#cary agos fic

[shaynawrites23]

hi! i love the cary agos fics you wrote, and i was wondering if you could do one where he’s planning a romantic trip for his girlfriend’s birthday? thank you!

Romantic Getaway

Word count: 1033

A/N: I'm not entirely sure this is what you had in mind, and I apologize if I didn't get his character quite right in this one, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

It's not unlike Cary to have plans for your birthday. Plans with you, in any case. Every year, you tell him all you want is time with him, special time alone during which neither of you have to worry about work and you can focus completely on the other.

And every year, Cary fulfils your request.

Five birthdays. That's how many you've celebrated with him; it might have been six, if you'd met just slightly earlier than you did. If you didn't care much for birthdays before, Cary would be the one reason why you do now, with how much he dotes on you, showering you with affection every time.

Cary's always affectionate, but even more so on your birthday. The day to celebrate your existence, to remind you how much you're cared for, how much he loves that you're here and alive and that you're here with him.

Of course, you never know in advance what he has up his sleeve. The lawyer takes secrets and surprises to a whole new level, never letting you even catch a hint of what he's got planned until he's ready to reveal it, and this year is no exception. For several months now, he's had this trip planned, ensuring neither you nor him would have any work obligations for a week, and all the travel details have been arranged and double checked a dozen times over.

Only the best for his angel.

Oh, he knows you don't care, you've told him time and time again just having him on your special day is more than enough. He knows you're happy just sitting on the couch watching movies with his arms around your waist and your head tucked under his chin, where you fit so perfectly, but he still longs to make your birthdays memorable. Cary is observant, and never fails to pick up on the way your eyes light up when he tells you he's taking you out, or to pack up for a little getaway, with that bright twinkle in his warm, brown eyes that promises you a good time and plenty of kisses.

This day starts just like all birthdays do for you. Cary's arms still cradle you to him when you wake, his chest rising and falling in time with his slow breathing; it feels like safety and comfort. You know he always wants to make your birthdays about you, but as you wriggle up slightly to be able to look at your boyfriend, you can't help the soft smile on your face.

You're worth the world if it makes you smile like that, and he intends to devote the rest of his life to making you happy. Starting with tomorrow. Little do you know, he has a small black ring box in his coat pocket, and it's for you.

He looks like an angel, you always think. Gorgeous enough a man when he's awake, there's always this sense of giddy pride that fills your heart, alongside the love, when you realize once more that yours is the bed he chooses to fall asleep in, that you are the person he trusts so when he's asleep.

As though he can feel your gaze on him, he stirs, eyes fluttering open softly and then you're greeted by that warm, golden brown you adore so.

"Happy birthday, angel," he murmurs, arms reaching for you to pull you back into his embrace, and you let him, content to spend the first moments of your day together resting on his chest. "The way you're starin' at me though, I'd think it was my special day and not yours."

"Shush, and give me a birthday kiss," you demand, wriggling back up to face him, and Cary obliges with a grin. You kiss him once, twice more, just because you swear he gives the best kisses, and then you pull back to speak again. "So... did you listen to what I said this year?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Oh, but you know better. That cheeky grin, the twinkle in his eyes... he didn't. He never does.

"Do you wanna know what we're doing this year?"

How could you not? Your curiosity is piqued, and you nod. Cary gently moves you off his chest, warm hands on your shoulders, and reaches over into the drawer of his nightstand. You watch him as he does, watching the way this beautiful man moves so gracefully, and you nearly miss how he produces a clean, cream colored envelope, just like the ones he uses at work every day. As he hands it to you, though, you notice your name penciled in his handwriting in the corner; does your name always look prettier when he writes it?

"Go on, angel, open it."

You do. It's thicker than what you'd expect from a simple letter, and the first thing that falls out is tickets. Plane tickets. The cogs are turning in your head as you slip out another paper, and another... A hotel booking. Couples' massage. Spa day. A map of Paris...

You're going to Paris. With your boyfriend.

He must see the disbelief on your face, laughing softly at your expression. "Happy birthday, baby. Do you like it?"

"Yes!!" It comes out a little louder than you'd intended, but neither of you care as you fling your arms around him, pressing five kisses to his face in quick succession before Cary turns his head just right to catch your lips in a proper kiss. "I love it. You know I love traveling with you. Oh my gosh, Cary, how did you do this-"

You won't find out. Cary may love you, but he's good at keeping secrets, and the way his eyes twinkle at you, you realize he won't say. What he does tell you is, "Get your suitcase, darling, we're leaving tonight."

Tonight. Tomorrow, you'll be in France, in the oh so well known city of love, and safe to say, you're excited. Seven kisses later, you've hopped off of him to prepare, and Cary's left in bed a moment longer, gazing after you with a soft smile on his face. God, how did he get so lucky?

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl

Chapter 1

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you. Warnings: Dieter's POV, infidelity, heartbreak, some allusions to smutty thoughts but nothing extreme, pining, fluff, comfort, drug and alcohol mentions, Dieter's down bad for his best friend's wife. Words: 2,900

A/N: This was written for @punkshort's anniversary AU challenge. I received husband's best friend Dieter Bravo. I've been in the Dieter den lately, so of course I had a lot of fun writing this soft, pining side of him. The film featured in this fic, The Philadelphia Story, is one of my favorite movies ever, and I wanted to use it in this. Mike, Dex, and Tracy are all characters in the movie. FYI… the movie is free on Tubi. :)

Next Chapter

Masterlist

___

He can't do this. He absolutely cannot do this. 

“Dieter, I– can you just come over? I don’t want to be alone.” 

He has to do this. He absolutely has to do this.

Your voice is so defeated, bereft, empty. It pains him to even think of the despair you feel inside.

How fucking dare he. Fucking Warren. He wonders why he feels like he owes him his friendship, his time, his loyalty. Fuck that. Breaking your heart, leaving your bright light dim after taking everything from you. He’s sat idly by for years numbing the pain of watching his closest friend pilfer you, the girl of his dreams. 

Eight years of marriage gone in a blink of an eye just so Warren can fuck and supposedly fall in love with his brand new leggy blonde coworker. Warren’s always been good at taking what he wants. Hell, he took you away from him. Yeah, Dieter may have an Oscar… but he doesn’t have the girl. 

He drives to your house, the same home you used to share with your husband. He wishes he could trade in his mega mansion and live with you in the two story colonial made warm and inviting only under your touch. Warren liked to remind you he paid for it all, but what use is money when there’s no heart?

He locks his car and inhales a deep breath before taking the walkway to the side entrance, the one only close friends use. The fresh fragrance of the peonies that you planted all over the yard makes his heart ache even more for you as he opens the door. 

The house is quiet, save for the sound of your sniffles, a singular lamp casts the living room in a solemn umber tone. 

“Sweets?” He can’t help it, he’s called you that since the first night he met you in that Venice dive bar all those years ago. He was infatuated with you from the first time he saw you, smiling and laughing with your friends, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He introduced himself, you shouted your name back, grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. He kissed you when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. God, your lips tasted like sugar from those damn overly sweet drinks. 

Your head surfaces from the couch, the sight of you wounds him… red rimmed eyes, tear streaked face, and puffy lips. You look like hell and yet you’re more beautiful than any gorgeous actress he’s acted alongside. 

He joins you on the couch, gathering your blanket covered form in his arms trying to calm your shaking sobs with a kiss against the top of your head. He rocks you like a baby, shushing you and holding you tight. His big brown eyes blink back tears, tamping down the guilt he feels over how much he loves holding you. 

He’s never been good at these situations, he’s a great actor and can cry on command, but when it comes to consoling and emotions, he’s always easily overwhelmed. His mind races, too terrified to do wrong by you; all he can think of is your favorite movie. He grabs the remote, navigating the menu to play the film. He might forget where he puts his keys or what he has for breakfast but he always remembers everything about you. Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant battle for Katherine Hepburn’s heart. Ouch. He wishes he would have fought harder for you all those years ago.

You cuddle into his arms closer, sniffling out a soft “thank you” when the movie begins.

Tracy breaks Dex’s golf club. He hopes you’ll do the same to Warren’s once you summon the strength. 

Dieter also loves this movie, the both of you first connected over your shared love of classic cinema. You wanted to act, Warren put an end to that… he didn’t want to ‘share you’ with the world. He’s so tired of Warren’s bullshit, he’s so fucking pissed off, all of those wasted years you could have been happy alone… or with him. 

He’s so angry he could kill Warren. He reminds himself now’s not the time for vexation, settling deeper against the soft cushions, cradling and softly assuring he’s here for you. Dex walks back into Tracy’s life on the screen; he prays Warren won’t be able to do the same. He calms his anger at Warren by pretending he’s here watching a movie with his favorite girl, ignoring the reality that he’s holding your shattered heart and body, picking up the mess that his so-called “good guy” best friend made. He’ll take Warren’s mess any day.

Your bleary eyes focus on the black and white film playing on the TV. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and moves to pull his hand away. A tiny “no, stay” whimpers out of your mouth, his fingers remain. He doesn’t stop gently rubbing your soft skin through the whole movie. 

Mike professes his feelings to Tracy. “No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He feels the quote in his bones, in his heart, in every single drug and drink he’s taken trying to get you out of his head. You’re golden, Warren has left you rusted. 

It’s always been you. His marriage to Anika, he stood at the altar dreaming of you walking through that Las Vegas chapel doorway. The dissolution of those vows arriving soon after, he signed his name on the divorce papers while giddily anticipating your arrival to soothe him. His fuckboy ways he’s now so famous for, he always thinks about touching your body and hearing your moans whenever he enters whatever pretty person opens their legs for him. 

The credits roll. You sit up and stretch while he mourns the loss of your body against his.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders. 

“No,” you croak out, “I– thank you for coming over. I think this is it Dee, I can’t do this again. What did I do wrong?” Your head buries into your hands, a new batch of tears begin falling.

“No, no, no, baby, no,” he grabs your arms, wrapping his hands over yours and squeezing. “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. Warren– he’s,” he sighs, “I don’t even recognize the friend I once knew.” 

Your solemn nod and downcast eyes almost causes his heart to break and fall on the ground next to yours. 

“Sweets, he’s a fucking idiot,” he tries to stop his words from coming out, but he loses the fight. Blame it on too many years of standing to the side and watching Warren slowly take away everything you loved brick by brick. “You a–you are brilliant, funny, beautiful, caring, y-you deserve the world.”

“You just have to say that…” your voice is so small, so infantile. 

“I don’t,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from divulging more. “Trust me Sweets, I–I don’t.”

He dreams of the moment he’ll be able to tell you how he feels, how he’s always felt, how hard it’s been to watch his closest friend snuff out the light of the girl of his dreams, how he’ll never forgive himself for standing idly by while escaping in a haze of drugs and alcohol. Easy vices he found that could never mend his envious heart. 

He changes the subject, distracts you, and mostly himself, from letting his true feelings out. “Did you want to watch another movie?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I really want a bath. I feel so dry, my eyes are burning.”

He tucks down the thoughts of you in a bathtub, on normal days he’d send himself down a spiral thinking of you naked, rubbing soap across your body, humming a contented sigh and stretching out your relaxed limbs. 

“I’ll go get it ready for you,” he says, rising off the couch and heading towards the stairs.

“C-could you do it in the guest room? I-I don’t want to be in… our room alone,” your voice cracks with embarrassment.  

He turns back to you, his head falls at your request and the look of shame across your face. He strides over and kneels in front of you, gathering your hands in his and holding them tight. “Whatever you need Sweets,” he stares into your eyes, “whatever you need.”

A small smile lifts the side of your mouth, his heart thumps against his chest at the realization he made you happy. “Thank you Dee, you’re the best.”

He nods before standing up and heading for the guest room upstairs. 

Each step he takes the more his sense of duty to help and improve your terrible day blooms inside of him. He walks into the guest room, the same room he stays in when he parties too much, usually because alcohol helps him numb the want for you he holds inside. He flicks the bathroom light on, admiring everything you designed, this house is your house, he’s going to fight like hell to make sure you keep it. 

He turns the tap on making sure the water is hot enough for you before placing a towel on the stool next to the tub. He wonders where you always get the fluffiest towels from, just another layer of your softness and care for the things around you. A bottle of bath oil lays on the tub edge, he picks it up and smells the sweet scent of almond and honey before pouring a bit into the warm water. 

He turns around when he hears you walk into the bathroom. A shy smile is on your face, you’re still so beautiful even when you look utterly devastated. 

“I think it’s warm enough for you,” he says, swishing his hand in the bathwater. “Do you want the jets?”

“I’ll take care of it Dee, thanks,” you begin unbuttoning your pajama top, revealing your light pink bra. You’re so comfortable in front of him, if only you knew the way he thinks about you. Dieter swallows, and with the heaviest most unreluctant body moves around you to the doorway. He’d do anything to watch this, but not tonight. You’re too vulnerable, he can’t take advantage of his dream. 

“Just let me know if you need anything,” he offers before shutting the door, hating that he knows it’s best to be a better man.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a guilty smirk develops when he realizes it’s the same bed he’d touch himself on whenever he’d overhear your moans as Warren took the body Dieter always craved. He plays with the gold ring in his ear, he wonders if Warren’s still wearing his wedding ring.

His head perks when he hears the sound of your feet dipping into the tub, your body settling into the water, and the sigh you let out as you relax into the warm bath. He fights the lust coursing through his body, you’re naked and only ten feet away from him. 

Distract, distract, distract, he thinks to himself reaching for the remote and turning the TV on to a rerun of South Park; he turns the volume down, he just can’t fathom drowning out the sounds of your bath, he likes hearing the whoosh of water as you move. 

“Dee,” you shout from the bathroom, “I–can you get me my robe from my room? It’s hanging up behind the bathroom door.” 

“Of course,” he steadfastly gets up, “I’ll be right back.” 

The last time he was in your room was when you and Warren purchased the house, he still remembers the jealousy he felt that day; watching Warren kiss his pretty wife in his brand new picturesque house complete with the shiny white picket fence. Norman fucking Rockwell could never paint a more perfect picture of suburban paradise. 

He looks at the bed with the pretty floral quilt laid atop it… you’re probably so warm and soft to sleep next to. There’s a frame on your bedside table holding a photo of you and Warren laughing on some grand vacation he probably took you on to get back in your good graces. He wonders what it would be like to feel your head against his chest, to have you so close he could feel your laughter vibrate against him. You have all sorts of lotions and tchotchkes on your table, quite a contrast from the clean table top on Warren’s side. He can almost hear his friend’s voice complaining about all of your clutter. 

He finds your robe and brings the soft downy fabric to his nose inhaling the scent of you, this must be what an angel smells like. So sweet.

He takes one last glance at your bed and imagines seeing you asleep under the covers, leaving you in your peaceful slumber every morning and going downstairs to make you coffee. He gets lost in his fantasy while walking back to the guest room, ignoring the photos of you and Warren that hang on the walls.

He taps against the bathroom door and holds out your robe, the thought crosses his mind yet again that you’re behind the ornate white piece of wood fully naked. You crack open the door, peeking your head out, your hair is wet, he tries to shush his brain thinking about how wet the rest of your body must be. You look better, more fresh faced; a sense of pride settles inside of him that he’s helped you tonight.

“Thank you Dee,” you smile and grab the robe before closing the door. 

He settles on the bed, stretching out on the mattress and resting his back against the headboard. Nervousness rears its head for what comes next. He knows he’s going to see you soon, your relaxed body will be wrapped in your soft robe… he has to be good and resist any sort of desire. He hasn’t been good at saying no to temptation, but you’re so much more special than a joint, a drink, or a pill. 

The bathroom door opens, there you are, freshly bathed and beautiful, your legs peek out from under the fleece fabric.

He swallows when you climb on the bed and sit next to him. Your legs are smooth and shiny from your bath, his mouth waters at the sight.

“He hated cartoons,” you whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

“I like cartoons,” you say, picking at a loose piece of fleece on your robe.

“I know. Cartoons are the best,” he doesn’t know how else to respond.

Your heart might be fractured right now, but the comfortable silence that’s shared between the two of you makes his heart race as the four kids from South Park get caught in hi-jinks. You chuckle as Butters gets adopted by Paris Hilton. He loves your laugh, hearing it tonight means even more to him. 

You scoot closer to him, he tries to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathing when you place your head on his chest. You smell of that saccharine bath oil he poured, he tamps down the thoughts of how it’d taste on your skin. 

“Dieter,” your head angles up to look at him, “c-can you sleep here with me?”

“Of course baby,” stop calling her baby, “a-anything you need.” 

“I’m just… I-I’m so tired and I don’t want to–”

“You don’t have to say a thing,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. 

You yawn a “thank you,” as your eyes flutter shut against his chest. 

Fucking Warren, you’re a goddamn idiot rushes through his head. He would give everything up to feel this every night. The Oscar, the mansion, the designer clothes, the luxury cars, gone in a blink of an eye if he could feel this sensation over and over again. To protect you, to console you, to love you… He lays wide awake next to you, his arm stays wrapped around your beautiful sleeping form all night. 

He can’t imagine what the next few days, weeks, and months will be like for you, all he can do right now is hold you in this guest bedroom bed and vow to stand by your side once you wake. He wishes he would have intervened earlier, saved you from ever feeling this way, of ever thinking you weren’t worth the world. 

Soft snores escape your slightly ajar mouth, you look so peaceful and beautiful. He’s dreamt of being able to wake up to this sight every morning ever since that first night in the bar, when he should have been the one to take you home… not Warren. 

Next Chapter

[dangerpronebuddie]

Inspiration Saturday!!

Tagged by @wikiangela who is writing some adorable bucktommy fluff y'all should show some love!! 💚🩷

The photos we're getting for the next episodes have inspired a new WIP! (And my sister gave me a brilliant whump idea for the story too 😁). It also qualifies for the BTHB prompt: Severed Artery! I have the actual whump written, but I decided to share some of Buck's conversation with Helena, cause I don't know how I feel about the scene yet. Fair warning, Tommy is not portrayed in the very best light, so if you don't want to be tagged for this fic, I understand and I'll alter the taglist if need be 🥰:

“Where is Christopher?” Ramon asks before Helena could speak again. “He's at school,” Buck says. “I was planning on bringing him here as soon as he's out.” “We will get Christopher,” Helena declares. “As soon as we call the school, they'll understand.” “They already know the situation,” he assures her. “I um… called yesterday.” “You?” Helena frowns. Buck hums an affirmative. Trying to keep from falling apart while on the phone to Miss Townshend wasn’t an experience he ever wanted to go through again. “I would’ve thought Pepa would take charge,” Helena says to Ramon. “Evidently, she’s letting Buck lend a hand,” Ramon says. “Uh, actually, Eddie is letting me help,” Buck says, “has been for years.” “First I'm hearing of it,” Helena says with a challenging raise of her eyebrows. Eddie once described his mother like Katherine Hepburn's character in The Philadelphia Story. Cary Grant described her disapproving scowl as “the withering glance of the goddess.” The resemblance was uncanny. “Well, you haven't really been around,” Buck says with a wince, fighting the urge to hunch his shoulders around his ears. Tommy places a reassuring hand on his back, then squeezes the nape of his neck. “How would you know?” Helena asks. “I'm his best friend,” Buck says with a nervous chuckle. “And that gives you the right to take over while my son is incapacitated?” Buck takes a deep breath. “It does, actually.” “I beg your pardon?” She folds her arms, that withering glance never faltering. “It was Eddie's choice,” Buck says. “A few years ago, he chose me to act as Christopher's guardian should something like this happen.” "It doesn't stop us helping out," Helena persists. "I understand that," Buck says. "And I thank you for wanting to, but we have it handled." "Evan, he's their grandkid," Tommy points out.

"And he's my kid," Buck bites back with a disbelieving frown before whirling around to face the Diazes again. "I'm sorry, but Christopher stays with me."

(tags under the cut. As always, please let me know if you want to be added/ removed)

Absolutely no pressure tagging:

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @tizniz @loveyouanyway

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@inell @exhaustedpigeons @spagheddiediaz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples

@actuallyitsellie @daniwib @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6

@misshiss727 @likeamollusconarock @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@smallandalmosthonest @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

[pandorascripts]

Can we have more 241 wednesday and reader? i'm just in love with your writing and with this history <3

241 III

summary: cute stuff, also I'm sick of winter so this is a time skip into spring.

pairing: wednesday x gn!reader (could be read as fem)

note: i suggest you read at least 241 part II, I was also listening to Violent by benches and Where'd All the Time Go? by Dr. Dog when writing.

big note: I've decided to fight fire with fire, so I will now be putting my Wednesday fanfics in any and all tyler galpin and xavier thrope tags until people learn how to tag fics right.

part I, part II

What are we?

What are we?

What are we?

What are we?

You gritted your teeth together, hating how the question sounded so stupid. You shouldn’t have had to ask Wednesday what the two of you were, it should’ve been simple, really. You should just know. But you don’t, which is why on a Saturday walk in Jericho with Wednesday, you were anxiously biting your lip. The hand that wasn’t holding hers was stuffed in your pocket, chipping away at your nail polish. 

“You’re anxious, why is that?” Wednesday asked, turning her head up to you. 

You watched the rock you’d kicked seconds earlier skid and jumped across the uneven road.

“Dunno.”

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, not really minding the cool spring breeze. 

“Two months ago I made a promise. Do you remember what it conveyed?”

“Tears.”

Wednesday squeezed your hand sharply, lending you a warning look. “No, I promised I would not lie, and in turn I believe you agreed too.”

You nodded, looking down to your sneakers. 

“So, I won’t make you tell me, but I do hope you know that I want to listen. When you’re ready.”

With that, Wednesday continued walking again, you trailing closely behind her. The sounds of Wednesday’s boots hitting the ground were heavy, a juxtaposition to yours, which were softer and much lighter. You wondered if she walked heavily because Wednesday often said she’s got the responsibility of three blundering idiots on her shoulders. You failed to mention that she’s too small to cary Eugene, Enid, and you on herself. 

The walk turned silent once again, a peaceful silence. You fished out something from your pocket, sliding one in your ear as you handed the other to Wednesday. She accepted it, a light smile coating her lips. Another part of Wednesday’s apology. Since she liked to repress her emotions, which caused a lot of problems, she’d suggested the idea that she be more open, and allow emotions to show. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, scrolling through a playlist you’d made. Recently, you found out that Indie Rock was a genre Wednesday didn’t mind, so you clicked on a playlist you made previously, letting it shuffle through and selecting a song. 

Arctic Monekys, you thought, nice. 

Wednesday’s finger tips lightly bounced off your hand, going to the beat. You smiled, looking up to the sky. Green was restoring itself to the bare trees, the sky was happily blue with clouds dusting over gracefully. The wind brushed against your ears making you shiver occasionally, but you didn‘t mind. In a way, you felt like spring represented your relationship with Wednesday. In a since that you two were too welcoming old friends, feelings, and allowing them to grow and take root. Your future was, if everything continued like this, peaceful as the sky, with little disruption. The song changed to one you quite liked. It was on the slower side, and so you unconsciously slowed your walk down, breathing in thick air. Under you, your foot sloshed in a puddle created the previous day from the melting snow.

Wednesday tugged on your hand, grabbing the other and setting it on her waist. You smiled, not trying to hide your confusion. Wednesday linked her arms around your shoulder, and started swaying. Your chest felt like it might explode, your heart rapidly beating as you swayed too. 

Wednesday rested her head on your shoulder as her arms slid down to hold your biceps. “I’m sorry, you just seemed so… at peace,” she whispered. 

You grinned, also burying your head in her shoulder. As Wednesday turned to her left, you turned to your left, still swaying with the song. A shaky exhale left your lips as you sighed. Your body felt heavy as Wednesday guided you, your feet sometimes hitting hers. If she minded, she didn’t say anything. Even as the song changed, you two still stayed there, swaying in the breeze like the leaves blossoming on the trees. 

“What’re we?”

Contrary to what you were thinking, Wednesday simply continued swaying, not bothering to stop this moment. 

“I don’t know, but what I do know is that it’s up to you. I was foolish, and now I’d like to be yours again, only yours.”

You nodded into her shoulder, adjusting your grip on her so it was more of a hug. 

“I want that too,” you mumbled, sighing contently. 

Wednesday and your’s relationship was spring, it experienced droughts and tough parts, experienced rain, and muck, but most importantly, it gave joy and peacefulness. It made both of you happy as you started anew, greeting old feelings and memories, but also making room for new beginnings. You truly believed spring to be your favorite part of the year, and as you stood dancing with Wednesday under half-green trees, you felt at home.

[roselensedeyes]

Be still, my foolish heart - part one

Pairing: elriel, elain x azriel

Word Count: 11.1k

CW: child abuse

NSWF: yes

Hello everyone!

I'm sharing part one of my newest fic. I don't know when part two will come out, probably at some time next week. I'm also working on a 7-chapter fic for Azriel's week. I'm super excited about that one because I started it months ago and I'm now fixing it so it fits with the prompts. You can also find it on AO3 here. Enjoy! Here's the link for Part two.

She’d almost asked Rhys or Mor to winnow her to the camp, the weight of the muffins and pies too heavy, but they didn’t know about her frequent visits to the remote location– none of her family did– and she really, really didn’t want to answer the questions that would surely arise.

It wasn’t that she meant to keep it a secret forever. But this was her thing, that gave her a purpose she’d never had before, not even when she started gardening as a child, or when she picked up baking with Nuala and Cerridwen all those months ago. She wanted to keep it for herself for a while, just a bit longer.

So Elain told Cassian she was going to a house to help its owner with this overgrown ivy that gave no sign of going away anytime soon, secretly getting into a carriage that would take her to her destination. 

“Good morning, Mr. Garth,” Elain called out to the driver. The man– male, she reminded herself– slightly turned his head her way in greeting, the white and gray in his hair noticeable in this light. Garth smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Good morning to you, too, Miss Elain,” he said cheerfully. Then he took notice of the baked goods she was carrying. “By the Cauldron, Miss, if you’d told me you were bringing stuff with you I’d have picked you up near your house,” he exclaimed.

“No,” Elain hastily said, causing Garth’s eyebrows to shoot up his forehead. She hurried to clarify, “I just meant, there was no need. A little exercise is good for me, or at least that’s what my older sister says.”

The older man chuckled. “That’s what my mate says, too.”

Elain’s stomach churned at the word, but waved it off with a humming sound.

Soon, they reached her destination. The magical scenery of Velaris faded to harsh weather, the snow thick as it fell and covered the ground. Her heart squeezed at the sight, her blood screaming at her to hurry.

She’d already opened her door by the time the carriage came to a stop, quickly gathering the pies and muffins before setting off to the small building, not before leaving a few coins to Garth, to his never-ending protests.

Elain struggled to open the heavy wooden doors while making sure the food wouldn’t fall. She had just made the decision to knock and pray someone would hear, when someone opened it for her.

She looked up to see Carys’ bright, sweet smile flashing at her. Elain couldn’t help her own as she looked at her friend. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t worry, El,” Carys replied. “I see you made good on your promise,” she pointed at what she was carrying.

Elain nodded. “Yes. I feared the children would send me away if I came empty handed,” she whispered, eyes gleaming with joy.

Carys laughed with her, and together they walked to the dining room, where she knew the kids were awaiting breakfast.

Elain had first heard of the orphanage when she was assisting an elderly lady with her garden. The female had invited her in for tea and told her all about her granddaughter who was volunteering at an orphanage slightly outside the city. She’d explained about the high number of children who had lost their parents in the war and had no other family that could take them in. Elain had left with a tears-stricken face and her heart shattered in a million little pieces. Two weeks later, she’d met with the female’s granddaughter, Carys.

Carys had welcomed her, showing her the place and introducing her to the little ones. Elain had almost started crying as she met them, but she was quick to bat her tear away, Carys’ instructions sounding loud and clear in her head. Never let them see you cry. All they need is a feeling of normalcy. Tears are often associated with the loss they suffered.

Five months later, Elain was now a volunteer, too. She came by at least three times a week, four if she managed it. She helped feed them, bathe them; she played with them and brought them on walks. The kids adored her, almost as much as she did them.

As she stepped into the room, several heads turned to her. So many, too many babies didn’t have a place to call home. Her heart constricted in her chest at the thought. Elain knew most of them would never find their forever home, would grow up in this place until they reached maturity. She only hoped that by that time, the kindness and affection the volunteers had shown them during their childhood, would shape them into good people.

 “Miss Elain!” Many cried out, launching themselves at her and Carys. The two young females hugged them all as best as they could, but soon the children noticed what they were carrying. Gasps filled the room.

“Pies! You remembered, Miss Elain” A little girl exclaimed excitedly. Elain smiled back at her and nodded.

As soon as the pies and muffins were placed on a few tables, Elain and Carys were immediately forgotten. They watched in amusement as the kids all but flung themselves at the baked goods, devouring everything. It was a good thing Elain had already cut the cakes in slices.

Carys went to help the smaller children, who were on the verge of crying their lungs out at the thought of not getting something, too. Elain was about to follow her, when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Under one of the unused tables, a little boy crouched. His little legs were bunched up to his chest, his eyes red and terrified. His wings were tucked in tight, as though he feared brushing them against any surface.

His eyes locked on hers as Elain slowly walked to him. His hazel eyes widened even more. He began scooting backward when he saw her approaching. She stopped dead in her tracks a few feet away from him, and raised her hands in a placating manner.

“It’s alright,” Elain soothed. “I only wanted to say hi to you.”

The child didn’t say anything in return.

“My name is Elain,” she greeted him, uncaring of his silence. It wasn’t the first time a small one refused to speak. This one couldn’t be older than four. Elain wondered if he even knew how to speak. “Do you want me to bring a muffin? Or would you rather a slice of apple pie? We even have a blueberry one, if you prefer.”

He looked at her hesitantly. She smiled, trying to reassure him there were no wrong answers. After a few minutes of unblinking staring, he gave a single nod. 

“That’s great! I’ll bring you each of everything. Or do you want to be with your friends?” He shook his head vigorously, like the thought terrified him. Elain smiled at him in answer.

When she returned less than two minutes later, the boy was still in the same position. Elain carefully sat down on the floor, handing him the food. He reached out just as carefully. He seemed to study which one he wanted to eat first, weighing the choice in his head.

It was then that she noticed it. His wings had scars on them. Elain swallowed, willing her face to remain the same, yet a noise escaped her. His little head jerked up and he noticed what she was looking at. He tried to tuck in his wings even more, pain flashing across his features. Her heart began bleeding.

“Can you tell me your name? I need to give this beautiful face a name,” she asked him, her voice tremulous. 

He didn’t say anything for so long that Elain believed he didn’t want to share this information with her. She opened her mouth, but a quiet, young voice stopped her. “Uri.” 

“That’s such a beautiful name. Thank you for telling me,” Elain said, her hands shaking. The corner of the boy’s mouth quirked up at her words. “How old are you, Uri?”

He looked at his hands, then held up four fingers. “Wow, you’re such a big boy!”

This time, his smile was wide, bright. It took all the control she’d mastered over the years to hold the tears in.

They spent hours crouched under the table, conversing quietly, away from prying eyes. Well, it was mainly Elain who spoke. She told him about her sisters, her parents and her new family. She told him all about gardening and baking, of how her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, had helped her when she was sad. He retreated into himself when she asked about his family or his past. The blood in her veins went ice cold as millions of possibilities ran through her mind. So she talked about herself, making him laugh and gasp and smile. At some point, Uri began rubbing his tired eyes, stopping mid sentence to yawn.

Elain opened her arms. “Do you feel sleepy, sweet boy?”

He nodded. 

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” 

He seemed to hesitate, before slowly crawling into her warm embrace. Elain hugged him to her, mindful of his damaged wings. She got up with his arms tightly hugging her neck. She felt him tense as they walked past two male volunteers. They smiled at him, and Uri began shaking slightly. Elain tightened her hold on him and made it to the bedroom.

She gently laid him under the covers, caressing his hair and landing a kiss on his forehead. She smiled when she saw his cheeks coloring. “Have a nice nap, Uri.”

His hand shot out from under the covers to grab her wrist. Elain’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

He mumbled something. “I’m sorry, Uri, I didn’t get that.”

Uri took a deep breath, like it was an effort to get the words out. “Stay. Don’t go,” his voice was quiet, but steady. Elain’s heart puffed up before squeezing tight. She sat down on the tiny bed, his hand still on her wrist. 

“That’s fine. Do you want me to tell you a story?” She asked him as she stroked his cheeks.

He nodded, nuzzling her hand. So Elain began narrating to him a story her father used to tell her when she was a child, when nightmares wouldn’t allow her any sleep. It was a tale of hope, of love, of friendship.

Uri fell asleep quickly, his hand still touching her. The sight warmed her soul, and it was painful to pry it and gently lay it on the bed.

She silently closed the door behind her and went in search of Carys. The black haired female was playing with some of the older kids when Elain tapped her on the shoulder. Her smile slid off her face as she noticed Elain’s pale face. “What happened?” She asked, alarmed.

“What do you know of Uri?”

Carys furrowed her brows. “Uri?” Her eyes cleared with understanding a few seconds later. “Oh, you’re talking about the Illyrian boy.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. We found him hiding beneath a tree a couple days ago. He was blue from the cold, we thought he was… Anyway, he hasn’t said much since we brought him here.”

Elain could feel new tears threatening to spill. “We need to do something about his wings,” she stated, as though she would allow no alternative.

Carys nodded. “The Illyrians aren’t forthcoming with their help. I was thinking about sending a letter to the High Lord, hoping he’d see it and provide us help soon.”

Elain shook her head no. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this, I know who to call.”

When she left hours later, her body heavy with stricken worry, she instructed Garth to take her to a different address from the usual one. He gave her a curious look, but didn’t comment on it. 

The cobblestone was slippery outside, the weather bleak like Elain was feeling. A cold wind gave her skin bumps, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. She knocked on the door, then knocked again, this time louder, when no one answered. “Open up. I know you’re in here.”

Silence, before she heard light steps from the other side of the door, which opened a few instants later. 

Azriel’s hair was ruffled, the shirt he had on wrinkled. His hazel eyes, so alike Cassian’s, so alike Uri’s, were red from sleep. His posture, though, was stiff, giving away his unease at having her at his house.

Elain had discovered it by accident, and Az had made her swear she wouldn’t reveal it to their family. She’d nodded, pleased at knowing one of his secrets when he knew so many about all of them. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, worry clouding his features. 

“What does it mean when an Illyrian’s wings have scars on them? Is it normal for them to hurt?”

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“If an Illyrian has scars in his wings, is it normal that–” she repeated, but Azriel interrupted her.

“Where is this coming from? Whose wings are scarred? Did something happen to Rhys or Cass?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, no. They’re fine. It’s…”

When Elain had made the decision to come here, she’d understood she would have to share this part of her life with at least someone else. Her comfort couldn’t come before a child’s health and safety. So she took a deep breath, and told Azriel everything.

He listened carefully to what she had to say. He always had, as though her words were his new law, forbidding him from deviating from them. Az had always made her feel sacred, important, strong. She spent her night wondering what had changed, when it did. She hadn’t found the answer yet, her tear-stained pillows proof of it.

Az ran a hand on his face when she finished speaking. “What happened to him?”

Elain sighed sadly. “I don’t know. He refuses to talk about his past. It took me hours to get him to tell me where he comes from.” She told him Uri’s camp’s name, and saw him clench his hands into tight fists. 

“I need to see him, so I can tell the healer what he needs,” Azriel explained.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know that that’s possible. I think… I think a male figure in his life hurt him badly. Might be the reason why his wings look like that.” She recounted his reaction to the two males. Azriel nodded his agreement. 

“Here’s what you need to do.”

-

The next day, Carys was surprised to see Elain back so soon. The latter explained what she planned to do. Carys let her go with a promise of calling for her if anything went wrong.

Uri was still in bed. He was sleeping, his face contorting in pain and anguish. Elain knew at once he was having a nightmare. Silently, she reached his tiny bed, the blue covers stained with tears. “Uri, wake up,” she whispered softly, not wanting to startle him. He didn’t wake. Ever so gently, Elain ran her knuckles on his cheek, all the while murmuring his name.

Slowly, Uri opened his eyes. Terror lined his features, and a sob escaped him. Elain kept caressing him, whispering words of comfort as he came to. He blinked, his eyes not as vacant and bleak as a few moments before, and finally noticed her. His cheeks reddened slightly. Elain watched as Uri tried to burrow himself even further under the covers. She smiled and giggled. “Hello, sweet boy. Do you want to give me a hug?”

He seemed to hesitate, looking at her in what she almost called self consciousness, but he crawled out from under the sheets and onto her laps, like he had done the previous day. Elain rubbed his back where she didn’t risk touching his little wings. “Should we get ready for the day and then eat breakfast?” She asked him, already walking toward the bathroom. Uri nodded, his head resting on the crook of Elain’s neck. 

She took great care of his pained wings as she helped him bathe, as she helped him wear some clothes Azriel had given her. Elain smiled at the older Illyrian’s thoughtfulness.

As Uri finished his breakfast– some leftover blueberry muffins from yesterday– Elain recounted what Azriel had said to her the night before. “I need to examine your wings,” she said. Uri stiffened. “I know, I know, sweet boy, but my– my friend has wings like yours, and they were hurt, too. He knows how to fix them, he told me how to. Can I take a look?”

Elain held her breath. She wasn’t going to force him to accept if he didn’t want to– only the Cauldron knew what had been done to him– but she really, really hoped he would. Seeing those injuries on a child made her blind with rage, and all Elain wanted to do was to take his pain away.

“Fine.” His small, child-like voice was barely audible.

Elain let out a sigh of relief. “I’m only going to take a look today. Tonight, I’ll meet with my friend and he’ll tell me what we need to do to fix these beautiful wings,” she explained. “I already know they’re going to be majestic when you get older,” she booped his nose.

Uri blushed and giggled. Elain laughed with him. They played a while together, before they found a secluded place where Elain could assess the state of his wings.

She had to swallow the fury and tears at the sight of what had been done to them, to him. His wings had laceration and burn scars. Someone had cut and burned them. Her hands closed in tight fists at her sides, her mind swimming with thoughts of hurting whoever was responsible.

“My papa doesn’t like me much,” Uri’s words stopped her fuming. Elain glanced in the mirror, caught his eyes. They were in a bathroom that was long unused, the plumbing required too expensive to afford. 

“Why do you say that?” She asked, even as she kept checking his wings out.

Uri shrugged. “He tells me all the time. He says he only wanted to be with my mother, that I wasn’t supposed to be here.” The way he said it, like it was normal for a parent to utter such things… Elain had to take a deep breath to quell the rage simmering in her blood.

“That’s not very nice, is it?”

Uri again shrugged. 

“What happened to him?” She asked, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. His face shut down, his body tensed, and he wriggled to be put down. “I’m tired, Miss Elain. Can I go sleep?”

Elain cursed herself, but nodded anyway. She went with him to his bedroom, stayed until he fell asleep. Then, she all but ran outside, Garth already waiting for her. During the long minutes of the ride, she thought back on Uri’s words, what she had seen. Her vision was red, and when she finally got out of the carriage, she pounded on Azriel’s door.

This time, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t inside. 

“El–” Azriel started, but Elain’s anguished voice interrupted him.

“He burned him, Az. He cut him, he hurt his own son. How could a parent, anyone hurt a child?” Her voice broke, and Azriel’s concerned face appeared blurry to her.

Elain felt wetness on her cheeks just as Azriel’s scarred hand rested on her shoulder. She brought a hand to her face and wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

Azriel’s other hand lightly touched Elain’s chin, lifting her head up. “It’s going to be alright, lo–Elain,” he murmured. 

Their eyes locked, and the tenderness in his had her nodding. Something tightened low in her belly.

“Now, take a deep breath and repeat what you just said, slowly.”

Elain did as he asked.

She watched as his hazel eyes, so much like Uri’s, darkened to the point they resembled a depthless pit the more she explained what the Illyrian child had told her and what she’d seen. The next time Azriel spoke, the ice in his voice sent a shiver down Elain’s back. “Do you know where his father,” the last word was said with particular vitriol. “lives? His name?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t say. He only said that his father doesn’t like him. The things that male has said to him… I’m sick just thinking about it.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with so much fury that told Elain exactly what he thought of the male, and what he planned to do to him when he found him. Because he would find him, be it the last thing he ever did. And, Elain mused, she would join him in letting Uri’s father know what, exactly, he was worth. 

“Do you think,” Azriel’s voice brought her back to the present. “that the child would be comfortable around me?”

Elain inclined her head. “I’m not sure. He gave me the impression that he’s wary around males. Why?”

There was nothing, absolutely nothing on Azriel’s face as he said, “My own brothers did the same to me when I was slightly older than him. I think it would be best for him if he heard the healing process from someone who went through the same hurt as him.”

Her heart stopped beating for a while. When it picked up again, it did so with a rage that burned scarlet. She’d known something had happened to him, his scarred hands proof of it. But never would she have thought it had been done to him by his family–

Her horror and wrath must have shown on her face because Azriel asked, his brows furrowed, “Feyre didn’t tell you?”

Elain let out a distressed noise. “What— What happened to them?”

Azriel’s eyes shut down. “You don’t want to know.”

She bared her teeth, something wild clawing at her chest. “I do. If they still breathe, I want to end them myself.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. One of those beautiful, scarred hands splayed on his chest, where his heart lay beneath. “Elain—” He rasped out. 

They’d moved into the tiny living room as they’d talked. Now Azriel let himself fall on the gray sofa, panting.

Elain reached out, concerned. “Are you alright?” She asked, but as she made to touch him, he jerked away like a spooked animal. 

Her hand froze midway. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, confused. Elain didn’t even know what she was apologizing for.

Azriel shook his head. “I need… Let me know if Uri’s fine to meet me. I have somewhere to go.” He wouldn’t even meet her eyes.

It was like that night again, she thought bitterly as she exited his house, not even bothering to say goodbye. 

Her heart constricted in her chest as she realized how stupid she’d been to come to him. She should have gone to Rhys, or Cassian, or even Madja. Her mind betrayed her by replaying that fateful night all those months ago.

Elain closed the door of the carriage and banished those thoughts.

-

She went back to the orphanage a couple of days later. She inquired more about Uri, but Carys had learned nothing more about him. “I can show you where we found him, though,” she offered. Elain readily accepted, scanning the area keenly, memorizing it down to the smallest details, in order to be able to describe it to Az, or, if necessary, to allow Rhys a clear view if he needed to go through her mind. 

Her hands closed into two tight fists as she noticed there was no shelter in the area, just a few trees under which Uri had surely sought refuge. 

“Sweet boy, I have to ask you something,” Elain said now, while she and Uri were playing with a few blocks in the orphanage’s playroom.

He glanced up at her. His wings were touching the ground, but he didn’t seem to mind. She remembered her younger sister, Feyre, once explaining that it was a profound shame for an Illyrian’s wings to drag on the ground, a sign of weakness. Elain wondered if Uri had ever been taught how to fly. Somehow, she didn’t think he had.

“My friend would like to meet you,” she started slowly. His shoulders immediately bunched up. “You know how you told me your father doesn’t like you much? His brothers didn’t either, and they hurt him badly. He wants to help you.”

Uri didn’t say anything as he went back to his blocks. Elain barely held her sigh in. She knew it was a long shot. She’d seen how he reacted around males, she should have expected his, albeit silent, refusal. Hopefully, Madja knew how to help him, or maybe Azriel could explain to them the best–

“Will you be there with me?” Uri’s small, quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

Elain settled her eyes on him again, and watched as his attention was wholly on her. “Of course. You’re my friend, now, Uri. You’ll never get rid of me,” she answered solemnly even as her fingers tickled his sides. He giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Her laughter soon joined his, and for the first time in months, years, her heart felt light.

As their mirth slowly trailed off, Uri gave his consent to meeting Azriel.

“That’s good,” Elain nodded. “You will like him. He’s quiet like you, but his heart is full of love to give.” It was just that he hadn’t met the right person to give all that love to, Elain thought wistfully. She’d once believed she was that person, and what a fool she’d been. Her heart ached at the knowledge, but she hoped he would find her one day soon. 

Uri’s eyes flashed with interest at that, but he didn’t voice his curiosity. He went back to playing, throwing her glances when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

When she got home hours later, she let Azriel know through the twin wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, about Uri’s decision. Her friends could tell something was bothering her, somehow knowing she didn’t want to talk about it. Nonetheless, they spent time with her, trying to cheer her up.

She may not have the love of her life in her arms, Elain mused, but at least she had this. And much more. She had her family, her friends, her job, the orphanage, and Uri. She had much to smile for, to be happy about.

-

“Just a heads up. He doesn’t talk much, and he needs his time before opening up. That also includes telling you if he wants fruit or cereal for breakfast,” Elain warned three days later.

The shadowsinger nodded, even though his eyes were focused on the small building, assessing all the work that was visibly needed. 

“We’re hoping to save enough money to fix… everything,” she answered his silent question with a laugh.

He swung his gaze back to hers and arched an eyebrow. Elain shrugged. “We’re reaching the goal soon, and then some more. I might have put the request on top of the pile of papers Feyre and Rhysand have to go through. I might have also added my name there.”

She could have sworn his lips twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes. Her heart constricted with the need of having him.

Elain cleared her throat, aware that a flush had spread on her neck. She could have sworn Azriel’s ears were tinged red, too. “Let’s go meet Uri.”

The child in question lay on his tiny bed. He appeared to be sleeping, his face peaceful. Too peaceful. Elain knew at once he was faking it. She turned to Azriel, mirth in her eyes, and saw the understanding and glee on his features.

“Oh, Azriel, he’s sleeping,” she faux-whispered. “We’ll have to come back on another day. He’s sleeping.”

Azriel shook his head. “That’s too bad, I brought him a present, but I guess I’ll have to give it to him some other time,” he said, doing his best to sound serious.

Uri tensed, cracking one eye open.

Elain interlaced her arm with Azriel’s. “Let’s go, you can give it to him next time.”

She made to open the door, but Uri’s “I’m awake, Miss Elain” stopped her. Exchanging an amused glance with Azriel, they both turned to him.

“You’re awake!” Elain exclaimed, sounding surprised. “Uri, this is Azriel, my friend I told you about. Azriel, this is Uri, my newest friend,” she introduced them.

The child nodded vigorously. His gaze shifted to Azriel, and some of his excitement dimmed. He seemed to study him, taking in his size, his wings. His weariness slowly eased off, leaving interest in what Az had said he had for him.

“Oh, yes,” the shadowsinger said, his shadows handing him a soft toy. It resembled him, the hazel eyes, the dark hair, the wings. It was an Illyrian toy.

Uri’s eyes flickered with something that looked a lot like yearning, though a hint of fear and hurt could be found in them, as though he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it was for him, that he deserved it.

“My mother gave it to me when I was your age. She’d made it herself, claiming it would give me strength and that one day I’d be tall and strong. I think it worked, what do you think?” 

Uri nodded, awe shining on his face. 

“I want you to have it. So when you feel like you need it, you can just hug him tight to your chest and borrow his strenght,” Azriel finished, offering the toy to the boy.

The young Illyrian grabbed it, holding it tight in his arms. Unwelcomed tears filled Elain’s eyes, and she had to look away.

“Thank you, Mr. Azriel,” replied Uri brightly.

Az only inclined his head.

“Right,” Elain caught their attention. “Uri, do you remember what I told you about Azriel?” She waited for his nod before continuing. “Do you think he could take a look at your beautiful wings?”

The small child hesitated, but after a furtive glance in Azriel’s direction – who was trying his best to make him feel at ease – he gave a small nod.

-

It was a painful process.

Azriel knew it would be. He’d gone through it all those centuries ago, except in that case he was Uri and in his stead was his mother. 

Uri was trying his best not to make any sound as Azriel grazed his wings, trying to assess how deep the damage went. 

“Can I touch your wings, Uri?” He’d asked.

The boy had been confused at the request. It had taken Az a few seconds to understand that it was due to never being asked for permission to be touched. He’d done his best to cloud the fury he’d felt in that moment, the last thing he wanted was to frighten the small child in front of him.

Azriel consulted with his shadows. The scars were countless, but mostly superficial, which was the preferred outcome he hoped for. 

He turned to Elain, whom his shadows had let him know was seated on a stool near the door, her attention solely on them, and gestured to her to come closer.

“It’s not going to take one day, or two, nor three. It’s going to take a while, a few weeks at the earliest. If we rush the healing, we could make things worse,” Az explained to the both of them. Elain nodded, Uri too young to fully understand what he was saying.

“One more thing,” he looked solely at Elain as he went on. “He can’t stay here. He needs a room only for himself, a bathroom with the things he needs, including his balm.”

“I won’t allow him to go back to his— to that place,” Elain growled.

It hurt looking at her, after yesterday’s revelation. The ferocity with which she defended a child that wasn’t her own, that she wasn’t related to… Cauldron damn him, it made him want her that much more.

Az quickly clarified, “That’s not what I’m saying. I think he should come home with you, El.”

The name slipped out, but she didn’t seem to notice. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s clear he feels safe around you, and I doubt he does with any of the other volunteers, does he?” At her shake of head, he nodded. “He needn’t feel crowded, and he might feel shame if the other kids, especially the older ones, witnessed his state” he added, lowering his voice so as not to be heard by Uri.

“I understand, I really do, but I just can’t bring a child to the river house! Nyx is only a few months old,” Elain explained, frustrated at the thought of failing Uri.

“What about the town house?” 

He watched as she contemplated his words. 

“I guess I could just tell Rhys that I need my space, that I need to figure some things out,” she bit her lip, deep in thought, and Azriel had to grind his jaw to stop the fantasies playing out in his head. 

“I will come by often, to heal him,” Azriel offered.

An emotion he couldn’t decipher – despite the years of spying and torturing information out of other people — crossed her face, but it was gone in the next blink of eyes. 

“That’s– That’s perfect,” replied Elain. Az didn’t need his shadows to know it was a lie. 

Uri agreed to go live with Elain when they sat him down and explained the situation to him. Az could have sworn he almost looked relieved at the thought of leaving the orphanage. Not that he could blame him. 

They began making arrangements, and a week later, Azriel dropped Elain and Uri in their new home. 

Something that wasn’t his shadows screamed at him that it was wrong to leave his— to leave Elain and Uri alone. That he belonged with them, that he was supposed to stand at their side, protecting them.

The urge was primal, and it left him breathless. It took all his training to not double over in pain.

He ignored it, though.

And so he went to that flimsy house he owned, alone, trying to force those traitorous thoughts out of his head.

-

Uri settled rather quickly, Elain reckoned. He’d been awed by the size of the house, the many rooms and all the comfort he could find in it. He loved spending time in front of the fire, or in the kitchen with Elain as she baked him his favorite desserts (blueberry anything).

But most of all, he loved his bedroom.

She and Azriel had spent a long while debating on how to decorate it, and in the end had settled on few things. The bed, appropriate for his age, had a dark oak bed frame, which went perfectly with the cobalt blue bedding Elain had insisted on getting, as it was similar to the one in the orphanage. The wardrobe matched the bed, like the bookshelves. Az had snuck in a rocking chair, too, blushing as he admitted to her that being cuddled by his mother in one had brought him a great deal of comfort when he was recovering. 

There were a few toys scattered on the floor, but they’d decided against buying him too many things. Elain planned on taking him shopping in the Rainbow of Velaris, giving him the choice to choose the things he liked— clothes, toys, shoes.

Uri had stared at her wide-eyed as she’d explained why he didn’t have many things as of yet, like it was too great a gift to even consider. 

Though he’d adjusted fairly well, he seemed to be always looking over his shoulders, as if he was expecting someone to be there. Shaking her head, Elain thought it was probably his father, the memory of him, of what he’d done, haunting him from so far away. 

They were baking a cake — lemon flavored this time, because Uri had shyly confessed he wanted to try it — when he broached the subject.

“When will Mr. Azriel come by?”

Elain paused. “I’m not sure. I guess soon,” was all she could offer.

Truth to be told, things between her and Az had been… strange. Ever since the day she’d come to his place, he’d acted oddly in her presence. She’d scrambled through her thoughts to see if she’d done anything to upset him, if perhaps she’d acted too familiar with him, but she’d come up empty. 

Maybe Rhys had telepathed upsetting news and that’s why he’d behaved that way. But it wouldn’t explain why that had persisted in the following days. It had been almost two weeks since that day, yet he still had trouble meeting her eyes.

The other option, the one that made her heart squeeze painfully, was that he’d still regretted that Solstice Night. 

Elain had been embarrassed for months on end by his rejection, barely being able to stay in a room with him, but now… Now, thanks to Nuala and Cerridwen’s help, she’d come to terms with the fact that he did not want her. At first, the words hurt her. She’d been sure her feelings were reciprocated, after all, but now she could say them almost painlessly. 

Perhaps Az hadn’t gotten over the embarrassment yet. All Elain cared was that his feelings for her — or the lack thereof — wouldn’t come in the way of Uri’s recovery. Deep down, she knew they wouldn’t, but his silence in the past days troubled her.

“Is he working?” Uri interrupted her thoughts.

“Umh?” Elain shook her head. “I’m not sure. Do you want me to ask?”

He looked confused at that. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It was his turn to shake his head. “Does he beat the bad guys and take them into the Prison?” He asked instead.

She smiled at that. “That’s Cassian’s job. But Az does help him at times, yes. He fought in the War,” she explained, piquing his interest. “Oh, yes. But Az mainly finds information about bad people, and forces them to confess their wrong doings.”

Uri clapped in youthful excitement. “I wanna be like him when I grow up.”

It was then that Elain noticed the tendrils of shadows coming in from the front door. 

A few moments later, Azriel appeared.

To people who didn’t know him, he looked perfectly impassive. But she had spent months looking at him, throwing him glances when she thought no one was looking, studying his perfect features, his silences — yes, there were different ones. She appreciated each one of them, loved the way his eyes tightened when he was worried about something, the way they brightened when he listened to Mor and Cassian’s bickering — his expressions. The one he was wearing now told her he’d heard Uri’s words. Told her they had moved something in him, their effect too great to be put into words.

“Az,” Elain breathed, and blindly saw Uri turn to him, too. 

“Good evening,” said Az, and even his voice betrayed the emotion he was trying his best to bury.

“Hi, Mr. Azriel.” Uri sounded timid. She smiled, well aware that it meant he looked up to the male, that he saw him as a role model.

“I already told you, little guy, just Azriel is fine,” said Az, ruffling the boy’s dark hair. The child blushed under the affectionate attention.

Right then, the Illyrian male looked straight at her. 

Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity with which he was looking at her. 

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded, confused at the question. The light in his eyes seemed to dim at her silent reply, leaving her even more puzzled.

But before she could mull his reaction over — which she totally added to the list of strange reactions she’d gathered from him in the past days — he announced, “I talked with the family’s healer, and we decided to add a salve to the regimen. That way, your wings will be able to heal without leaving any scars. What do you think, Uri?”

The boy looked at him, before his gaze slid down to the older male’s scarred hands. “Why didn’t you put it on your hands, too?”

Elain’s mouth hung open, and she shot Azriel a mortified look. But the shadowsinger’s attention was entirely on the Illyrian boy as he answered, “Because the people who hurt me made it so the scars could never be removed.” He seemed to notice Uri’s distress at that, because he bent to his eye level and added, “I got used to it. Plus, it scares the bad guys enough so that they will confess to everything rather quickly.”

Uri smiled. “So you can come by more often?”

Az paused. Then he nodded, slowly, as if his shadows had whispered something in his ears. 

Elain wondered at that, at the slightly surprised, soft expression on his face.

Yet it was gone in the next blink of eyes, his face turning impassive once again. 

She saw as he opened his mouth, about to make his leave, but Uri spoke up before he could. “Will you come by tomorrow, Mr. Azriel?”

Az hesitated. “I’m not sure.” He glanced at Elain, who shrugged. Uri needed a good male influence in his life. Azriel was one. “I– You see, I have to work–”

“You can come after. Right, Miss Elain?” He asked her.

She nodded. “We could go shopping. You’re in need of clothes, sweet boy.” 

Azriel sighed. He knew there was no arguing with the child who had him wrapped around his tiny finger.

Elain giggled a little, as if she could read the thought on his face. He glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. She smiled, and went back to the pie.

-

“I know, I know it hurts,” Elain murmured, fighting back her tears as Uri cried out for the fourth time.

One of the steps of the recovery included a salve to be applied on the scars on his little wings. It only needed to be applied three times, the tonic taking doing most of the work, yet it was painful. Az had warned them both, but nothing could have prepared Elain for the pure agony in Uri’s screams and cries. 

She wondered how his father could stand it as he hurt him, over and over again. It made the blood in her veins boil from the hot anger she felt.

Madja was applying the salve carefully, taking great care of his pain, while Elain and Azriel comforted him. Uri was clutching Az’s hand so tight, while his head was resting on Elain’s shoulders. She kept dropping kisses on it, but she knew nothing they did now would ease his pain.

Afterward, Elain gathered him in his arms and sat on the rocking chair Az had thoughtfully insisted they get. She was telling him a tale, one her father used to tell her when she was Uri’s age, all while drying his tears and murmuring soothing words.

Azriel sat on a nearby chair, listening raptly. His features were troubled with distress, for what had been done to the boy, for what he now had to go through. 

When Elain finally laid the child on his bed, who was fast asleep, her heart was heavy, and she knew Az’s was, top. She watched Uri, and she reached to smooth the furrows in his brows, pain still etched on his face even in sleep. Azriel dropped a kiss on his forehead, and left a stuffed toy next to him. A new present. He always left him something new after one of the healing sessions.

They got out of his room, and Elain managed a few steps before her legs failed.

She cried, silently, as she’d learned to when she was a girl. 

Strong arms wrapped around her, and she leaned her head back against the equally strong chest. She didn’t know how long they stayed in that position, as she tried her best to muffle her sobs and Az tried to calm her. At some point, she could have sworn she felt a tear drop on her hair.

It was the most vulnerable she had allowed herself to be.

-

 “Can I play with my toys?”

Elain looked at Uri. She was reading a gardening catalog, interested in finding new flowers to grow. 

Uri was supposed to study his letters, which was exactly what she told him.

“But I’m bored and tired, Elain. I’m hungry,” he complained.

One of the hardest things she’d had to learn, Elain found, was understanding when to give in to Uri’s requests, and when she needed to be firm. After almost a month, though, she thought she had the hang of it.

“No, but,” she added, when he started to make the face she knew meant he was ready to protest, “you can take a break from studying to have a healthy snack before Azriel comes for your flying lesson.”

Azriel had been clear from the start: his wings would never fully heal if he didn’t keep them in good condition, and that meant flying.

Today was going to be the first lesson, after more than two weeks since they last applied the salve and given him the tonic. 

Uri lowered his gaze to the ground, and didn’t say anything back. Elain furrowed her brows. When she’d first met Uri, his silences were common, his hesitation expected. But in the month and a half since he’d moved in with her, he’d started making his voice heard. He wasn’t scared of speaking his mind anymore, he’d throw tantrums as was expected for his age, he’d laugh so hard that tears came out from his eyes. 

So it was concerning to see him so… quiet, now. But what she learned above all was that he hated being pushed into talking. It usually brought a smile to her face, because he reminded her so much of Azriel. If she hadn’t met Cassian, she’d most likely think it was an Illyrian trait.

Elain watched him carefully as he ate, trying to gauge what was troubling him. 

He was still eating when Az appeared. Something akin to longing flashed in his eyes as he took them in, but it was gone in the next instant.

“Hi,” she greeted him with a smile, and he answered with one of his own. It brought a light flush to her cheeks. 

In the weeks they’d spent together, her infatuation for Azriel had grown stronger again. Well, it wasn’t like it had gone anywhere, but ever since his rejection a year ago, she’d tried to move on. She’d distanced herself from him, as he did the same, and she’d surrounded herself with her family and friends. But now, in this house, just the three of them… It was almost like he’d never broken her heart. Elain kept scolding herself, reminding herself that he did not want her that way. She tried to tell her heart how bad it hurt when he called their almost-kiss a mistake, but it wouldn’t listen. Azriel was the male she wanted, and she now knew that would never change.

“Hi, Azriel,” said Uri quietly. Az’s eyebrows raised at his gloomy tone, and he looked at Elain inquisitively. She raised her shoulders, silently telling him she didn’t know what happened. 

“Are you ready for our lesson?” He tried to cheer the Illyrian child up.

Uri burst into tears. 

It took both the adults by surprise, enough so that they didn’t react initially.

But then Azriel was by his side, holding the small boy to himself. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Uri wailed louder at that. 

Az kept rubbing his back, soothing him. Elain watched the two of them, her heart racing in her chest.

“I’m s-sorry,” Uri tried to say through his sobs.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m not good. I’m bad,” he kept crying.

“Why do you say that?” Az asked calmly, steadily.

“I can’t fly. I don’t know how to,” he whispered, ashamed.

The shadowsinger’s hands paused. He seemed frozen to the spot for a few beats, but in the next he said, almost growling, “You’re not bad for not knowing how to fly. It’s not your fault.”

Uri shuddered at that, though he stopped sobbing. A few tears kept rolling down his cheeks. 

“I was older than you when I learned how to fly,” Az confessed. “My step-mother wasn’t… nice, neither were my brothers. But my friends, my real brothers, they taught me how to fly. They were patient, and kind, and so I will be with you. And in a few centuries, when I’m old as withered and you young and fit, you’ll be a better flier than me. I promise,” he said solemnly.

Uri sniffled, but didn’t say anything for a long while.

“I wish you were my father,” he whispered, so low, that she knew she was able to hear him only thanks to her Fae hearing.

Azriel froze. He paled as he pulled back to stare at the little boy in his arms. Elain’s heart had soared in her throat at his words. She scrambled to find something to say, but Az beat her to it. “Me too, baby, me too.” Then, he hugged him back, and she was unsure who needed the hug more.

She left them to their sweet moment, and went back to her catalog. A while later, she heard the front door open and close. A quick glance at the window told her the two Illyrians had begun their lesson.

-

Though Elain had prepared dinner, Uri was too tired to even eat that night. Elain let it slide, as she had expected this and had given him substantial food before. She was about to ask him if he was ready for bed when he faced Azriel and asked him, “Will you read me my story tonight?”

Az froze. He glanced at Elain, a panicked, helpless look on his face.”I–”

“Maybe not tonight, sweet boy,” she intervened. Uri turned back to her, his brows furrowed. “Azriel is tired after training you all afternoon. He needs to rest,” she explained.

He seemed to hunch in on himself, mulling over her words. Then he straightened his spine, a clever glint in his eyes, his earlier tiredness seemingly vanished. “Then we’ll read to him!”

This time, both adults froze. They looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Elain lifted a shoulder. Azriel inclined his head. Her eyes widened slightly. His lips quivered. She gave a nod, his following shortly after.

Elain turned to Uri. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go get ready for bed, and tomorrow morning I’m making blueberry muffins.”

Both Illyrians looked at her with interest. She shook her head affectionately. She’d learned pretty quickly that they both loved blueberry muffins. Specifically, her muffins.

Uri clapped excitedly, and ran to his room. She grinned as her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the corner. 

Az cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

She shook her head. “You’re not. Uri likes you, he’s made it pretty clear, he wants to be around you,” she laughed softly. “I’m sorry for keeping you here. I know you probably have somewhere else to be, and–”

“I don’t.” He stepped closer to her.

Elain met his gaze. “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Did that mean he wanted to be here? “Well, I’m glad then that we’re not…hindering any of your plans.” “You’re not.” He stepped even closer, until there was nothing but a breath between them.

“Good. That’s good.” She swallowed, her heart pulsing in her throat.

“It is. Good, I mean,” he said, his voice low, lower than she’d ever heard it. “Elain… I need to tell you something.”

Her heart started beating faster. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he murmured. “There’s something I should have told you a long ti–”

“Elain, Azriel, I’m ready,” Uri called out from his room.

They both turned to the sound, and that was when Elain noticed how closer they’d gotten. They jerked apart, and went to the Illryian child.

-

Az willed his thoughts away as he laid down on his bed.

He watched as Uri sat at his side, Elain at the foot of the bed. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He thought he ought to be embarrassed, the Spymaster of the Night Court being read to sleep by a four-year-old, but… But he found he was willing to do whatever it took to put a smile on the boy’s face, and the female that was taking care of him. Because Elain was smiling, too, as she looked at Uri. The latter had a kid’s book open on his laps, and was staring at Az expectantly.

“I’m ready,” Azriel confirmed, and Uri nodded, satisfied.

And then he began to read.

It was an effort to keep his laughter in. A quick glance toward Elain told him that she, too, was struggling.

At four years old, Uri still didn’t know how to read — no doubt also thanks to his parents. The story he was telling tonight consisted of describing the pictures depicted in the book.

“Oh, and here’s a tall house. Wow, there’s a princess, too,” he gasped, excitedly. 

Az smiled at that, his heart content that Uri’s unease had slowly peeled away in the days he moved in with Elain. 

He lay there, and after a while he pretended to fall asleep.

“Elain, I think he’s sleeping,” Uri whisper-yelled.

“He sure is,” Elain agreed. “What do you think, shall we go to sleep, too?”

“Yes,” was the child’s answer.

A few seconds later, Az felt small lips press against his cheek. “Good night, Azriel. Sweet dreams,” said Uri against his skin.

Something warmed in Azriel’s chest at the words. His throat burned, and it took all the control he’d mastered over the years not to let that feeling spill.

“It’s your turn now, Elain,” Uri ordered.

“What?” He heard her ask, and Cauldron damn him, he needed to see the look on her face. 

“You need to kiss him goodnight.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Uri,” she protested.

“But what if he gets a nightmare?”

He couldn’t see her, but he knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling. The knowledge came from a place inside him, somewhere he couldn’t touch, yet he knew was there.

So he braced himself for the touch of her lips as they pressed a kiss onto his cheek. 

It was a chaste kiss, yet Az nearly groaned out loud. His body tensed with the craving that overtook his body, the need of having her, in all the ways he’d thought of. And he’d spent a long while considering all the ways he wanted her.

“Have sweet dreams, Az,” she whispered, and then he felt them leave.

His name on her lips… It did things to him that he had never contemplated.

He got up, ever so silently made his way to the kitchen. While he waited for Elain, he began cleaning up the mess on the countertop.

A while later, Elain came into the room.

“You’re still here,” she breathed.

Azriel nodded, his gaze fixed on her. It was a damn effort to keep from reaching out and gathering her in his arms.

Az watched as she swallowed. Then she nodded, and asked him, “Do you have anything on his family?”

Azriel’s temper flared at her words, at the reminder. “Not yet. The Illyrian camps… There are many of them.”

She nodded. “I know.” Elain cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, for earlier. For the kiss,” she clarified, though there was no need.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” was all he said. 

“That’s good. I wanted to apologize in case it bothered you.”

He let out a low chuckle. “It didn’t.”

Her eyes flashed with resentment at his laugh. “It did last time.”

He stopped laughing.

-

Elain knew it was a low blow, but she hadn’t been able to hold the words in. She bit her lower lip as the silence between them stretched.

Azriel didn’t back down from her stare as he said, “El… It never bothered me. I wanted it. I wanted you.” He took a step toward her.

The truth in his words stunned her. Yet her heart crumpled in her chest. “Then why?” She fisted her hands, anger and confusion and hurt battling inside her. “Why did you say it was a mistake?”

He hesitated. She let out a hollow laugh. “Right.” She made to leave for her room, when a scarred hand stopped her.

“Rhys stopped me.” 

She whirled on him. “What.”

“Rhys stopped me,” he repeated, his hand still on her wrist. “There were too many things at play and I… I was a coward. I should have fought for you, and I didn’t. I’m a bastard.”

Her eyes burned. “So you let me believe you rejected me? That you didn’t want me? For a year?” She whispered, hurt clear in her voice.

He swallowed. “I’m a bastard,” he said again. “I don’t deserve you. I am nothing but a coward.”

Then, he did something she never would have expected him to do.

He went to his knees. “I am not worthy of your forgiveness, nor of your heart, Elain Archeron. But I’m selfish, and if you find it in yourself to give me both, I will greedily take them.” He grabbed her hands between his scarred ones. “I love you. Until I am nothing but ash scattered through the wind, I am yours.”

Her vision was blurry. “What changed,” she asked breathlessly.

Az was quiet for a few beats. Then, “I have always been in love with you. Please, never doubt that, I beg you. Even during all the months we’ve spent apart, my feelings for you never changed, never faltered.” He took a deep breath. “A month ago, when you barged into my house and you learned these scars came from my brothers… I felt it. I felt it snap.”

The air left her.

“I felt the mating bond between us snap.”

She thought about that day. She remembered how… feral she went as he told her what his brothers had done to him, his strange reaction as he all but kicked her out from his house. 

Ten months ago, Elain had rejected the mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. He’d done it, too, but they went beyond simple rejection. They’d cleaved it, just so that it would never haunt either of them again. 

Now, she was faced with another mating bond.

Azriel was still on his knees before her. “I don’t know how it’s possible, I’ve been trying to find answers, but it’s never happened before.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you,” he began. “Because we needed to get Uri settled in, heal him. And I needed to know where you stood, if you still believed I was a male worthy of you.”

He slowly got up. “But now… Now I find myself unable to stay away from you any longer. I love you, I want you, I need you. You fill my thoughts when I wake up, as I go on about my day, when I go to sleep. You’re in my dreams, too, where we and Uri are our own little family.”

Elain couldn’t breathe, her emotions choking her.

She brought her arms around his neck, her hands tugging on his hair, and whispered, “I love you. I tried to move one, but I couldn’t. I love you.”

Then, without breaking their eye contact, she offered him the mashed potatoes she’d cooked earlier.

She barely saw the blatant joy in his eyes before he sat down and began eating.

Elain watched him carefully as he ate all of it, not leaving one crumb. Then he got up and pressed his lips to her, like a starved animal.

He groaned in relief as she parted her mouth slightly. He brought her closer to him, until her small breasts were flush against his hard chest.

One of his arms was around her waist, his hand dangerously low, his other in her hair. She tried to get closer even still. She moaned when she felt his hardened length against her lower belly. 

He lifted her up and deposited her on the kitchen counter, one of his legs coming between hers and making space for itself. His knee brushed the spot between her legs, and she moaned again.

He fisted the dress she was wearing until it bunched up to her waist. His gaze turned even hotter as the sight of her undergarments came into view. He cursed.

“I need you. Now. I can’t wait,” he said, urgency in his voice, though an apology lay in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, please,” she agreed, bringing his body close to hers.

He undressed them, throwing their clothes to his shadows. His eyes turned molted gold as they fixed on her wetness. “Beautiful,” he whispered, before his lips kissed that sweet that gave her so much pleasure. He slid a finger in, and the sensation was too much. Stars exploded behind her eyes as she rode those waves of passion. 

He was inside her before her orgasm had even finished. He groaned as he settled all the way in, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine. She whimpered as he began thrusting, the sheer size of him knocking the breath out of her lungs. Az covered her body with his own, his quickened breaths beating against her neck.

He laid one of his hands on her breast, his mouth on the other, as he kept pumping deep inside her until she saw white, hot pleasure. He spilled inside her, bit the peak of her breast. The sting was almost enough to bring in a new orgasm.

“My love, my life,” he breathed against her neck.

They went four more times that night, exploring each other, claiming each other, until the first lights of dawn appeared in the sky. They lied on the bed, their bed now, and talked about everything and anything. He shared the years in his father’s cell, she her childhood years. They talked about the feelings they felt for each other, their plans for the future. 

They were strangers to sleep that day, but they didn’t mind. It was the happiest they’d ever been in their whole lives.

-

Rhys had been outraged when he'd heard of the orphanage, about all those kids who now didn’t have a family to take care of them, about the state of the building they were staying in. 

Elain was making a list of the things that needed fixing — the large sum provided by the High Lord was more than enough — when Azriel winnowed in the town house.

“I found him,” were the words he used to greet her.

Elain turned to him, a confused look on her face. She’d been in the middle of writing down a vision she’d just had when he barged in. “Found him? What– What do you–” Her eyes widened as a sense of clarity came over her. Uri’s father. “You– You did?”

“Yes.” His jaw ticked, fury overshadowing his eyes. “I notified Cassian. I believe he’s taking that piece of shit to the Prison as we’re speaking.”

“The Prison?” Not much was known about the terrible place, but Rhys had asked her if she could use her Cauldron-blessed powers to look into a creature inside a few months back. She shuddered as images of what she’d learned flashed in her mind. 

“It’s where he deserves to be.”

“What do you know,” she asked, though it was more of a statement. 

“You don’t want to know, trust me,” he growled.

Elain’s spine went ramrod straight. “I do, actually. I want to know what he did to my– to Uri.” She meant it. She also meant the words that almost slipped out. My son. She had come to think of him as such. 

Az studied her. After a few minutes, he nodded. “There was only one bed in the… hut they lived in. There were barely a few clothes fit for a child, most of them cut from an older male’s. There was no trace of his mother.” He went silent for a few seconds. “She died during childbirth, because her mate,” he spat out the word. “Refused to take her to a healer. What makes it even worse, he runs a business. A successful business. He had the means to provide for his mate and son, he just refused to.”

All the rage, all the icy fury she’d been brewing over the past weeks, increased tenfold when he finished speaking. But she managed to stifle it as she quietly demanded, “I want to speak to him.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t.”

Elain watched him defiantly. “I can. Bring me to him.”

“No, you can’t, and I won’t.” He repeated.

“He hurt my son. Our son. He beat him, burned him, starved him. I want to speak to him.” She raged. She meant it, the word that slipped out. Son. She had come to think of him as such in the past two months, his love and affection and trust something she longed to keep for eternity. She knew Az agreed with her every word.

Azriel’s eyes brightened with unshed tears. “I know, I know. Do you think I don’t want to do the same?” He shook his head. “Do you know what my shadows told me, that first night I came here?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Uri thought we were mated, that he’d joined our family. And he was right, he’s our son. That’s why we can’t retaliate against his father. We need to think of Uri. Of what he wants. Maybe in the future, when’s a grown male, he wants to meet with him, to go back to him again. We can’t stop it, we can’t jeopardize it.”

“No! I don’t want to go back to him. I want to be with you!” 

They whirled around, not having heard Uri come in. Elain watched as Uri’s face turned bright red. “Don’t take me back to him. Dad, please,” he begged.

Az swayed on his feet at the word with which Uri called him. He rasped out, “Never, my baby. My son.” He lifted him in his arms and hugged him, holding him close to his chest.

Elain walked over to them. Azriel let her in their embrace, kissing his son and his mate.

“Mom,” Uri said quietly. “Stay here. I don’t want you near him, he’s mean.” Elain blinked back tears at that. But she nodded, and held them tighter. 

Her loves, her life.

[lizardlicks]

WIP Game!

I was tagged by both @rainbowbarnacle and @mercurialmalcontent like. A week ago. And only just got around to setting up a new post for it. AHEM.

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Okay SO I did this one a few months back, and there are some WIPs on my list that I have already talked about (but would be happy to talk about more!) so I have marked those down here in bold. Some of the files also have descriptions which I have removed so you ONLY get the titles. Uh. The list has only gotten bigger. Since then. I have a problem.

Learned to Cary Love

Zukka Fire Festival Fuck

In the Spotlight (and I'll make you mine)

Ley Lines

Upward Over the Mountain

Kanna and the Wolf

Wolf Spirit!Sokka & Zuko

Grand Theft Appa

Zuko Took a Shortcut

Like Theseus’s Ship

Your wine stained mouth (on mine)

oh no I'm writing soul mark AU FUCK

Deep within the Borderline

Hair Brained

Zuko sick fic

Pappa bear Piandao

Sokkla prison fic thing idk

Zukka Oops AU

Max Soap drama AU (AKA deadbeat dad Jet AU)

Cold is the Night

Towards the sun but worse

Dragon Zuko: the first Agni Kai

Script for sokka and foo foo’s meeting in Avatar Sokka AU (comic collab project with BMH)

Script for Turn left and left again, circling all the way down

La!possessed cannibal zuko (exactly what it says on the tin)

Shifter!Verse Jee and Zuko (Zuko Not As Alone As He Could Have Been)

FMT Zuko gets sex ed at a brothel

Zukka amnesia fic but it's funny

“Divorced Zukka”

Sokka's brilliant plan to date zuko reveal the fire nation spies

Zuko+Ran & Shaw ovi 

Aaaand I'm not gonna tag thirty odd people so I'm just gonna say if you see this POST YOUR WIP LIST HAHAHA

[cariantha]

Hi all,

After a lot of thought, I've decided to submit my resignation as host of the MC Monday reboot.

A couple months ago I had received an incredibly sweet ask to do an MC Monday for my MC. So, I decided to give it a go. I thought it would be fun to invite others on that journey to help me stay motivated for the next year. And with Bree's blessing, I launched the reboot. But to be brutally honest, my heart was never really in it.

The thing is...I have an incredibly demanding job, I'm a mom, and I'm here to escape "duty and responsibility" for a couple hours each day. I don't mean to whine, but hosting a weekly reblog is a lot of work! I think Bree is absolutely AMAZING for coming up with all the ideas, creating templates, and coordinating MC Monday each week for an entire year (not to mention that she was also hosting other simultaneous reblog events). But for me hosting has felt like "work" or "an assignment with a deadline," and I'm here avoiding those kinds of stresses. I just don't have it in me to keep this going for another 11 months.

As I feel up to it, I'll keep working on MC Monday posts on my own timeline. I just really want to get back to reading and writing fics. And there's a lot I still want to read in the Choices app. I've really missed the thing that brought us all together in the first place. So, I hope you'll understand me wanting to focus on those things that bring the most joy and the least amount of stress.

To those that have participated in the reboot, a HUGE THANK YOU! And I'm really sorry if anyone is disappointed. But please don't let this stop you from continuing. Below is the link to the masterlist of prompts. Please carry on and have fun!!!

MC Monday Masterlist

Created by @jamespotterthefirst

✌️Cari

Tag List: @mydemonsdrivealimo @quixoticdreamer16 @storyofmychoices @trappedinfanfiction @peonierose @socalwriterbee @peonyblossom @tessa-liam @txemrn @kyra75 @jerzwriter @surrenderronnie1

[my-dumb-obsessions]

💕 Happy Anniversary, Carie & Nate! 💕

A year ago today, I completed a short fic based on a random prompt that had been sitting in my inbox for 3 months. That was Silverite Moon, and it was the day I decided that Cariane Amell and Nathaniel Howe had more story that I needed to tell.

Since then, I went backward and forward (and backward again) in their story with 3 more fics, and there's still more story to come!

But I'm so proud of this work I spent almost a year on, and this romance that still owns my whole soul. So I wanted to celebrate and share it again:

Nathaniel Howe returns home to the wreckage of the past and builds a new future with an unlikely partner. Warden-Commander Cariane Amell is thrown into a role she never expected and never prepared for and finds family and love along the way.

[dieinct]

what if the only fic i'm able to write this month is cary agos fucking nathan lane

[forabeatofadrum]

WIP ASK ME GAME

Thanks @bitbybitwrites for the tag. Like many, I am always down to clown about my WIPs.

I just have so many of them, so I am only going to talk about the ones I am focusing on. RIP to the many others who are in the far away ward in my WIP Hospital.

Under the cut because I ramble:

Partially published WIPs:

February Friday Event 2024 - Radio Silence (Alice Oseman)

Only one chapter is up. This is just a collection of 4 short fics that are set in post-canon of Radio Silence. They're based on the prompts from the February Friday Event. 2 of the 3 remaining chapters are partially written, but not finished. One will be about Carys and her thoughts on Universe City. The other is about friendship, but Carys and Aled are once again reminded by how badly their childhood was for them.

Ljubili se - Glee

MY BABY. This is the sequel to Ljubim te, the fic where Kurt and Blaine meet in Ljubljana. Now they're back in America and long-distance, with Blaine being in LA and Kurt in NY. My main reason for being stuck is admittedly that it's getting too ambitious and I need to figure out how to tell a coherent sequel. It's quite difficult, because Ljubim te was written without a sequel in mind and without much space to do more, but I love this world I made so here I am anyway.

Dancin' on that bamboo ceiling - Glee

A series of standalone fic that explore Asian identity and casual racism in glee. I've been working on and off on it for years and I have published some. But I really want to finish more. Right now I have a story about traditional dress and feeling removed from your heritage in my mind.

The Sarah Jane Adventures Extended Universe (SJAEU) - The Sarah Jane Adventures

Yes, my SJAEU is back on my mind. It's a spin-off of the Sarah Jane Adventures (which is in itself a Doccy Whomst spin-off) and it focuses on Luke after he left Bannerman Road and well, my unofficial title is Luke's Big Gay Oxford Adventures. The thing I posted is an overview of the AU, but I have been cooking up actual fics that are set in this AU since 2017 and they're simmering again.

Not published WIPs:

Just Some Guy - Carry On

Also known as MCD! It's the seven years of Simon and Baz's rivalry (and eventual romance) from the perspective of an outsider who has absolutely nothing to do with it. After all, it must be fucking wild for Watford students to see this wacky enemy to lovers. Matty Chris D. is the blandest person you'll ever meet, which is also why I am stuck. Go Matt, give us nothing.

Untitled TOTK-inspired Snowbaz fic - Carry On

This was marinating in my brain recently. Not sure I will get back to it soon, but hey, it's on my mind! As the "title" suggests, it's a Tears of the Kingdom inspired Snowbaz fic, which takes place after Wayward Son. The gang is back from America to find floating islands in the sky of the World of Mages. 7 years after their return, and 7 years after Simon went missing, Baz decides to find a way to the sky islands in order to find Simon. I don't wanna brag, but this idea slaps and I should get back to it.

Glee x Sense8 crossover idea - Glee and Sense8

I came up with a Glee x Sense8 crossover years ago and this is also back again on my mind. Just like the SJAEU, it's more of a concept with some overall thoughts than an actual coherent fic. It's back in my 2024 vision because, hey, I posted the SJAEU, I could possible post my Glee x Sense8 AU on AO3, because I think it's pretty cool. And yes, it's a crossover, not an inspired by thing. The Glee part is entirely an AU, but the Sense8 part is post-canon where the BPO has reformed, so that the sensates can figure out their shit in peace. And also, Puck from Sense8 will show up at one point. Two Pucks in one fic (because Puck from Glee is one of the sensates).

Anyway I have many more WIPs, like the Zimbits time travel one, or the Glee x Carry On crossover (begone Klaine and Snowbaz, Blaz OTP!) and UGH so many WIPs. If you wanna send me an ask about any of these WIPs, feel free.

Also, I think @bitbybitwrites already spread this in the Glee world, so let me spread it to the Carry On world by tagging @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @wellbelesbian @martsonmars @larkral @nightimedreamersworld @blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

[shaynawrites23]

Hiya! We're at 400 followers here, and I want to thank all of you again. I honestly never thought I’d hit anything over 100, so thank you all for following and for sticking around!

It’s time for another celebration! I have no better ideas than an event like this lol so let's go! I will do my best to keep up with any requests, I promise :)

Not here for a request? That's fine! I've got some ask games below, or feel free to send in anything you'd like!

(Small disclaimer: I will be writing requests as fast as my mental health and my life allow! I promise you I see and will write everything that comes in, in no particular order, but you're also always welcome to check in on your request!)

General rules:

- please specify whether you’d like angst or fluff, i can do suggestive too but not if you're a minor so please do follow that guideline 💜

- you don’t have to be following me to participate! feel free to request something, or just join in!

- be respectful! we're all here to have a good time, let's have some fun together 😊

Ask games:

🥰 - Touches

Send in the above emoji together with a prompt from this list and a character listed below, and I'll write you a lil blurb!

❤️ - I Love You

Red heart with one of these prompts plus a character and I’ll write a lil blurb!

👌🏻 - Fic Reblog

Send me this with a link to your fic, I'll read, reblog and comment!

🌅 - Vibe Check

Pop in my inbox with a sunset emoji and I'll compliment your vibes, or you as I know you if we're moots! Off anon please for this one 😄

🆓️ - Anything!

Whether it's random questions, or you just wanna hop in for a chat, or send in a request that doesn't follow the prompt lists, or something else still, go for it!

Characters (for requests)

- Remus Lupin

- Sirius Black

- Bucky Barnes

- Loki Laufeyson

- Peter Parker

- Cary Agos

Tagging some moots:

@kimorna @the-young-and-forgotten @johnmurphyisqueer @naviation-xx

[pellucid-constellations]

I started following you ages ago for your Bucky fics, but reading your Azriel stuff has me in a chokehold now. Like I haven't even read acotar and honestly have no intention to (I read ToG and I'm just not a fan of SJMs prose) but I've been devouring acotar fics because of you, so thank you!

On a separate note, thank god for Cari Can Read's plot summaries cos otherwise I would have no idea what was going on in these fics half the time 😂

Thanks for sticking around :))) And omg I'm going to pretend like I didn't watch the Cari Can Read video on silver flames but I actually did 👀 she's so great

[marythegizka]

get to know me

tagged by @mxkelsifer and @mxanigel (thanks lovely people!)

Favourite color: I just rotate them in my mind. They all get to be first at some point (well, except maybe bright yellows. I currently have my yellow running-jacket right in front of me and ummm... nah.)

Currently reading: Sociolinguistics - An introduction to language and society by Peter Trudgill + finishing The Ill-Made Knight by T.H. White... this book has such Loghain-Rowan-Maric vibes it hurts. The fact that it was written in the 1940s really shows at some points, and there were quite a few takes on Guenever that made me clench my teeth... but on the whole it's really quite funny. Also, pathetic little blorbos fucking up... yes, please.

Last Song: Walk by Kyla Lagrange

Last Movie: I think the last one I sat through was Avatar in 2022

Last Series: Arcane (but that was months ago as well)

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy? Actually you know what? Let's mix them up: honey-goat cheese pizza with a hint of pepper. Yummy.

Craving: Just had lunch so nothing. Or maybe a nap. A nap is good.

Tea or Coffee: Tea - no sugar, no milk, just delicious, bitter earl grey

Currently working on: as in, right now? Well, I opened my laptop to write fic, but I literally wrote two sentences before stopping... I know, such perseverance.

tagging (as always, only if you want to): @dairine-bonnet, @rivala, @deedeemactir, @lady-carys, @swiftodair, @wolfmilk-and-polenta

[kalpasio]

A Post Kalpas Odyssey

Welcome To The Ruins

A Kalpas x Reader fic taking place in APHO Chapter 3 below!

Carys and Bronya seemed to agree with your decision to stay away from the Carousel. Mei praised you all for finding more information on the aliens, and you were about to head home when she asked you to stay back.

“It’s about Kalpas,” she spoke once Sunita was out of earshot. “I—has he been at all violent? Maniacal laughing? Setting things on fire?” What the hell was she talking about?

“No?” you gave Mei a funny look and she seemed to realize how crazy she sounded. Shaking her head, she explained.

“Several years ago, I…learned about some people from the previous era,” you nodded for her to continue. “The thirteen Flame Chasers were heroes of their time and lead the fight against Honkai.” Mei sighed; this was only making things more confusing for you.

“One of the thirteen was prone to violence, and he was sure to go insane if he didn’t get himself killed first. His name was Kalpas. And he looked just like this Kalpas, wore the same mask, fought the same way, the only difference I can see is that this Kalpas hasn’t had the surgery that drove the previous one mad.”

“You seem to know that Kalpas pretty well,” you narrowed your eyes slightly. Mei didn’t even acknowledge your accusation.

“There are plenty of people from the previous era, like y—” she stopped herself and cleared her throat. “I’m just worried that this Kalpas will grow in the same way and since you’re sharing a house with him, I wanted to be sure you’re safe.”

“I’m fine,” you stood from the couch. “I appreciate your concern,” you did your best to sound polite. “But, maybe next time, you should ask Kalpas himself.” With that, you left the base and started the short walk home.

As soon as you opened the door, you could hear your roommates arguing, but you ignored the yelling and went straight to your room. For some reason, Mei’s words were stuck repeating in your mind. If that Kalpas had gone crazy, did you need to worry about this Kalpas being like that? He’d been in your nightmares more times than you’d like to admit, and you never made it out of them alive.

Sure, he started arguments, or picked fights any chance he got, but he had never even made a move to hurt any of you after that initial fight. Even when someone got under his skin, flames might flare from his hands, but he would walk away before anything happened.

A knock at your door pulled your attention to the worried face of Sunita peaking though. “Is squad leader Mei really mad with you?” she asked while sitting on the edge of your bed.

“No,” you closed your eyes and contemplated how to explain what you had learned.

“Are you tired of us arguing?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m upset,” you laughed a little. “Mei just gave me some things to think about.”

“Like things you’re in trouble for?”

“Why are you so ready for me to be in trouble?” you shot her a playful glare. Sunita just smiled and shrugged.

“I know you’re secretly a rebel,” she gave a wink that made you give a short laugh. Slowly your frown returned, and you covered your face with your arm.

“She thinks Kalpas is the reincarnation of some crazy guy from the previous era.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“I mean, it’s not like she’s told you anything new,” Sunita grinned and laughed when you smacked her shoulder.

“Like he really lost it, went around killing everything.”

“Look, I argue with the guy enough to know he would’ve killed me by now if he were like that,” she held your hand reassuringly. “Mei was just being cautious, don’t stress about it so much,” you nodded and squeezed her hand.

“Thanks—”

“If you two don’t finish ‘bonding,’ food’s gonna get cold.” Kalpas stood leaning against your doorway with his arms crossed tightly over his chest per usual.

Sunita nodded, “we’ll be down in a minute.” Kalpas didn’t move and the three of you stayed staring at each other. “That was your cue to leave,” she tried again with no effect.

“We were basically done anyway,” you groaned while sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to stand. Sunita stepped past Kalpas first and headed downstairs, but you were stopped when you tried to pass. Kalpas grabbed your arm, though the grip was hardly tight enough to really stop you, the scowl he sent was what made you stand still.

“I have a problem with someone, I tell them,” he spoke in a low tone. You just gave him a confused look. If this was his way of saying he was mad at you, it wasn’t very direct. “I expect you to do the same.”

“Right,” you nodded, then looked him dead in the eye. “I’m hungry and you’re in my way.”

“Good.” He let go of your arm, apparently satisfied, and you both went to eat.

Normally, you wouldn’t be part of the team exploring the ruins; Timido’s skating was a necessity, and Carys’ accuracy almost always gave the team an edge. This time, however, there were some gaps that only you could cross with your scythes, so you had been brough ton.

And Kalpas threw a fit.

He didn’t want you going and that pissed you off. Sure, he was a better fighter than you, but you were hardly a pushover, and could easily pull your own weight in a fight. You had been planning on going on the mission before, but now you were determined to go and prove you deserved to be on the team.

“Quit acting like I’m useless in a fight!” you were yelling, but you really couldn’t care less about what the others though right now. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself! You don’t need to treat me like a D-rank Valkyrie just because you can punch things better than I can!”

“I’m treating you like a D-rank Valkyrie because you’re just as weak as one,” he snarled in your face. “You have yet to kill a single enemy on your own—”

“Because you won’t let me!”

“—and you’d be dead if you tried!”

You were seeing red at this point. Knuckles white with the grip you had on your scythes and breath coming out in huffs. Mei was about to step in, but you ended the argument first.

“Go fuck yourself,” you growled and roughly rammed his shoulder with your own on your way to the gate. “Fucking asshat,” you mumbled to yourself on the other side. You hardly got a second to yourself before Carys placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Breathe, kid,” she said it in a nice way, but you knew she just didn’t want to put up with your drama.

“I know,” you took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Let’s just get through here.” Carys nodded and Timido stepped through a moment later, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.

Most of the ruins were just a test of mobility. Between Timido skating up walls, you swinging across broken platforms, and Carys shooting any switches, you were able to reach the end easily. Unsurprisingly, there was a final fight; an Empress and Demon appearing not even a second after you touched the floor.

Timido and Carys focused on The Empress, while you stuck with The Demon, dodging the oversized bird with ease. Your chain gave you the space to slash at it without being in range of its talons, and you finished the fight without a scratch. Carys landed the killing blow on The Empress shortly after, and the three of you exited the ruins perfectly unharmed.

Kalpas was staring at you as you walked out, but you pretended not to notice. Right now, you just needed space. Given enough time, you would cool down, but if he spoke to you too soon, you’d blow up again. You went to the other house for dinner and let Timido tell everyone how the mission had gone. That story turned into several more, and it was past midnight by the time Carole and Adam walked you home.

The next morning, you were feeling much calmer, but you still got up extra early to avoid Kalpas. Grabbing a quick snack, you were the first one to the base, where you ate and played some mindless game on your phone. When it came time for your daily missions, it was the squad leader’s turn, so you weren’t sent out, and you managed to find a corner by yourself to eat lunch.

It wasn’t until dinner that you were forced to talk to Kalpas. While the others all stood to head home for dinner, he grabbed your arm in a grip you didn’t even think about fighting. Sunita placed herself in front of you with a disapproving look that was emphasized by the impatient tap of her foot, and the angry scowl on her face.

“We’re going home,” she said. And that was that. You didn’t even get to say ‘ok’ before she was heading out and Kalpas was dragging you along behind her.

At the front door, she held it open and glared daggers while you were pulled past her. Kalpas only let go when you were shoved to sit on the couch. He then moved to stand in front of you while your friend perched on the edge of the other couch. Both had irritation coming off of them in waves and you rolled your eyes at them while leaning back in your seat.

“We finally agreed on something,” Sunita broke the silence, but you stubbornly refused to look at her. “We both think you’re acting like a child having a temper tantrum.”

“Sunita, you intentionally let someone get hurt the last time they refused to thank you for your healing, and you think I’m a child for being pissed after what he said?” your voice remained calm for the most part, but you doubted it would stay that way for long.

“I think we’re on a mission that’s way too serious for you to be acting like this. We don’t know that much about this place, and we need to work as a team.”

“Clearly we don’t need a team, we have the almighty Kalpas!” you stood from your seat. “I’m just dead weight! I really don’t see why you’re so upset when I’m obviously useless in a fight,” you scoffed.

The callback to Kalpas’ comment didn’t go unnoticed, and Sunita flinched at its mention, but you weren’t done. “If it weren’t for the two of you, I wouldn’t even be here!” Turning on your heel, you stormed up to your room, hoping they heard every stomp you made.

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you were being a bit overdramatic, but until your door slammed shut, you couldn’t find it in you to care. More angry, not-quite-shouting came from downstairs, but it was too muffled to understand. Your heart was still racing from the argument, and you felt some tears in your eyes from the sudden addition of more emotions than you would like.

A sharp bang at the door had you freezing in the middle of wiping away a tear. Kalpas could be heard on the other side of the door, demanding that you open up. He said something like Sunita’s approach not working, ad you didn’t want to stick around to find out his approach.

Sliding open your window, you slipped out and scaled the side of the house to pull yourself onto the roof. Wandering False Bay alone was still dangerous, so you decided to stay where you were, rather than going somewhere else like you would at St. Freya’s. A minute or so later, you heard loud swearing, and some aggressive attempts at calming someone down that clearly weren’t working. Your roommates must’ve gone into your empty room.

At school, sneaking out of the dorms was such a common occurrence for you, it was almost expected that you would disappear, so you doubted Sunita was bothered by your absence. Kalpas had made it clear that he thought the team was better off without you, so it seemed more likely his angry shouts were calling you a coward for running and not calling out in concern for you.

You watched the sun set and listened to the occasional metallic scraping of distant monsters. Slowly, lights in the houses flipped on as it got dark, and then back off as everyone went to bed. Thinking about what had happened today was just a little too much for you right now. Instead, you watched the world move and thought about what you would do when you got out of False Bay.

When the last light in your house went out, you snuck back down the roof and back into your room. Pressing against the door, you listened, just to be sure the other two were really asleep. Exhaustion was pulling at your own body, but you were too hungry to go to bed. Just a quick snack, and then you’d be right back to your room, and no one would know.

Silently, you swung open the door and crept down the hall. For once, you were thankful for the houses’ eerie silence; there were no squeaky floorboards, or creaky stairs, and with the practice you had, the entire trip was made without a sound. Once you were in the kitchen, you saw a plate on the counter with a little note on it. Sometimes Sunita would write reminders about the day’s tasks for everyone and leave it on the counter or table so you could read it as you each woke up.

Picking up the note, you realized it had been addressed specifically to you. It was too dark in the kitchen to read, and you couldn’t turn the lights on for fear of waking someone, so you stepped over to a window and used the light from the streetlamps.

Kalpas didn’t mean what he said, you huffed under your breath and nearly threw away the note then and there. If he didn’t mean it, he shouldn’t have said it. He was just worried about you going somewhere he couldn’t help you. If you clenched your jaw anymore, you would snap a tooth, but you kept reading.

He’s been worried about you the whole time you’ve been gone. If you’re safe, if you’re getting food, if you have a place to sleep. He worries so much it’s stressing me out. I know you’re mad at him, but, there was a line that had been scratched out so you couldn’t read it. Skipping ahead, it continued, we both just want to know you’re alright.

Sunita’s beautiful signature ended the note and you let out a long breath of air when you finished reading. There was also a short sentence saying the food on the plate was for you. Picking up a pen, you turned the note over and wrote one line.

If that’s how Kalpas feels, Kalpas can tell me himself.

You signed your own name at the bottom and switched the pen out for a fork and started eating. The food was cold, but there was no way you could get away with using the microwave, and the food didn’t taste half bad as it was. Once you finished eating, you slid your dishes into the sink (Sunita wouldn’t even let you load the dishwasher unless it was a spoon) and went back upstairs.

When you squinted your eyes open, it took you a second to realize that you were, in fact, awake. A quick glance at the—somewhat blurry—clock told you that it was almost an hour before you normally woke up. Furrowing your brows, you wondered why you had woken up so early, but decided to roll over and enjoy your extra hour. Until you heard someone jiggling your doorknob.

Instantly, you were up, adrenaline clearing any sleep from your mind. One too many pranks at school meant you developed a habit of sleeping with the door locked, but you weren’t going to sit there and wait for the person on the other side to find a way in. At the next rattle of your door, you slipped out of bed and picked up your scythes, cursing mentally when their chains clanked against each other. There wasn’t exactly a peephole on your bedroom door, so your best bet was to get the jump on whoever was on the other side.

In one move, you unlocked the door and yanked it open, while jumping at your would-be attacker. You had him pinned on the other side of the hall with your scythes crossed one over the other, so the blades curved tightly around his neck. Kalpas—of course it was Kalpas—waited a moment for you to recognize him, and let him go, but when you didn’t move, he grew frustrated.

“Get off,” his voice rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel it in every part of you that kept him pinned to the wall. Still you didn’t move to let him go, only adjusting your stance to better keep him where he was. With a snarl, he reached up and wrapped his hand around the blade of one of your scythes and pulled it away.

“What are you doing?!” you nearly shouted in shock, and your eyes were as wide as they could go as you pulled away. One scythe came freely, but the other Kalpas continued to hold in front of him, and you worried the razor-sharp edges would cut further into his fingers if you tried to move.

“You think you can get away with that?” Kalpas was close enough that you could see his eyes through the mask, and with the rage in his stare, you wished you couldn’t. Narrowing your own eyes, you tried not to show how nervous he was making you.

“We’ve already established you don’t think I can do much of anything.” Kalpas’ glare got worse, and you looked away, unable to keep up with the intensity. The moment your eyes left his, he yanked on the scythe in his grasp, immediately bringing your eyes back for fear he would hurt himself.

“I want you…to be safe,” he growled, practically in your face to keep eye contact with you. “You can’t be safe when you’re dead.”

“I’m not some weak—”

“I know!” Kalpas shouted and any courage you might have mustered up was snuffed out. “There’s a reason I only work with you, the others aren’t worth my time,” he scoffed. “You’re a better fighter than any of them.”

“You called me a ‘D-rank Valkyrie,’” you raised an eyebrow, and when he didn’t argue you kept going. “You called me useless and said I couldn’t be left to fight on my own or I’d get myself killed.” Looking down at the ground, you saw the small puddle of blood that was dripping steadily from his hand. “Do you think you could let go—”

“No.” You stared at him in shock for a moment, waiting for any sort of explanation. Slowly, Kalpas’ other hand came up and pulled away his mask. Even though you could see his eyes through the mask, they looked completely different now, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring.

They were a stunning green, but beyond that, there was just so much emotion in them. Anger mixed with passion and devotion that lead to frustration and rage and concern, and just everything that made Kalpas.

And then his eyes slid closed. It took you a second to realize why. He was kissing you. When your brain caught up with the feeling of lips stiffly pressed against your own, you breathed in a short gasp and Kalpas started to pull away.

With a sad ‘no’ that only you could hear, you pushed back towards him and kissed him again. The still lips you felt last time suddenly came to life, and all the emotion you saw in his eyes was poured into the kiss and you eagerly accepted it all.

A polite cough grabbed your attention and you pulled away—or as far as you could with Kalpas’ good hand keeping a tight grip on your waist.

“I wanted you to make up, not make out.” Sunita grumbled from the doorway to her room. “Now I’m gonna have to clean the wall,” she continued muttering under her breath while turning to go back to her room. As soon as the door closed, you were laughing into Kalpas’ chest.

“She’s more concerned about the cooties we might leave on the wall than the blood on the floor,” you wheezed out and Kalpas gave a chuckle you could feel through all of his chest. When you stopped laughing, he pulled you away slightly and gave a very serious look.

“Breakfast.”

“Oh!” you had completely forgotten how early it was. “I’ll, uh, clean up here. You go see Sunita about your hand,” you pulled away and Kalpas slid his mask into place from where it had been sitting on top of his head. He hardly even made it a step before Sunita was stomping towards you bot, holding cleaning supplies and still grumbling.

“You,” she pointed at Kalpas, “had better make me the best breakfast ever,” she gave him her worst glare, though it seemed to scare you more than him. “And you,” she pointed at you now and you blanched. “Kissing doesn’t just magically fix everything. You two are going to have a nice chat while I eat my perfect breakfast,” she gave your resident chef a pointed look while she started patching him up. When she was done, he left, and you started helping her clean.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she was practically whispering, but you could tell she had been worried.

“I just really missed you,” you spoke in a teasing tone, but changed your tune when you saw the girl pout. “I’m happy to be back with you both.” The cleaning supplies were suddenly much more interesting than the person you were actually talking to. “And thank you for your note and trying to talk to me yesterday.”

“If I had known you just needed a kiss I would’ve fixed this ages ago,” Sunita lamented, and you both laughed.

“I don’t think it will work, but you’re welcome to try in the future.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You both gave each other exaggerated winks and broke into laughter again.

oh the "make up not make out" joke was horrible, someone please take away my writers license.

No one cares but there was a bug in my room and that's why I posted the ao3 chapters so much earlier than the tumblr chapters lol

[rockinlibrarian]

🍌🍈

Thank you, nonny! This is the fruit ask, if you, too, want to ask me fruit!

🍌 In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

"My prior hist’ry with this one’s (forgive me) discommodius," It's just that it's in verse, it's accurate, AND it's a pun! It's funnier in context! And you may have to have read the source material to even understand why! But I wrote it three years ago and it still cracks me up! @dannypageoflight have you ever read The Trials of Apollo? Because I feel you would appreciate this joke SO MUCH if you have.

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

I'm not entirely sure what THAT fruit is, but "blorbo" is a good name for it, actually.

But my number one double-blorbo is Cary and Kerry Loudermilk from Legion, and I wanted to rant out all my headcanons and ideas and opinions so much that I once wrote "Everything I Know About Writing the Loudermilk Twins" which is 9,913 words of free pass ranting! Or raving! Or thoughtful consideration! And me a sheltered white woman doing crash course research on The Indian Child Welfare Act to get my cultural frame of reference right!

--I really recommend cultivating blorbos with at least one major characteristic that you have no personal knowledge of, which forces you to learn and care about issues that would never have affected you otherwise. Opens your mind.

One of my second biggest blorbos and the one that's been on my mind the most in the past couple weeks as you've seen from my Tumblr is a bi trans man, and I am firmly a cishet woman, so that's another one I feel compelled to Allyship In The Name of the Blorbos. Here is my recent post about Viktor Hargreeves! Ranty headcanons-- well, besides my determination that his soul mate is his adoptive brother, my spiciest take on Viktor-- and I had no idea this was a spicy take until I saw other people disagreeing, that's how firmly I stand by it-- is there was nothing wrong with him writing and publishing his memoir, even if his siblings hated it, even if he regretted it later-- he NEEDED it dangit! His whole life suppressed and ignored and invisible? All he wanted was to be SEEN! And it's HIS STORY, even if it involved other people who didn't want their dirty laundry aired. I always think of this quote from Anne Lamott about telling your story no matter what the people in your life think-- "Then they should have behaved better!" I am very firmly against suppressing anyone's own story, especially somebody who's never had a voice, no matter who it angers. That's not to say he should be immune to the fallout, and there's a lot of interesting nuances you can get into about someone so convinced of their unimportance that they don't notice the ants they're stepping on-- but better out than in! --again, I may take the Just Ordinary stuff a little too personally... but at least I don't have earth shattering energy wave powers!

[yoyoplisetsky]

g o d i feel like i’m writing/posting nothing rn but it’s just ,,, i have like 20k+ of fics already written for bangs/zines i just can’t post yet and like at least 30k+ more coming from other bangs and zines and i’m branching out to other fandoms rn too so it’s not i’m not writing i’m just writing nothing i can/want to post yet and it’s frustrating i want to give you everything dsjakflas;;