows seemingly guiding you to their master as your book toppled to the couch. He watched with a hungry gaze, one full of faltering self-control. 

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

Take it. 

Take it. 

“I’m comfortable with you.” 

The shadows moved like a breeze between you both, tugging you closer and closer. Nothing else mattered, not in that moment. Not when your soul felt like it was singing, like it was exactly where it longed to be. 

Azriel stood slowly, towering above you once at his full height. You strained your neck to meet his gaze and he bent his to come closer. You could feel his breath dance with yours, could feel his hard chest press upon your soft one. 

No part of you felt nervous, no part of you felt unworthy. 

But Azriel…he didn’t know what to do. For weeks he’d been dreaming of this moment, dreaming of the taste of your lips, the touch of your skin. He slowly raised a scarred hand to caress your warm cheek, and you didn’t cower or shy away from his touch. 

A test, perhaps. To see if you really could handle the intimacy of another male so soon after what you’d endured. You didn’t falter, didn’t break his gaze. He wanted you, more than he ever wanted anything else before. 

“What you went through…”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you cut him off. “That was then, this is now. I don’t want to live in the past.”

Take it.

Take it. 

Your lips…so close to touching his. 

The shadows swirled in delight, excitement.

Azriel knew this wouldn’t be just a kiss. This wouldn’t be meaningless. He felt it, in every part of him, he felt the way your entire being sang to his. He wanted to lay his soul bare before you. 

He itched to brush your hair behind your ear, to hold you and taste you. But Rhysand’s voice echoed through his mind, beckoning him for his assistance. He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath.

“Rhys is calling for me.” 

Azriel stepped away, removed his palm from your skin. You swallowed, stepping back and letting your eyes fixate on the rug beneath your feet. He cleared his throat, struggling to reign in those shadows of his. 

“I’ll come to you tonight…we can talk then.”

But had Azriel waited just a few moments longer, had he given into the urge to brush your hair from your face, he would’ve noticed the slight point that had formed at the top of your ears. 

Azriel didn’t meet you in your chambers that night. And you didn’t see him the next morning. Or the day after that. 

Cassian had mentioned that Rhys sent him on a mission. That he would be back in a few days. 

But something was wrong, you could feel it in every inch of your body. An ache that only got worse with every passing moment. You tried to ignore it, tried to relax in a hot bath with soothing lavender oils. Nothing relieved the pain. Nothing soothed the ache.

And when you left your bathroom and found your once round ears now pointed, and a trail of tulips following in your wake, your legs carried you toward the kitchen before you had a moment to consider it. Cassian and Nesta sat at the table, giggling over their breakfast when you stumbled toward them. 

“What’s happening?” Your panicked tone caught their attention, eyes wide as they stood and took in what lay before them. 

From the stone ground, moss and grass and flowers bloomed as though you stood in the middle of a field. Daisies and buttercups sprouted in your hair, roots of trees tangling around your limbs. 

Everything was so loud yet muffled. Like every word was screamed in your ear but somehow underwater as Cassian called out frantically to Rhysand. Neither of them went near you, even when Rhys flew through the open balcony doors, Feyre in tow. 

They looked at you with nothing less than concern and fear. 

“What in the Gods is happening to me?!” You demanded. 

Rhysand held Feyre back as she attempted to near you, his gaze locked on you as he assessed the situation. But it wasn’t the flowers or grass or roots that he watched. It was you, and the way your crescent-moon birthmark glowed something violet. 

Rhys had known, had suspected something lay dormant within you. From that moment he entered your mind, when he gazed upon that luscious field that seemed to call to you with promises of something new. 

He’d never witnessed such before. Not in the most powerful of Fae had he ever stumbled across that. 

With a very careful step forward, his gaze demanded yours. Feyre had told him of your mother, of her death and your marriage to Rafe. And his voice was soft when he finally asked the question that had been on his mind ever since. 

“What happened the night your mother died?” 

The world went still, cold. Feyre whirled to him in protest. 

“Rhys—“

“—it was a house fire.” 

All eyes turned to you, to the patches of bloom that haltered their growth. 

Rhysand took another step closer. “Where were you?” 

“I—“

A heat unlike any other licked at your skin, waking you from your peaceful slumber. A heat so unwelcomed that you bolted upright in a sheen of your own sweat. 

You could hear the wood of your cottage crackling under a burning flame, and smoke quickly infiltrated your room. You coughed, attempting to swat it away as you squinted in the darkness. 

“Mama!?” You called out, panic stricken in your voice and body. 

Fear began to cripple you, began to take away any sense of self preservation. You couldn’t leave your bed. Your door now engulfed in flames, you screamed. 

“Help! Someone, please help!”

No one was coming. This was the end. You couldn’t move, couldn’t get to your beloved mother. A shrill cry, unlike anything you’d ever heard before, split your heart in two. 

A scream of pure agony and fear tore through your throat, your eyes clenched shut as you gave your body over to the fire. 

Only the next breath you breathed was clean and cold. And your sheets were no longer beneath you, no. Now you laid on the rich soil outside of your home, your fingers rooting themselves into the dirt. 

You screamed and sobbed, unable to do anything but watch as the fire claimed your home and your mother. 

You were sobbing, collapsed to the ground as you struggled to breathe at the memory. 

Rhysand dared another step closer, kneeling before you now and his eyes held such sorrow, such remorse. 

“Y/N…” he spoke softly. “Was your mother ever accused of being a witch?” 

Nesta seethed, threatening. “Rhysand, that’s—“

“How do you know that?” Everything felt very, very still. No one should have known that. No one of these lands should have known that. 

Rhys didn’t answer your question. And despite the sound of large wings breezing through the sky, you did not look away from the High Lord. Not even as Azriel rushed into the House and his heart sunk at what he bore. 

“The day I entered your mind and took some of your pain away, I felt something. Something within you that I have never, in my 500 years of life, felt before.”

Azriel took a step closer. He should have said something when he first noticed the flowers. Because now, whatever power you had…it was consuming you. 

“I’d like to try something,” Rhysand proposed. 

You struggled to keep your breathing even. “What is it?” 

Another step closer, a warm hand on yours. 

“I’d like to enter your mind as far back as it will allow me. Just to see if I can find something.”

Violet eyes watched yours. “Find what?”

He squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Something to make sense of this.”

A moment of pause, to take in your surroundings. The flowers and soil had sprouted to cover the entire expanse of the lounge floor, your friends and cousins standing just beyond the brush of it. 

Eyes flickered to something hazel. Azriel. He stood in the soil, flora coating his ankles and he struggled to keep a tight leash on the shadows that fought to reach you. 

You looked back at Rhysand. 

“Will it hurt?” 

He shook his head. “No, not if you don’t resist.” 

That suddenly sounded an awful lot like your past. Memories of Rafe pinning you to the bed—scolding, reprimanding, promising no pain if you didn’t resist. 

This wasn’t like that, you had to remind yourself. You were safe. They only wanted to help. To understand. 

Azriel stepped closer, ignoring the silent warning that Rhysand whispered into his mind. A scarred hand out held, you took it. And Rhysand took that moment of distraction to enter your mind. 

The first memory he saw was one from just days before. You and Azriel reading in the library, the shadows that swirled your fingers and arms, the near-kiss that escalated into nothing. 

He dug deeper. The next, of you and Azriel again, exploring the city where you left a trail of green and brown tulips in your wake on the embankment of the river. 

Deeper and deeper, until the memories showed you living in the mortal lands. A blow to the face, to your stomach and your head. Rafe seething above you as he shouted and belittled you. 

Deeper, to a memory of your husband pinning you to the mattress, of his body crushing yours as he stole everything you never offered. 

Every memory Rhysand met, you re-lived them. 

A little deeper and he was watching you at the Archeron household, helping Elain plant seeds, watching Feyre paint, reading with Nesta. 

Deeper and deeper he went, passing the memories of the fire, of your mother, until he found exactly what he was looking for. 

“She is my child too, Selenthia. You cannot keep her from me.” A voice you did not recognise. A memory you did not recall. 

“For her protection, I will do what I must.” Selenthia seethed, coddling you closer to her chest. “No one can know what she is, or she’ll be hunted for the rest of her life.”

The unknown male huffed. He was beautiful. Tall and lean, strong and commanding. But there was something about him. Something not quite right. 

“So you plan to lock her away for the rest of her life?”

Selenthia bared her teeth. “I would never lock my child away. She will live her life as a mortal. I won’t subject her to a life like mine or yours.”

A moment of silence. “You cannot hide her from what she is.” He spoke softer now, edging close to peer at you, his daughter. 

“What do you plan to do when she first bleeds? When her ears point and her power grows—“

“That won’t happen.” There was no room for discussion in Selenthia’s voice. She placed a finger over your heart, a familiar violet glow permitting from her skin to yours. 

“What are you doing?” That male’s voice, cold once more. 

“I’m burying her power. So long as this wyrd remains on her skin, she’ll be safe.”

Selenthia pulled away, just enough to take a look at the mark that marred your skin. A mark two shades darker than the rest of your flesh, the shape of a crescent moon and no larger than a fingernail. 

“There. Nothing more than a birthmark.”

Rhysand retreaded from your mind, panting and shaking. Tears streamed down his flushed face, your own skin staining with silver, too. 

“What is it?” Nesta demanded, daring a step closer. 

But those tulips and daisies and buttercups…the soil and grass and roots, they all began to sink into the ground until nothing but the florals in your hair remained. 

“My mother…she…she was a witch. A healing earth witch. And my father—he…”

“Your father was Fae.” Azriel breathed, his eyes focused on the point of your ears that peeked through your hair and flowers.

“He was of the Night Court. A High Fae male.” Rhysand added gravely. 

Azriel’s hold on the shadows loosened and he allowed them to caress you, comfort you. Your hand never left his. 

You pulled away from Rhysand, clutching at your chest—at that crescent moon you always thought was a birthmark. Your mothers protection all along. 

“When you crossed the wall into the Fae lands, your power tried to break through. It was your mothers mark that had been keeping it buried with you all these years.” 

You dared a look at your cousins. But they looked at you with nothing but sorrow and anguish. No fear. They did not fear you, they did not pity you. In their eyes all you could see was longing. A longing for you to no longer live in such agony and hardships. 

“Our mothers were sisters. Does that mean—“

“I don’t think so,” Rhysand cut you off. “If they held the magic you do, I believe their power would have shown by now. They were Made. So it’s possible the Cauldron could’ve interfered with it if that were the case.” 

It was too much. All of it. Reliving those memories again, seeing your father… You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have magic and powers. You could not be half Fae, half witch. 

It would be easy to give up. It would be so easy to ignore it until it killed you. So easy to just let go of everything. But a pounding in your soul begged you not to. Begged you to fight with everything you had. Begged you to live. 

“Burn the mark.” 

All attention snapped to you, flickering from your face to the mark on your chest that finally stopped glowing. 

“Are you insane?” Nesta seethed. 

You looked at her. “I don’t think I’d be far off to guess that if I don’t burn this mark, this…power will consume me entirely. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be so lost because I have no idea who I am. This is who I am, whether I like it or not. I won’t run anymore.”

Feyre stepped closer, crouching to your level and taking your spare hand in hers. Azriel still held tight to the other. “If you wish to burn it, it will unleash whatever power you have at full force. You don’t have any training, any control over it.” 

You felt sick to your stomach. “I don’t want to die, Fey.” 

And that was enough to enrage Feyre in a way she’d never once felt before. “You are not going to die. Do you understand me?”

Azriel squeezed your hand, begging for you to look at him. You couldn’t. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him looking at you any different than he had three days ago. 

“Rhys, fetch Madja. We will burn the mark in a controlled environment. Where any fallout can be contained.”

You shook your head, not willing to risk a single soul because of your selfish decision to live. 

“No,” you said. ��Drop me to the mountains and I’ll burn it myself.”

Nesta scoffed. “Oh, you are insane.”

You seethed at her. The first ounce of anger you’d truly shown. The first time you’d ever directed it at anyone but yourself. 

“This isn’t your decision. I will not risk anyone. Azriel can take me to the mountains and you can all keep your distance. At least until it’s safe.”

Until it’s safe. As if you knew for certain you’d survive it. You truly weren’t sure you would. There was nothing more to discuss, your tone made that clear enough. 

“Fly me, winnow me…whatever. Just do it now before I change my mind.”

Within a blink, your body was shivering and you were no longer in the House of Wind. Shadows encased your entire body, darkness swarming every inch of you. You said nothing as Azriel held you, nothing at all as he flew you across Velaris and toward the highest mountain just outside of the city. 

Only when he landed, when he refused to remove his hold from you, did the darkness dissipate and hazel eyes gazed into yours. 

“I’m staying with you.” 

“No, you’re not. I won’t risk your life, Azriel.” 

He set you to your feet, holding your hands now to keep you close. A plea of desperation swam in his eyes, his entire body yearning to take you and find another way to fix this. 

“There is no other option. If I don’t burn this mark, I don’t know what my power might do. It might kill me, it might destroy this city. I cannot risk anyone’s life for mine.”

Azriel parted his lips to speak but you shook your head, squeezing his hands. 

“If I don’t survive this—“

“Don’t.”

“Please, listen to me.” Silver lined your eyes, blurring your vision. “If I don’t survive this, I want you to know how special your friendship has been to me. How much I care for you, for your family.” A sob tore through your throat. “And I am so incredibly sorry for burdening you all in this way.” 

You reached on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his. Warmth and love and the most raw emotion could be felt between you both. An apology for not having longer, a prayer that there would still be time. 

A fuse lit within the pit of your stomach, in the pit of Azriel’s. Tears stained your lips, stained his. In that moment, you were one. Whole, as though you always should have been. 

You pulled away first, forcing your hands from his hold. You took several steps back, blinking through the distorted vision and swiping away and evidence of the fear that crippled you. 

A puff of violet darkness misted beside Azriel as Rhysand winnowed to the mountains. Pain flicked through his eyes, regret and the same sorrow you saw in your cousins. 

You did not meet his gaze. 

“Summon a fire.”

He did as you asked. And handed you a blade. 

You did not grant them another look, did not give into the pleading in your mind to watch them leave. Or else you would’ve seen Rhysand drag Azriel off that mountain. You would’ve seen the anguish on the Shadowsingers face. 

Alone. As you had been your whole life. Though the weeks spent in Velaris had given you a taste of what could’ve been. You’d treasure those memories in the Hereafter. Those and the precious ones of your late mother. 

For they were all you had left. 

You did not allow another tear to fall. Not as you hovered the blade over the flame, not as you tugged your shirt down and took a deep breath. 

For if all you were ever meant to be was a ghost in the wind, you were content to know you’d reunite with your mother soon. Where you would no longer feel such pain. 

You didn’t want to die. But if this was all the time you were fated to have, then so be it. Better you than someone else. 

“Keep them safe.” A whisper to the winds, if they deigned to listen. 

With a final breath, you pressed the scorching blade against the mark on your skin and the entirety of your captive power unleashed upon the mountain as your body allowed it to consume you. Until you saw and heard and felt nothing at all. 

From below, the city shook, a thundering boom and a gust of aftershock and pelting mountain debris that blew the Inner Circle back. 

Then there was silence. 

And Azriel’s soul bellowed. 

a/n: so a LOT happened in this chapter and there is still a lot more to happen, i'm hoping i can fit it into two parts but it may be stretched into three, we'll have to see!! i'm so grateful for all the love you guys have been giving this series and i am so excited for you to find out how it all ends!!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

tag list: @anna-reader-blog @bubybubsters @honethatty12 @angiieguevara @honk4emoboyz @e1jeyy @celestialgilb @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @moonfawnx @historygeekqueen @idkitsem @horneybeach1 @apenasandorinha @thaynarajejheje @popcornlauncher @mrsjna @fuckingsimp4azriel @kk191327 @babypeapoddd @bluebries81 @secretlyhers @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mixheleee @be-your-coffee-pot @ly–canthrope @acoazlove @camilasstories @yesiamthatwierd @scoliobean @marigold-morelli @mellowmusings @dreaming-lis @prettylittlewrites @optimisticbabydreamer @halo-mystic @curtaincaramba @donnadiddadog @nocasdatsgay @hisonlykiwi @bookishbroadwaybish @peachyxlynch @hungryforbatboys @call-me-evangeline @stqrgirlies-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @pinksmellslikelove @demon-master-zero @more-a-then-i @svearehnn

[robin-wing-man]

"Prison? I thought you'd moved beyond this. I'm disappointed, honestly. You're still going by Batman's version of justice"

You know, people love to slap labels on me. Circus kid, Boy Wonder, Batman’s ex-sidekick, Nightwing—take your pick. I mean, technically, they’re all true, but none of them really sum it up. It’s like calling Bruce “just a guy with a car.” Sure, it’s accurate, but it doesn’t exactly cover the whole picture.

For starters, yeah, I grew up in a circus. The Flying Graysons. If you’ve never heard of us, I don’t know what to tell you—maybe get out more? We were kind of a big deal. Swinging through the air, defying gravity, making people gasp—it wasn’t just a job; it was life. Turns out, being raised in a traveling circus full of questionable characters prepares you really well for crime-fighting. Who knew? Acrobatics, showmanship, knowing when someone’s about to try and stab you? Basic skills, honestly.

And then there’s the whole “Robin” chapter. Or saga, really. Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it—working with Batman was... an adjustment. One minute, I’m living on the road with my family, and the next, I’m fighting psychos in Gotham’s alleys with a guy who growls more than he talks. Bruce isn’t exactly what you’d call emotionally available, but the man knows how to get stuff done. Say what you want about his personality (or lack thereof), but he’s good at what he does. Did I enjoy getting lectured about justice while dodging bullets? Not exactly. Did I learn a lot? Definitely.

But here’s the thing about being a sidekick: eventually, you have to stop being one. I’m not saying it was easy breaking away from Bruce—because, wow, it wasn’t—but I needed to figure out who I was without him. Enter Nightwing. New name, new suit, same sarcastic attitude. I ended up in Blüdhaven, a city that makes Gotham look like it’s trying too hard. It’s grimy, it’s messy, and it’s mine.

So, who am I now? Depends on the day. Sometimes I’m Dick Grayson, the guy who drinks too much coffee and still doesn’t know how to fold fitted sheets. Sometimes I’m Nightwing, the guy who flips off rooftops and pretends he’s got it all together. Most of the time, I’m just trying to survive the chaos and not fall on my face. You know, the usual.

See you on the other side, or not.

-- Dick.J.G.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Indoctrinate me baby! Legit I'm trying to expand my comics experience lol so if you wanna rant about Mary marvel a bit I'll totally listen:)

You know not the monster you have unleashed

But none the less, happy to squeal!

Mary has two surnames for varied reasons but I'll tell you the basics of her big appearances. Earth-S or classic Mary, New Earth or PoS (Power of Shazam) Mary, and 52/current Mary.

Classy Mary was raised as Mary Bromfield, a very well educated and intelligent ingenue with lots of academic and practical knowledge. The former of which we see in her first appearance as a contestant on a sort of gameshow segment Billy is hosting and, during a trip over commercial, Billy finds out he had a long-lost twin sister that was swapped with another couples deceased child at age 6 months, so Billy thought he was an only child. The person expositing this is the nurse who swapped them, and she gives Billy a half heart locket to identify his sister with, and that sister turns out to be Mary who he saves after she's kidnapped after the show.

Billy reveals himself after saving her as Captain Marvel and Mary wonders aloud if, since they're twins, she could transform by saying Shazam too. Lo and behold, she does! With a pantheon her own the Wizard procured she becomes Mary Marvel, Earths Mightiest Girl, and fights crime with her brother and their friend Freddy Freeman (Captain Marvel Junior).

Mary had her own comic run, lots of adventures fighting such treats as witches or dealing with mundane trials like baby-sitting way too many kids, but she does all this good with pride and cataloged it for her own trips down memory lane in her Good Deeds Ledger. One other story I adore where she loses her powers due to a calendar issue is that she's able to keep fighting with funny traps and devices when she's lost her powers to keep taking down the mobsters of that issue. Mary is a very kind, good hearted, and clever girl with a family in the Bromfields and with Billy and their extended Marvel Family.

Power of Shazam Mary was raised as Mary Batson, no swapping in childhood, but after a crazy trip to Cairo for a dig with her archeologist parents when Billy was left home for the trip due to bad grades in school Mary loses both her parents and is smuggled back to the states by their killer and passed off to the killers sister to deal with. The killers sister is the updated nurse who swapped Mary in the last iteration, Nurse Primm, who had Mary adopted by the Bromfield couple where the mother was a cousin of Mary's mother and didn't want Mary to end up with their uncle like Billy would end up. Mary suffered from amnesia and night terrors after the whole ordeal and couldn't remember the Batsons, only a vague feeling that Captain Marvel looked like her dad when she saw him.

Eventually, Billy is able to reveal the whole thing and in another kidnapping plot Mary does get her powers again, though this time shared with Billy and his pantheon. After a lot more plot of the PoS comics, both Billy and Mary end up adopted by the Bromfield couple and living together as superpowered siblings.

Current Mary is only Mary Bromfield, no longer the twin sister to Billy as she was in all other iterations of her character. She is college aged, ran away from her home with the Bromfields in winter because of their abuse, and ended up fostered by the Vasquez Family where she would get Freddy and later Billy as foster brothers. Billy would share his powers with his family again, empowering Mary again, but after comic plot and Lazuras Planet: We Once Were Gods, Mary is empowered by her own pantheon again while Billy regains the favor of the Wizard and his pantheon.

Mary's Shazacronym as I like to call it goes as such|

Classic + Current

Selene: Agility Hippolyta: Strength Artemis: Stamina Zephyrus: Flight Aurora: Invunerability Minerva: Wisdom

PoS with Billy and Freddy

Solomon: Wisdom Heracles: Strength Atlas: Stamina Zeus: Power Achillies: Courage Mercury: Speed

And yes, if you noticed, Mary does not have a power blessing in her current or classic iteration but nonetheless, she is able to shoot and use lightning powers. She's an og girl boss like that :)

[offorestsongs]

what i really love about making up fan kids for my oc x canon ships is thinking about Lysander's (future) big ass found family

[13eyond13]

I love the way that, in addition to his origin story with his over-sized sword and the scar on his nose, the flashbacks to Guts's childhood show how much of his insane work ethic and reckless self-endangering abandonment in battle were all kinda ingrained into him by his craving for attention and approval from shitty father figure, Gambino.

Random nice mercenary guy: "Don't overexert yourself, kid. Just do what's needed. 'Cause if you die, you lose everything."

Gambino: "It's your first battle. Work hard!"

Guts: [throws himself into battle so hard he nearly dies multiple times, fixating on pleasing Gambino the entire time]

Gambino: "C'mon, hurry up! Work! Work!"

Guts: [gives Gambino his entire earnings, Gambino tosses him back a single coin]

Guts: [more motivated by this one mild bit of encouragement than anything he's ever experienced before in his life]

[maramcna]

I've been very jack & hsr rotating around in my head but I suddenly remembered riliane & allen and I got sad over tragic twins

[silverselfshippingchaos]

h.aar deserves sooo many kisses

[a-story-teller]

Had another dream story idea and it's BAD out here y'all. My subconscious said "you don't go for sad old white men yaoi? Well here's one and you have to care about it so much. Good luck"

[kirislovelygf]

new haircut (sevika x fem! reader)

contents: you and sevika are married, takes place between acts 1-2 (season 2), you give sevika a haircut, found family trope with jinx & isha :(( fun family time :D

wrd count: 1.3k

⍣ ೋ

things have been crazy in the lanes for the past new months. i haven’t seen this many enforcers on our streets since.. actually i've never see this many.

ever since those noxians came and paid topside a visit, that kiraman girl had been on a serious power trip.

she became some kind of dictator down here and now she’s got her men flooding the streets. beating on people, putting up weord propoganda all over the city, arresting good men and women..

all in search for jinx. they're promising bullshit to anyone who turns over jinx to theauthorities but no one down here is dumb enough to do that.

sevika’s been trying to rally the undercity together for some kind of uprising but i’ve been helping jinx keep a low profile.

she’s never been good a laying low.

we’ve mostly spent these days playing in the hideout, taking naps all day, stuff like that. it’s more fun with her new little friend isha.

i’m not sure where she came from, but sevika told me she just.. fell from the sky basically. and just followed jinx around from then on.

the three of us were hanging out one night. i was playing around with my makeup on isha, who’s been begging me to use it on her.

“not too much, she’s still little.” jinx said as she was fixing a new gadget of hers at her desk.

“where you think she’s going? out to party? have some drinks? it’s just for fun.” i chuckled, raising my brush to isha’s eyes.

“close your eyes, sweetie.” i instructed. she did so with a cheeky smile. i smiled at her giddy fingers tapping the metal floor in excitement.

“we’re gonna do some glittery pink… it’ll look super pretty.” i told her.

as i continued, i heard the stomping of boots toward us.

i look over at sevika, home from another day of work.

“hi, vika.” i smiled.

“we doin’ makeovers?” she said jokingly as she walked over.

“yeah, she’s been crying for one for days.” i said. isha whines and hits my knee, making me laugh.

i look up at sevika staring at herself in the cracked mirror. she’s looking at the sides of her head and feeling the back of her head.

“what? realizing you woke up uglier than yesterday? i bet if your ask, she’ll give you your own makeover.” jinx giggled.

sevika stayed quiet before looking over at me.

“you think you can help me with something?” she asks.

“what is it?” i asked, looking for some lip gloss for isha.

“i’m not loving my hair.. it’s hard to tie it up with one arm.”

“what? i love your hair, vika. and i don’t mind doin’ it for you, i’ve said so already.” i said to her.

she chuckled. “it’s not just that. i’d like it better shorter.” she says, glancing at herself again.

jinx looks up and gasps. “can i cut it?”

“no.”

“you want it cut! you just said-“

“not by you.” she grumbled. jinx scoffs.

“i’m great tdoing hair. you think i sleep in these? every night..” she says, holding up one of her blue braids.

"and? you haven't cut your hair since you were a kid. that's literally baby hair-" sevika argued.

“it’s okay, i’ll help.. but i still think you should leave it as is.” i sighed.

“thanks. cause there’s no way i’m letting her near my head with scissors.” she said.

“no haircut is gonna make you look less like a grumpy troll under a bridge... just sayin.” jinx said before putting her goggles back on.

“hey. that’s my wife.” i snapped.

jinx mocks me before going back to fixing her gadget.

i put a bit of gloss in isha before i told her she was done and she jumped up to look at herself.

sevika laughed as isha tried jumping up to see her reflection but couldn’t reach.

she picked her up and set her on her leg so she could see herself. she smiled widely in admiration of herself.

i stand up. “okay.. now, where are the scissors?” i sighed out.

jinx giggled menacingly before going to a drawer and pulling out these sharp, deadly knives attached to each other.

isha gasps.

“oh hell no..” sevika grumbled.

“are you trying to behead her?” i laughed.

“they’re all i got.” jinx shrugged, holding them up with both hands.

i stare at her before she sighs, throwing the giant scissors aside and finding appropriately sized scissors in a drawer.

“thank you.” i said. i look at isha. “you gonna help me, kid?”

she shakes her head “no” and jumps down. i laughed softly before looking at sevika’s reflection.

i sighed out. “okay… are you sure?” i asked her.

“yeah.” she sighed out.

“hm..” i took out the hair tie from her hair and let her hair fall to the sides of her face.

“uh… okay.. jinx, come here, i don’t know shit about cutting hair.” i said.

“no!” sevika protested. i slapped her shoulder.

“stop being a baby! damn! i’m just gonna have her tell me what to do.”

sevika huffs in relief as jinx walks over to us.

“okay.. let’s see… what’s the vision? what’ll make you wanna fall in love with her all over again?” she asks me.

i shrugged. “i love her like this.” i patted my hand on her head. she looks at me with a bored face.

“okay nevermind, bitch. fuck you.” i snapped. she laughs.

jinx hums in thought. “okay.. i got it. we’re gonna go short in the back, long in the front. sound good?” she says.

“i don’t know.. are you sure?” sevika asked.

“yes, just trust me. jeez..” jinx grumbled. i laughed as sevika was getting visibly nervous.

jinx guided me to cut off sevika’s hair in a way that so that it doesn’t look like a chopped mess.

i cut off the last of hair before jinx found a razor to use.

“whoa, hey, im not tryin’ for no buzzcut.” she protested.

“it’s just for the sides, you crybaby.” jinx said. she puts it in my hand.

“i don’t know how you put up with her.” she says. i laughed. sevika grumbled.

“it was funny.” i snapped.

“anyway, just relax, baby. it doesn’t look that bad.” i said to her.

we lightly shaved the hair on her sides before i finally finished.

“okay.. let me see.” she turned to face us with her new look.

“see? not that bad. you look... less terrible.” jinx said.

“yeah, not that bad.” i nodded.

i was lying, i was so wet, holy shit. sevika looked so good with her new hair.

the bangs falling on her eyes, her neck looking clean, ugh i needed her:

she checks herself out in the mirror and isha gives her a thumbs up.

“it’s.. good. thanks.” she nodded.

i took a quick breath before looking at jinx.

“alright, well, we gotta get home.” i smiled.

“already? it’s like.. 7. you don’t usually get outta here till late.” jinx said, glancing at her junky clock on her desk.

“yeah, i’m not tryin’ to run into any enforcers talkin’ about some “curfew.” i'm a grown ass woman, i'll go home when i want." i chuckled, lying about my intentions.

she scoffs. “i get it. see ya.” she waved at us as isha did the same, but more enthusiastically.

she signs “thank you for the makeup.” and i sign back “you’re welcome.” before waving to her.

i took sevika’s hand and dragged her out of the hideout.

“you’re in a rush.” she laughed as we walked onto the street.

i pushed her into an alley and pulled her neck down to kiss her. she kissed me back in surprise but leaned into it when my hands slid up her neck and into her freshly shaven hair.

“i’m so sorry i said anything before about not cutting it. you look so fucking good-“

“yeah?”

before she continued, i kissed her again, this time, she laughed softly against my lips.

i couldn’t stop staring at her the whole way home. we’ve been married for like two years and i feel like i’m crushing on her all over again.

i spent the night our my room letting her know just how good i thought she looked.

⍣ ೋ

a/n: her bob in s2 is so RARARGDHJBGIDWODHNPIDOBUO

[itsallyscorner]

Like Father, Like Son | CL16

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: Leo is just as clingy as Charles. Some cute little fluff moments

warnings: none! Italics are flashbacks, if there’s any spelling errors pretend you didn’t see them x

author’s note: A little all over the place, but I hope you guys enjoy the read! First time writing for Charles, so I hope it’s decent :)

Charles was a clingy boyfriend.

He knew it, you knew it, and everyone else who’s witnessed him practically attached to you knew it. But he couldn’t help it, Charles loved and adored every single part of you. Which was why he somehow needed to always be attached to you.

Whether you guys were at home, at the paddock, or just out and about, Charles always had to have you close. Majority of the time, he can be seen having his hand interlocked with yours or walking about with his arm around your waist. On rare occasions, fans have even spotted the Ferrari driver walking around while hugging you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands connected at the front of your waist.

Fans melted at the sight of Charles being so clingy. His friends on the other hand—along with some fellow drivers on the grid—found Charles’s little habit as the perfect opportunity to tease him until he was as red as his race suit.

The Miami sun beamed on you as you and Charles entered the paddock. Immediately, fans recognized your boyfriend, calling him for his attention to sign merch and take pictures.

You gently released his hand, causing him to look at you with a pout, “Bébé, hold my hand.”

“Cha, they’re calling you and I know you want to go say hi.” You insisted, encouraging him to greet the fans by nudging him towards the barricades.

With a pout still on his face, Charles looked around, “You might get lost, it’s your first time here.” He knew you were fully capable of finding your way around the paddock and locating the Ferrari motorhome, but he just didn’t want you to leave his side. The moment he’d step into the Ferrari hospitality, he’d be pulled away from you to film content and do media. Which meant he wouldn’t see you till a couple of hours later. So basically, he was shamelessly finding excuses for you to stay with him.

“I’ll be fine, Joris is here and he’s going to hospitality too, I’ll just go with him.” You assured your boyfriend, motioning to his best friend behind you.

Charles’s brows furrowed together, his hand finding yours and tangling them together.

“Joris doesn’t know where the hospitality is.” Charles reasoned, obviously lying. Joris opened his mouth to object but quickly shut his mouth once his friend shot him a look.

“Please bébé, just come with me. They’re going to make me do media once I get there and I won’t see you till after.” Charles tried again to make you stay, slightly tugging on your hand. Joris shook his head at his best friend.

“Charles, your fans want to see you, they don’t want to see me. Just have some one on one time with them.” You encouraged him again, a slight smile on your face at how clingy your boyfriend was being.

“Nonsense, I’m sure they have some of those friendship bracelets you like so much. They’re always telling me to share them with you.” Charles said, dragging you along with him to the fans.

Once you get to the barricades, you’re approached by Lando and Fernando, who are already smirking at the both of you.

“Morning love birds!” Lando greeted you both, shifting his eye from Charles to you, “Is he holding you hostage again? Blink if you need help (y/n), security’s right there.”

Charles rolled his eyes at his friend, signing posters for a couple of fans and taking selfies with them.

“Pretty sure it’s going to take more than security to get him off of me.” You teased, raising your interlocked hands up and shaking it in the air. Charles paused the selfie he was about to take and turned to you with a feigned look of offense.

“I’m kidding, babe.” You smiled at him, rubbing your thumb over his hand. Fernando tsked at Charles playfully, “Ai, Charles no one is going to steal her away from you!”

A couple of the fans caught on with the banter you were all having and decided to join in.

“WE’LL STEAL HER!” A fan screamed.

“CAN WE HAVE (Y/N)?” Another fan from the back chimed in. Charles’s eyes widened at the crowd in front of him, a slight blush on his cheeks from all the teasing.

“You guys are all mean!” He jokingly yelled at the fans, pulling you away with him as he ran towards the garages.

While your boyfriend was clingy, you did not hate it one single bit. Majority of the time, you weren’t in the same time zones, so all the cuddling and hand holding made up for lost time.

Charles hated being away from you. He hated it even more when you were at his apartment in Monaco, sleeping in your shared bed without him after admitting how much you missed him. He knew you understood why he had to travel so much, it came with his job, but he still felt guilty leaving you alone so often.

Which is how you both ended up with sweet Leo.

Charles watched through his phone as you adjusted yourself in bed. You were in your pajamas, your nightly skin routine was done, and you were ready for bed. Before you can settle, you grabbed Charles’s pillow and cuddled it.

“I miss you, Cha.” You hummed quietly. You looked so cuddly, the blankets were pulled up to your chin and the pillows looked so fluffy around you. He wished he were there to snuggle up beside you and hide his face in your neck, basking in the scent of you.

“I know mon cœur (my heart), I miss you too, so much.” He was currently in Australia for the third race of the season. He wanted you to be there, but too many things were happening at your job for you to travel this weekend.

“It’s so quiet, I miss hearing you just yap and play piano.” You pouted, eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“I don’t yap.” Charles’s disagreed, his nose wrinkling.

You huffed out a laugh, “Yes, you do! Sometimes you’re just as bad a Max!”

Charles gasped at you, “That is a strong accusation, bébé. I am not as bad as Max, he never stops.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cha.”

Charles went quiet for a bit, causing you to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him through the phone. You see him shrug, “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.”

“So what is it?”

“What if we got a dog?” He suddenly suggested. The thought of a dog made your sleepiness go away. You weren’t against getting a dog, but with how busy you and Charles got, you weren’t really sure if now was the right time.

“A dog?” Your eyes squinted at your boyfriend. Charles hummed and nodded at you, “Yeah. I think it would be nice, no? You could have company whenever I’m away and we’ll be our own little family.”

Your heart swelled at Charles, the thought of having a family together one day was definitely something you both saw in your futures. But again, you were both too busy to start one, so maybe a dog would suffice.

“You’re right.” You began, “But having a dog is a big responsibility, Cha. Who’s going to watch them if we’re both away?”

“We can always take them. If we can’t, I’m sure maman wouldn’t mind.” Charles suggested, running a hand through his hair. He began to go through the other logistics, but sleep was beginning to take over you.

“I guess, baby. Let me sleep on it and I’ll let you know tomorrow, okay Cha?” You tell him, rubbing your eye. Charles smiled at you and blew you a kiss through the phone, “Don’t worry too much, mon chéri (my darling). I love you, sleep well.”

You mirrored his smile, “I love you too, Cha.”

After having a conversation about the responsibilities of having a dog, you and Charles decided that you were ready. So he reached out to a couple of breeders and some pet shops in Monaco until you guys found the right pup fit for you and Charles.

Leo was like the missing piece of you and Charles. You didn’t feel it before, but after seeing the small pup nuzzling between you and Charles you felt complete.

The English cream miniature dachshund was a bundle of joy and full of energy despite his small size. Leo’s daily schedule consisted of him eating, sleeping, playing, cuddles, eating, and more sleeping. He demanded both yours and Charles’s attention, though he demanded yours more. It was like he was in his own little world and the two of you were living in it.

Charles and Leo were like two peas in a pod. While one was a dog and the other was human, the similarities in their personalities were uncanny. They were the biggest sweethearts around you, constantly cuddling into your side and pressing kisses (or in Leo’s case—licks) onto your face—the two adored you and always wanted to be in your space. Wherever you went, they followed. But whenever you were gone, they were miserable.

Which brings you to today.

Leo whined as he sat beside the front door of Charles’s apartment. He pawed at the door, the sound of his tiny nails filling the room. You had gone out to have a girls day, visiting your favorite cafe with a couple of your friends and getting your nails done. Which left Leo to his own devices at his dad’s (Charles’s) apartment.

Charles was in the living room, going through a couple of emails from the team and his engineers about data from recent races and about the car. Though, he wasn’t able to focus since the six pound dog you both shared was constantly whining at the door waiting for you to come home.

Getting up from the couch, Charles made his way to the entrance of his apartment. Leo jumped up at the sight of Charles, immediately approaching his giant feet.

“Mon cœur, maman will be home soon.” He crouched to pick up Leo, who climbed up his chest and began licking his face. Charles let out a chuckle, “You’ve been acting like I was chopped liver for the past two hours, Leo. Don’t act so surprised to see me.”

As if Leo understood him, the dog nipped at his nose, making Charles yelp, “Ah! Leo!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Holding the dog against his chest, Charles made his way back to the couch. He moved his laptop aside, already knowing he wouldn’t be getting any work done anytime soon. He laid horizontally on the couch with Leo sat on his chest, the dog still nipping and licking at him excitedly.

“Do you miss maman too, Leo?” He softly asked the dog, petting Leo’s head and smoothing the soft fur of his ears. The dog let out a small sound, as if he agreed with his dad.

Still stroking Leo’s head, Charles continued to talk to the dog, “I always miss your maman, Leo. Whether she’s gone for a couple of hours or when I’m away overseas, she’s always on my mind. Just like you mon cœur.”

Leo had settled on nuzzling himself into the crook of Charles’s neck, similar to how you would, and laid down against his chest. Charles soothingly rubbed Leo’s back as his eyes began to feel heavier.

“We’re very lucky to have maman, right Leo? She’s perfect for us and she takes care of us all the time. I know you like to cuddle with her more, that’s okay though, she gives very nice cuddles.” Charles could feel himself doze off. The afternoon sun was shining against the windows of his living room and the couch was incredibly comfy—it was perfect for an afternoon nap.

Before he can completely fall asleep, Leo suddenly whipped his head away from Charles, making the man groan at the dog. Leo’s tail began to wag excitedly, his paws tapping on Charles’s chest, begging to be let go.

Leo barked at the sound of your keys turning in the lock. Instead of placing Leo back on the floor, Charles picked him up and walked towards the entrance to greet you once you’ve come in.

Leo’s tiny body shook even more as he watched you walk through the door. You beamed at the sight before you, your boyfriend dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, cradling your extremely hyper dog.

“Aww, hi babies!” You cooed, dropping your bag to the side and gently taking Leo from Charles. You giggled as Leo covered your face in kisses, sniffing at your hair, and nudging your face with his cold wet nose.

Charles softly smiled at you and Leo, “Hey, I missed you too, bébé.”

“I know you did, Cha.” You hummed, walking into his waiting arms and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. Charles made a sound of disapproval, “You missed, mon chéri.”

You chucked at your boyfriend, “Oh, I’m sorry.” You pressed a tender kiss onto his awaiting lips, a hum of satisfaction coming from Charles. His arms tightened around you as he led you to the couch, only letting you go so you can settle onto the cushions.

Picking up your hand, Charles inspected your nails, “I like them, they look good on you.”

“Thank you, Cha. How was your day with Leo?” You sat back into the couch with Leo still cuddled into your chest. Charles sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you and placing his chin on your shoulder.

“I tried to get work done but Leo kept crying, so we decided to cuddle and talk about how much we missed you.” Charles answered, feeling the sleepiness come over him again.

“Oh, really?”

Charles nodded, “Yeah, our child’s a boy of many words, mon chéri.” You looked down at the pup to see him dozing off like Charles.

“Can we take a nap?” Charles asked, moving the both of you so you were laying down on the couch. You laid beneath Charles and Leo, your two boys nuzzled into your sides.

“Of course we can, Cha.” You hummed, pressing a kiss to his forehead and another onto Leo’s.

“I love you.” You whispered to Charles, you felt him smile against you, “I love you always, Mon cœur (my heart).”

You watched the two of them as they fell fast asleep on you. Your boys were clingy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Like father, like son, I guess.” You whispered before falling asleep yourself.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Finding old man Eugene’s porn with Ellie..

Warnings: dub-con (reader and Ellie are high), smoking, mentions of porn, sexual tension, fingering (r! receiving), sloppy make-outs, Astrid is just a mention from one of the tlou patrol logs so I included her for fun idk

Word count: 1.6k

Your hands are frigid and almost numb even through your gloves. The snow from outside is only falling tenfold, and you’re lucky to have found shelter at all. You watch as Ellie ties Shimmer up nearby and turns to you, and you’re surprised she isn’t all teeth-chattering and “brrr.” The girl has way too much tolerance for the elements compared to you, who is currently freezing.

“You said you’ve been in here before?” Ellie inquires, and you nod. It’s true that you’re familiar with the creek trails; many times have you and Cat been on horseback and on foot through the town East, along the water stream that is probably now all frozen over.

You lead Ellie downstairs and without much words, you begin to scavenge around for supplies. You know what’s common here - ammo, rations, all the basics. You know that this is more than a simple scavenge-and-go, though. There’s practically a blizzard outside, and you know that at least the generator set up in case of emergencies is visible. 

You begin to power up the generator with a few clean spins. Last patrol, Astrid taught you how to crank the handle without nearly breaking it. The thing’s a little rusty with disuse since it has been a while since the temperature has called for winter weather, so it takes more arm power than usual. When the generator finally roars to life, you sigh in relief and try to find Ellie, who is more than likely still going through ammo cases. 

You find her at a door that’s closed off from the main area. She notices your presence, turning to you with a question. “Ever been this far?”

“Nah. The only person who’s ever been down there is Eugene.”

“Shall we?” Her smile is roguish. 

You nod. “There’s no telling what is even down there.”

With a little turn of the door handles (which were slightly stiff), the door is open and the sight before you is not a room but a staircase. Ellie peers down into it.

“Let’s be cautious, it may need to be cleared out.”

The sight before you is not a horde of clickers but instead a one that makes Ellie mutter out a “holy shit…” and you agree; holy shit is right. Dead marujana plants are all over the room, and there’s a small television next to a stained couch, stacks of vcr tapes in a pile on the floor.

“Well, I think we should take a much-deserved break.” You say with a smile that reminds Ellie of a kid on Christmas morning, quickly padding over to the tapes to find something worth watching. Ellie approaches as well, but she raises an eyebrow at your jaw being practically on the floor now.

“What?-” Ellie starts, but then she catches a glimpse of the tape cover. There are two women completely naked and a comically large title reading “Sorority Sisters.” She sputters out a laugh, “Eugene’s porn collection?”

“What the fuck?! I just wanted something like The Matrix, I-” Ellie’s face makes you realize that she is truly considering it- watching a porn together. You and Ellie were only friends, wasn’t that weird?

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’ll be funny. Do we have anything better to do trapped in the middle of a blizzard?”

You sigh and relent. As much as it makes your stomach feel all hot and weird at the thought of watching bad porn with Ellie, you don’t have any better ideas. “Fine. But only if we can find something to smoke down here as well.”

You and Ellie aren’t as far apart as you should be. The film has been playing on the low quality television in front of you for only the past 20 minutes, and there’s still another 30 to go. Your body feels all warm inside from the weed, and Ellie’s thigh is brushing up against yours as the two of you sit next to each other on the couch. The two of you are out of your jackets and are in just pants and a t-shirt, the heat from the generator fully enveloping the air. The blizzard is all but forgotten. You know that you should put some distance between you and Ellie, that this could have consequences. You’ve already fucked up. You’re supposed to be on patrol, for fuck’s sake. Not watching two college girls eat each other out on a grainy screen and take occasional hits to an old joint, but here you are.

This shouldn’t be turning you on as much as it is. With someone like Cat or Dina, you would be laughing and making jokes about the exaggerated moans. With Ellie next to you, her gorgeous face lit up by the television light, you are both silent. 

And then her fingers skim over your thigh. Just slightly, but enough for you to notice. You’re losing your composure, your breathing heavier. You can feel the moment your panties become soaked. There is an unbearable heat in your lower stomach, and suddenly, it’s as if every little thing you notice about the moment surrounds you at once. You can mainly only smell the weed, but being so close to Ellie means that her crisp scent fills your nose and apparently turns you on even more. Her body heat makes you want to forget that she’s just a friend. Each (stupidly loud) moan echoing in the room from the porno even makes you clench, just because you’re aware Ellie is right next to you and you’re watching this together. 

Before you can even process it, Ellie’s hand is sliding between your thighs, massaging your inner left thigh. You feel a familiar heat pool within your belly. 

Her voice is low, just an intimate, raspy whisper in your ear that nobody else would ever be able to hear, “you can tell me to stop.”

You should tell her to stop. You should swat her hand away and tell her to keep her paws off of you. But.. you don’t. Instead, you let out an exhale, a shaky and bewildered sound before guiding her hand right between your legs. She can’t touch you properly through the stiff fabric of your jeans, but she has no intentions of rushing things. Ellie is a damn tease, distracting you by leaning down and skimming chapped lips over the sensitive skin of your neck. The breaths she takes are short and the exhales are hot against your skin, making you shudder. Her fingers are firmly rubbing over your clit through the fabric of your denim jeans. 

“Such a damn tease,” you scold, but you’re already slightly moving your hips for more friction. 

Ellie smiles against your pulse, barely sinking her teeth into the skin to make you gasp, then pulling away to laugh. “But you know you love it.” 

You can’t deny it, so you grow silent, letting her continue to play with you as if you’re a puppet pulled by strings, the major string being your pussy. Ellie knows you so fucking well, it’s almost uncanny. That is how it has always been, though. Ellie has always been able to read you like an open book. She knows your favorite things, she knows that she is your favorite person, she knows when to tell you stupid puns and insult you and when to put a comforting hand on your shoulder and wipe away your tears. Now, without ever touching you so intimately before, she just knows how to make you beg for more. 

“Ellie, please..” You plead, and the heightened pitch doesn’t go unnoticed by Ellie. She pulls away from her work on your neck to leave a soft kiss on your jawline, trailing up to your ear. 

“Tell me that you want more, and I’ll fuck you right here.” She doesn’t sound like your usual Ellie, instead raspy and so serious. You know that this isn’t a prank. All you want to hear is that voice telling you filthy things while she fucks you, and just like that, the porno in the background is washed out. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

You’re whining, your head laid back on the couch with your legs spread out wide for her. Your jeans are on the floor, your underwear pooled around your ankles with the haste that Ellie used to be able to fuck you. Her fingers are drilling so deeply into your cunt, nearly making it impossible to hold on longer. Once she had you naked, she didn’t feel the urge to tease.

“Fingers so deep in this cunt, and you’re still begging for more,” she laughs at the way your walls clench in response and your whines are just as loud as the girls on tv who are long forgotten. 

“Ellie, fuck- I dunno how long I can hold on…I wanna cum so bad, please, please-” You’re quickly cut off by your own cry when Ellie curls her fingers up into your g-spot, her thumb padding at your clit to only heighten the sensation. She knows you so well. How does she know the way you like it, the way you touch yourself when you’re alone in your bedroom at night.The way your palm brushes against your clit as you finger your drenched hole? The fact that you grip the sheets with your free hand and moan her name? 

“Shh, c’mon, baby. I’ve got you, just cum for me.” She coos in your ear, slipping in a third finger and stretching you out so nicely, filling you up so good and then she’s stroking your walls- 

Your orgasm hits not in waves, but instead like a pulse, beating and Ellie can feel the way you flutter, she can feel the way your clit beats against the calloused, wet pad of her thumb. Your thighs instinctively close her in, you can’t beat to feel her pull out until this onslaught of pure star-striking pleasure is over. Her free hand turns your face towards her and she swallows up your moans in a sloppy kiss, her tongue fucking into your mouth lazily and sensually. 

The moments after are sweaty and sweet. She lay next to you across the couch, one of her arms underneath your body so that she can keep a hand wrapped around your waist. Everything is beautiful and so warm, like a fever dream. Your high is still on-going, and you wonder how this could ever end. 

When Jesse’s voice rings through the building, it does end.

[azulhood]

Jazz was, at her core, a pessimist.

Oh sure, she wanted the best outcomes and strived to always see the best in people. But listening to her parents talk about and share crime scene photos of someone who was brutally murdered and who may haunt the place they were headed to while true crime podcasts played instead of road trip tunes as they traveled to whatever graveyard had caught their interest had dulled young Jazz's faith in humanity.

Jazz still had memories of a young her standing in an abandoned insane asylum (or abandoned hospital, or old house, or graveyard, or whatever place they dragged her too) holding a small torch with shaky hands and begging to leave because she was terrified "Can we go? Please? this place is scaring me" only to be told "In a minute Jazzy, we down want the ghost getting away."

They had settled down after Danny was born, choosing to stay in one placed instead of traveling all over the country. She still expected them to unexpectedly announce that they were going on the road again, she had plans in case they did (saying she'd stay behind with the van to take care of Danny was better then both of them getting used as ghost bait) But surprisingly they didn't.

And Jazz was thrilled. Sure, she and Danny were known as the kids of the towns crazy ghosthunters, and sure, she basically had to raise her brother since her parents would rarely leave their lab let alone focus on something not ghost related, and yes, she did have to carefully plan out how to use the family's money so that none of them starved.

But no more sleeping in cheap hotels or their van, no more making friends at playgrounds that she'd never see the next day, no more countless hours spent in places where people died, no more English lessons while on the road. She went to school now, she had friends that she saw more than once, she had a home that wasn't filled with cockroaches and the sounds of a argument from the room next door. She had a semi-normal life.

In this time of normality, she relaxed, she let her guard down. Then Danny died and only came back halfway.

And Jazz was back to being that little girl who was scared of ghosts, only this time she was scared for a ghost.

Danny didn't tell her at first, and even though it hurt she understood, and so while she waited for him to tell her, she planned.

She took job after job, from mowing someone's lawn to working at a checkout. Money had been put aside in bags filled with clothes and a pair of new id that she had gotten from Tucker, ("Just in case our parents get classified as supervillains and we need to flee" She said not giving anyway that she knew of Danny's ghostly problem, Tucker had made the id anyway even if he thought she was joking and did not in fact have a plan should that situation happen) One of their neighbors was willing to let her buy their old car despite her family's driving history. A safe house (more like safe apartment) was bought in the only place that was willing to let a teen buy property, Gotham City.

Danny fought numerous enemies until the only enemy that was left was telling their ghost hunter parents that their son was half dead.

Compared to her, Danny was an optimist, seeing the best in everyone without even having to try like she did. Believing that the best would happen like if he didn't, he would break into a million pieces and not know how to put himself together again.

Even though he was scared Danny believed that their parents wouldn't react badly, Jazz hoped they wouldn't but was prepared if they did.

And finally, after many nights spent wide awake in case her parents tried to rip Danny apart molecule by molecule while she slept, the shoe dropped. Their parents loved them, but their work came first, it always came first. Jazz loved her parents, she truly did, but she loved Danny more. And in the end, that made her choice of driving all the way to Gotham with nothing but their go bags all the more easier.

And that was how Jazz and Danny ended up as the neighbors of one Jason Todd.

[secretsofafangirll]

video star

summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.

warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.

a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.

"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."

"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.

"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.

"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.

"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.

I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.

"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.

"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.

"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.

"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.

"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.

Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.

"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.

"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."

"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.

"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."

"Loser", Nick teased.

"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."

As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.

I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.

Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.

"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.

What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.

I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.

"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.

Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.

Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.

Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.

"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.

At least I thought they were yelling at each other...

Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.

"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.

Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.

"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."

"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.

"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.

When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.

"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 

"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.

"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.

"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.

"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.

"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.

"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."

"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.

I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."

"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.

"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.

"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...

//

author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.

all the love, she <3

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

6159 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ, ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴋɪᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ?

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

You and Jayce stood outside the bright, cheerful building of the preschool, staring up at the colorful sign that read "Bright Beginnings Academy." Jayce's hands rested casually on his hips, the usual confident smile on his face as he looked down at you. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as well.

"I still can't believe they asked us to do this," Jayce said, adjusting his jacket. "It's not every day we get invited to talk to a group of young minds about science and technology."

You laughed lightly. "I think it's a great opportunity to inspire them. If even one of these kids decides to pursue something in science because of what we say, that would be amazing."

Jayce nodded, beaming. "Exactly! And I’ll make sure to give them a talk they'll never forget. You know, I can be pretty persuasive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Just... remember, not every five-year-old is going to understand particle acceleration. Keep it simple for them, okay?"

Jayce waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this. I'll make it sound fun."

You both entered the preschool and were greeted by the head teacher, Ms. Graves, who led you to the first classroom. The kids were sitting at small tables, eyes wide with curiosity, some fidgeting with toys and others whispering to each other.

"Everyone, this is Jayce and Y/N," Ms. Graves announced cheerfully. "They’ve come to tell us all about their exciting work!"

Jayce stepped forward, his tall frame making him stand out among the tiny chairs. He cleared his throat, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey there, little scientists! I’m Jayce, and I build incredible machines that can help solve problems! I work with energy and technology to create inventions that can change the world. I bet some of you have seen big machines like robots, right?" He smiled, trying to gauge their understanding.

A few hands shot up eagerly. "I saw a robot on TV!" one of the kids exclaimed.

"That's right! And those robots use technology I help create!" Jayce said, puffing out his chest slightly.

The kids seemed intrigued, but the more Jayce spoke, the more confused their faces became as he dove deeper into the technical aspects of his work. He mentioned “energy fields” and “complex algorithms,” which only seemed to go over their heads.

You smiled softly to yourself, watching him confidently speak. It was clear he was passionate about his work, but you could see where things might be getting a bit... complicated for the children. You moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a knowing look.

"Maybe we should take a step back and make it a bit more fun for them," you suggested gently, giving him a playful nudge.

Jayce blinked, realizing his overcomplicated explanation. "Ah, right. I got carried away."

You took a step forward, crouching down to the kids' level. "Hey there, everyone!" you said warmly. "I’m Y/N, and I love science too! Jayce builds things that help people, but sometimes, instead of using big words, we can show you how things work with fun activities!"

You looked to the teacher, who smiled and nodded in agreement. "Let’s make a simple machine today. We can build something cool together!"

The kids cheered, their excitement palpable. You led them to the activity table where materials like cardboard, straws, rubber bands, and small gears were set out. You guided them through creating simple contraptions—a basic pulley system, a little lever, and even a tiny rolling machine.

Jayce watched you in awe, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed how effortlessly you connected with the kids. You patiently helped each child, showing them how to build and encouraging their creativity. Some kids had trouble with the mechanics, and you were there with a smile, explaining everything in the simplest ways.

The more you interacted with the kids, the more they clung to you. One child tugged at your sleeve, asking to show you their creation. Another crawled into your lap, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes. You laughed, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

"Look, Jayce," you whispered, nodding to the group gathered around you. "They really love you too, but I think they might love me just a bit more right now."

Jayce chuckled, a bit of a pout on his lips. "I’m supposed to be the cool inventor, but I guess you’ve got the magic touch."

You leaned in, teasing. "What can I say? I’m a natural with kids. They like when things are fun and hands-on."

Jayce's gaze softened as he watched you, a proud smile spreading across his face. "You’re amazing," he said, more to himself than to you. "You make it look so easy."

The children continued to surround you, proudly showing off their creations. One little girl climbed onto your lap, a big smile on her face as she presented her simple yet clever machine.

"Look, I made a lever that helps me open my toy box!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You beamed, helping her adjust the lever. "That's fantastic! You’ve just made something that could help you every day. I think you’re a real inventor in the making."

The classroom was alive with chatter, and Jayce had long since stepped back to give you the spotlight. He couldn’t help but admire how you connected with the kids, how naturally you made learning fun for them. He realized, with a soft chuckle, that maybe you were the true teacher here today.

As the activity came to a close, the kids surrounded you, each one wanting to show you their project or give you a high-five. Jayce joined in, still amazed by how well you were able to inspire the next generation.

"You know," he said, as you walked hand-in-hand with him out of the classroom, a playful glint in his eye, "maybe next time, we should let you do the talking."

You smiled, squeezing his hand. "Maybe we should. But you were still awesome, Jayce. I just think you need to simplify your genius a little."

Jayce laughed softly, his heart warmed by how easily you embraced everything that came with working with children. "I think I could learn a thing or two from you. You’re a natural."

You grinned. "I just know how to make science fun."

VIKTOR

The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the warm fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. You sat beside Viktor in his workshop, the steady hum of machinery and the quiet crackle of the fire filling the space. You’d been talking for hours, about everything and nothing, when the conversation shifted to something you’d always carried in your heart.

"I’ve always wanted to have children," you said softly, tracing the rim of your teacup absentmindedly. "Even when I was young, I used to imagine what it would be like to be a mother, to have a little one running around, learning new things, growing up. It just always felt right to me."

Viktor’s expression faltered for a moment, his brow furrowing as he lowered his gaze. The silence stretched between you, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the subtle tension in the air. It wasn’t like Viktor to be so quiet, and it made your heart tighten with concern.

"You... want children?" Viktor’s voice was softer than usual, almost as if he was testing the words, as if they were foreign to him.

You nodded, turning toward him with a small smile. "I’ve always dreamed of it, yes. I think it’s one of the most fulfilling things someone can experience."

Viktor shifted slightly in his seat, a look of deep thought on his face. "I..." He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the arm of his chair as if searching for the right words. "I don’t think that’s something I can give you."

You blinked, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. "What do you mean?"

Viktor’s eyes met yours, and there was a heaviness in them, a burden he had carried for so long, one you knew he didn’t speak of often. "I have my illness," he said quietly, his voice tight. "And my... condition. I don’t want to pass on any of what I have to a child."

You felt a pang in your chest, the deep sadness in his words cutting through you. He was already thinking about his own deformity, his illness—how it affected his body, his life. Viktor never talked about it openly, always focusing on his work, but you knew that it was always there, lingering in his mind. He feared it, feared what it would mean for the future.

"But Viktor," you whispered, reaching out to take his hand, "you are more than your illness. You are strong, brilliant, and beautiful in so many ways. If we were to have children... they wouldn’t just inherit the things that make you feel broken. They’d inherit everything that makes you who you are."

Viktor’s eyes flickered to your hand, his gaze softening for a brief moment, but the weight of his thoughts remained. "I can’t bear the thought of passing on my suffering to anyone, especially a child. I wouldn’t want them to go through the things I’ve been through... the pain, the limitations." His voice broke slightly, though he tried to steady it. "I wouldn’t want them to have to carry the burden of what I’ve become."

Your heart ached for him, knowing how deeply he cared about you and how much it hurt him to feel that he could not offer you the life you had dreamed of. You gently squeezed his hand, offering him a tender smile, one filled with understanding and love.

"I understand, Viktor," you said softly. "I understand more than you know. I’m not asking for something you can’t give right now, and I wouldn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. I respect your decision, and I support you completely. If it’s not the right time for you, then I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me to."

Viktor’s eyes searched yours, his lips trembling slightly, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow reflected in them. "You... you would wait for me?"

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I love you, Viktor. And whether we have children or not, my love for you won’t change. We’ll have the future that’s right for us, together."

A long silence fell between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a peaceful kind of silence, the kind that spoke volumes without the need for words. Viktor’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as if he needed that touch to steady himself, to remind himself that you were there, beside him.

"You’ve always been so patient with me," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness you rarely heard. "I don’t deserve your patience."

You shook your head, a small, affectionate smile playing at your lips. "You don’t have to deserve it, Viktor. It’s not about that. It’s about us, about being together, and supporting each other. We’ll figure this out, one step at a time. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here."

Viktor’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the gratitude he struggled to express. He leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent promise passing between you. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "For everything."

And in that moment, you knew, without a doubt, that whatever the future held, you and Viktor would face it together—patiently, lovingly, and with the same unwavering commitment that had always defined your relationship.

JAYVIK

The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the room, the warm glow casting gentle shadows on the walls of the living room. You, Viktor, and Jayce had just finished a long day of work, and now, you were all unwinding in your cozy space. You and Viktor were seated on the couch, a few scattered papers and empty mugs left on the coffee table, while Jayce leaned back in his armchair, kicking his boots up with a sigh of relief.

For a while, there was nothing but the steady rhythm of breathing and the occasional rustling of papers as Viktor worked on a few ideas for his next project. Jayce, on the other hand, seemed content to simply unwind, the silence comfortable in a way only the three of you could share.

It was a casual evening—no talk of politics, no discussions of breakthroughs or setbacks. But then, as Jayce stretched his arms above his head, breaking the silence, he casually dropped a thought that had been on his mind for a while.

"You know," Jayce said, half to himself, "I was just thinking about how we could have a little one running around here one day. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to pass all of this on to, someone who would grow up with us."

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his chair. He didn’t immediately respond, though his gaze drifted to you as if testing the waters.

"You’re right," Viktor added quietly after a moment, his tone soft but pensive. "Maybe one day, we should. We’ve spent so much of our lives focused on work, but I suppose we should think about a future beyond just our creations."

You looked up at the two of them, surprised to hear this so directly. They’d mentioned the idea in passing before, but now it felt more tangible, more real. Still, you said nothing at first, unsure of how to react. Jayce, always eager to entertain new possibilities, kept talking.

"I wonder what it would be like," he mused. "What kind of parents we'd be. It’s crazy to think about it, but I think I’d want to give it a shot. But you know, it’s a lot of work, a lot of responsibility." He laughed softly. "Not sure if we’d be the perfect role models, huh?"

You gave him a half-smile, trying to keep the conversation light. But inside, a knot of tension began to form in your stomach. You could hear the underlying question in their words—the curiosity, the openness, and perhaps even a bit of uncertainty. They wanted your opinion, wanted to know if this was something you were considering, too.

But as you sat there in the living room with them, you knew this conversation had to come to a head. The secret you had been keeping from them—the truth you hadn’t been able to share yet—was slowly eating at you.

Taking a deep breath, you set your mug down on the table with a soft clink, your hands shaking slightly as you prepared to speak.

"I—" you started, your voice trembling a bit. "I need to tell you something."

Jayce and Viktor both turned their attention to you, sensing the change in the air. They sat up a little, waiting for you to continue.

"I’ve never told you this before," you began, trying to steady your breathing. "But... I can’t have children."

The words hung in the air between you like a weight, a truth you’d kept locked away for so long. You could feel the sting of shame welling up in your chest as you tried to continue.

"It’s... it’s because of infertility," you murmured, your eyes cast downward, unable to meet their gazes. "And I’ve never told either of you. I guess... I didn’t want to disappoint you. Or make you feel like... like I wasn’t enough. I’ve been so afraid that if you knew, you’d..."

You trailed off, the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You hadn’t meant for this to happen. You hadn’t meant to break down like this, but the truth was heavy, and the shame was worse than you’d imagined.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. The weight of your confession hung over you, suffocating. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, too afraid of how they might react. You had kept this secret for so long, hoping it would never come up, but now the truth was out there.

Then, to your surprise, you felt Viktor’s hand on your shoulder, gentle but firm, as if to reassure you that he was there. His voice, when it came, was softer than you had ever heard it.

"Y/N," he said quietly, his tone filled with understanding. "You don’t need to feel ashamed. We’re not angry with you, not at all."

Jayce, too, leaned forward, his gaze filled with concern but also affection. "We’re a team, Y/N," he said, his voice earnest. "There’s nothing you could say that would change that. We love you, and that doesn’t change because of something like this."

You finally lifted your gaze to them, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. "But I—" you began, but Viktor shook his head gently.

"Listen to us," he said softly. "This doesn’t change anything. We’re still the same. And if you want children, we’ll find a way. Together."

Jayce nodded in agreement. "There are options, you know. Adoption. Surrogacy? We’ll figure it out, Y/N. No matter what."

Your heart swelled at their words, the weight in your chest beginning to lift, even if just a little. You weren’t alone in this. They understood, they cared, and they weren’t angry.

"I don’t deserve you both," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Viktor leaned closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his eyes warm with sincerity. "You deserve all of us, Y/N. We’re in this together. There’s no need for shame. We’ll take each step together, and when the time is right, we’ll decide what’s next."

Jayce reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softened with a rare, tender understanding. "We’re here for you, always. And we’ll figure this out, whatever path we need to take."

The comfort in their words, the warmth in their touch, soothed you more than you could have expected. Maybe the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but you knew you wouldn’t walk it alone.

Together, the three of you would find a way forward.

VANDER

It was a quiet evening at the Vander household. The children had long since been put to bed, and the house was filled with the soft sounds of the night—crickets chirping in the distance, the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. You and Vander were seated by the fireplace, the warm glow from the flames casting gentle shadows across the room.

You had just finished tidying up after a long day of running around with the kids—Powder, Vi, Mylo, and Claggor. They were all sweet, each of them with their own personalities, their own quirks, and you loved every moment spent with them. But tonight, as you sat beside Vander, there was a different energy between you two. A quiet, lingering thought that had been on Vander’s mind for some time now.

Vander watched you from his seat, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he observed you. You were always so gentle, so patient with the kids. He had seen you day in and day out, playing with them, teaching them, loving them. It was clear how much you cared for them, and that made his heart swell with warmth. But tonight, something else flickered behind his eyes. Something he had been holding back for a while.

"You know," Vander began, his voice low and thoughtful, "you’ve been incredible with the kids."

You smiled at him, a soft, fond expression on your face. "I love them like they’re my own."

Vander’s gaze softened. "I can see that. They adore you. And it’s not just the way you take care of them—it’s the way you make them feel safe, the way you guide them. They need you, Y/N."

You shrugged, trying to hide the warmth in your chest. "They make it easy. They’re amazing kids."

Vander’s smile grew slightly, but there was something more in his eyes, a hint of something deeper. "You’ve been so good to them. I can't help but think…" He paused, as if carefully considering his words. "I wonder what it would be like to have another."

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Another?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his gaze turning toward the fire. "Yeah. You’re so good with them... I can’t help but imagine what it would be like, to have one of our own." His voice was quiet, almost a reflection of a thought he hadn’t fully voiced until now.

You stared at him, your mind racing. You loved the kids you already had but the idea of having one with Vander, of building your own family even further, was an exciting thought. You had always felt that spark of hope deep down, but you never dared to mention it, not wanting to push for something Vander might not feel the same about. But now, hearing him say it out loud, your heart fluttered with possibility.

"I..." You didn’t quite know what to say at first, the warmth in your chest expanding at the thought of another child. "I’ve thought about it, too. What it would be like to have one together."

Vander’s eyes found yours again, soft and full of tenderness. "I can’t help but wonder if we could handle another one. But then again..." He chuckled quietly, rubbing his hand over his chin. "We seem to manage just fine with the four of them."

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. "They do keep us on our toes, don’t they?"

Vander grinned. "Yeah, but that’s what makes it worth it. Watching them grow, helping them become who they’re meant to be. And... I see the way you look after them. It’s something special."

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love them, all of them. I love being their guardian, their guide." You sighed contently, your eyes falling closed as you breathed in the warmth of the room and the safety of his embrace. "I think another child could fit right in, don’t you?"

Vander’s hand found yours, gently intertwining your fingers. "Maybe it could. Maybe it’s time to see if we’re ready for that next step."

You turned your face up to look at him, your heart racing slightly as you met his gaze. The flickering light from the fire reflected in his eyes, giving them a depth of emotion that made your pulse quicken.

"You think we’re ready?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vander’s grin grew as he leaned in slightly closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I think it’s something we should try."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the tone in his voice, the weight of his words settling in. It was as if he was speaking not just about the idea of another child, but about everything that came with it—commitment, trust, love. His lips brushed against your ear as he continued, his voice low and smooth.

"I can’t think of a better person to have a child with than you, darling," he murmured. "So... what do you say? Are you ready to try?"

The air between you two seemed to crackle with tension, an unspoken promise, a shared understanding. You leaned into him, your heart thudding in your chest as you whispered back, "I’m ready."

With that, Vander’s lips found yours, gentle yet full of promise, as if sealing the decision, sealing the future. The kiss deepened, the warmth between you both growing stronger as you both knew, in that moment, that your love was only going to grow even further.

And as the fire crackled softly in the background, you both knew one thing for certain: a new chapter was beginning for you both. Together.

SILCO

It was late in the evening when Silco found himself watching you from across the room. You were sitting with Powder, laughing softly as the young girl showed you her latest creation—a makeshift toy made from scrap materials she’d found in the undercity. Powder’s face lit up with pride, and you, with your usual warmth, encouraged her with genuine admiration. Silco watched the scene unfold quietly from his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the way you interacted with Powder. It was a bond he’d seen growing stronger with each passing day, and though he didn’t show it, it stirred something deep within him.

You had always been like a guiding force for Powder. She trusted you, adored you, and looked up to you in a way that only a daughter could. Silco had his own complicated feelings about it all—he'd never been one for sentimentality or nurturing, especially when it came to children. The thought of raising a child, having someone so vulnerable tied to him… it made his stomach turn.

He shifted in his chair, then stood and approached you, his gaze flickering between you and Powder for a moment before he spoke.

“Y/N,” Silco began, his voice steady but laced with an underlying seriousness, “there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

You turned your attention to him, a soft smile on your lips as you glanced from him to Powder. “What’s on your mind, Silco?”

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice just a touch more guarded. “I’ve been thinking. About… children.”

You frowned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The seriousness in Silco’s tone made you wary, and you instinctively looked over at Powder. Her wide eyes were bouncing between you both, sensing the tension that was beginning to settle over the room.

“You should go get ready for bed, Powder,” you said softly, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be with you in a minute, alright?”

Powder hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering between you and Silco, before she nodded slowly. “Okay, Y/N,” she muttered, and with a last glance, she shuffled off toward her room, her footsteps growing quieter as she left the room.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, the air in the room felt heavier, and you turned back to Silco, your gaze now fixed on him with an unspoken understanding that the conversation had just shifted into something more serious.

Silco’s eyes never left you as he continued, his expression unreadable. “I’ve seen the way you care for Powder. The way you’ve taken her under your wing. And it’s…” He paused, almost unwilling to continue. “It’s admirable, the bond you share with her. But I want you to know this, Y/N…” He took a slow step closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. “I don’t want children. The thought of having a child, someone so vulnerable, tied to me… it’s a weakness. A risk. They could be used against me one day. I won’t allow that.””

You could feel the tension in the room rise as he spoke. You could see the vulnerability behind his eyes, the fear of losing control, and perhaps, in some twisted way, the self-awareness that having a child might be more than he could handle. And yet, it didn’t come as a surprise. Silco’s life had always been about control, power, and survival. The last thing he needed was someone to hold over him, to manipulate his emotions.

You took a deep breath, moving from your position on the floor to sit beside Silco, resting your hand gently on his leg. "You're not the only one who doesn't want children, Silco," you said softly.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

You offered him a reassuring smile, your voice steady. "I’ve never really had the desire to have children of my own. Powder is the only daughter I need. She’s enough for me."

Silco’s eyes softened ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to form a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I suppose we both have our reasons."

You nodded, the weight of the conversation settling around you. "And those reasons are enough for me. Powder has always been the light in my life, and I’m happy with the family we’ve built. With you, with her, with everything we’ve worked for."

Silco regarded you for a long moment, his usual hard demeanour softening in the quiet of the room. He reached out, placing his hand gently over yours with a rare tenderness that made your heart skip.

"I respect that, love," he said quietly, his voice carrying more warmth than usual. "I can see how much she means to you. And how much you mean to her." His gaze flickered toward the door where Powder had gone off to bed, before returning to you. "I'm glad you're here. With me. With us."

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you despite the gravity of the conversation. "I’m glad, too, Silco."

The room fell into a long silence, but it was comforting, not uncomfortable. Both of you took in the truth of what had been said—no more, no less. The bond you shared, the family you had built, was more than enough. You didn’t need anything else.

"Good," Silco muttered after a pause, his usual commanding tone returning. "Then that’s settled."

You nodded, meeting his eyes with quiet conviction. "Yeah. It is."

And with that, the topic was closed—no resentment, no regret, just a mutual understanding between the two of you. You didn’t need a child to complete your family. You already had everything you needed in each other.

JINX/POWDER (PLATONIC!)

It was a quiet afternoon in the streets of Zaun, the sun casting an amber glow over the city as you wandered through the busy market, enjoying the calm between your usual chaotic routine. You had been picking up a few supplies, humming softly to yourself, when you noticed a small, frightened child standing near a stack of crates, eyes wide and scanning the crowd.

Instinctively, you approached the child, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “Hey there, you look lost,” you said, crouching down to their level. The child nodded, eyes brimming with tears, and you could see the desperation in their gaze.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured them softly, your voice warm. “Let’s find your parents, okay?”

The child clung to you as you took their hand, and as you made your way through the crowds, they became more and more comfortable in your presence, their grip on you loosening but still steady. The child’s fears slowly ebbed away, soothed by your steady presence. Eventually, you found the child’s parents near the merchant stalls, frantically scanning the crowd.

A tall woman with wild, auburn hair was the first to notice you approaching. Her expression softened with relief as you caught her gaze.

“Are you looking for someone?” you asked, glancing down at the child who had begun to tug at your shirt.

“Yes! My son!” The woman rushed toward you, and the child’s face lit up. Without another word, the child hopped off your hip and ran to their mother, clinging to her side.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” the woman said, tears welling up in her eyes as she held her child tight. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The man beside her, who had been nervously pacing, stepped forward. His deep voice was shaky as he added, “We’ve been looking everywhere. We thought we lost him for good.” He turned to you with a grateful smile. “You’ve done more than we could have asked for.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile, your heart warming at the reunion. You nodded at them both. “Just happy to help.”

The woman reached out to pull you into a brief, heartfelt hug. “Thank you again. We’re in your debt.”

You returned the hug lightly, your thoughts drifting as you watched the mother and father take their child’s hand, walking together with him in tow. They waved as they walked away, and you waved back before turning to leave the scene.

It was in that moment that you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you, followed by an all-too-familiar voice, sharp and full of an edge you recognized.

“What’s this?” Jinx’s voice echoed from behind, full of suspicion. “You just making friends with every little rat in the city now?”

You turned around to see her standing there, arms crossed, a scowl on her face as her eyes fixed not on you, but on the small child who had been clinging to you moments before.

Jinx’s gaze was icy, her brow furrowed as she narrowed her eyes at the child as they walk away with their parents. She took a slow step forward, the usual manic energy in her movements tempered by something else — jealousy. And that was a rare sight.

“Why’s was that kid clinging onto you like you’re his new mom?” Jinx sneered, her voice dripping with possessiveness, the insecurity in her words biting deeper than she likely intended. She shifted uncomfortably, hands fidgeting with the straps of her weapon as her gaze shists to you. Her foot tapped impatiently against the ground, and you could see her cheeks flush with frustration.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension in the air, but also the deeper discomfort simmering beneath her words. “I was just helping them find their parents, Jinx. Nothing more to it.”

"Right," she muttered under her breath, her jealousy almost palpable now. “I see how it is. Just another kid looking for a mother figure while I... get left behind. Not enough room for me, huh?”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and for a split second, you felt a pang of regret for the situation, as if somehow you had betrayed her by offering your care to someone else. But then, you remembered who you were to Jinx — and who she was to you.

You took a deep breath, your eyes flickering to Jinx, who had taken a few steps closer, her posture tense and guarded, like she was expecting a confrontation.

“Jinx…” you began, your voice soft but with the weight of sincerity. “You know I care about you. That kid… they needed someone, and I just helped. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

Jinx’s expression faltered for a moment, and she looked away, biting her lip as she avoided meeting your gaze. There was a long pause before she muttered, her voice barely audible, “I know... It’s just, I... I don��t like seeing anyone else taking your attention. It’s like... you’re spreading yourself thin, and I’m afraid there won’t be enough of you for me.”

You took a step closer, your heart aching as you read the vulnerability in her words. Gently, you cupped her cheek, guiding her face to meet yours. “You’re my priority, Jinx. Always.”

Her eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing through the storm of emotions that she usually kept hidden. She let out a soft sigh, her usual wildness dimming as she allowed herself to relax for just a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her hands falling loosely at her sides, her expression more like the girl you knew — Powder. The one who wanted to be tough, but deep down just wanted to be cared for.

You smiled warmly at her, your thumb brushing her cheek tenderly. “Don’t be. You never have to apologize for needing me. And you’ll always have my attention when you need it.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she finally let her guard down a bit more. The jealousy, while still lingering beneath the surface, was no longer as intense. She knew, deep down, that your bond was something that couldn’t be easily replaced or shared with anyone else.

Jinx huffed softly, a touch of her usual playful spark returning as she bumped her shoulder against yours. “Yeah, well, you better not go getting attached to every little lost kid running around.”

You chuckled, leaning into her shoulder for a brief moment. “I’ll try to keep my ‘motherly instincts’ in check for you, alright?”

“Good,” she said, her tone a mix of relief and mischief. “But if you’re gonna start collecting kids, at least pick the cool ones, yeah?”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes but feeling lighter. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jinx.”

And as you both walked away from the market, side by side, you knew this was just another layer of your relationship with Jinx — an unspoken understanding that no matter the jealousy or misunderstandings, you would always be there for each other, no matter what.

[melled42]

Idk if this is a huge request or not, but could you explain more about Bell? (The shitten in your au)

I would be thankful, take care.

Yeah, ive done like... 3 pieces of her max but she gets SO many asks lol. the story isn't really ready for her yet, and i'd like to finish what im working on before i do more with her, but i'll give the basic rundown.

she LITTERALY started as a joke baby post but she got so much interaction i said i'd expand on her design and now she seems to just have a following of simps (oops, like lamb like daughter)

most of the old ideas for ewen and nari with her are out of date now on the art, but heres a bunch of plot and some unposted sketches under cut

Nari and Ewen are married and leading the cult still. all the siblings have kids, grandkids and even great grandkids (excluding shamura). Its only after they decide having a child is someone for them to love and raise, not someone who they're forcing the cycle of trauma on that they have Bell. And they adore her. While growing up, one by one, the former bishops, all her aunts, uncles, and shamura decided it was time to peacefully end their long lives. So she sees death as a good thing, the satisfying end to a long life story. So when Ewen and Narinder are ready to die together, even though they say she doesn't have to, she takes on the crown and ends if for them with a last "i love you" between them. She runs the cult now which is more themed around their shared neck wound "rings" and their relationship than just the lamb. She's called "the black sheep" by her followers (or queen if they're kinky, princess when shes younger). she wields the crown as a pair of horns and a sythe, sine the cult of the black rings also referenced Ewen's large black horns and she keeps up the theme.

Baal and Aym are her "brothers" (more of her body guards and technically her cousins but she refuses to call them anything else) and her body guards, staying after their master's death. They've known her since she was a baby and still treat her as one sometimes. She's VERY protective over them, but also will bully them sometimes, like kicking their asses when training and saying they're just going easy on her like when she was a kid, knowing full well she's overpowered by the crown.

Because shes such an oddity, the mystic seller assigned one of their followers to keep an eye on her and, much like her "ba ba" she found the overpowered demigod shes now obsessed with. With some help from Ewen before they passed, they were able to translate their glyphs. Now that helper follows her around disguised as a poor imitation of a regular mortal to better understand her and the mortal realm. Or at least thats what she convinced them to do since she wants them around <3 probably not to their masters liking lol. I haven't decided on a name yet. Bell eventually give them the purple crown (they/it)

Before they left, Narinder was trying to reawaken the crowns, whether for the memory of his siblings, or that the cult was growing too large to be centered on the red crown. They're not very powerful right now and Bell is the leader of the others, more like a babysitter.

The blue crown is with Kalliope (kalli for short) (she/her), a distant relative of Kallamar's who had to fight, both physically and socially, with all her other of age relatives to get the chance, since Kallamar's polycule made a LOT of kids and grand kids. She's kind of bitchy about it and whines about everyone not respecting her or how hard she worked. shes a flamboyant cuttlefish and trans femme. also the crown is worn like an earring. Bell has little tolerance for her and they have a lot of bitchy girl fights.

The green crown is with isop (a kinda combo of isopod and aesop) (he/him) who is a rubber ducky isopod. he's Leshy's great great grandkid, and really only god the crown because no one else on the peaceful forest farm leshy put together in his later years really wanted it and figured it meant free babysitting. he's pretty young and small with a fascination for chaos and violence that only little kids without developed social perception can have, though he more watches at this point. The others tend to carry him or he rolls around in a little ball. The crown is worn like glasses.

The orange crown is with Mycelia (lia for short) (they/them plural) who is a homunculus mushroomo made through experimentation by Heket and Sozo before they died. they're the only one who is actually older than Bell. They're undying because they're a hive mind of all the mushroomo, who have been progressively growing. They can see everything the others see, can spout new bodies when needed and even feed on their own dead bodies. Bell sometimes just kills them when they're frustrated with them or other things. They'd be a threat but they're very monotone and emotionless about pretty much everything and don't care. They've worked with the red crown just because death is a natural boon to fungus and keeps them alive. The orange crown is worn as a necklace.

Heres some sketches since I haven't been able to get the designs to my liking but people keep asking so :T

[bigfan-fanfic]

Good to the Last Drop (Vander x Male Reader)

"Well, well. What's a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?"

You glance over at Vander, raising an eyebrow at the joke.

"Well, I thought it was a good line." Vander chuckles. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

He holds out his arms and lets you come to him before he wraps them around you, nearly enveloping you in his chest.

"Missed me, did you?"

"Yeah," you chuckle. "Life topside sucks without you. And that was a terrible line."

"At least they let you back whenever you want, eh? So you can hear my poorly thought-out lines."

You're basically the only person who regularly uses the one poorly maintained gondola between topside and the undercity.

About three years ago, Vander cashed in a favor from a connection of his to get you admitted to the Academy in Piltover, your creativity and skill honed and forged to help the city thrive, and you both hoped, to help Zaun just as much.

Though students at the University are often held to a high standard of behavior and merit, you were able to work hard enough to find your way back.

A lengthy process involving finding and renting out an apartment-workspace with the help of a sponsor so you no longer had to deal with curfews

and eventually being able to comfortably ride down to Zaun to see your friends and family.

Vander has been good to you - the Hound of the Underground is much like a father to everyone who calls themselves a member of Zaun.

But you hope he still sees you as more.

You never had the courage to tell him how you felt.

You were too young, too inexperience, too green - how could he ever love someone like you, you thought?

You sigh softly in Vander's arms and he puts you at arm's length, though his big hands still hold your shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Some of those kids called me a Piltie on my way here." You chuckle wryly. "I didn't realizing I was losing that undercity edge."

Your hair, once shaved and wild like the young punk you were, now grows out, healthier than ever now that you spend less time in the toxic smog of Zaun, and all traces of the wild neon dyes are gone.

Vander runs a hand through your hair, the gentle tug not doing anything to help your focus, and gives a low hum.

"Screw em. You can take the man out of the undercity..."

He pulls you behind the bar. "Here, make yourself whatever you want."

"Really? You're putting me to work on my vacation?" you joke.

"Smart mouth." Vander teases back. "I don't want you leaving my sight. I'm claimin' all the rest of your time down here. Let me just settle up and then I'm yours."

You make yourself a juice - it's nostalgic and has that sweet tang you can't seem to find in Piltover - and watch Vander as he proudly mentions to some patrons that you're back.

It's clear he never once forgot you. Always kept you close.

And you love him for it.

Damn... you love him.

Some tipsy punk, swaggering all over the bar, eyes you up and leans against the counter, balancing precariously on his elbow. "Hey, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?"

Before you can giggle at the idea of having two different men say that to you, a massive hand swipes the elbow off the table, and the drunk punk's face slams into the bar and he slumps out of sight.

"Sorry about that. I don't allow terrible pick-up lines in my bar." Vander smirks.

He's imposing and big and terribly close to you right now, protective and strong...

But you can only think about one thing.

"So, that was a pick up line, then?"

He looks at you, an unspoken hesitation. The age difference, the living in practically separate worlds, his affection for you separate from attraction.

But then he hears the old song playing on the jukebox. An old favorite.

Hesitation gone, he holds out a hand.

"How about a dance?" he winks. "I'd hate for you to think I didn't have any romance in me."

"I know you do. At least... I'd like to."

And as you lean your head against his chest as you two slow dance together in the Last Drop, you hear his words, soft and hopeful.

"I'd like that too."