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the-kr8tor · 9 months

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Birthday Blues

Twin AU

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Synopsis: It's the twin's first birthday!

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, talks of having children, Domestic life, cw food mentions, Billie and Ramona AU, FLUFF.

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Hobie stands precariously on the back of the dinner table with the balance of an acrobat, his arms stretched up to hook the last birthday banners of his girls.

The one downside of having twins is that you have to have two of everything, two cakes, two names on the birthday banners, two presents, two pretty and sparkly dresses that with their best baby babbling, they chose. And the rest are all upsides, Billie and Ramona are growing so well, hitting all their milestones early; all giggly and wobbling their way across the flat. They're overall a very happy and pudgy babies, you and Hobie wouldn't have it any other way.

As the clock strikes twelve, Hobie checks everything, from the utensils to the birthday candles. He doesn't usually mind things to not be perfect and polished, but this time he'd want it to be, for his girls. He wants the twins to have an entire album full of good memories they can look at when they're both old so they would know that they were loved from the very start.

He walks in measured steps, too used to weaving around discarded toys even though the floor is free from clutter. Entering the girls' room, Hobie expects a tornado of clothes, towels, hair accessories left on the floor and his daughters still not in their birthday frock. Instead, he finds his three girls all done up and pretty, the room clean from mess, saved for a few toys the toddlers are currently playing with.

Hobie grins at them in the doorway. With some sort of spider sense, they both look at him simultaneously, their smiles getting wider and wider while waddling their way to their dad.

Billie has iridescent butterflies in her curls that's for sure won't be all complete by the end of the party. Ramona (per her request) is wearing a shiny tiara on top of her head, her hair is in adorable braids. Their dresses are all colorful and different from each other's, with laces and bows adorning the frilly fabrics.

“Da!” Billie screeches like she hasn't seen Hobie in forever, she climbs down from your lap, her arms spread ahead of her to grasp at him.

“Egg!” Hobie greets back.

She reaches Hobie’s legs first, enveloping herself around his leg. She looks like the cutest koala. Hobie takes her in his arms before she creases her dress while nuzzling his leg like usual and in turn ruins the handiwork you've done to her hair. He groans in the most dad way, bouncing her slightly while he waits for Ramona to make her way towards Hobie.

“C’mon, little potato. You can do it” he taps his leg to encourage her to walk towards him whilst Billie tries her best to tug at his wicks while it's in a ponytail. She practically worms her way up to his shoulder, Hobie of course anticipated this, so he already has his hand securely on her back, the sequins of her dress scratching his palms a bit.

Ramona babbles frustratingly but her face is determined. She finally reaches her dad, in her triumph and excitement, she climbs up his jeans, reminiscent of the days when Mayday used to do it when she was their age. Hobie helps her up with his hand holding her dress.

“There you go! Good job, muffin” Hobie tucks her in his arm, she wiggles excitedly in his hold. “Now, where's my second favourite girl?”

You hold up your hand, “Here!”

He enters the room fully, finding you sitting criss crossed on the carpet. Your back is turned so he can't see what has your attention that's more important than seeing the most adorable sight ever that you've definitely haven't seen before (you definitely have)

“Love, what are you doin'?” Hobie dodges Billie's little leg kick to reach his ponytail. Ramona pulls a frayed thread on his well worn shirt, continuing to pull it out with the intention to see the end of it. He feels his collar getting cinched by the second.

You finally look over your shoulder, eyes shimmering the second you take in the sight. There's glitter on your eyelids, cherry lip balm shiny on your smiling lips. He can't believe after all these years of being together, you still take his breath away. He's completely dead the moment you set your pretty eyes on him.

“Just something I wanna do with the girls before the party.”

Hobie makes his way to you, arms full of squirming toddlers who're already bored out of their mind. He sits down behind you and immediately the twins disperse out of his grasp to continue ravaging their toy box.

He lays his head on your shoulder like always, briefly poking you with his chin intentionally. Hobie glances at Ramona who helps Billie up on her bed to grab her blanky. Seeing them alright, he looks at the things you've laid out in front of you.

There's a book about Greek mythology that he remembers you used to read to the girls while you were still pregnant with them. A plain pen lies next to it, on its left is a calculator you've dug out from somewhere, spare change lies haphazardly sitting next to an orange. And lastly Hobie's spare webshooter and a toy stethoscope. What a weird combination of things, he thinks.

“So who's the first?” You ask, craning your neck to look at Hobie, you kiss his temple, unable to stop yourself.

“First?”

“You said I was your second favourite girl” you raise an eyebrow, challenging him to say another name.

“Our girls,” Hobie says matter-of-fact like it's the most obvious thing “Billie and Mona” he says it like he's reminding you the names of your own children.

“I would say ‘that’s so sweet, my love’ but you said it with a tone so what I'm gonna say is: second really?”

“Love” he sighs, not in an exasperated way but with endearment, knowing that this is one of your teasing ploys. “I would take a bullet for you, but after having those two I'm gonna stand behind you so I could save our babies” Hobie says the entire sentence trying to hold in his laugh.

You bonk him upside the head but your grin betrays your true feelings. Holding his cheeks, you squeeze his face, making the fakest angry face ever. He's glad your reaction to his teasing hasn't changed one bit since having the girls.

“Tell me again why I fell for you?” You still hold his face tenderly. In the background, you see Billie pulling her sister's leg which in turn makes Mona take the blanket from her sister to fling it towards Billie's face. They're definitely Hobie's girls, no need for a DNA test.

“Because I'm incredibly fit” he escapes your hold to lean closer to your face, kissing the corner of your lips. “Funny,” kiss “smart,” smooch “and you thought ‘huh? Hobie and I would make such cute babies together’” you giggle at the last bit. “And you were right, lovie.” Finally he finishes off his barrage of kisses with one last kiss on your forehead.

“I've never said that, but we did make the cutest babies” you coo, letting your head fall on his shoulder, flicking your eyes back to Hobie's carbon copies.

“Makes you want one more, eh?” Hobie shrugs his shoulder where you've made a home for yourself, his smirk prominent even though you only see half of his chiseled face.

“Ask me again after five years,” you whisper.

He chuckles, the sound captures the twin's attention. Their faces are curious as to why you're having fun without them. Mona pouts while Billie makes her way down the bed, her little legs dangling to reach the floor. You laugh, tapping Hobie's thigh, your way of saying ‘we’ll discuss this later’ standing up to pick your girls up or else they'll be moody all day– you don't want that especially when it's their birthday.

“What're these things?” Hobie rolls the orange in between his hands.

Mona gurgles in your arm while Billie holds your hand as you guide her towards the things you've laid out. Your posture is weird, your knees are slightly bent while your back is leaning towards Billie to accommodate her small height. Add it with Mona’s weight, you're definitely gonna need a chiropractor.

“Oh MJ told me about them” Reaching Hobie, Billie immediately sits on her father's lap, lounging like nobody's business, taking the orange from him, biting it with her baby teeth.

Sitting down with Mona in your arms, she looks up at you like how she looks at her favourite food. “She said it's an Asian tradition where parents lay out things for the baby to grab to see a glimpse of what they'd become in the future.” you take the orange from Billie before she punctures it and drips juice all over her dress. “Cute, right?”

“So if they pick the book they'll be smart, or if they choose the webshooter they'll be like me, that it?”

“Mm-hmm, basically, yeah” you place the orange back to the lineup, shaping the collection of things into a circle while juggling Mona who tries to reach your butterfly earrings. “I know it’s not a definite thing to determine what they'll be in the future, it's just something fun to do while they're still little babies. Also I know we'll support them whatever they want to do so this is just a bit of fun for us”

He hums, “Yeah, I see it. You're missing something though” Hobie hands you Billie who laughs once she gets a full face of your blouse. He goes off to somewhere, you hear rustling down the hall.

“Where did daddy go?” You do your baby voice, cooing at Billie and Ramona. They both have wide eyes then after a second of them understanding your question, they look around for Hobie. “Ooh where is he, huh? Where's he hiding? Can you say dada?”

“Uh!” Mona kicks your stomach while Billie is in near tears when she can't see her dad.

You feign surprise, gasping “There he is! Look!”

Hobie makes himself big in the doorway, arms flailing about while making a growling noise. Legs trotting inside. The twins simultaneously reach towards him on instinct.

“I'm not dad, I'm the goblin that eats children!” He scoops them both up effortlessly, pretending to take bites on their little heads. They squeal in delight, the sound makes your heart increase in size. “It's in my back pocket, lovie” Hobie turns around, continuing to chomp at his girls.

“Drumsticks! Good call” you add it to the collection. “Alright, now give me your spawns” holding your arm up, it was a battle trying to get them to latch off Hobie.

“Mum needs you two to do somethin' for her, yeah?” Hobie holds Mona at arms length while Billie squirms in your hold. Mona tilts her head cutely, eyes curious like she's trying to comprehend her dad's words. “Yeah, you understand”

Hobie joins you on the floor, he puts Mona inside the circle, while you do the same with Billie. They sit on their bums, looking at you and Hobie with wide eyes. Billie sucks on her thumb like she's incredibly bored, while Mona continues to babble, staring directly at you and Hobie, looking like she's having a conversation with her parents.

“Now what?” Hobie leans slightly forward, the anticipation is killing him.

“I guess we just wait?”

“What did Mayday choose?” his eyes never leave the girls who surprisingly sits obediently. Maybe he can use the circle method when he needs them to stay put.

“Peter’s webshooters–look!” you excitedly say as Billie reaches for the drumsticks. Hobie holds your hand, observing his daughter like he's watching his favourite band play.

Billie stops halfway, she looks at Ramona who instinctively stares back. They both giggle simultaneously like they're having some sort of twin telepathy. In a surprising turn of events, Billie hugs her sister, heaving her up to her feet whilst Mona balls her tiny fists to hold on to Billie. They saunter out of the circle, holding onto each other.

“Oh my–Hobie” your eyes are full of tears, leaning on his side, squeezing his hand affectionately. You feel like your heart will burst out of your chest from cuteness. Your love for your daughters have reached infinite numbers.

For the first time since Hobie first saw his girls bundled up in your arms– he's speechless. He could only turn to you to hug your sobbing form. He kisses the top of your head, his eyes watching his girls twirl around, laughing the entire time.

“They chose each other!” your happy tears soak Hobie's shirt, he rubs your back, feeling heat behind his eyes.

“It's too early to say but I think we're doing good” he softly says, “they'll be great, I know it.”

The doorbell rings, interrupting your cry fest. Hobie cups your face, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “Let's get the party started, yeah?” He kisses each of your eyelids for good measure.

You hear Mayday's muffled voice yelling out the twin's names.

—

After all the cake and food have been devoured, presents hastily opened by the birthday girls, you clean up all the sparkly gift wrappers by your feet. You run the dishes under the faucet since you're too tired to wash it right now. Looking up at all the decorations Hobie put up, the frilly streamers, the rainbow balloons that he painstakingly blew up on his own and the party favours you two stayed up all night to make, you find that you can't stop smiling, eternally grateful for him. Your eyes start to water once again while recalling the recent memory of the party.

Tiptoeing to the girls' room, you see Hobie sitting on the rocking chair, his shirt cinched at the hem where one of the girls pulled a thread throughout the day. His pants still have the pink icing stain on his hip, there's a piece of streamer stuck to his hair, yet you've never seen a more handsome sight.

“Come ‘ere often?” He whispers, the story book in his hand lying half open.

“Occasionally” You whisper back, smirk playing on your lips.

You enter the room quietly, stopping by Mona's crib. You also see Billie inside, all tucked in, giraffe PJ's on. While Mona sleeps next to her sister in her turtle PJ's, gripping her blanket tightly. Leaning down, your lower back aching from the position, you kiss each of their foreheads carefully, pulling the blanket under their chins.

Wordlessly, Hobie taps his lap. You drape yourself on his lap as quietly as possible, the chair rocks softly. He puts his arm around your waist, tugging you close, placing his head on your shoulder.

“Tired?” You knead at his nape.

“I should be askin’ you that. You're not tired from all the bragging about what ‘thing one’ and ‘thing two’ did?”

“I had to, they were so adorable and made me cry. I got Pav and Pete sobbing too.” you chuckle softly.

“Out of all your nicknames for them that one is the worst one”

“I thought Microwave oven and Humidifier was the worst one?” Hobie raises your blouse slightly to cup the skin of your hip. “Or was it ratatouille and shepherd's pie?”

“Now you're just saying things. Mac and cheese was your best one by the way” you cuddle closer, eyes shutting close.

“Don't think I can top that one”

You fight a yawn. “Did they put up a fight?”

“Nah, they conked out immediately but they did protest when I placed Billie in her crib”

“I figured, they're making me tear up again” sure enough, you feel the tears pricking your eyes. “I loved what you did with the decorations by the way. I couldn't find the time to say it to you earlier.”

“Thank you, lovie. You saw what I did with the cupcakes?” Hobie shakes you awake.

“In the shape of your mask? Impossible to miss it, I love it all” You finally kiss him, you both taste like the sugary sweet icing. “Sorry I couldn't help you”

“It's alright, I managed. Wallace and Gromit didn't give you any trouble with their dresses?”

You hide your face on the crook of his neck to stifle your laughter. “No fuss, they like the dresses”

After a beat of silence, he traces your spine with his knuckles. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Hmm?”

“That we're doin' good, you're doin' good. And I know they'll be alright whatever they get up to in the future.” Hobie knows exactly why you did the tradition, he knows you well enough to know that you're anxious about your parenting, that it isn't right or enough, that they'll turn messed up when they grow up.

You feel another sob coming up. “You're doing good too, so good, better than anyone actually” you tell it all straight from your heart.

“Now you're just gassing me up” he kisses the space between your eyes whilst caressing your back comfortingly.

“It's true.” You lay your head on his shoulder, your fingers playing with the frayed ends of his shirt. “They love you, you're incredibly good at this whole parenting thing” your fatigue catches up to you.

“Couldn't have done it without you, my toyota corolla” you snort, weakly slapping his chest. “I think we can do a good job too on the next spawn.” even without seeing his face, you know he has a teasing grin.

“At least wait for them to learn how to talk first, damn”

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you're curious, I chose the pencil when I was a year old! Happy holidays! 🫶

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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

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azriel x eris | 2,7k words | warnings: slightly vulgar wording | masterlist

Sunlight, peaking through the looming clouds high above the Illyrian mountains, makes the snow around them glitter. Fresh, crisp air brushes their faces, fills their lungs, and cools their sweat-drenched bodies. Snow threads through the trees, the branches and needles are covered in frost. Nothing but endless white. Thick layers of endless white, a few animal trails criss-crossing here and there, but other than that there is nothing but boundless snow and calm.

Well, it would be silent, weren’t it for the cheerful hollering of a single Illyrian male.

“Yes! Brothers! Yes!” Cassian throws his hands up in the air, tramples on the ground and then continues to cheer loudly. There is a radiant grin on his lips, so bright it rivals the sun high above in the sky on a beautiful summer day. “Look at the winner! The winner who is me – Cassian!”

When he is close enough to the other two, he wraps both his arms around his brothers‘ shoulders, mindful of the wings, of course, grinning triumphantly while pulling them to him. Rhysand huffs a laugh.

“It looks like the two of you lost. It looks like my brothers are losers,” he announces in a joyful, but not one bit gleeful, voice. He is only happy. “And I won. I’m the winner!”

Cassian squeezes his brothers tightly once again as they waddle through the ankle-deep snow, their boots already fully covered in the fluffy white.

Azriel sighs with amusement, craning his neck beneath the weight of Cassian’s muscular arm.

“It was close,” Rhys grumbles, and with a grin on his lips shakes his head at his best friend. “Really close.”

Cassian laughs again, the sound so loud and rich it bounces off the Illyrian mountains around them. He is truly happy about his victory and Azriel wants nothing more than to share his best friend’s happiness, to be happy for him, but at this moment it is hard to force those feelings. Happiness is once again hard to find within him, there is a spark of light, but it is barely there and he worries it extinguishes completely one day. Like a candle you blow out.

“I don’t think it was that close,” Cassian chuckles and then addresses his brother who has been silent until then, “what do you think, Azzy?“

“It was close.” As much as he tries to sound as happy as his brother does, his voice is colder, hoarse and obviously Cassian immediately knows that something is wrong.

Rhys does too. But he doesn’t say anything. There is something between them, a cold and unspoken words that have been there since last year's solstice. Since the incident with Elain…

The general‘s body goes rigid, his arm tensing around Azriel, his hold tightening. “You alright?” Cassian asks. He knows Azriel isn’t, but what else should he have said. He wants to check in, often doing so lately. He can’t stand when his brother is hurting, his own heart aching with his brother’s sadness.

Azriel doesn’t want Cassian to worry, not when he was just so joyful. It is his day, his snowball fight victory. So he nods and cracks a little smile, wanting nothing more than for his brother‘s happiness to return. “Just sour, I didn't win.”

Cassian chuckles to that, not fully believing him, but accepting his answer for now. “Next year you‘ve got another chance.”

“I’ll beat your ass then, Cass,” Azriel tells him and the smile on his lips feels a bit more natural then.

He tells himself that he needs to focus on these moments. These moments that truly matter. Just the three of them. A few years ago, they have finally gotten Rhys back and are now lucky enough to spend the snowball fight with him again. Azriel knows he has to treasure these moments and not dwell on his sadness. He has to enjoy the small moments in his life, those that remind him of his youth with his brothers, those careless moments where nothing and no one could bother them.

“Next year I will win,” Rhys says and both Azriel and Cassian burst into laughter.

“Right, Rhysie, if you say so.” Cassian pats his shoulder, his laughter sounding in the air around them.

Azriel smiles.

Even though he tries so hard to change his mindset, to focus on this moment, on the inside he still feels cold. Maybe the warmth of the birchin will help. He just wants to be inside, melting away in the heat, the steam clouding his mind until all negative thoughts vanish.

So when moments later this is the case, he exhales a long breath and rests his head against the wooden wall behind him, sitting in a sprawl, sweat already glistening on his skin. The heat slowly crawls beneath his skin, stimulating every cell of his body, the musky scent of his surroundings making a haze appear in his mind.

Hot curls of steam and the scent of pine and cedar mixed with the smell of some essential oil wrap around Azriel like a cloak that slowly pulls him toward oblivion. He exhales slowly, and his treacherous mind allows him to entertain thoughts he never imagined he would think about. Perhaps it's the warmth of the fire that triggers such fantasies.

But he sees him, clearly, right in front of him — Eris. With a smile on his lips, and a hooded gaze. Sweat also glistens on his pale skin. Most of his body is hidden by fog, or steam, yet the upper half, his pale skin, and all the corded muscles are bare. Eris’ hair is tied back in a low ponytail, his lush lips parting with every word he says. Yet, Azriel can’t make out a single thing he says, but he doesn’t care. He only watches him and relishes in the sight that is provided to him. He looks so good, Azriel thinks, even if this is just happening in his mind.

In his fantasy, Autumn Court male nears him, smirking and then he crouches down. Azriel feels how his cock hardens, something that shouldn’t fucking happen when he is in the birchin, nude as the day he was born. He tries to shake off the thoughts, not allowing his mind to go down this path.

He tries to direct his thoughts elsewhere – to Eris’ chest (which also doesn’t help). But if he remembers correctly, Azriel has never seen Eris without a jacket or shirt, he should have no idea what his chest looks like. And actually he doesn’t! Of course, he has never seen Eris without a shirt. This is all his imagination, it is not real, this is—

“You truly think Eris cares about him?”

Azriel's eyes snap open instantly, widening as he gazes at Cassian. Fuck, haven’t his mental shields been up? He panics the slightest bit, heart beating a tang faster.

“Lucien is his brother,” Rhys answers, his head hanging low between his knees, hands crossed behind his neck.

Cauldron be blessed, Azriel thinks, Cassian was talking about Lucien and not about him.

“That doesn’t mean he cares.” Cassian shakes his head, his lower arms braced on his strong thighs, hair unbound, falling in curls over his broad and sweat-glazed shoulders.

But Rhys shakes his head, a contemplative look on his face. His eyes touch Azriel’s when he says, “I think he cares. Eris is…many things. But I know he cares about some people. He cares about Lucien. He cares about his family.”

“He‘s a dickhead, first and foremost of all,” Cassian grumbles, and Azriel feels a sudden surge of anger within him that he can’t quite place nor find a reason for.

“But I have to admit you might be right. We don’t know what Beron does to him, or any of his brothers. Or what the hell Beron does to the Lady of the Autumn Court, so I guess you might be right. With everything he has seen and been through…there might be some people he wants to protect.” Cassian swallows and brushes a few curls of hair out of his face. “On the other hand, this also makes me wary – why he doesn’t finally act and put an end to it. Doesn’t he want to finally have change in his court? Change for good I mean.”

Rhysand blows out a long breath and straightens up. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then gives his head a shake. “I know what this feels like, Cass.” Rhys brings up a hand and clears his face off the sweat. “You think that back then I had never thought of ending my father’s reign?”

The High Lord tips his head back. “As much as you hate them and want them to be gone, to put an end to it all, they are still your fathers. It is something you can’t do just like that. Something you need to prepare for. Because once it is done, you have to live with it.” He swallows thickly. “You have to live with the knowledge that you killed your own father. That your father’s blood was spilled by his own son’ hands.”

Azriel’s stomach squeezes at that. Rhys is right, he has never thought about it like that and he shouldn’t have Eris pushed like that back then. It was wrong.

Silence falls over them, each one of them probably digesting what Rhys has said.

“You believe that Beron tortures him?” Cassian asks after a moment. His shoulders are dropped, emotions Azriel can’t quite place swirling in the general’s eyes.

“I doubt there is anyone in his near surrounding he doesn’t torture."

The back of Azriel’s throat is aching, just like his jaw, grinding his teeth hard. His fingers flex and then curl toward his palms — the only possible way to keep the sudden fury somehow under control.

“He uses his,” —Cassian‘s gaze touches Azriel’s and then locks, sympathy within his brown eyes— “firepowers on Eris?”

It feels like Azriel’s whole body convulses and he needs to hold onto the bench beneath him to keep from breaking. Or…heading right for the Autumn Court, doing what Eris should have long done. Ending the High Lord of the Autumn Court’s life, making him bleed and suffer for everything he has done.

“We don’t know,” Rhys says, “and we also shouldn’t make speculations. Eris‘ business with his father is none of our concern.” He brushes his hair back. “Our concern is only Beron‘s death and the future of Prythian.”

But it isn’t, Azriel thinks. He has always thought…

Azriel shakes his head. He has no idea what he has always thought, but he has never considered that Eris might be equally afraid of fire as he himself is. Beron might torture him with fire. Eris asked about Azriel’s scars, maybe because similar scars grace his skin…

As awareness spreads, his chest tightens and starts to ache so fiercely he has to place his hand atop his heart. His throat constricts when he tries to swallow and suddenly he feels a little dizzy.

“And keeping Lucien safe,” Cassian adds.

“He will leave for the Mortal Lands tomorrow.” Rhys leans back against the wall, shoulders relaxed as if he is talking about the weather and not the possible danger that may be lurking in the Mortal Lands for Lucien.

“That’s safe?” Azriel asks, and turns his head to look at his brother.

Rhys shrugs a casual shoulder. “He wouldn’t change his mind. I talked to him, but he said he wanted to leave. We can’t force him to stay here, it is his decision, not ours.”

The High Lord exhales a long breath. “He is a warrior and Jurian is there as well, to fight and protect.”

“But also Vassa and you know who Vassa is connected to.” Honest worry rings in Cassian’s voice, his chest heaving with deep inhales.

Rhys only gives his head a little shake. “As I said before: he wants to leave and we can’t force him to stay here. It's Lucien's decision, not ours. In his life, many decisions have been taken from him. We have to allow him his freedom now.” The discussion is over for Rhys, that is clear.

“Lucien is a grown-up fae male, powerful and strong, if he considers going to the Mortal Lands right, then we should listen to him.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Your brother?” The female’s voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper.

With a somber expression, Eris tilts his chin downward. “They talked about him in the meeting earlier. I need you to keep an eye on the lord now.”

“Lord Karbaron?” Cenka turns her big brown eyes to the heir of the Autumn Court who is towering over the small female. Her shoulders are slouched, her lower lip pouted the slightest bit while she is nibbling on it.

Cenke is his only spy. The only loyal person he has in this court, safe for his mother and maybe one or the other of his brothers. She is young, and in all honesty, Eris doesn’t really know where she comes from. He barely knows anything about her, only that she is loyal to him and that he can trust her – she has proven that over and over again.

Her long auburn hair is tied back into a tight braid that reaches down to her hips where there is a belt with many daggers. Daggers Eris has provided her with after hours and hours of secret training, preparing her for any kind of danger that she could possibly face in the future.

Slowly Eris dips his chin. He knows Lord Karbaron. He has been his father‘s closest advisor for centuries. Whatever the High Lord does, the Lord knows about.

“I need you to follow him. And bring me all the information you can get. I know he knows more than we think, more than anyone else in this court does.”

“More than you do?”

A cold chuckle leaves Eris. “Most definitely.”

Cenka dips her pale chin, fingers threaded in front of her body. Eris reaches forward to touch her – something he never does– and his broad hand fully grasps her small, bony shoulder. “I have faith in you. I know you can do this, Lady Cenka.”

She nods, purses her lips and determination fills her dark brown eyes. “I‘ll try my very best, Lord Eris. For a better future." She smiles, her whole face lighting up and in the next moment she is gone, the only hint of her former presence in his office the now open window she slipped out of.

Eris keeps his gaze on the window, a contemplative look passing over his face. He brings up his hand, rubs his palm over his chin and draws in a deep inhale. The long curtains, moving due to the breeze blowing in through the window, brush his shins, his eyes now focused on the rain drops, lazily falling from the sky.

He knows he can trust Cenka, she would never betray him. Not like his brothers. He can’t trust them. As much as he wants to, he can’t bring himself to fully trust them…but he will try.

Eris turns away from the window and finally closes it, his hands cold. He flexes his fingers when a kernel of remorse and worry takes root in his chest. What if Beron finds out about her, what if he finds her, what if—

He won‘t! There is no way Beron will find out that he also has a spy now. Cenka is brilliant at her job, almost like a shadow wrath, no one will catch her.

Afterall, she is not…a giant, idiotic bat that easily gets caught…

Which reminds him that he has a letter to send. Not only one actually, but a few. So, turning from the window, Eris stalks to his desk, pulls back the old oak chair and sits down.

Using a pen that once was a present from his mother, he starts to write – only a few cryptic words that the recipients will understand, but not Beron (if the letters should land in his hands) and then he sends off the letters and hope comes alive within his chest.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#acotar #acosf #azriel #azriel x eris #azris #eris vanserra #eris x azriel

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nyxwritesstuff19 · 11 months

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Things People Say

“Bollocks.” Crowley cursed under his breath, searching his pockets again. He could very well miracle up another, but he had that specific bag specifically miracled almost twenty minutes ago to feed these specific ducks specifically and his brain had said specific too many times it was developing a lisp to his own ears.

A duck quacked loudly at his feet and he narrowed his eyes at it. “In case it escaped your birdbrain, I don’t have any bloody food.”

The duck only glared back at him and he engaged in the stare down until quiet giggles caught his attention. He turned to bright eyes sparkling with amusement. They were sat on the ground with a blanket rumpled up beneath them and a flock of ducks all nesting themselves in the wrinkles and pecking at the fabric.

“I don’t think they speak English, I’m afraid.” they said, grinning. “You can sit if you want, though.”

Crowley glanced over them consideringly before eyeing their little set up. It was difficult to maintain his swaying hips picking through the hoard of birds but he made it to a clear spot beside them, sitting with a soft huff.

Nearer now, he spied the small green peas where he thought the ducks had been pulling at the blanket and smiled to himself.

“You don’t feed ‘em bread either?” he asked casually, relaxing back under the weak sunshine.

They shook their head, showing off the bag of peas in their hand. “This is better for them. They seem to like it too, which is a bonus.”

“Why can’t ducks eat bread?” He wondered, watching another one waddling up to join them.

They let him take some peas to feed it, humming consideringly before they answered. “Apparently, it’s about nutrition. There isn’t much in bread they benefit from, and it fills them up so they don’t eat the good stuff.” They scrunched their brows, looking up at the sky while they thought over their words. “It’s kind of like how you fill a cup full of ping pong balls and then sand. If you put the sand in first, you won’t get as many ping pong balls in. They need their ping pong balls first and their sand afterwards- if they still want it.”

“Sand and ping pong balls? That’s a new one.” he smirked, amused.

They flushed and shrugged their shoulders. “Weird, I know.”

“Makes sense at least.” Crowley said, giving the ducks another round of peas. “Beats half the sayings humans have come up with over the years.”

“They’ve all changed so much, though. And people don’t even remember the original saying, twisting it to fit them instead.” They commented, ignoring Crowley's wince at the slip up. “Like that whole ‘blood is thicker than water’ schtick.”

“That’s not the original?” He asked, furrowing his brow. He’d heard it over the millennia but he couldn’t pinpoint an origin.

They nodded, shifting to face him better where they sat criss cross. “The original was ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ meaning the complete opposite of what people use it for today.”

Crowley hummed thoughtfully, glancing back over to them, “You know any others? The original ones I mean.”

“Yeah, a few. Like ‘Jack of all trades but master of none.’ also has ‘but better than master of one’.” They continued only to smile down at a little duck insistently asking for some pets. “Another one would be curiosity killed the cat, it’s more commonly known that satisfaction brought it back. And ‘early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.’”

“Bit morbid.” Crowley mused, scrunching his nose.

Another giggle escaped their lips and his gaze was drawn back to their face, eyes pinched in the corners from their smile.

“Maybe a bit, but it’s still technically true.” They conceded.

Crowley smiled and their conversation continued with ease.

Hours stretched, ducks came and went, and they both only thought to come back down to Earth when the peas were all gone and the ducks had all waddled back to the water.

“Guess we should go.” They murmured, fiddling with a fold of the blanket.

Crowley made a noise of agreement, trying not to acknowledge the fact he wasn’t at all prepared to let them go and lose their company.

“Will you be back here, by any chance?” He asked quietly, almost hoping they hadn’t heard it as he helped them fold up the blanket.

They flashed him a small smile, hugging the plush square to their chest. “Yeah, I can be.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps?” Crowley grinned hopefully.

“Tomorrow.” They agreed, reaching out and giving his bicep a warm squeeze before they slipped past.

Crowley looked out over the pond, emotions swirling and fluttering in his chest, making his lips smile wide and already yearning for tomorrow to get to him already.

#fanfic #good omens #crowley x reader #reader insert #ducks #crowley good omens #crowley loves ducks

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my-moo-moo · 2 years

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more to grow (chapter 2/4)

When her due date had gone and passed without progression, she started to get a little worried. It wasn’t that she was impatient to get them out. She loved every inch of her belly even despite the aching pain of her spine and ankles. She was dreading losing this voluminous body of hers for sure. She was, however, afraid that she might really be pushing out two 11 pound babies out of her vagina if she was going to grow them any longer. She didn’t want a c-section because she was deathly afraid of going under knives. Both her boyfriend and her doctor were on the same page about that note.

That was why she cornered her boyfriend the night before she turned 42 weeks pregnant. “Fuck me like you mean it,” she threatened, crossing her hands over her chest.

“Baby… haven’t I been doing that all this time?”

“It clearly wasn’t good enough,” she huffed, waving over the ever present mass hidden poorly under her silk robes. The floral fabric curtained both sides of her protruding bump like it was the grand present on a Christmas morning. “You’ll fuck me into I go into labour. No exceptions.”

“You’ll regret saying that,” he growled, ripping her robes off her shoulders. The silk fell to the floor, revealing the brand set of red lace lingerie she bought for her new double D breasts. It had taken one week to arrive and by the time tried it on today her breasts were already spilling over the cups. He practically drooled at the sight, exactly like she had planned.

He swept her off her feet into his arms with ease like she hadn’t gained 90 pounds. He carried her to their bedroom and plopped her down on their mattress, pushing her face down so her ass perked up into the air.

His large calloused palm spanked the flesh poking out from the criss crossing harnesses of her garter. It jiggled like a soufflé pancake and she almost teared out for pure pride. She grew that all by herself. People paid big money for BBLs to get a butt like hers, but her’s is all natural. He moved her thong to the side and plunged his large member down to the hilt without warning.

Her back arched in response to the shock. “Yes, that’s it.”

Balls slapped against her juicy ass and heavy belly against her thighs. Her babies were squirming and jostling inside at the disruption to their home. She felt a sharp kick to her diaphragm causing her to gasp out loud. She couldn’t complain, because that meant they were head down. She hoped they were getting into position to get out.

Her boyfriend continued to slam his large dick deeper and deeper into her vagina at a relentless pace. Pain mixed with pleasure and her mind floated away to the heavens. Her entire lower half felt like it was on fire. She couldn’t even tell where the sharp pain originated from until she realized her pussy was pulsing against nothingness. She whined at the loss of contact. She was so close to reaching her peak.

Axel had pulled out and said, “Mina darling. I think your water broke.”

She lifted her woozy head around to see a darkened spot in the sheets. They finally did it.

He was already messaging her doctor. And within seconds he was carrying her to the car. “Doctor Jones said we need to get to the hospital immediately. There can be many complications with twin deliveries.”

Now that she wasn’t high from pleasure, she could feel the contractions’ real strength coursing through her abdomen. Her contractions were only minutes apart. Without checking down there, she had a feeling she was dialating very quickly. By the time they got to the hospital, she felt one of her babies’ heads heavy right against her cervix as she waddled to the front desk.

With how ripe she looked, she was able to bypass the waiting room. The moment the nurses saw her, they wheeled her into an examination room, separating her from her poor confused boyfriend. That wasn’t the biggest concern on her mind though. All she wanted was to get her babies out, but there seemed to be a delay in getting her to her delivery suite. The medical professionals around her kept talking and talking. All the while, her belly kept twisting and squeezing with increasing force. They told her not to push yet, and she obeyed despite the terribly instinctual urge to do so. However, she couldn’t help that the baby itself was pushing at her cervix against her will.

Finally, her primary physician, Doctor Jones entered her room and she was wheeled to another room that she recognized for ultrasounds. “We need to have a quick ultrasound to check the positioning of your babies before we proceed,” she explained.

Mina grinded her teeth and nodded. She wasn’t one to object against authority figures who probably knew better. Time dragged on as she swiped the ultrasound wand across and back around her belly. It felt like she was taking her dandy time while she was wincing at each increasingly intense wave of contractions. She understood that the surface area was quite large, but it shouldn’t be taking that long! Her baby wasn’t going to wait for anyone.

Doctor Jones looked solemn yet perplexed watching the screen. She pursed her lips before announcing, “Hold on. I need to consult my colleagues on a matter.

“No!” she screamed. “Don’t leave me. The baby— I feel them— they’re coming!”

“Do not push, Mina,” the doctor commanded. She turned to the nurses and said, “Hold her legs shut.”

She groaned loudly as the nurses forced her legs closed, completely against what Mother Nature was telling her to do. The large baby head now felt even more cramped up against her constricted walls. The only thing she could do was grip the bed railings tight and watch her belly physically constrict into a tight cone shape and relax rhythmically. Her moans dragged out with each pain-wracking contraction.

Mina doesn’t know how long it has been, but every second dragged forever. Her bound legs were not completely stopping the baby from descending. The baby is so low now. It felt like her hips were being torn apart. Every fibre of her body was telling her to push and it was getting harder to ignore it. Release from the pressure would feel so good. Finally cracking from the insurmountable pain, she flailed her arms about trying to push the nurses away. “Ennngh. I need— I need to. So much pain.”

At this moment, Doctor Jones strided back over her bedside to pin her back down to the bed. “I said stop!” Mina’s arms scrambled against her, but she was too weak to fight back.

“Nurses, hold the patient down,” she ordered and two nurses moved their hands to hold her down by the shoulders against the bed.

The doctor spread her legs apart and the baby’s head practically slipped down her canal. Mina audibly moans, feeling the sweet relief of pressure at last. Without even pushing, her baby’s head was already halfway out her puffy lips. Their eyes were peeking back at the doctor. “Congratulations Ms. Park. Your baby is beautiful. They’re big, strong, and healthy… but you won’t be meeting them today.”

“What??” she asked aghast. Her answer came when she felt the head being forced back into her vagina. Doctor Jones had her palm on her baby’s head and was pushing them back into her. “What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked wildly.

“Ms. Park. Please trust me as a trained doctor. This is the only option.” Mina screamed like she never had before. If crowning was painful, the feeling of her baby’s large head squeezing back through her narrow birth canal was many times worse. “If you relax a little, this process would be less painful,” the doctor tsked.

Another wave of contractions swept through, her womb squeezing to push the baby out the direction it was meant to. Doctor Jones furrowed her brows and put more pressure on her end. Mina felt her baby thrashing wildly within her, caught between this tug of war. Pressure, she felt pressure from so many angles. She screamed bloody murder as her entire lower half of her body was on fire.

With her limbs restrained, she could only lay in horror as the doctor’s fist slowly disappeared into her vagina. Doctor Jones leans her entire body weight into it and finally, the head popped back into her womb. Her thoroughly abused cervix continued to throb in the wake of events.

Her belly felt full and taut again. Yet the doctor continued pushing until the baby was deep in the far back of her uterus. The baby gave a strong protesting kick to her diaphragm that knocked the breath out of her. She then stuck both of her hands in there to perfect the positioning before pulling away.

Mina was at a loss of words after all the screaming. Screaming would not even come close to conveying the agony she went through. She could only lay panting and feel the aftermath of every single violation that was done to her— no pain medication at all. The doctor washed her hands that were sticky with all the membranes and fluid that expelled from her. Another nurse entered the room with a cart of supplies and IV drips.

“We have to make sure you don’t go into premature labour again.”

Premature? Mina would’ve scoffed if she had the energy. Her babies were two weeks overdue and were likely at least 10 pounds each.

The nurses worked together to attach her with a multitude of tubes while the doctor returned her attention to her swollen lips down south. She couldn’t see what was happening past the mountain of belly obscuring her sight. All she felt was piercing stabs deep in her canal before she passed out from the craziness that happened to her that night.

#birth kink #labour kink #pregnancy kink #pregnancy fic #birth denial #multiples #my fic

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newshuntermag · 2 years

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Criss Waddle Goes After King Promise And R2Bees For Failing To Attend His AMG Connect Concert

Ghanaian musician and businessman, Criss Waddle, has gone after King Promise and R2Bees for failing to attend his ‘AMG Connect Concert’. He registered his displeasure in a series of posts on Snapchat. While King Promise and R2Bees performed at Gyakie’s concert, he was unhappy they did not show up at his. Waddle revealed he has been helping R2Bees for about 20 years, but they have disappointed…

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#AMG Connect Concert #Criss Waddle #Entertainment #King Promise #R2Bees

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darkseraphscorner · 2 months

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Seraph stood alone in his forge, stripped to the waist as he took a deep breath, what he was about to do was something unholy, a taint in the glory of heaven. His second in command Shrugs stood by the door, baring entry... But he knew some one would come for this, demanding answers.

Slowly he made his way to one of the battles Lilith gifted him, opening it and looking in at the obsidian like ore, hell steel. Gritting his teeth, he reached in and grabbed the first bar, his skin itching at the mear contact with so unholy an alloy, taking it to the forge, he placed it upon the bubbling magma, watching the dirk bar slowly heat.

He did not know if any angel of heaven had ever worked such material before, there where so many unknowns, smelting heat, temperament, flexibility.... This would be a learning experience.

As the bar went from red, to orange, yellow and finally white, he grabbed some tings and took it out of the forge, laying it on his anvil and bringing his hammer down. It felt oddly yielding, like flesh before each blow of his heavy hammer, but its shape seemed to twist, as if resisting his efforts to craft it.

Calling on his Devine blood, he hammered and worked it, minutes stretching into hours, what felt like days even, but he worked hard, unending to forge Lilith her new war plate. As he worked the metal took on a purple hue, as if mimicking it's future masters skin, but still he worked, ignoring the strain it put on his body to wrestle it into shape, gold blood flowed freely from his nose, but the dark metal seemed to drink it up.

Eventually, he staggers back and collapsed, he felt drained, as if he had been wrung out... But it was done, the dark suit sat on its wrack, awaiting it's mistress... He had done it. Looking down at his hands, he had not noticed the cuts the dark armour had made on his flesh, thin lines of gold criss crossed his hands.... He prayed never to work such a matureal again as he got to his feet and made it to the door.

Pushing it open, he smiled weakly at Argus. "Send word, it is done.... I will be in my quarters if she wishes to see me."

The looming angel nodded and quickly left as Seraph staggered up to his quarters, not caring about the blood he was dripping or the soot clinging to his skin, he waddled over to his bed and collapsed, a weak smile on his face.

@hells-sirenqueen

#unholy crusade

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odysseywritings · 2 months

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@flashfictionfridayofficial

youtube

The spider clock with its eight hands were almost in sync as Xizzle anticipated the most famous, intellectual, and pivotal whatershed of music: Kiss! The band from a tiny backwater planet was about to play in a momentous concert and Xizzle had to time everything perfectly for the light year jump or he could be off for days, even longer if his calculations were off by a random integer.

The two foot tall weevil looking creature waddled up to his scorpion shaped spaceship, the stinger rotating until the self replicating energy gave enough fuel, and he warped across the universe at a breezy speed.

In the midst of black space and white stars going past like parallax scenery, he pulled the breaks after seeing the puzzle in front of him with an impromptu asteroid field collected debris from a green and pink UFO of spilled psychedelic material. With time on the line and nary a different route, Xizzle used the ship's pincers to avoid the giant rocks and put together the trippy junkpile in a jigsaw puzzle of connecting parts. Satisfied with the result of a space van, he chucked it aside and traveled through the galactic highway to earth.

Vrenf o'clock, he had to rock! He came closer to the Milky Way and fluttered his wings in excitement. A concert of a lifetime in his way and the blue planet coming closer as he slowed down the acceleration. His confidence changed to confusion as the planet was there but there were no humans at all. He checked the solar system's calendar and his worst fear came true: he was too late and arrived after the End.

Xizzle threw a tantrum, jumping up and down in rage over that earlier traffic jam, but it soon gave way to sadness over missing a spectacular event. The loss of humanity was also a bummer he shrugged. He paused, reflected, and accepted this tragedy and was about to dial the clock back.

"Hold it."

Xizzle heard a strange, echoing sound but he looked around to see nothing. But the sound came back and he looked behind him to see four figures.

"I see you've seen the utter demise of our mystical, magical planet," said an ethereal Paul Stanley. "Fear not, my little alien friend."

"You probably got a lot of questions," Peter Criss continued, "but I don't think your species is ready to know the secrets of humanity and 70s rock n roll."

"So let's stop talking and get out there and play to a new audience," Gene Simmons yelled with boldness.

Ace Frehley merely laughed like a rock n roll clown.

With newfound zest for music, Xizzle traveled back to his planet and brought Kiss with him, playing the farewell tour of earth and the Come in Peace Tour of this new world. The people were pleased and clamored with vibrating lubrubs.

"Are you ready to rock, people of Gylfrinax!"

The weevil aliens rejoiced in this up close concert, Mozarts and Bachs to them all, and we're proud to have these giants play radio friendly pop rock songs. Time waits for no man. But for Xizzle, it brought a pleasant gift.

#writeblr #sci fi #comedy #creative fiction #kiss #mywriting #njm

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hearts4namra · 2 years

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okay this is more recent but i wrote it pre-gekko release based off leaks because i was excited to write a spanish speaking reader :3 don’t mind if it seems rushed or if gekko is a bit ooc. i only went back in to fill in the names of wingman and mateo.

fluff/minor character death (they’re watching all of us are dead)

SOMEONE TEACH ME HOW TO ADD A CONTINUE READING BAR 😭😭

there wasn’t much to do around the headquarters today.

usually you spent your time helping the tinkerers with their inventions, slaving away over killjoys lab table or convincing cypher to let you into his own so you could get a peek at his tech. today was a break day, however, and while you doubted it stopped anyone from working, you were pretty down to sit in your room and chill the whole day.

you blew up neons phone for a bit but came to the conclusion she was sleeping in, and eventually settled for watching youtube on your phone until you got the energy to get up and queue some league with the girls. (kj and raze, of course.) however your lazy plans were thwarted by a knock at your door, you groaned at the prospect of putting on pants and called to the door, praying it was someone you could remain indecent in-front of.

“who is it?”

“delivery-man!”

you smiled softly at the sound of mateos voice, beckoning him into the room.

“come in, then! why’d you even knock?” he opened the door and raised a teasing eyebrow at you. “you got something going on with the delivery man?” he closed it behind wings, who waddled in with a few quacks as he carried two takeout trays above his head. “how can i not? i mean, look at you.” you squeezed his cheeks and he chuckled, pulling your hands away and dragging you into sitting up. “come on, let’s eat.” you yawned and stood, ignoring the tint of his face as he realized you had no pants on. you dragged him over to the couch with you and wingman hopped onto the arm of it, planting the takeout into your lap and leaning against you in favor of his owner. he received a glare in response, to which you snickered and pat wings on the head.

you passed the box on top to mateo and put yours down in your lap, sitting criss cross as he searched around for the remote. you reached in-between the couch cushions and passed it to him before patting the open space between you two. “you know i don’t bite~” he scooted closer and turned on the tv. “mentirosilla..” you snickered and popped the styrofoam box open. gasping in excitement. “empanadas! thank you, teo.” you turned to face him and he met your eyes, planting a peck on your lips as he grinned. “of course, hermosa. they’re from that chilean place you liked.” you leaned against him and pulled the empanada apart to start eating. “you’re the best.. what are we gonna watch? you brought the food, so you pick.” he leaned his head on top of yours and opened netflix.

“what about that k-drama you wanted to watch?”

“well, then it doesn’t count as you picking.”

he pinched your thigh and you swatted his hand.

“burro.. fine.”

he laughed softly and rubbed the place he pinched.

“don’t be like that, i want to watch it because you suggested it. what was it called?”

“it’s in my list, there.”

you pointed and he played the show as you finally started eating. a few episodes passed and you nearly cried only two episodes in, then a particularly sad scene played where one of your favorites died. he avoided looking at you as he felt his nose grow stuffy, tears welling in his eyes.

don’t cry in front of her, that’s embarrassing..

but when he finally spared you a glance, he noticed your hand pressed against your lips as tears streamed down your face. the main character led his infected friend out the window and you blinked, more tears falling.

“duuuddee, what the fuck??”

you complained, clearly unashamed of your tears. the episode ended and you stared at the screen astonished before looking up at him. “did you cry? this shit has me fucked up, no way you’re this stone cold.” he shook his head, smiling softly at your demeanor. it was a stupid thought, to think you’d find him uncool for crying. he should remember how cool you actually are. “yeah, i cried.” you shook your head and faced the screen as the next episode began.

“he was literally just like you i’m so pissed. he should’ve been endgame, fuck this show.” he smirked and pointed at a girl in the show crying, who had been particularly useless the entire time. “she reminds me of you.” you smacked his arm and pushed off of him, waking up poor wingman who cuddled into your side. “mentiroso! that’s not even funny, fuck you!” he laughed and rubbed his arm dramatically. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. you’re more like the class prez.”

“i am not that cool, but yeah i see it.” you nudged his arm with a teasing look. “hey, she’s hot right?” he blushed and pushed you playfully. “don’t ask me that!” you snickered and grabbed his arm, holding it in yours. “hey man, it’s fiiine, no harm in calling a pretty girl pretty.” he rolled his eyes. “she’s.. come se dice, bonita. not hermosa, though.” you turned to look up at him. “i think she’s hermosa.”

he shook his head, looking back at you.

“no, that’s you.” you blushed and pinched his arm softly. “ay! jesus..” you pecked his lips and turned to face the tv again.

“hey, i think we need to go back.”

he turned to face the tv as well, noticing now that two of the cast members were completely missing from the room and people were crying again.

“oh shit, we talked through like ten minutes of that..”

#gekko x reader #gekko valorant #valorant x you #valorant x reader #valorant fic

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