#i have just started a master's degree in an entirely different city so i have been uh . Mildly stressed. but i am ok now! hooray :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ezlebe · 2 years

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Academia Tom/Greg (maybe with grad student Greg)?

“How do you suddenly know so much about this?” Tom asks, looking up from the uncannily well put-together SCRUM plan in his hands that could not have been written by the man in front of him. It even references adapting planning poker to their needs on the project.

Greg shrugs and cups his elbows in his palms. “It’s not really suddenly? Like, for –” He sighs, “For my thesis, I actually did a – “

“Wait, back up – Did you just say thesis?” Tom asks, stretching out the word in a tone that can in no way express the level of his disbelief. “As in, for a masters?”

“Yeah?” Greg says, as he lifts his brows, then drops them while lifting one of his shoulders in a shrug. “Or, well… maybe a – a doctorate?”

“Doctorate?” Tom repeats, voice pitching, as he feels like he should start looking around for cameras. “Since when?”

“Since, kind of… two years ago?” Greg says, eyes sweeping to the side with a weak twist at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not that big of a deal? Like, I just kept going to school, right, so I – you know, I wouldn’t have to graduate and my grandpa would keep paying for me to just, like… live?”

Tom stares for a few beats longer, then blinks with a harsh clear of his throat. “In digitizing?”

“Sort of – No?” Greg says, reaching up and sweeping a hand through his hair with a shake of his head. “It was in the value of digitizing the majority of the special collection catalog of a library into an eLibrary to – ”

“A what?” Tom says, giving up and starting to rub hard into his eyes. “A library? You’re a librarian?”

“No, obviously, like…” Greg takes a deep breath, shuffling on his feet in a way that has, historically, led him to backing out of the door. “I’m a… My job title keeps kind of changing, so –”

Tom throws his arms out and nearly loses the sheaf of papers. “Why were you throwing up in mascot heads to begin with, Gregory? You should’ve been toking up in the stacks between Humanities and Mental Derangement.”

“I dunno,” Greg says, hunching into himself with a roll of his shoulders forward, twisting his hands together in front of himself. “I just kind of hate working for those sorts of… environments?”

“Worse than ATN, Mr Principles?” Tom says, gesturing even more wildly to encompass the entire building around them.

Greg wets his lips, narrowing his eyes with a brief glance away. “…It’s less money?”

Tom stares for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes, then exhales a harsh breath and throws the plan to the desk. “I can’t believe you’re a librarian. A doctor librarian – Dr Greg Hirsch the Librarian.”

Greg hunches even further into himself, as a marked ruddiness flushes across his face. “It’s on my resume?”

“When, I ask,” Tom says, with a bark of a laugh, as he rolls his eyes straight to the ceiling, then drops them back down, “Have I ever seen your resume?”

“Um…” Greg sweeps his eyes away while he rubs against his lower lip.

“Exactly,” Tom says, then narrows his eyes, as a belated observation hits him. “…Doctor Hirsch.”

Greg looks even more flushed, confirming the difference.

“Doctor Hirsch,” Tom repeats, drawing the word out in a lower pitch.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Greg mutters, reaching up and scratching a hand through his hair.

“You know exactly why.”

“Hello, Mommy Roy,” Tom says, lifting his voice in a vague sing-song, as he spins in his chair to look down at the city. “I hope you’re having a good morning.”

“Tom,” Marianne says, flat and markedly dubious on the other end of the line. “This is unexpected… Did I miss something in the news?”

“Hah, no,” Tom says, as he glances at the computer to his left – he hopes not, anyway. “I was simply wondering if you had Greg’s degree handy? The physical diploma.”

“It’s in his room, yeah,” Marianne says, pausing for a pair of beats, then lowly clicking her tongue. “Do you want it?”

“I want to do something with it,” Tom says, glancing sideways at the proudly displayed diploma up on his wall. “All he’s got up in his office toward that direction is this cert for a – It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compare to a fucking PhD.”

“Nope,” Marianne agrees, followed by an ear-splittingly sharp bark in the background that could very well be agreement.

“It even sort of applies to his job,” Tom says, then narrows his eyes, turning the chair back around and unlocking his screen with a sudden thought toward actual professionalism. “Hey, do you know the dimensions?”

“Diploma-size?” Marianne guesses, followed by a clatter in the background, then a low mutter: “Do they even come in different sizes?”

“Touché,” Tom says, dropping the phone and pressing the speaker button, then setting it onto the desk.

“Oh, actually… It’s, uh – ” Marianne pauses, then exhales, “Hotdog not hamburger?”

Tom closes his eyes for a solid beat, then drops his chin. “Vertical – why?”

Marianne scoffs against the back of her throat. “I don’t know. I didn’t design the damned thing.”

Tom opens a new tab, then types in… “Where did he get it?”

“Don’t you know?” Marianne says, almost mocking – no, it’s definitely outright mocking.

Tom rolls his head back and forth on his shoulders. “He hid the whole thing from me.”

“Oh, silly Greg,” Marianne says, sounding fond, but not particularly surprised. “Western, out in London.”

Tom hums shortly, typing into the search bar and clicking at the store. He catches a few stock photos of students and presumed teachers, and raises his brows, remembering the tasks of grad students at his university. “Did he ever teach a class?”

“I think he TA’d a bit? I’m not sure if he taught anyone…” Marianne exhales a loud, lengthy breath. “I can’t really imagine it? I mean, I can, but it’s just my big stoned son standing up there using too many big words while not actually saying anything for an hour to a bunch of people. You know how he is when he’s nervous. It’s lucky he doesn’t collapse into French – my fault for that, he spent too much time with maman as a baby.”

Tom blinks hard while forcing a laugh. He clicks through a few more menus, forgetting the diploma frame for the more pressing matter of Greg’s department.

“And you know what? He always used to say he was just putting in the bare minimum, but I did look into it,” Marianne says, as another loud noise crackles through the speaker – how much shit does Greg have in this room? “You have to maintain a pretty high GPA to get this thing.”

“He does relish playing dumb,” Tom says, dragging his teeth sharp against his lip, as he navigates menu to menu to – Yes, past research. “As in, I recently found out the project he’s heading now directly relates to his thesis, but said bastard slipped right in there and proposed it, absolutely sparkling without saying so, like the weirdest damn hustle.”

Marianne offers a dubious snort. “Scanning old crap? That’s kind of funny.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Tom says, scrolling down the names of the department’s past thesis papers. “But now I’m putting it up.”

Hirsch, Gregory. The Magnitude of ePreservation: Rare Books and Special Collections in Digital Archive

Tom feels something grossly like pride sitting behind his sternum. “Did you read his thesis?”

“Are you kidding?” Marianne says, voice pitching with disbelief. “It’s thick as a book, and I barely graduated high school.”

Tom furrows his brow and clicks the download, then raises it high, as his eyes widen, when the page count loads at the top – 272. Good fucking Lord, and this man dares whine about writing emails?

“Well, damn, Greg,” Tom says, looking over his shoulder, as he tests the strength of the hook with a curled finger. “The one day you come in early.”

“Uh,” Greg intones, staring between Tom and the wall from just inside the threshold of his door.

Tom takes a step back with a low tut. “I wanted to see how long it would take you to bring it up.”

Greg takes a step closer, peering down at his desk with a pinching frown. “Like, what is that?”

“Your degree, obviously,” Tom says, lifting up and straightening the frame in his hands with a deliberate flourish. “Dr Hirsch.”

Greg blinks rapidly, staring hard, and it is a bit early for him to be connecting dots. He looks like he hasn’t even had coffee yet, and he probably hasn’t, since he bats his eyelashes for Tom to take him out for a croissant something like every other day. “How did you – You called my mom?”

“I’m honestly shocked she didn’t tell you,” Tom says, since he has been waiting the last two weeks for Greg to bring this up to him and ruin the surprise; he must have accidentally struck up a rapport with Marianne. He should probably feel less downright pleased by it, but she’s a difficult woman to pin down – a lot like her son.

“Like, me too,” Greg mutters, then his eyes go a bit wide and he takes a half step forward, as Tom turns toward the hook on the wall. “Wait, wh-what are you doing with it?”

“Hanging it up,” Tom says, looking at the back of the frame for the little alligator teeth.

“Why?” Greg says, his tone straining with a marked lift upward.

Tom rolls his eyes widely to look over at him.

“You never cared about it before,” Greg says, looking a little bit like he might actually snatch it out of Tom’s hands to stop him.

“I did not know,” Tom says, raising his eyebrows while shooing Greg off with a wave of the diploma.

“If… like, if you cared, you could’ve looked it up, or something?” Greg says, rubbing his palms together, as he begins to look embarrassed at the frame while Tom lifts it up, like it displays something far more unpleasant than a dorky predisposition for gathering and organizing information. “Or asked? You never asked, Tom.”

“Greg, if you were me, would you have asked the assistant you picked up at a birthday party if he had any degree, let alone such a fancy one?” Tom says, raising his brows, as he carefully sets the frame onto the hook. “A birthday party for man who had a stroke, and said future assistant proceeded to take advantage of to get said job?”

Greg wets his lips. “He did give me a job.”

“Sure, sure, he did…” Tom trails off, as he takes a step back to confirm the levelness of the frame. “But the only person who can verify that is Marcia, who is also the sort of person to find that slimy sort of gumption admirable in a person.”

Greg is silent for a few too long beats. “He did, Tom.”

“Look me in the eye, and tell me if you can even remember if that’s true, or not,” Tom says, turning his head and pointedly locking on to hold Greg’s gaze, but there’s such a particularly familiar glint in it that he can’t help but dig at it a bit deeper. “Or if you just... showed up at the building, too, and said you had a job.”

“No, he… he said – ” Greg lifts his chin with a weak cough, as a curl now forms at the edge of his mouth. “I didn’t quite catch exactly what he said, maybe, but he didn’t say no, Tom.”

“I knew it,” Tom says, barking out a laugh, reaching out and gently smacking Greg against the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I gave you a job, didn’t I?”

“It’s all on the fence, really,” Greg says, now all but smiling straight up at the ceiling. “I didn’t hear, uh… what he mumbled, you know? But maybe you’re, like… just the guy in my corner.”

“I am – I am, and I’m just disgustingly proud of you, bud,” Tom says, throwing his hands out to wave at the garishly purple diploma on the wall. “Look at that. You had yourself accolades the entire damn time. I’m an amazing judge of character.”

Greg puts that face on that he always does when he gets any sort of unprepared-for praise: pinched and rosy, and a bit too surprised.

“I read your thesis, too,” Tom says, tipping his head to the side with a wider smirk.

“No, you – ?” Greg’s mouth drops open before he markedly wets his lower lip to bite down on it. “All of it?”

“Not yet; it’s two hundred seventy-two pages and dry as fuck, thanks, bud,” Tom says, wagging his eyebrows with an exaggerated version of a hairy-eyeball to punctuate. “But I’ll get through it. It’s just like trying to read Moby Dick.”

Greg shakes his head. “You don’t have to – like, you shouldn’t, actually.”

“I should,” Tom says, taking a step back and looking down, picking up the leftover packaging from the hook and throwing it under the desk into the trash. “It’s a chance to see inside that squirrelly head of yours.”

“Not really,” Greg mumbles, staring for a few beats longer at the diploma with a curl at the edge of his lip. “It’s not like as big a deal as you’re making it, Tom.”

“It is,” Tom says, raising his brows while pressing his lips flat, then gesturing vaguely in the direction of his office and his own hanging diploma across the floor. “You know what I had to do for my MBA? An internship and shit out a thirty page steaming pile about finance growth.”

Greg exhales hard through his nose while rolling his eyes toward the door of his office. “Tom.”

“I’m serious,” Tom says, leaning back against the desk with a sharp clear of his throat. “And you should have said something – I probably would’ve fired you and sent you down to the Morgan, but you should’ve said something.”

Greg pouts with a short drop of his head.

“I can’t believe your grandfather didn’t say anything about it.”

Greg draws up with an awkward laugh, which really is all the reason that Tom needs, all of a sudden, about why Greg doesn’t think something he worked a decade for is noteworthy. “Like I said, it’s not a-as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be.”

Tom narrows an eye, tapping a pair of fingers against the desk top. “Did the curmudgeon at least go to your graduation?”

Greg drops his eyes further toward the carpet. “Like, my mom – ”

“So no,” Tom interrupts, scoffing low and feeling a sneer stretch across his mouth. “What a grade-A fucking killjoy.”

“He didn’t really, uh…” Greg takes a deep breath, as he looks up with a humorless smile. “Find it to be a worthwhile pursuit?”

Tom puts a hand up between them with a shake of his head. “He does nothing but quote crap at you – ”

“That’s not really what I was doing, though,” Greg interrupts, weighing between them with his own dismissive gesture. “I wasn’t… studying classics. Or history. Or, like… actual books.”

“No, it was something useful,” Tom says, lifting his voice in a vague lilt, waving his arms back and forth with a gesture at the monitor behind him at the desk. “You’re not going to talk me out of finding this impressive, Gregory Hirsch, PhD; you’re just going to have to suck it up and get breakfast with me about it, because it sounds like someone needs an egg sandwich.”

Greg scratches at his lower lip with one last glancing look at the diploma. “Or – uh, maybe French toast…”

“Oh, speaking of, your mother told me you could speak fucking French?”

“Not, like…" Greg grumbles low, scuffing his next step through the door behind Tom. "A lot."

#there are already a lot of great fics with this premise #and i know ziltch about academia #so have not the prompt #tomgreg

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enterpris · 2 months

Text

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 18

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It’s spring when you start your Master’s degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: romance, no condom, v*ginal sex, FLUFF

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 16.5 17

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

The library glows with fluorescent lights and the warmth of heaters running. There's a few other students reading in the annex, but for the most part people are out and about today. You skim the questions in your document, reviewing the spacing you had meticulously input between each question, ensuring that the instructions in each section are clear and direct, and that the rows of possible multiple choice answers are perfectly aligned.

You switch to the other tab. The corresponding answer sheet is just as neat and thorough from your hours of painstaking work outlining example answers and partial credit rubrics. At least the multiple choice key had been relatively quick to build.

Although the example test isn’t due until the end of break, with how much time you’ve spent editing and reviewing, there can’t be many more changes you can make to improve on what you’ve done already. Plus, you’d like to enjoy the night without thinking of an assignment hanging over your head. With one final scan of the assignment outline, you confidently upload the document and hit submit.

You shrug on your coat and bundle on the soft scarf on top before heading out. The blustery day feels even more frigid and gray outside after the near stuffy heat inside the library. You start at a brisk pace across campus.

Even though it is cold, Tokyo in December may be your favorite time of year. The sky is gray with clouds, the late afternoon sun breaking through every so often to flare across the ground. Snow flutters between the buildings and across the frosty lawns, but the movement keeps you warm as you trek across the university grounds.

You can’t keep the smile from your face as you approach the metro station and hop on.

Christmas Eve is the most romantic day of the year, and for the first time you have someone to spend it with.

Just a few weeks ago, you’d celebrated Satoru’s birthday quietly, the two of you and a cake from his favorite bakery, (because apparently he eats enough sweets to have a favorite). Birthdays in Japan are usually small affairs and usually spent with family or closest friends, and he wanted to spend his time with you.

You exit the train to make a quick stop before heading to Satoru's apartment- the city is alive and beautiful. Many couples are out, on their way to fancy dinners or to walk amongst the city lights. When the sun sets, entire street blocks are radiant with lights that hang from the trees that line nearly every street.

While the holiday is celebrated differently here than your home, seeing everyone else so cheerful and excited fills your heart with a joy that can only happen during the holidays.

You had predicted having to wait to pick up your box, and there is a short line at the storefront. You check your phone, still plenty of time, and pick up your box quickly.

When you jump back onto the metro with your parcel, you just have to ride a couple more stops. Small flurries still wisp through the air when you exit the train and begin the short walk to Satoru’s apartment, the sun nearly set. Instead of going out or ordering fried chicken, he’d insisted on having you over for a chill home date to relax.

As you approach, you can see Gojo is already waiting outside. His coat is nearly too short for his long legs, but his face lights up when he sees you approach, peeking over his glasses. You greet him warmly and he hurries you towards the entrance.

Even though your walk was short, tension melts out of your body when you step into the warm foyer of the building.

“You get it done?” Satoru asks as you step into the elevator.

“Yup! Finished and turned in. I didn’t want to worry about it the rest of the week.”

“Can’t believe we have a winter break assignment, who does that?” he complains.

“It wasn’t that bad, if I got it done in a couple hours it’ll be nothing for you.”

“It’s the principle, we should get at least some time off.”

He huffs as he unlocks the door and lets you in. Since he hasn’t been away traveling so much recently, the space has become more and more lived in- several pairs of shoes kicked off at the door, a couple books sprawled out on the low table near the couch. Maybe you’re just more comfortable existing in his space.

You privately agree with Gojo about the winter assignment, even your students at the Eikaiwa school have a complete week off for the holidays, but the demands are great in a Graduate program. After next year, you’ll never have to worry about assignments over breaks, just grading them afterwards.

You set down the parcel and your bag and smile at the thought of your students. When you do reconvene after the break, you’ve prepared a cultural lesson on how different English speaking countries celebrate the holidays.

“So I made dinner, not sure how it turned out.”

As much as you hate to admit it, in your time together you’ve yet to find something Satoru doesn’t excel at. He seems naturally good at everything. The apartment smells delicious and you can see multiple pans steaming on the stovetop.

“It looks good! You didn’t have to do everything yourself though,” you reply.

“I think it needs more time to reduce down, wanna take a walk?”

While you don’t relish going back out in the cold, you grew up looking at lights on Christmas, and Tokyo does have some beautiful decorations.

“That could be nice.”

Before your warmed through you're back out in the early evening. The city was beautiful earlier, but the multi-colored lights and trees are truly magnificent in the dark of night. Different sections of the city are known for their particular displays, and the Tokyo Skytree is close enough to Satoru’s apartment that you can walk there.

The air is crisp and chill on your face, but the excitement of the night keeps you warm. Gojo slows his long strides to walk alongside you and you slow down to take in

It’s a dream of a night, a true winter wonderland in the heart of the biggest city in the world. The needle shoots into the sky and shimmers with the rainbow of colors. When you turn to face Satoru, the luminescence is reflected in his eyes a hundredfold. The warm golden glow from fairy lights on the street color his face.

“It’s beautiful. All the lights always remind me of back home.”

“It looks like this?”

That makes you laugh. “No, not quite. But Christmas was always really special. I like having a piece of that here.”

He looks back around at the decorations strung up, maybe imagining what it would be like to see the lights in your home. Perhaps you’ll take him there one day.

The two of you walk around the base of the Skytree, chatting mildly about your plans for the rest of the week. By the time you’ve circled the Skytree and up and down the surrounding streets, your breath clouds in front of you and the cold has sunk into your bones.

“It’s getting kind of chilly.”

“Let's head back. Dinner should be ready now.”

You agree, and begin the short walk back to the coziness of his home.

Satoru has prepared a savory stew for dinner- hearty mushrooms and veggies in a creamy roux sauce over rice. He serves you each a bowl and you hold the sides, letting the heat soak into your fingers.

The meal is fantastic, rich and warming to the bone without being too heavy. You’re thankful Gojo took the day to cook instead of working on the assigned test design.

In the last few months of dating, you've also found out that Satoru is always hungry- it doesn’t matter if you’ve just eaten, and that goes double when there’s dessert involved.

You sigh. “It is nice having the week off. I haven’t gotten the texts for the Leadership in Education class yet.”

“Well, you can’t borrow mine,” Gojo smiles. “Yeah, yeah. Most of us don’t have the option to get out of classes,” you grumble.

“It's my reward for ‘inspiring future educators’ at the symposiums. Besides,” he rolls his eyes and gets himself another portion of dinner, “you know they’re not letting me skip student teaching.”

“Yeah, because it’s one of the most critical parts of the program. You can't graduate without doing any actual teaching.”

“It'll make things busier. Will you still be taking Eikaiwa shifts when we start student teaching?”

You pause. The year has gone by so quickly, you hadn't put much thought into when you'll stop teaching English and step into your specialty.

“Um, I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to stretch myself too thin. Planning lessons and grading for two different schools might be too much. I don’t know how you even manage classes with conferences.”

“Eh, it’s not that bad. I’ve already written the stuff, they just want me to talk about it.”

You finish your bowl and clean up the dishes from dinner, you can’t finish the night without something sweet though. You unwrap the parcel you picked up on the way over, revealing the Christmas Cake.

It’s exquisite- all whipped cream and fresh strawberries on a soft sponge cake. Satoru kisses your cheek and grabs another knife to cut into the confection. You serve yourself a slice, and Gojo makes a serious dent in the remainder with his own piece. The cake is just sweet enough, light and balanced and fresh in a way that brightens the winter day.

“Ugh, I think I want another slice,” Gojo says.

You look at him- if he takes another piece as big as the first, there will be hardly half left. And frankly, you’re not sure how he could still be hungry after two servings of dinner. He sighs.

“Actually, maybe I want something else instead.” He walks over to you with a devilish glint in his eye and kisses you. “Mmmm, so much better.”

Normally a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but Satoru is so playful and the night has been so pleasant so far, you can’t help but bring your lips to his.

When you taste his lips, it’s comforting and exhilarating all at once. You know that he likes when you’re soft and gentle, and that he loves it more when you take control. Every time your bodies meet there’s still a thrill that runs through you, an electrifying current that pulses in your veins and makes your heart sing.

Satoru continues kissing you, keeping the touches light and chaste, but he begins walking you backwards towards the bedroom.

You reach the doorway and when you reach under his shirt and press your hands into the warm skin of Satoru’s stomach, his chest, you feel the intoxicating rush of wanting and being wanted in return.

He takes his time running his hands over your shirt, down your arms, around your shoulders and back. The heat of his hands sinks into your skin through the fabric and heats your blood underneath.

But the way his lips move against your own is ravenous, and when you open your mouth for more, his tongue slides into your mouth. He tastes you and consumes you, like any amount of you will never be enough.

Your blood is running hot now, but Satoru continues to just barely touch you, making no moves to feel underneath your clothes. If he’s not going to do anything, you will. You grab the bottom of your shirt and shimmy it up to your chest, breaking off the kiss to pull it over your head.

Satoru pulls you right back into his arms, but you’ve had enough of his leisurely pace. You nip his earlobe and kiss down to the sweet spot on his neck, taking the time to run your hands over his clothes. When you reach his hips you slowly inch your hand around to his front to cup his hardening erection. You squeeze and suck on his neck at the same time and he melts in your hands.

He’s wined and dined you, and now you’d like him naked. You quickly undo the belt of his pants and shove them down his legs before tugging the hem of his sweater up. Gojo grabs your wrist before you can pull it off though, and reaches around you back to pull off your bra.

Satoru takes a moment to savor your topless form and then returns the favor, sensually dragging your pants off of you. He then pushes you onto the low bed and topples after you. Before you can catch your breath again his mouth is back on yours and his hands are everywhere on your body.

You’re overhot and understimulated, desperate for him to give you just a little more. As you trail kisses along his shoulder blade, you shove the boxers down and grasp him, moving your wrist just slightly. He sighs and swears into your hair.

“You want me?” His voice is breathy and strained, and you can tell that he’s aching just as much for you as you are for him.

“Please.”

He pulls back, slides his large hands down the length of your body, and pulls off your underwear. He takes his time coming back up to meet you, leaving open kisses on your calves, thighs, stomach and chest until you’re nearly writhing with need.

At last, he stops at your face, kissing you once more before a low moan escapes as he slides into you. He’s spent so much time warming you up and teasing that you nearly sigh in relief too.

His strokes are slow and easy, he doesn’t change his page as he kisses you deeply. Satoru looks into your eyes and brushes your nose with his own, soft and affectionate. While he props himself on one arm, the other wanders your waist and up to your breasts, where Gojo pays special attention to each one. He caresses the flesh there and rolls the nipples between his long fingers.

It’s not the lust filled sex you’ve had before, but a slow and amorous lovemaking. Satoru’s attention to your body and the tender way he’s looking at you make the experience even more erotic. You’re still spun up and haven’t had any relief yet, but you can feel the peak growing closer every time your hips meet.

“Satoru, please,” you beg.

This time, he acquiesces, and rubs small circles on your clit with the tip of his thumb. You can’t hold back a moan as the pressure climbs and climbs. When he kisses you again, the pressure reaches its peak, wracking your body. Your nails dig into his back the way you know he likes and you gasp out his name.

Something about you seems him careening over the edge with you, like elements combining, the sum of your pleasure grows and becomes greater than its parts. You lay together in the afterglow, pressed against his stomach.

He leans his head against you and sighs. “Love you.”

You flinch away from him and turn to stare.

“What?”

Satoru kisses you on the nose and repeats himself. Your heart stutters and it feels like the world stops. Not only did Satoru throw out this admission naturally, but he’s said it in English.

“I said I love you,” he switches back to Japanese, “maybe you need to get your ears checked.” His mouth stretches into a smug smile.

Satoru hasn’t left you speechless in a long time, but as you stare at him now, you can’t quite force yourself to form any words. Too many thoughts run through your mind, clouding anything you could want to say to him.

You know that outright declarations aren’t common. It's a big deal that he's just said this to you, and in your own language.

“You’re not gonna say anything back? You’re hurting my feelings,” he fake pouts.

“No, I do. I love you too. I just-” you scramble a reply in Japanese, and you use aishiteru, the deepest, most profound word for love. You flush a bit, not sure if that’s the level of love that he was talking about.

Satoru rolls you onto your back and leans over you again.

“You do?” His eyes crinkle at the corners. He leans back over and kisses you again. You'd felt spent moments ago, but the admission sets heat simmering back through your blood.

The second round of lovemaking is more passionate and frenzied than the first, but no less romantic.

Satoru pulls you close again and you feel his heart beat slow. The night is dark outside the blinds of his window, and it must be close to Christmas day now. In the past that's meant days of preparation wrapping presents and gift exchanges. Laying in Satoru’s arms, thinking about the set of classes to come, you can’t find that you’re lacking anything.

#saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #reader insert #light academia #jjk x reader #EiA

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stunningly-lesbian · 1 year

Note

Hello! Hope you are having a great night, may I have a reading? It’s been almost 3 months that I moved to a new city for my masters degree here, it’s been a whole change, language, classes and people. I kind of feel like I’m not the same as I was before coming here, and I feel kind of conflicted because of it, I been struggling to make connections and I don’t know if it’s my fault or it’s part of the process. How people are perceiving me inside of my school? Should I care? Change something? Thanks a lot for your time and energy! Have a great night. My initials are rssdlm and I was born on may 9/98 🤍

I just want to start with saying congratulations on doing something so brave, and your feelings are entirely natural - not your fault at all! Moving is always complicated. You'll feel different because you're surrounded by people who have lived different lives, speak different languages, and were taught to think differently from you. You'll feel like you're changing because you are. You're exposing yourself to a whole other world, and learning from it. That's something to admire, and I'm sure there's people around you that do.

The reading shows first, how people think of you, and second, if you should change anything. I didn't ask if you should care, because that's something I don't think a card can control. If you care, you care, and you shouldn't try to suppress these entirely natural feelings.

The way you're percieved is as the Magician. It's the first card in the deck, a positive card. It indicates intelligence, and that is likely the first concrete thing others have noticed about you. They may want to learn from you and know your perspective on things, but ultimately they don't know much about you right now. It is a "card of potential" - ultimately, a card of wanting to know more.

The way you should act came out as an inverted Chariot. It can be a bit of a negative card sometimes, and often comes up in situations when people are feeling lost and directionless. But as an advisory card, especially when it comes to relationships, it's very definite. It's advising you to ease up with the pressure on yourself. In conjunction with the magician, it's telling you that this part of your life is for learning. That your struggles to make connections are a natural part of living in the world, not a direct reflection on you. That the way you change and learn is something to be celebrated.

On a personal note, if you're struggling, I'd see if there was a counselling, mental health, or listening service at your school. Some aren't great, but some give really good emotional and practical advice. They're worth looking up, at least. Honestly, you had it right when you said it's part of the process. That doesn't mean it can't still suck sometimes.

Good luck with your masters, and I hope it goes well! You seem to know yourself pretty well (not many people even recognise when they're changing) and that's something good people will see in you. It might take time, but it will serve you well!

#tarot reading

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nahaseast · 2 years

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Drake take care zip zippy

Why can't Boz work with Toto again and make another Silk Degrees/Middle Man album? YouTube has audio snippets of Boz Scaggs forthcoming "A Fool to Care" album. Seems like "water under the bridge" after 27 years. Will not reveal what song(s) Donald played on I find it funny that James and Gary Katz still James Grant reformed the band for one nightĪnd did all of "SKOL" at Shepherds Bush Empire Steve M, from Scotland has said, "Not a duffer Really great interview and to this day, I "Love & Money's" - "Strange Kind Of Love", I came there looking a Johnny Mandel one: I will be on my extended Honeymoon, LOL.Ī Donald Fagen interview I didn't know, from a site that has plenty interesting ones. If they hit New York again, I need to get in touch. Did you go to either of the Port Chester shows last year? I was there with a different set of friends both nights. Posted by: Jim Taylor, Hello, Baton Rouge If there's anything you'd like to discuss, feel free. Sorry, I didn't attend either of those shows. Two of the best shows I have seen since 2013 were SD last year and Rush in 2013 on the last night of their tour. Why would anyone go to that site?ĭisagree. I agree that there possibly could be a point to be made about baby boomer classic rockers overstaying their welcome, but holy cow was that a terribly-written column. Heck, sub-genres from decades-past have developed their own niche followings, allowing for a massive gem-digging expedition if you will, leading to rediscovery of great music which had fallen by the wayside. This explains the labels' fixation with repackaging back catalogs of older artists, because the older generation grew up purchasing and owning tangible items.Ī well-written and performed song is just that, no matter its creation date. Even what was once thought to be obscure music no longer has the impact of discovery that it once did. Also, when you factor in that the young generation has been weaned on Napster and are now accustomed to having the entire world of music at their fingertips, the tendency is to view music as a disposable commodity. The entire music industry has become one big mash-up of styles and genres. If you asked the average music listener what artists define the current era, I doubt they could come up with anyone significant. While the baby boomers may overstay their welcome, so to speak, there hasn't been anyone to come along and take their place. The incendiary tone seems more confrontational than anything. XIV has the same problem as EMG - strong back end and weaker up front.Īlso Catherine Russell and Snarky Puppy four nights each in July. I find a lot more emotion in this album since their 80s albums. Maybe slight tunewise, but all are well played, with a bit of prog/fusion thrown in there.Ĭarlock is fantastic throughout. Of the macho man stuff up front - Runnin' Out of Time is probably the best. Could be a track from Hydra ,IMO their best album. Great Expectations - sounds like a swan song. Pure 1980.Īll the Tears that Shine - wistful with a very nice chorus with tight harmonies. The keyboard hook from a forgotten Al Jarreau album produced by Jay Graydon is nice. Jazz: Besides 21st Century Blues, the tracks that are the strongest are those started by Paich in the 70s:Ĭhinatown - seems like there are bits of the Moodies, Chicago, Doobies, Little Feat, Boz Scaggs, but I think it works as an R&B jazz number. I'm shocked Toto let that be done to the master. Running out of Time is without legs it's so compressed. They suffer the least compression as well. January, February and March 2015Posts Click for most recent BlueBook entries.Ĭlick for newer April, May, & June 2015 Posts Tweets by Times are Eastern (New York City) Time Zone.

#Drake take care zip zippy

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writing-on-the-wahl · 3 years

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Shiver Part 2

Part 1 here

Hero stood impatiently in the narrow gap between the bushes and the house, if you could call such a monstrosity something as basic as ‘house.’ Finally, the window to her right slid open, and Villain poked his head out. “Hurry up, before the guards circle back this way!”

Hero rolled her eyes and rested her hands on the ledge to boost herself up, but warm fingers closed around her wrists and hauled her easily through the window. She could feel the heat radiating off Villain as he quickly set her on her feet and reached around her to close the window and draw the blinds.

“This is your secret hideout, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why all the cloak and dagger?”

Villain snorted. “Do you really want to explain to my guards why you’re here, roaming free instead of locked in a cell?” He spoke over his shoulder as he crossed to a dresser.

“You really have a dungeon in this place?”

He turned back and tossed something at her. The mass of fleece smacked her in the face, and she almost missed his reply.

“No.”

She shook out the pullover as he pulled more clothes from the drawer.

“Stay here.” Then he disappeared through a the door in the side wall.

Not one to pass up an opportunity to wear soft oversized men’s sweaters (why were they always so much more comfortable?), she slipped on the pullover. Still shivering—it was definitely not at least 65 degrees—she looked around.

She was standing in the master bedroom, and the door Villain had just disappeared behind must have led to the master bath. The furniture was cut in clean lines, and the sparse decorations consisted of an elegant brick fireplace in one wall and a painting of the city nightscape above the dresser.

A half burned log lay on a pile of ashes in the unlit fireplace, with a long couch placed at a comfortable distance.

Another shudder ran through her. It felt like she was standing in a freezer. She glanced back at the window, wondering if this was actually a trap. Villain had definitely lied about the temperature.

There was a loud crackling as the log in the hearth burst into flames. Hero jumped, and it took all her willpower not to call her own powers as Villain crossed the room, now dressed in a red shirt and sweatpants.

The flames were dancing in his eyes.

She took a small step back.

“You run your AC colder than my roommates do.” It was an accusation and a question.

To her surprise, a faint blush rose to his cheeks before he shook his head.

“Yes well, do you really think you’re the only one whose powers build up inside them?”

Hero thought back to the burning warmth of his hands as he’d pulled her through the window.

Oh.

“Your fire messes with your temperature?” No wonder it felt like a freezer in here.

He shrugged. “Probably not as bad as yours.” He flashed her a cocky smile. “I’m better at finding ways to use my powers besides keeping my water bottle cold.”

Hero threw him a half-hearted glare, but her mind was still puzzling over the fact the Villain seemed to have the opposite problem of hers, and that the obvious solution would be...

She crossed her arms.

“No.”

He blinked. “No, what?”

“No I’m not—” she cut off. He hadn’t actually said anything about... “Why did you lie to me about the temperature?” She shot him an icy glare.

There was still pink across his cheeks, but he shot her a smirk as he leaned in close and whispered in a sultry tone, “Why Hero, I just figured that you would be more comfortable here, considering...”

He stepped even closer, until she could feel the blessed heat coming off him in waves. She steeled herself against the temptation to lean into his warmth as he bent down until his lips brushed her ear, sending sparks dancing along her skin.

“...considering I have a fireplace, and you don’t.”

Oh.

He pulled back abruptly, laughter in his eyes at the disappointment in hers that she tried, and failed, to smother.

He’d known what she’d been about to say earlier, known what she’d expected him to say as he leaned in close...

She scowled and stalked past him towards the flames. She sat on the couch, but even the fire felt cold after Villain’s warmth. She huffed and slid off the couch to sit in front of it, hoping being a foot closer to the flames would make the difference.

It didn’t.

She glared at the dancing flames as a large heavy blanket fell across her shoulders. Hero looked up at Villain, who was standing beside her with an immensely pleased grin.

“You’re evil.”

“I know.”

He turned towards the bed, but Hero grabbed his hand.

The look of surprise on his face mirrored her own.

But now his warm skin was against hers, she could bring herself to let go.

“Sit? Just for a minute?”

He nodded, but pulled his hand free. He pushed the couch forward until it was close enough to use as a backrest, then dropped down beside her.

She fidgeted with the corner of the blanket for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the fire, wondering if she was going to have to move closer when...

“Do you want to trade?”

Hero started at Villain’s voice beside her.

Trade? Trade what?

He lifted his arm from his side. An invitation.

Oh.

Cold for hot. Hot for cold.

It wasn’t like he was her nemesis or anything….

She pulled the blanket from her shoulders and draped it across her legs before sliding closer.

With his arm across her shoulders, she closed her eyes, leaning back into his warmth.

He shuddered at her cold touch, and she jolted away.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t—“

His hand slipped down to her waist, wrapping around her middle and pulling her back against his gloriously warm chest. A shiver snaked down her spine for an entirely different reason.

His chin rested on the top of her head.

“Shhhh. It feels nice.”

Gradually, her muscles relaxed, and she melted into his warmth.

“Just for a minute.” She repeated as her eyes drifted closed.

When she opened them again, the fire was out, sunlight streaming through the tall windows. She was still on the floor.

Villain was beside her, her head on his chest, his heart thrumming in her ear, his arms around her. And for the first time in weeks, she was completely warm.

Tiny Taglist:

@1becky1 you asked for a continuation like 12 years ago....

@shieldmaiden-of-gondor thanks for reading it first to make sure it was ok ☺️

#opposites attract #fire and ice #shiver #hero x villain #villain fluff #heroes and villains #superpowers #write #writeblr #hero #villain #snippet #my writing #writing

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youarejesting · 3 years

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Sly like a... ? - Part 1

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1.6k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

Humans always strived to be better, faster, and stronger. So it was only natural for them to turn to genetic manipulation. Splicing the human DNA with that of animals. Bringing about a new half-human, half-animal race called Hybrids. They were like most things humans deemed different, scary, and an abomination. They were not allowed to be independent in fear of rebellion against the elite pure humans. These Hybrids were soon seen as lesser compared to the pure humans and were quick to be sold as servants to the rich and shady, and pets to the common families. The only problem was when the families no longer wanted their designer pedigree hybrid they were either abandoned, sold, or worse.

Hybrids didn’t have a voice. They were not allowed to live on their own unless they were fully educated with a bachelor’s degree. Due to these standards, many were sent back to the adoption agencies to be rehomed again and again until they reached a certain age. Then they were put down to make room for more returned hybrids.

You were working with the government on a program that could fix the hybrid rehoming issue. Having presented your idea to the board they seemed interested and were willing to grant you a small fund if you could give them the results they needed. They gave you a handful of Hybrids, one being Jimin the poster boy for the government. He was genetically modified to create a male calico with the classic calico print which was only found on females.

They succeeded and though Jimin was a male his features were more on the feminine side making him seem too androgynous but not what the market wanted. He was left to be used as a model on new billboards and television advertisements for government services and legislations regarding Hybrids.

Another participant was your neighbor’s hybrid, Taehyung. He was a golden retriever and was volunteered by his owner, an older gentleman who recently lost his wife. He was worried for the young hybrid that one day when he shall pass he will be alone and scared. You were quick to guarantee him a place in the program to help him become more self-sufficient in case anything should happen.

You were currently packing your things, not that there was much, living in such a tiny apartment. However, you were preparing for a call within the week regarding moving into a larger government-funded home where you could comfortably house the number of new participants of your trial program. The place was fully furnished with everything a large family of hybrids would need, all you had to bring was your clothes. Everything else was paid for to create the perfect environment for the hybrids. Rent, utilities, food, and anything the hybrids needed were all reimbursed by the government.

Since it would be a few days before you would hear anything, you thought it was best to start thinking of activities for the hybrids to get to know one another. Whilst also basking in your last moments of freedom before devoting yourself to the program.

On that note, you had finally finished packing and decided to spend your hybrid-free moments treating yourself to some food. Pulled from your thoughts of a delicious omelet by a loud ping from your jean pocket. A reminder on your phone in bold letters.

H-week!

Today marked the first day of your heat, this explained the nagging twinge in your back you had been ignoring, you thought it was from hunching over to pack. Searching your top draw you saw the empty blister packet of heat suppressants, great another thing to add to your ever-growing to-do list. The pharmacy was a little further than the restaurant you wished to visit but not too far out of the way. So you set off hoping to get back in time before it gets too dark, your eyes did funny things at night.

See you weren’t exactly human yourself, you were an experiment. The world was creating new hybrids and well, you were genetically modified within the same year as Jimin. Supposed to be the new designer breed the ‘Fox-Hybrid’. The problem was it didn’t work, you were born entirely human. Sure you were a bit more agile, and your ability to hear and smell things was better than normal. You were still essentially human.

Once a month since you were thirteen, you would get a strange feeling in your lower abdomen. When you discussed it with the scientists for your check-up, they had explained it was a heat. Whilst foxes usually had a heat once a year lasting three days, yours would happen once a month lasting three days but a lot milder.

Since that day you have taken a low dose heat suppressant to nullify any pheromones. You were grateful because it wasn’t as painful or as long as a human period, but it wasn’t as debilitating or humiliating as a real heat.

You had grown up seeing Jimin on occasion and were familiar with how debilitating hybrid heats and ruts were. Even so, the two of you became friends, both failed attempts at modification.

Though you never understood why they said fox hybrids didn’t exist, you had seen them. Sometimes in grocery stores, restaurants, or nightclubs. They would be there, they would wink at you or wave, give you a smirk with a twitch of their ears or a swish of their tail. Were they mocking you for being a defect?

The only good thing accompanying your long journey was the music humming softly in your headphones. Used to drown out the loud sounds of the city, as your ears were sensitive. It also helped you ignore the side-eyes from Hybrids who would not so subtly sniff the air as you passed.

You caught a flash of orange and looked across the street. A simple fruit shop that had a colorful awning flapping in the gentle breeze.

Moving around the store was a shopkeeper in a green apron, shirt, with his bronze hair sticking out underneath a matching cap. He was putting down a tray of banana’s and as he stood, a pair of ears and a bottle brush-like tail were visible, he turned as if sensing your presence and locked eyes with you, tipping his cap. He dusted his hands on his apron, leaving you shocked. A Fox hybrid in public! No one else seemed amazed or even spared him a glance. How could no one see this?

It was like a scene from a movie, as a truck drove past leaving the man looking completely innocent and human talking to a few ladies. He was quite good-looking and charming, but there was no sign of a tail. The women were quick to fall for him, purchasing an oddly large selection of fruits and vegetables. You turned back to the path ahead of you shaking your head in disbelief, before continuing on your way to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy catered for humans and hybrids alike and was never too busy. Which made it your favorite store to collect your script from, as there was little to no waiting time. Handing over the script, you strolled around the store wondering what you would need for these Hybrids. Toothbrushes? Combs? If they had a lot of body hair would they need the silky coat shampoo formula or the soft fur body wash? Placing the hybrid shampoo and body wash back on the shelf you shook your head honestly this was overwhelming.

Rubbing your aching stomach, you were too uncomfortable to really get into hybrid care right now. You wouldn’t have to worry about any other heats apart from your own as it was decided with the board they would all be male hybrid participants. This stemmed from Taehyung being already a willing participant from the start, they thought it best not to mix male and female hybrids.

You would however have to deal with their ruts, albeit once or twice a year. You chewed your lip in thought pausing in the makeup section of the store. You caught your reflection in the small mirror and preened thoughtfully, your eyes were expressive and angular, your hair due to the modification was a brilliant copper.

You were quite beautiful, eerily so, like the man at the fruit shop. Your features were so similar. Even though you were a defect and he was the real deal. “Ma’am your order is ready.”

Turning surprised you grew hot in embarrassment, stammering to make an excuse, “Sorry, I was just thinking about a really strange fox hybrid at the fruit shop.”

Many occupants in the store turned confused and you heard an old man say, “Fox hybrids don’t exist, they are sinister creatures and not to be meddled with”

“She must be a conspiracy theorist,” one woman whispered to her hybrid snake who was donating venom for anti-venom.

Paying for the medication you left quickly and took one of the small pills as you stepped out of the store. Why didn’t anyone else see them?

You headed back towards your home, not forgetting the reason for your trip. You were excited about an omelet at your favorite restaurant when two apples came rolling across the pavement.

They rolled towards you, quickly picking them up you carried them inside the store, “excuse me, sir you dropped some of your apples,” You saw his shadow in the darkened store, two pointed ears, and the flick of a tail.

“Are you a fox hybrid?” You asked curiously and he laughed. It was strange like snickering but at a pitch that was not fit for a grown man, like a child’s giggle sharper with a few squeals, or like a bird chittering. You know the sound. He was Gekkering like a fox.

“Thank you,” he took the apples gesturing you over to the side, “let me get you some blueberries, they are my favorite.”

“Oh thank you, sir, how much do I owe you?”

He shook his head, thrusting a black plastic bag into your hands, “It’s okay, we have to look out for one another.”

What a strange man…

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Albedo HCs: Coming Home [Christmas Celebration 🎉]

For the Christmas Celebration Requests, please read this [we have 2 more days but I’ll possibly extend the deadline to Jan 10. I’m tackling all the Mondstadt rq first before moving onto Liyue]

---

Ohhh, I love idea a lot (might have gone overboard anon haha). No worries about being specific, I love getting specific requests. I just finished a super depressing fic and I’m back at it again. Though I will do my best to make this one happy because that Mona fic hurt me. But I’m glad to hear you love my writing haha 💕💕

I also know nothing about Albedo and have never written this man in my life but I’m going to ignore everything because these are happy hours. I love his man so much so this is some self-indulgent stuff (if you couldn’t tell from the word count) istg hcs have turned into fics just without the dialogue. I took many liberties lol what the hell is formatting?

Also, shoutout to @asheseiler A beautiful human being that started chatting with me because we both love Childe haha. But seriously, I appreciate you 💕💕💕

---

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover

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Albedo HCs: Coming Home

As you finally reached the hill top by the Stone Gate, you could just make out the stone walls of the City of Freedom in Mondstadt. You were almost there and the butterfly’s racing through your stomach only seemed to fly faster. You had been on a long trip away by travelling between Liyue and Inazuma. From practicing your alchemy to finding new secrets, it had been awhile since you last saw Mondstadt. While it had been fun going from place to place and seeing all the new arts and techniques, you couldn’t stop the feeling of loneliness of not having an occasionally smug but talented ash blond companion at your side.

You hadn’t seen Albedo since Master Rhinedottir had left and sent Albedo to Mondstadt with a letter of recommendation. You travelled with him to the City of Freedom but you only stayed for a few nights before you departed to Liyue. Your master had different plans for you and you didn’t know how long your own journey would take but you both promised to stay in touch through letters.

He was now acting as the Chief Alchemist and Captain of the Investigation Team of the Knights of Favonius. He managed to get a lab from Alice and he even had an assistant named Sucrose. He sent over some sketches for you and even if the bottom half of “Sucrose” was just a stick figure, you were happy that he wasn’t alone and cooped up in his lab all the time. You were, however, worried about these “Klee disasters” but happy that he still had the energy to write to you. At first it was hard, you found yourself talking to the air as if Albedo was still there but even after all these years, you couldn’t help but miss him. The occasional letter you received did help to lighten the mood however and you always made sure to store them carefully.

It seemed that your dapping mood was noticeable because even the ever stoic Zhongli asked if you were okay. He was nice and easy to talk to, even if he had a problem with Mora that you sometimes had to bail him out off, but you trusted him so you explained to him your growing loneliness. Which he simply replied that if you missed someone, you should go see them.

So here you are right outside the gates. The knights at the front were nice enough and let you through with ease once they checked that you didn’t have anything destructive. Now the hard part was actually finding Albedo. The knights had mentioned that despite being a highly respectable alchemist and one of the Captains, no one really knew where he was most of the time. Originally, you were thinking of planning some sort of surprise, even had made an entire game plan, but now that you were here. You just wanted to tackle the man, pride be damned.

You began to wander around the city, in comparison to Liyue it was quite small but so much more lively and warm. Christmas was right around the corner so everyone was rushing around hanging up lights and finding presents but it was nice. Everyone seemed to know each other and unlike Liyue, you didn’t need to be afraid if the walls were listening. You looked around for a man with bright teal eyes and ashy light blond hair, even asking around, but no luck. No one seemed to know where he was and if he was even in Mondstadt right now. You were beginning to loose hope and that your trip might have been in vain when you felt a small tap on your shoulder and-

Sweet jesus, what the fuck?

You were almost jealous at how good he looked now. He was always handsome when you were both younger but now it felt like cupid decided to descend from the heavens, laugh at you, then riddled you full of arrows. Was your pulse working? Brain still computing? You knew you had a small crush on Albedo when you were younger- who were you kidding, you were in love with this man since he helped you create cecilia flowers from a dead denro slime - but this was just unfair!

“Albedo! I was looking around everywhere for you. This place is actually a lot bigger than it se-”

“You’re back.”

Albedo was surprised to see that it was really you. He only caught a small glimpse of your profile but he knew it was you. He almost suspected that his vision was tricking him or that he might have accidently set one of his sketches of you to life but you were here. Albedo has always treated friendships with a constant degree of distance, always working or traveling to gathering materials to avoid social interactions even if it wasn’t intentional. He also had no memory of any family, only adventuring deep within the domains with his master and you. But when his Master left with one assignment left for him he couldn’t help but feel a bit hollow, but you were always there to lift his spirits up even if on the outside he didn’t appear upset.

But then you had left and gone on your own journey.

“Hm? Oh, sorry I didn’t mention it in my last letter. It was a bit of an impulse trip. But I’m not intruding in on anything right? You’re happy to see me...right?”

“You’re here.”

At first he was alright with it, even encouraged you to set off to Liyue since it was the closest. Promising that you would both keep in touch even if he found relationships a taxing cycle. But when a few months had passed and it began to settle in that you weren’t anywhere near him. That he couldn’t talk to you about new discoveries, that he couldn’t hear you voice anymore, that he had even forgotten how to sketch you. It felt...weird. He knew what he was feeling was loneliness, he wasn’t deluded or naïve, but even when he had Sucrose or Timaeus it wasn’t the same. But now you were here. He could see you and how the lines in his sketchbook were wrong whenever he attempted to re-create you. He could feel your warmth that sketches he brought to life couldn’t do. He could feel your presence and how it slowly but surely filled the void in him until it was bursting at the seams.

“Albedo? Are you alright?”

“You’re here.”

You were almost afraid that the holidays had broke Albedo. You knew he would sometimes get too deep in thought and wouldn’t register his surrounding but it was just you two. With the sun slowly going down, the snowflakes dancing around you both, and the Christmas light reflecting off his unique blue eyes. You took a slow blinked at him. Once. Twice. The same way you would when you were studying something, trying to unveil its secrets. Before sighing amusingly and opening up your arms to him. He was still the same.

“I’m here.”

The final assignment Albedo received was too hard, too complicated, far beyond his own limits and he was worried that if he never completed it, would he ever see his teacher again? When you took your first step outside the walls of the city, waving back to him as you set off on your journey, he couldn’t help but feel that like his teacher, you were leaving him too. But when you looked at him with those warm but understanding eyes, opened your arms to him, he let go and stepped into your embrace. He was sure he was borderline crushing your frame but you hugged him back just as tightly.

“My apologies. I got overwhelmed. Come with me, let’s get out of the cold first.”

You tried to hold it in but you laughed at his statement. He didn’t seem to mind as you felt him smile into your neck. Even with those words he hadn’t let go or slackened his grip in the slightest. So you both stayed there outside in the cold, the christmas lights reflected off snow, the sounds of laughter and singing playing in the background as you both embraced each other.

I’m home

You’re home

---

Although Albedo was happy to see you again, he was wondering why out of all the years you had been away, all the other holidays you had missed, you decided to come to Mondstadt today. You were at his lab and marveling at all his new devices when he popped the question. You flushed a bit but quickly brushed it off, saying that after all the letters he sent you were finally curious as to what Mondstadt was like and the people he met. Plus, Liyue and Inazuma didn’t celebrate Christmas as much as Mondstadt so it would be nice to finally celebrate the holiday again.

He simply smiled smugly and nodded along before you eventually caved, because that look could steal your heart away, and revealed that honestly, you just really missed him and wanted to spend Christmas together. There wasn’t anything wrong with that was there? So what if you missed him? It was natural. It wasn’t like you were wondering what he was doing on slow days in Liyue. It wasn’t like you we-

“You can stop laughing at me. I know you’re doing it even if I can’t hear it Albedo.”

“I’m sorry you must be mistaken. Perhaps your observational skills have rusted?”

You huffed at him before turning your attention to a small but worn sketching book. It was different from the ones he had showed you and much smaller compared to the ripped out sketches he sent you. Albedo noticed your curiosity and almost flushed before striding over and showing you what was inside. It was either he do it now or you would constantly eye ball it until he finally let you see what was inside.

He took out the old sketchbook and flipped all the way to the first page. They had been sketches of you. When it had just been you, Albedo, and your teacher he would often ask to draw you but he never showed you the finished product. What was surprising was they were all full sketches. No simple lines or unfinished colours. His interest in things, especially when he draws, were fleeting leading him to always create unfinished or basic lines.

“Wow, was this your first sketchbook? Did you draw anything else? Oh, like your assistant perhaps?”

“No. I only drew one thing here. It’s been sitting here ever since but I tend to make sure it’s in good condition. Should I ever need to draw in it again.”

Albedo almost reached for his pencil to sketch your smug but bright smile. But set his hand down. While he wants to capture moments so they remain forever with him, he felt that perhaps, it would be nice to live in them. Just for a moment.

---

I never write at the bottom of my fics but I wrote too much at the start haha (plus tagging my screaming doesn’t work anymore). Not gonna lie, this was going to be different and you and Albedo would have role reversed AND I WAS GOING TO WRITE MONA IN but that didn’t happen. I made it so disgustingly sappy at the end that I want to throw up but when do I not?

But I kind of like this version more. He’s super out of character but I don’t care and you’re gonna have to take this hcs out of my COLD DEAD HANDS. But I hope you enjoyed this and I’m using this as my Albedo catalyst so come home elevator boy. (cough celebration hcs are still open if you wanna feed me 👀 this )

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact albedo x reader #albedo x reader #albedo x lumine #albedo x aether #albedo #albedo headcanons #albedo imagines

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 4 years

Text

Goodbye Paris

Marinette is 17 and the other 18 in this Au.

Marinette's parents fall under Lila's spell as well. She starts filling them with lies about Marinette and soon they start believing her.

Lila accuses Marinette of sneaking out and hanging out with the wrong people. Sabine and Tom start believing her, especially when they notice she wasn't there one night. She was out patrolling as Ladybug.

Soon Marinette is on lock down barely able to leave her house. She struggles to even get out as Ladybug.

Her parents become more and more distant, soon not even talking to Marinette. No goodbyes, hellos, I missed you, or I love you, just silence. Marinette tries to combat the lies but her parents won't listen. She slowly gives up focusing on Hawkmoth, school, and designing.

Halfway through the year she opts to graduate early forfeiting walking at graduation. She doesn't even mention it to her parents, just focuses on getting money together for her own place while applying to colleges overseas. After she stops attending Chloe reaches out to her apologizing for everything she had done and asking for a second chance. Chloe moved to America with her mother, their junior year unable to handle akuma anymore. Marinette tells her their relationship will be rockey and first but she agrees to a new start.

It's right before the end of the school year when Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat Hawkmoth and get the two missing Miraculouses back. Chat gets mad when Ladybug refuses to reveal her identity and attempts to make her. She stops him and takes his Miraculous back as well revealing Adrien.

"This is goodbye Chaton. If you had taken this more seriously. Perhaps you could know it, but you never did."

She leaves him there returning home and safely putting the peacock and butterfly miraculouses away. After his defeat she stops patrolling as Ladybug and instead plans her move, not wishing to be with her parents any longer.

Once she stops patrolling petty crime begins to pick up again. The city starts crying out for Ladybug to return but Marinette wont. She can't be there for everything, it's time the police start doing their job again. After a month the city is outraged that Ladybug is nowhere to be seen. They take to Adrien who admits to being Chat Noir, he apologizes to Paris saying that Ladybug took his Miraculous. He tells them that he wants to help but she won't help him any longer. After his display Paris begins a smear campaign against Ladybug. Tired of this Marinette transforms and heads to the Eiffel Tower broadcasting to all of Paris her goodbye.

Marinette- I have heard the out cry at my disappearance, and I find it deplorable. I have been fighting since I was thirteen. Did any of you think of that? You have had a child fighting your battles for you with another child that never took it seriously! Now, now you smear my character, saying I am a villain after I have taken down Hawkmoth. All because I stopped patrolling and taking down petty criminals. Instead of looking at me you should be looking at your police force. I am done, I thought of coming back after college but after all this, no. This is goodbye Paris, for good.

After her speech Chloe video calls her asking her if she is okay. Marinette plays everything off saying she is fine until Chloe tells her that she knows she is Ladybug. Marinette hesitates trying to think of a cover but just sighs asking how Chloe knew. Chloe smiles and tells her that she grew up with the girl only and the imbecile would not be able to tell that their 'Everyday Ladybug' was their actual Ladybug. Soon after the girls get a request for Luka to join. Once he is on the call he offers his own word of comfort causing Marinette to groan and Chloe to laugh. Luka simply tells her that her song is the same beautiful piece in and outside of the mask. Marinette grumbles teasingly about Metas being annoying, causing Luka to chuckle smiling at her. She tells them that she is leaving Paris for good now that Hawkmoth is gone. Chloe encourages her to move to America and go to Juliard while Luka simply hums strumming his guitar. When he opens his eyes he tells her to follow the path that calls to her, causing Chloe to groan. Snapping at him Half heartedly he simply smiles at the two girls before saying he needs to get to bed, the girls smile saying goodnight and wishing him good luck with his show the next day before they hang up.

She is really thankful that she changed her designer name shortly after Lila came to her school. Now known as MDC she has a thriving online website and even has a few designers that follow her designs down to every single stitch. While she also helps them get their own lines started. She even begins to employ models, Chloe begging her most popular. Her clientele extended even more and she had a lot of famous musicians commissioning her. She was even commissioned by Megan Markle before she and Prince Harry got married, and was even invited to the wedding she attended with Kaalki's help.

Marinette applies to a few different colleges all in America knowing that staying in Paris was no longer an option. She is accepted at Juilliard, Harvard, and Gotham University, she wants to go to Juliard but something calls her to Gotham. She can't stop going back to Gotham's acceptance letter and ends up researching Githam and talking it over with Chloe and Luka. She doesn't make a decision until Luka tells her once again to follow the call. So she confirms attendance, not telling her parents as she leases an apartment in a safer part of Gotham. She gets in contact with one of her employed designers, Taylor in America and requests her help.

Taylor is the in-between for Marinette and interior designers in Gotham. Helping both sides design the and decorate the penthouse so its move in ready.

Soon after the penthouse is finished Marinette packs everything in her room slowly shipping out boxes to Taylor. A couple nights later when Marinette has everything except necessities shipped her parents request she moves out saying they don't even know her anymore.

"Don't worry I already have an apartment and everything set up near my college. I leave in three days. And you don't know me huh? Well I guess that's because you two haven't really been parents in a while. Now if you'll excuse me."

Tom and Sabine are shocked especially since Lila told them Marinette had decided not to go to college at all. They confront Marinette telling her not to lie about it. She simply sighs sadly and pulls out all three acceptance letters, telling them she isn't telling them which one she decided to go with because they'll no longer be a part of her life.

The day she is set to leave Jagged and Penny are outside in a limo waiting for her. Marinette walks out of the bakery smiling brightly as Jagged gets out hugging her tightly. She thanks him for coming to America with her till she gets settled in. The driver takes her suitcase, putting it in the trunk before opening the door once again letting Jagged and Marinette in. Before getting in and driving to the airport to take Jagged's private jet to America.

They meet Chloe and Audrey at the Gotham airport, both women wanting to welcome Marinette to America. They follow the three to Marinette's penthouse. Chloe is in love with the place and practically begs Marinette to let her live with her. Marinette smiles laughing and tells her she was going to offer her a room after a month or two. Audrey agrees, telling Chloe to just make sure and call her, so she knows they're both safe.

Marinette's penthouse is big! It has two guest rooms, specially for Jagged, Penny, and her designers, when they come to visit. However now one has become Chloe's room. A kitchen her great uncle would be jealous of. A personal gym. A living room with a ping pong table and flat screen tv. 3 bathrooms. Marinette's own designing room, and the Master suite. The Master suite had a loft bed with stairs leading up to it, not a ladder. A large area set up for gaming consoles and a flat screen tv. Underneath the loft was Marinette's desk and desktop. One wall was a complete window showing Gotham from above, and against the other wall was a large luxury dollhouse decked out with hand made furniture. Something Marinette had requested was special for the Kwami to not have to remain in the box twenty four seven.

Marinette has the entire summer to herself and she doesn't have to deal with her birth parents ignoring her. She and Chloe can't wait to explore Gotham, and although Mari wishes she could patrol like she used to. She knows that this is Batman's city, and she doesn't want to get on his bad side. Instead she'll explore on the ground, and fly in her gym, which she had specially fitted with the ceiling covered in bars and ropes.

She even agrees to teach Chloe how to use the rope nest, with a net underneath them of course.

That next day Marinette, Chloe Jagged, and Penny ended up in the Gotham Gazette. Everyone wanted to know why Jagged was in Gotham and who Marinette was. Penny ended up scheduling a video meeting between Jagged and Gotham's main news station.

Jagged- I am not moving here, nor am I here for a show. You see my honorary niece. I have to say honorary because we arent actually related which is stupid! Anyway! She is my personal designer MDC, I only wear her clothing. She just graduated high school and got accepted at Gotham University. So she moved here, and Penny, Fang, and I wanted to spend the beginning of the summer with her! Mari! Come say hello!

Marinette- Uncle I swear if you want dinner you need to stop distracting me. Hello Madame, Monsieur, I'm Marinette more popularly known as MDC. Pleasure to meet you. I'm actually in college for my business degree!

Chloe- Don't forget me! Honestly you two can be ridiculous together utterly-

Jagged and Mari smiling mischievously at her- Ridiculous!

Chloe huffs before turning to the newscaster- Chloe Bourgeois, I am Marinette's main model and top female model. I moved here with Marinette as well, though I won't be going to college, you will see me around the city doing photoshoots.

Penny takes over after Marinette and Chlke give quick interviews. Once the food is done both say goodbye and get excited to eat. However before Jagged hangs up everyone watches Marinette picks up Fang like he is nothing and cuddles him to her chest. Jagged burst into laughter and the interviewer's shocked face.

For the next couple weeks Marinette eagerly explores the city with Chloe, meeting people and unknowingly creating a name for herself. Orphans know that they can come to her for food or clothes and never have to worry about her turning them in.

A few weeks into living there they get an invitation to Bruce Wayne's upcoming charity ball. Marinette quickly gets to work making their outfits in time for the ball. While making sure the Kwami can handle Fang and that Fang knows not to eat them.

The three make waves when they arrive. Penny and Jagged wear matching outfits however they are drawn back and more muted than usual, still capturing their rock n roll vibes. Jaggeds favorite part is the music notes hand stitched on the arms of his jacket and the train of Penny's dress. Meanwhile Marinette's outfit is made to resemble the night sky and when she moves in the light her dress twinkles in the light. Chloe's is made to resemble the sun. It's a layer with yellow and orange tulle.

Jagged and Penny talk to the people conversing while Marinette talks to a few people before being able to edge herself away. While Chloe immerses herself with the other model at the gala. Marinette makes a sizable donation, the money a combination of her own and her designers making sure their names are also on the donation before making her way to the food table and snagging a few cookies eating them slowly while observing the people around her.

Damian stumbles upon her when he finally finds an excuse to slip away. He doesn't speak to her at first just standing there sipping his champagne. They are both silent before Marinette snorts, placing her arm on his shoulder gently and leaning closer to whisper.

Marinette-look to our right the man in the terbile green suit is about to get slapped by his wife

Damian glances over and watches as Mr. Tennor gets slapped hard by his wife causing everyone to go silent as she berates him for thinking he could get away with bringing his Mistress to a charity event. Only for his Mistress to turn on him slapping him as well. Saying that he told her they were finishing their divorce. The Mistress huffs, turning to Mrs. Tennor and apologizes before storming out.

Damian turns away from the facing Marinette as he struggles not to laugh while the room is still silent. Once the talking picks back up Damian introduces himself and Marinette does the same. A little amused by the stars in Damian's eyes when he confirms she's MDC. He admits that her album covers are his favorites of Jagged's and that he has even attempted commissioning her but was unable to get in. Marinette apologizes telling him that recently she's been keeping the same clientele since she was planning on moving. She then pulls out her phone unlocking it and giving it to him.

Marinette-Put your number in and I'll contact you tomorrow about what you want to commission.

The two spend the rest of the night talking and pointing out things about those around them. Marinette's hand remains on his shoulder and soon she is leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm around her waist as they whisper back and forth. Pointing out different things to each other and hiding the laughter as best they can.

At one point Damian notices his father starting to walk over and quickly asks her to dance. Marinette is surprised at first but she notices Mr. Wayne makes his way towards them and smirks before nodding. Damian takes her hand leading her to the dance floor. Marinette smiles at him and starts teasing him asking if he didn't want his father to see her with him. Damian quickly tells her that's not it before realizing that she was joking. He rolls his eyes huffing at her saying that his father would make a scene. This causes Marinette to snort before agreeing to help each other hide from him for the night, and they do so successfully. The only one to catch the two is Chloe who gives Damian a quick one over before deeming him good enough for her Marinette. At the end of the night Jagged and Penny find Marinette and return to her penthouse. Marinette says goodbye to Damian kissing his cheek softly before leaving with them.

When Bruce finally catches up to his youngest he huffs wrapping an arm around his shoulder declaring that they were going to have a long talk on the ride home.

The rest of the night his entire family won't stop teasing him about actually dancing with a girl and not getting her number. They keep bringing it up until he smirks holding up his phone.

Damian- That's because she got mine instead.

He leaves the room leaving his brother in slight shock while Alfred holds up a camera and asks if they want to see pictures of the two together.

A week later Marinette meets Robin for the first time when Marinette is cornered in an alley. When Robin drops down startling them Marinette jumps into action stomping on one guy's foot getting him to release her before flipping him over her shoulder. Then she attacks at the two closest to her she flips over one's shoulder dropping behind him and kicking his legs out from under him. Punching him hard in the face. After knocking him out she jumps back as the other guy attempts to hit her. She dodges and blocks his punch before flipping back and crouching launching herself forward and punching him in the gut hard. She steps back breathing hard as she watches Robin take out the last guys. Robin turns to her and looks her over making sure she isn't hurt. Marinette thanks him softly leaning against the wall trying to catch her breath. Once she is calmed down Robin escorts her home.

The next day Damian messages her asking her on a date. Marinette teasingly asks if he's just doing this to convince her to give him a discount and he just groans. Marinette laughs telling him to pick her up at 6.

Marinette and Damian spend the summer getting to know each other and going on dates. Meeting Damian's family was an adventure for her, she loved getting to know the boys, Stephanie, Barbara, and Cass. (Dick and Barbara are definitely married in this one.) She also found it extremely easy to figure out her Damian was Robin, who she always caught stopping by on the roof across from her building.

Chloe bonds phenomenally with Stephanie; the two girls are practically glued at the hip. They spend almost all their time together, and while they don't voice it, the majority of the family had a feeling they were dating.

Soon after Chloe discovers their secret as well. They both decided not to tell them they knew because both girls knew how important secret identities were. The only people that knew Marinette was a hero was Cass and Alfred, and that was because Cass had noticed Tikki and Alfred was Duusuu's holder a long time ago.

The three bond phenomenally well, so much so that Damian is worried Cass may steal his Marinette.

Soon the end of summer is on them and Damian finally asks Marinette to be his girlfriend and she agrees. They are now Gotham's power couple. Pictures and videos of them are everywhere on the news and Twitter.

There are even Tiktoks of them while they're out in public. Marinette's favorite is them dancing in the rain one day both laughing and smiling brightly as some kids join them.

Marinette is named Gotham's new Princess and is praised by Damian's old classmates for breaking through and making the 'Ice Prince' smile and laugh.

Soon after Chloe and Stephanie announce that they are dating as well. Both couples are all over the news and papers.

Halfway through their first year of college Lex Luthor is named President of the United States. This causes the heros to panic however they make no moves instead they begin building a case against him. This comes to a halt when the entire Batfamily is cut off from them. An earthquake wreaks Gotham killing millions and destroying the city and the bridges giving them access to the rest of the states. President Luthor locks down Gotham essentially giving up on the city and allowing no outside contact or help.

It's during this period of time that Marinette and Chloe reveal they know their identities by crashing a meeting in the Batcave.

Marinette- Yes, yes, we know and will explain later, but right now I have a plan on how to get Gotham back on its feet.

Marinette's plan relies heavily on her and Bruce's businesses. The Wayne family and Marinette are going to rebuild Gotham from the bottom up. She tells Bruce that publicly Batman is going to hand over the only way of communication outside of Gotham over to Bruce Wayne during a press conference. Then Bruce will announce their plans of using this resource to continue to bring money into the city through him and Marinette. The family is going to be hiring clean up crews, medical workers, and construction workers to rebuild their city. Marinette and Bruce focus mainly on bringing in money. Jason's focus is on helping orphans, street kids, and newly made orphans. Setting up better Orphanages with better staff and making sure no kid is a meal ticket. Dick's focus is on getting the police force back up with Gordon's help and weeding out as many corrupt cops. Tim focuses on hiring construction workers and clean up crews getting Gotham cleaned up and starting reconstruction. Cass is the one helping find more medical personnel and working with getting hospitals up and going. Damian personally spoke with Gothams bigger villains in Arkham explaining what happened and what Luthor is trying to do. Thanks to him Arkham is pretty much guaranteed no breakouts. In fact many were surprised to see henchmen from different villains joining in on the clean up. Kate also helps out working hard to get electricity back up and running with electricians while making sure no down wires are active. Stephanie and Chloe are praised for getting out and helping the clean up crews as well as the police with finding bodys of missing citizens.

It takes over a year but the Wayne family, Marinette, and Chloe get Gotham back on its feet better than ever. And they use Luthor's abandonment of Gotham to get him impeached. After they've finally reopened Gotham to the rest of the states, Bruce throws a city wide party. He even sends special catering to Arkham asylum as thanks to the villains for not just remaining there but sending their henchmen out to help.

Bruce gives a big thanks to everyone for all their help with rebuilding their beautiful city.

It's shortly after his speech Damian and Marinette are enjoying the small fair that Bruce paid for. They are walking through the game area sharing cotton candy when Damian gets lost in the moment and asks her to marry him. Marinette laughs pulling him into a deep kiss causing citizens around them to start cheering. She waits until they've quieted down before pulling back.

Marinette-Yes Damian, I'll marry you!

This causes citizens to burst into cheers again. All of them giving their cities power couple their congratulations. While Damian is embarrassed saying that he doesn't have a ring for her. Marinette just smiles and kisses him softly telling him not having a ring isn't a big deal because she would have said yes either way.

A few minutes later a soft spoken Hispanic woman exits her jewelry booth giving them two small rings.

The woman-This is for until he finally gets you one Miss. Free of charge, consider it a thanks for helping my city and a congratulations present.

She squeezes both their hands smiling softly at the two and congratulates them before leaving them.

After the city party, they finally address Marinette and Chloe knowing their identities. It happens at Marinette's rebuilt penthouse. Marinette smiles telling them that it was the Kwami that really pointed it out to her. While Chloe tells them she caught Stephanie in her outfit one night and just pretended she had been asleep the entire time. Everyone but Alfred is confused about the Kwami until Marinette asks them to come out. The Kwami fly in spreading around the room, Duusuu sits calmly on Alfred's shoulder, Pollen resting herself in Chloe's hair, while Tikki and Plagg float by Marinette's shoulders.

Marinette-Let me introduce you to Kwami. Gods and Goddesses that grant their chosens their powers. Tikki and Plagg are the two most powerful Destruction and Bad Luck, Creation and Good Luck. I'm Tikki's chosen, I am-

Tim-Ladybug...you're Paris's missing heros.

Marinette sighs softly nodding thinking about her last day as Ladybug

Chloe- I was Honeywell for a short while until I moved to america. Pollen and I were a great team.

Pollen petting her hair gently-We were the best my Queen.

Marinette-Paris started relying on me for everything. The police stopped doing their jobs and when I finally defeated the villain that was plaguing them, it wasn't enough. I loved being a hero but they expected me to do everything. You all know that it isn't possible to do everything.

Bruce asks why she never went out as Ladybug. Marinette smiles and tells him that while she misses it she knew that this was Batman's city and that metas weren't allowed.

Marinette-I know technically I'm not one, but Tikki gives me powers.

After that Marinette begins to train with Bruce so that she can hit the streets with them, without the Miraculous. Chloe while learning how to fight with Stephanie declines becoming a vigilante with them. Marinette loves every second of it, she loves actually having a mentor to teach her. And it felt nice to have a father figure in her life once again. Six months later she is joining the family for her first night of patrol as BlackBird.

Blackbird spends most of her time with Batwomem, on patrol and missions. Her first big villain was Riddler, however before he could even utter a riddle Blackbird tore into him for his terrible outfit. To the point that Riddler practically threw himself at Batman in tears crying and telling him his new protégé was mean.

Blackbird is a rising hero in Gotham and the hero community. Soon she begins attending Justice League meetings with the others considering joining. It is there she meets Wonder Women, and asks how her mother is doing. Diana realizes quickly that she is speaking with a Guardian and finds out later that Blackbird is the current Ladybug as well.

The family also begins planning Damian and Marinette's public wedding and their private wedding. Stephanie is the one that asks her if she wants to have the private wedding in Paris, everyone only a little surprised she straight out refuses.

Marinette-I said goodbye all that time ago, and I don't think I wish to return.

That night she asks Bruce to walk her down the aisle along with her grandfather. When asked about her own parents Marinette smiles sadly telling them that they no longer consider her their daughter, so they were not invited. Bruce smiles softly brushing Marinette's hair down gently with his hand before agreeing to walk her. She asks Chloe to be her Maid of Honor and Kate, Cass, and Stephanie to be her Bridesmaid

Three weeks later they are sending out invites to people for their private wedding in 6 months and the public one in a year.

Marinette asks Jagged and Luka to be the entertainment for both nights and they agree. Sabine and Tom are not invited; they find out when Gina shows up excited asking why they never told her Marinette had met someone in America. They are even more surprised to find out Rolland is closing up shop and going to the wedding as well. Gina is upset to find out they kicked Marinette out and tears into them. At this point Lila comes into the bakery and tries to sway Gina onto her side. Gina just scoffs and shakes her head, telling her she'd never believe another girl over her granddaughter.

Gina storms out of the bakery refusing to talk to her son or daughter-in-law. After she leaves they google their daughter trying to find out who she is engaged to, they find out everything about Marinette helping rebuild Gotham out of her own pocket with the help of Bruce Wayne, and her engagement to Damian Wayne.

They try every attempt to contact her even going through old friends only to find she changed her number. They don't hear anything more of her until a year later when their wedding is broadcast from Gotham. Tom cries when Marinette is escorted down the aisle by her Grandfather and Bruce Wayne. She stops hugging them both tightly before taking Damian's hands, their eyes unable to leave each other, as they say their vows.

Marinette- Before I even had colleges lined up one of my best friends told me to follow the call. A few weeks later three colleges accepted me, but only one kept calling me back, Gotham University. I couldn't stop researching the city, I couldn't get it out of my head. It was like something was waiting for me here, so I decided to accept Gotham University. I moved here with one of my friends expecting an adventure. I didn't think my adventure would lead me to the love of my life, but it did. I love you Damian, with all my heart. My next adventure is standing by your side till the end of time.

Damian- Marinette Wayne, no I did not mess up. Marinette, you have been a part of my family since the moment you placed your hand on my shoulder and pointed out Mr. Tennor was about to be slapped. Our entire first night together felt magical as cheesy as it sounds. Every day after was amazing, I couldn't believe I met someone as amazing as you. When the earthquake happened and you stepped up helping my family rebuild the city, I knew I wanted you by my side for the rest of my life. So much so that I proposed to you spur of the moment in the middle of the fair, I will forever be grateful that you agreed to marry me. My heart, body, and soul belong to you and solely you Marinette till the end of time.

When the priest pronounces them husband and wife and announces the kiss Marinette grabs his face gently pulling him down into a deep kiss.

The reception is also broadcast to the public with many famous people offering their congratulations to the happy couple to the camera before heading into the party. Marinette and Damian are the last to arrive and while they don't talk to the camera they stop posing together for the camera. Both unwilling to even leave the other side. Throughout the reception all the speeches are broadcasted. The final speech is from the newly married couple. Both of them thanking everyone that came to the wedding. Telling them that they wouldn't be where they were without their friends and family in the room. They share a sweet kiss in front of the crowd at the end of their speech.

Chloe moves into an apartment with Stephanie, while Damian moves into Marinette's penthouse. They are hardly seen separate from each other, pictures of them together are all over the internet and news.

Damian also leaves the title of Robin behind becoming Redbird becoming partners with Blackbird. The two partners are soon dubbed the new Dynamic Duo of Gotham.

They both graduate college together, Damian going into Wayne Enterprises taking over as Ceo with Tim when Bruce steps down. While Marinette built her own fashion empire soon rivaling Audrey's. Her fashion is known around the world, but out of all the cities the most of her sales come from Gotham. Gothamites still not forgetting the young adult that spent billions to help them rebuild.

Soon Marinette and Damian discover that Marinette is pregnant. The two are ecstatic to be parents, Marinette begs Bruce to hold a big family dinner with everyone, and he agrees. Halfway through dinner Bruce finally asks why Marinette called all of them together. Marinette smiles softly before announcing that she is pregnant.

The family burst into cheers, everyone extremely excited and talking with each other about what the baby's name would be.

A few months later they find out its twins. One boy and one girl. They agree on the names Thomas John Wayne and Mary Martha Wayne. This causes both Bruce and Dick to tear up when told.

When the twins are born they are all Gothamites can talk about. The new Wayne twins, everyone can't wait to watch them grow up.

In Paris their grandparents hold on to pictures they find online, knowing they'll never get to know them. That they'll never get to see their daughter again either.

#ml salt fic #ml x dc #lila salt #batfamily #batman #miraculous marinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fandom #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #ml ladybug #mlb x dc #dc comics #dc heroes #marinette dupen chang #maribat #damimari #daminette #damian wayne #damian al ghul

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

Nobody Compares

Day 22, Story #1 is by @arianatwycross

Title: Nobody compares Author/Artist: arianatwycross.tumblr.com Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger Prompt: In Vino Veritas (under the influence) Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): n/a

Hermione admits to kissing Ron, brags about him to Sarah and her friends. They don’t believe her because she’s acting so out of character.

Ron comes up from behind her and kisses her neck.

Her friends gasp loudly and she smiles at their shocked expressions. She doesn’t give them time to question her properly, instead she spins around and places her hands on his chest.

He’s smiling down at her, his eyes a little glassy from the alcohol. He bends down to whisper something in her ear and Hermione can’t help but bite her lip and nod back.

Hermione wasn’t surprised that Ron got signed young. He had the sort of edge a football player needs in the modern world, the passion to do more while simultaneously keeping a smart head, his humour, his witty but sensible remarks about teammates and competitors. She wasn’t surprised when he got picked for the first team, the team he grew up supporting, watching on TV and following in magazines.

She was surprised however, at how easily it was for them to drift apart. She always thought that they would be able to overcome issues like time zones and schedules, but she was wrong. Hermione graduated University with a first in Law, and was on her way to study her Master’s in London and Ron was upping his training and committing to the first team at Manchester United.

At the beginning they emailed and texted frequently, while Hermione was still settling into her Bachelor’s degree and Ron was still playing for the Under 23’s. But in Hermione’s second year, her course load increased and she had barely had time to even watch a single tv show. Ron tried his best to see her on his weekends off, but in the end Hermione convinced him it wasn’t worth it. The conversations over email and phone started to dwindle to monthly, then every few months and then finally they stopped altogether.

Hermione did mourn their friendship for a long time. She blamed herself mostly, she knew she was the one that had a bit more freedom to call him when she could. Ron was too busy dealing with training schedules and away games to think about calling his best friend from secondary school.

It had been four years since she had seen Ron. She still thought about him at times, how could she not when he was one of the most famous football players in the country? Sometimes she saw him in the sports section of the newspaper or saw him on the TV. She was a self-proclaimed Manchester United fan and so she saw him play every game on the TV. Her friends had no idea they were best friends just a few years ago, they had no idea that he was Hermione’s first love. No one knew that, not even Ron.

So when she walked into the pub down the street one Friday night, and found him standing at the bar she froze. Every muscle in her body just stopped, only her heart thumped heavily in her chest. There he was, back leaning against the bar, red hair still cut short, shoulders a little bit broader, arms definitely more toned, the same cheeky grin plastered on his face. Her heart flipped and cracked all at the same time.

She hadn’t seen him for four years and on a random Friday night she runs into him? She quickly looked at Sarah next to her, glaring at her as if she had planned this. Sarah of course, did not. Sarah had no idea that Hermione was friends with the famous Ron Weasley.

“Oh my god, is that Ron Weasley? Doesn’t he play for Man U Hermione? You support them don’t you?”

Hermione just stared at Ron, her eyes drinking in the mannerisms she hadn’t seen in years. The cross of his arms across his body, the tilt of his smirk as he listened to his mates next to him.

“Hermione?’

“Right, yeah that’s him”

“Shall we say hello?”

“No!” Hermione quickly interjects and steers Sarah away from the bar and towards a booth on the opposite side. She can still see him from where she sits but he can’t see her without turning around.

Sarah gives Hermione a bewildered look.

“Bit of a fangirl are we?” Sarah asks.

Sarah works with Hermione, the two of them only just starting to hang out outside of work. She doesn’t know much about the smart solicitor yet, just that Sarah has a boyfriend that works at the bank and that she enjoys a large glass of pinot noir a bit too much.

She’s nice, and smart and the two of them get along really well. But Hermione wasn’t about to go blab about how the man at the bar was the love of her life between the ages of 15-21.

“No, just I’m way too awkward to say hello” She mutters, “Shall I grab us some drinks?”

Sarah nods and rattles off her order. Hermione makes sure she goes to the furthest side of the bar to where Ron leans. He’s still looking in the opposite direction so she calms down a little, lets her muscles relax and breathes steadier so her heart doesn’t go into overdrive.

She orders her drinks and while she waits she watches Ron. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans. She watches the smooth muscles in his back tense as he talks, he’s still as mesmerizing as the day she last saw him.

She drinks another three glasses of wine before Sarah calls the rest of her friends, begging for them to join them at the pub. The pub has grown loud and rowdy, the drinks have been flowing and the heat has made everyone boisterous and excitable. Ron has relocated to a table with his mates, a pint in his hand, the group of them laughing loudly and Hermione feels herself being pulled towards him.

Sarah waits at the table for their friends while Hermione goes to order them another round. The alcohol is now freely flowing in her veins, so she doesn’t realise who’s next to her before it’s too late. He stands tall, his elbows resting on the sticky bar. She tenses, her entire body feels inflamed.

“Mione?”

She might just cry.

She looks up and finds Ron staring at her in shock. His blue eyes wide and his mouth wide open. She laughs.

“Hey” she replies, smiling at him.

Ron instantly smiles back and before she knows it he’s grabbing her into a hug and engulfing her with his scent.

He smells exactly the same, she thinks.

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe its you!” he says, pulling back and cupping her face with his large palms.

She freezes at such an intimate touch but he doesn’t seem to realise.

“You look good” she says, watching as his eyes also scanned her face.

“You look stunning” he replies openly, making Hermione laugh again. He drops his hands.

“How long has it been?” he asks. He’s shaking his head now, still in shock at seeing her.

“Four years?”

“Fucking hell, I’ve missed you” he says quietly.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too”

They smile at each other. Hermione grabs the wine glass in front of her as the bartender makes Sarah’s drink. Her entire body is shaking.

“Are you here with someone?” he asks.

She points out Sarah, who is now sitting with three other girls. Girls that Hermione hardly knows.

“Sarah, I work with her. It looks like her friends just showed up” Hermione gives Ron a tight smile.

“Oh well do you have time to chat?”

“Yeah, let me just give this to Sarah and let her know” she holds up Sarah’s wine glass and Ron gives her a smile. Such a familiar smile that Hermione can’t help but smile back, her jaw hurts already.

She walks over to the table, tells Sarah that she’s just bumped into an old friend and will be back soon. Sarah’s friends greet Hermione kindly but don’t complain.

Then Hermione finds herself sitting at a table in the corner of the pub with Ron Weasley.

She can’t quite believe it. She’s 24 and sitting across a table with her childhood best friend. He looks exactly the same but completely different. She feels exactly the same as she usually does when with him. The old feelings are bubbling up and overwhelming her. How can feelings from four years ago still be so strong?

They end up chatting for hours, the drinks fueling her excitement at seeing him, the alcohol probably fueling another type of feeling that she probably shouldn’t encourage. They talk about their families, their friends, football and her job. She’s giggling and laughing and then Ron’s telling her he’s sorry.

“I’m so sorry we feel out of touch. I still think about you all the time” he admits. He’s been drinking beers and she can tell he’s slightly tipsy by the redness of his cheeks.

“Me too, I guess life just happened” she murmurs.

He nods sullenly.

“I watch all of your games” she admits bravely. She blames the wine, she’s never normally this forward.

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” she smiles at his bewildered look. His blue eyes wide and searching hers for the catch.

“You’re great”

He laughs modestly.

“I ask my mum about you every time I go home” he admits and she blushes furiously.

“Really?”

“Yeah, that’s probably embarrassing but I think I’ve drunk too much to care.” He laughs and she laughs with him. His laugh is so contagious and familiar, a warmth that she had never found in anyone else.

“I’ve heard all about your big job in the city and your nice apartment,” he admits.

“My mum still talks to your mum so I guess I’m not surprised. Does she also tell your mum that I haven’t had a proper boyfriend in years and that I need to get a move on?” she laughs.

Ron smiles tightly and she watches as his eyes scan her face and settle on her lips.

“So still no boyfriend?”

“Nope. What about you? Have you found a hot model to marry yet?”

He screws his nose up and Hermione laughs.

“No way, models are too much trouble. But no, no girlfriend. I was seeing a girl last year but it didn’t work out”

Hermione’s heart flips. She doesn’t want to imagine Ron with another girl, falling in love with another girl.

“That’s a shame” she mutters, hands grasping the stem of the cool wine glass.

“Not really”

She looks up and finds him staring down into his beer.

“Why?”

He ignores her question and instead looks at her, catching her eyes with his.

“Do you think everyone has that one person they compare everyone to?”

The question surprises her, so much that she opens her mouth to answer but finds that she has nothing to say. Or at least, the words don’t seem to form. Instead she can only say one word.

“Who?”

His eyes widen but he looks down at the table and smiles.

“Well, you of course”

Hermione feels like she’s dreaming, like the alcohol running through her body has numbed her and she is just playing out a fantastic scenario in her drunken brain.

“What?” she gulps.

Ron nods as if he’s agreeing to something in his head.

“You were my best friend and you’re gorgeous, of course I fancied you” they don’t break their eye contact, it seems too important, too life-changing of a conversation to not look at each other.

“No you didn’t!” she scoffs, thinking of an 18-year old Ron fancying smart-ass, frizzy-haired Hermione.

“Oh come on Mione! You’re beautiful, smart and funny! I was always flirting with you!”

She tries to remember a time when he might have been flirting but she can’t, all she can remember is her 18 year old self watching him play football, the way he moved when he sprinted, his laugh when he scored, the way he hugged her when they celebrated.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she gulps.

“You just got into Uni and you needed to focus. You were always stressing about how important your first year was and then when I called you, I felt like I was distracting you and I knew how important it all was for you so I just stopped calling” he had his hands running through his hair now, settling on his neck and squeezing.

It was too much for her, to think that she was the reason Ron stopped talking to her. All she could think about was disappointing him, choosing her degree over his friendship, over something more. She stood up frantically and mumbled something about needing air. She heard Ron say something as she walked off but the air was suffocating her, the crowds were too much, the alcohol was making her feel slightly nauseous.

She shoved open the front door to the pub and pushed through the small crowd out the front. She found a quiet corner near the car park, gulped in the fresh summer air and breathed.

She couldn’t believe that Ron had fancied her this whole time, that he wanted to talk to her and that he didn’t just feel obliged to talk to her after school. He liked her and she liked him. She spent years watching him play football, happy that he had moved on, trying not to think about the time they had missed.

“Mione?”

Hermione looked up to find Ron standing idly a few meters ahead of her.

“Ron,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She didn’t consciously walk towards him, it just happened, like the sight of him spurred something in her , made her gravitate towards him. She was inches from him when she stopped and she looked up, her heart warming at the familiar blue eyes and the freckles on his cheeks. So familiar and so him.

“I missed you so much” is all she can say, and she feels her heart filling at the way he smiles back at her.

“I missed you too”

“I’m probably a little drunk but can I kiss you?” she says, the words tumbling from her mouth before she can catch them and swallow them whole.

He smiles brightly and takes her jaw in his hands, his palms back to where they belong.

He leans down and kisses her deeply. His lips are soft beneath hers. She wraps her hands around his neck and her fingers lace between his hair, something she had only dreamt of doing.

She tugs at his hair and he responds by slipping his tongue into her mouth, she moans as their tongues tangle and their breaths deepen. She’s feeling dizzy and she knows it’s not from the wine, it’s from being this close to Ron. It’s from all the pent up feelings she’s had buried for years, for the disappointment she had felt, the deep sadness from him not being in her life.

They pull apart and Ron kisses the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her cheek.

“Mione?”

“Yeah?” she murmurs, still breathless.

“Please tell me you have time to see me”

The desperation in his voice breaks her, she grabs his face and kisses him fiercely.

“Ron, I’m not letting you go this time”

He smiles as he kisses her this time, and they laugh in between kisses.

He asks if he can take her home and she delightfully finds out that he lives nearby, just a 20 minute walk from her own house. He explains that he’s actually been transferred to Arsenal and he moved to London just a few weeks ago. He seems happy about the change and Hermione can’t help but grin proudly as he tells her about the transfer and his new apartment. She feels like this is all too good to be true, that he’s now close by, he’s here and with her.

She goes back inside the pub to say goodbye to Sarah, he pulls her in for another kiss before they enter the pub. He also says goodbye to his mates and she feels feverish as she wanders over to the crowded table. Sarah squeals when she appears and Hermione notes how intoxicated everyone is and smiles. Sarah’s friend, Ashleigh asks if Hermione knows Ron Weasley and Hermione nods, not stopping the huge smile that graces her face when she hears his name. Sarah squeals again at Hermione’s blush and Hermione ends up gushing when Sarah asks if they snogged.

She revels in the faces of Sarah and her friends when Ron kisses her neck, and she lets his lips spread heat over her entire body.

“We have a lot of catching up to do Miss Granger.”

#chudley canon fest #hp canon pairings #romione #ron x hermione

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daresplaining · 3 years

Note

Have Matt and Danny Rand ever bounded around having really hard martial arts masters training them?

Great question! And the answer is, not really-- at least, not on-panel, as far as I can remember. Marvel's superhero community (and Danny’s inner circle in particular) is filled with skilled fighters, so that's certainly not an experience that's unique to the two of them, and to be a martial artist with that degree of ability, the training has to be "really hard"-- it's not like Stick and Lei Kung were doing anything strange or gratuitous in their teaching. Lei Kung was strict, yes-- as war master of one of the Capital Cities of Heaven, he had to be-- but he was also a loving father figure to Danny; and Stick and Matt had their own deep, affectionate, if complicated bond. And of course, Danny's training was on an entirely different level than Matt's, so it's a bit of an apples-and-oranges situation. What we do know is that Danny and Matt respect each other very much, both in combat and in life, and part of that comes from respecting each other's history and training.

That said-- and this isn't what you asked, but it's something I love, so I'm gonna geek out about it-- there are some fun connections between their legacies. To start, Master Izo (Stick’s mentor and founder of the Chaste) is in the Book of the Iron Fist!

[ID: Excerpt from Brubaker’s Daredevil run. A bunch of characters (Matt Murdock, Danny Rand, Dakota North, Carlos LaMuerto, and Master Izo) are standing around in Matt’s kitchen in civvies. Izo is in the background, drinking from a container.]

Danny: "Uh, Dakota? Who's the old guy drinking the grain alcohol?"

Dakota: "Says his name is Master Izo."

Danny: "Master Izo? Really?"

Matt: "Wait-- you've heard of him?"

Danny: "Yes... he was mentioned in the Book of the Iron Fist... a few hundred years ago..."

Daredevil vol. 2 #113 by Ed Brubaker, Michael Lark, Stefano Gaudiano, and Matt Hollingsworth

You may know this, and I've talked about this scene before, but it's been a while and I'm always in a mood to ramble about my guy Izo and the Iron Fist mythos. If anyone is unfamiliar, you should follow my IF blog! the Book of the Iron Fist is a written chronicle of the lives and deeds of the Iron Fists, extending back through the centuries. There is no direct link between K'un-Lun/the Iron Fist legacy and the Hand/Chaste lineage to which Matt (and Izo and Stick and Elektra and Maki Matsumoto and Sam Chung, etc.) are connected. They're completely separate worlds. But this fun fact of Izo bumping into an Iron Fist at some point in his long, chaotic life is something I cherish. This interaction is followed by a wonderful scene of bonding-- not between Danny and Matt, but between Danny and Izo, over Matt (which I discussed in some detail here).

There's also this odd little moment from Bendis' Defenders run:

[ID: Excerpt from Bendis’ Defenders run, showing Matt and Danny standing together in a dark alley. Matt is in his Daredevil costume with the mask off, and Danny is in the full Iron Fist costume.]

Matt: "I am blind."

[ID: Danny puts up a hand for a high-five.]

Danny: "Oh! Dude, that is awesome. There was this street-fighter named Stick who was blind."

Matt: "He was my sensei."

Defenders (2017) #8 by Brian Michael Bendis, David Marquez, and Justin Ponsor

There are all kinds of little continuity weirdnesses in this series, so this could just be among them, but it is an extremely cool idea, and does make sense timeline-wise. While we know pretty much nothing about Stick’s early life (get on that, Marvel!), we do know that he spent probably quite a long time training at the Chaste’s secret mountaintop headquarters, and then at some point later wound up in New York, where he eventually met young/teenage Matt. He seemingly stayed in New York after their falling-out when Matt was in college (based on Man Without Fear continuity, which is the only continuity we have for this plot detail), gambling and fighting and doing all the things he complained about Izo doing back in the day. When Matt searches for him many years later for help with a hypersensory issue (in Daredevil vol. 1 #176), Stick is still hanging out in the city. During that gap in Matt and Stick’s relationship, Danny Rand returned to Earth and settled into his new life in Manhattan. And in both his own life and his eventual Heroes for Hire work, he was spending a lot of time in the same kinds of unsavory places that Stick seemed to be frequenting, interacting with a lot of the same kinds of well-connected, low-level people in the criminal underworld who would know Stick-- and so it is likely that Danny would at least have heard of him, if not run into him. (In fact, “mysterious weirdos who can kick everyone’s butts” is Danny’s exact area of interest.) This might have just been a throwaway gag for Bendis, but I’m begging someone-- anyone-- to write me this flashback issue. Please. That is an interaction I’m dying to see.

I’m sorry this went a bit off-topic, but I hope it was interesting anyway. I know I had fun. Thanks for your great question!

#Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Iron Fist #Danny Rand #Stick #Izo #Lei Kung #Asks #Adventures in Continuity

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

The Heirs of Shadow

Prompt: here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Language and Fluff

Part I

Calanmai

The shadows danced along the obsidian walls of the chamber, jumping and fluttering across the marble floor and the intertwining carved beasts that scaled the width of the room, waving across the walls and the ceiling.

Behind the doors, Elain could feel the pulsating throb of the revelry that was taking place in the opulent halls and loggias of Hewn City. Fire Night. Calanmai. Beyond the onyx-black bowels of the city, up, up, up somewhere in Night Court, the night skies were streaking with falling stars. Starfall.

Starfall was somewhere else though—they had glimpsed it, taken in its beauty, but now, Calanmai was in full swing.

Azriel’s powerful, muscular body strained over hers, his arm gripping her hip so hard, she was sure that it would leave bruises. Not that Elain cared—she loved the marking of his love on her flesh. She loved the lilac bruises that he left on her neck with his lips and teeth, and the outline of his hands on her thighs, her waist, her…everywhere. For a man who was known for his self-control, and who embodied cold, calculated sophistication and cruelty to all those who did not know him well, Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, loved Elain Archeron with an uncharacteristic degree of unrestrained passion and blind, all-encompassing adoration. He was not above kissing her with uninhibited ambition in public, or slipping his scarred hand into her jacket and cupping a handful of her soft breast or pinching her behind when fancy struck him. It struck him frequently. His love was reciprocated, at last, and there was no limit to his indulging of his gorgeous female. His betrothed and his Lady. The glittering band of her betrothal bracelet was testament not only to their mutual love, but also his wealth and the degree to which he was willing to spoil her. In fact, he had picked out every diamond, every amethyst, every pearl that comprised the intricate flower design of the bracelet himself. Gone were the days when he had to hide his love and desire for her, when the only acceptable gift was a dainty necklace of stained glass. In fact, he designed a very similar necklace for her yet again, only instead of glass, it was rubies and pearls and pink diamonds.

The glint of the necklace in fact, bounced against her creamy skin, the pendant sliding between her swaying breasts. He kissed her, slow and hot, watching her body arch beneath him. The kiss was slow, but not gentle, their mouths fusing together in desperation, as if they’ve been apart for too long, that the previous 500 years were unbearable for him and he needed to fill his lungs with her, with her breath, her very soul, as he sucked and sucked on her lips.

Elain’s nails sunk into his broad, thickly muscled shoulders, and Azriel dipped his head, groaning into her throat, dragging his tongue from her hot, pulsating vein back to her lips, sliding back into her mouth. She kissed him back, sloppy and heated, her lips swollen and ruby-red, before pressing the heel of her palm into his chest and pushing at him.

“I want to look at you,” she moaned, her eyelids heavy with want.

He pulled up and did as he was told, settling on his knees and allowing her to trace the skin of his cobbled abdomen with her fingertips. He was running hot and volatile, his dark brown skin gleaming like dirty bronze beneath the faelights, his wings spayed and open behind him, casting shadows on his sculpted, inked shoulders. His soft, inky-black hair fell across his forehead, sticking slightly to his damp skin, and she smiled at him and rubbed her thumb between his eyebrows.

His thick cock glided in and out of her tight glorious heat and he pushed inside of her with an obscene, wet sound, feeling the smooth thrust of his shaft in her.

“My good girl,” he murmured, extracting loud, explicit moans from her parted lips, while his thumb settled on her pulsating, engorged clit, rubbing firmly, with precise, firm pressure. Elain’s head rolled back, her honey-golden hair fanning out over the dark-gray satin of the pillows. She felt overflowing, torturously stuffed with him, which was the most glorious, gorgeous fullness that she could ever imagine.

“Open up for me, beautiful,” he ground out, “so I can ride you like you need,”

Elain obliged compliantly, wordlessly splitting even further for him, as Azriel gripped her thigh and pulled her deeper onto his shaft, while hoisting her leg onto his shoulder.

“Look at us, my love,” he urged, thrusting harder into her, his gaze gluttonous with pleasure and utter satisfaction. Elain could barely lift herself up on her elbows, but she looked between their bodies, watching her splayed pink folds, his member disappearing in and out of her, glistening with their arousal. His long brazen finger thrust alongside his shaft, the fit impossibly tight, but so wonderfully pleasurable.

She squeezed her breasts in her palms, absently fingering her nipples, watching the explicit show between her legs, while Azriel smiled at her and kissed her foot that rested on his shoulder. She bit her lower lip, enjoying the indecent scrutiny with which his eyes skimmed over her body, as both of them watched the workings of his cock inside of her.

“Do you want to taste, my sweet?” he offered, his midnight voice smooth and sensual, encouraging even more debauched behavior from her, and she nodded eagerly.

Licking her lips impatiently, she murmured, ‘yes’ and he rewarded her with a smile, while slowly pulling out of her stretched passage.

“Az, my love,” she moaned, emptied of him, instantly missing the presence of his thick, long member in her, her hole twitching at the loss. But he pulled her up gently by her back of her neck and instantly fed the shaft in her mouth, thrusting deep and far into her throat. She choked softly around him, but swallowed compliantly, sucking his length down into her mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he approved, holding the back of her head and pumping between her lips, watching her watch him. Her eyes, the color of milk chocolate, blinked rapidly, as she struggled against the girth of the member, but sucked on his bravely and eagerly. He enjoyed the sucking, noisy and wet, her tongue working on him constantly, licking their intermingling juices, but then he patted the corner of the bed, and Elain knew what he desired. She scooted over, and lay back on the cool sheets, never releasing the cock from her mouth, holding it tightly in her hand, as she lapped on the broad head of it, playfully dipping the tip of her tongue into the tiny slit.

They’ve been at it for hours now. Calanmai. Fucking, eating, drinking, fucking, fucking. That’s what people did on Calanmai. Elain figured that perhaps, this would be her new favorite holiday. Always to be celebrated here, in Hewn City, her new home.

The Lord and Lady of Hewn City, feared and venerated—that’s what they were. Who would have thought that Elain would love Hewn City, its obsidian beauty, its marble and granite lined ‘streets’, its unbridled opulence, its soaring columns, its ceilings lit up with faelights that were ensconced in chandeliers that were dripping crystals and silver.

They had begun today’s festivities by following its ancient custom of the Great Rite. As the Lady and Lord of the Underworld, they did not need to ‘choose’ each other, for they were already chosen—chosen the moment the Darkbringers acknowledged Azriel as their Commander General, and Rhysand how no other choice but to pass the crown of Stewardship to his shadowsinger. With Keir dead, all assumed that the magic and the power of the Hewn City and the Darkbringers would pass on to Mor, or one of the sons, yet, it skipped the family entirely. The magic of Hewn City left the bloodline of the High Lord, moving over to Azriel’s line. And just like that, Azriel became Prince of Velaris, the Lord of Hewn City, and Elain, his chosen Lady.

Today was the first year they presided over Fire Night, and while Azriel worried about Elain, she reminded him that she was the Lady of Hewn City and therefore, would participate in all rites and rituals, just like Feyre participated in them as the High Lady of the Night Court.

The entire population of Hewn City, tens of thousands of them vibrated and pulsed in anticipation, gathered in the Great Hall, hundreds spilling outside, thousands crowding the balconies and terraces above.

For Elain, it was the initial walk that was the most nerve wrecking. Naked, she was expected to enter the hall and await Azriel’s arrival. But she squared her shoulders, and draped in nothing but jasmine and moonflowers that cascaded down her unbound hair she made her walk, regal and unhurried, as any queen. When he’d arrived, the new Lord and master of the place, the place shook with a different kind of energy.

And then, they joined together on their throne, in front of their subjects, and Azriel rode her long and hard, until she barely remembered that she was being watched by thousands of eyes. She was eager and willing, taking him in any position that he desired, until he filled her with seed and spilled the rest of it upon the stones of his domain, signifying the start of Calanmai.

The insemination was met with wild cheering and Elain felt nothing but prideful satisfaction after the ritual was concluded and his seed dripped down her thighs, for all to see. She was their Lady, the benevolent one, the kind and just one, while Azriel still inspired fear and trepidation in most. The seed that filled her and poured out of her as she walked through the throngs of people, all of whom looked at her with admiration and excitement, was a sign of good things to come. After centuries, perhaps millennia of stagnation, Hewn City would rise again to its former glory. Lady Elain would be the catalyst for it.

Azriel settled atop of her, her head thrown over the edge of the bed, and rubbed the head of the member over her lips, tugging on it slowly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of pleasure.

“I love Calanmai,” she vowed with a joyful sight, and he laughed.

“Indeed?”

She nodded, licking the tip of the member. “You aren’t tired?” he asked, for they’ve been entangled for a while now. She shook her head no. “Tired? Until you, my lord, render me unable to walk tomorrow, then I might consider myself tired!”

“Is this what you want, my girl?” he asked, his voice gravelly and breathy with lust. Beads of liquid dribbled onto her tongue from his straining member. She whined with anticipation, nodding impatiently, while he guided the shaft into her mouth, her position allowing him to slide deeper and deeper and deeper.

There was nothing that Azriel didn’t love about Elain. Nothing. There was no word ‘no’ in his vocabulary when it came to her. She was his strength, his rock, the one person in this world who offered him complete understanding and acceptance, who supported him gently and lovingly through every peril and cataclysmic change that had taken place in their lives.

Sexually, Elain was brave and tolerant, experimental and curious. Every part of her was enticing and sensual, but nothing excited him more than her willingness and ability to take him in her throat, usually, without him even asking for it. Elain surprised him daily, but her voracious sexual appetite was a marvelous, unexpected gift for him. Because it matched his own perfectly.

He gently cupped her hollowed cheek and rubbed his thumb over the warm, flushed skin of her face, murmuring, “you feel so good, my love. So wet and ready for me.”

Elain hummed against his member and gasping and panting, and the vibrations of her mouth against the head of the member had him moaning, his head thrown back. She stroked his muscled stomach, running her palm over the hard, defined ridges, while he began thrusting between her lips, the tip striking the back of her throat with each push. He gingerly cupped her head, her soft, messy locks a tangle in his fingers, and kept it steady, while she allowed him to use her mouth the way he liked it.

Azriel was not a talkative man, and because he was quiet and reserved and cerebral, most assumed that he was a tender lover. He was not.

So when he plunged into her mouth, it was not gentle, though he was always considerate and acutely aware of all her emotions and reactions. Spymaster, after all.

“My good girl,” he began a litany of praise, “you feel so good. My sweet, beautiful Lainey—are you enjoying yourself, my love?” he looked over his shoulder for a moment and a smirk played on his lips. She was clenching her thighs in desperation, gurgling and panting softly around his member, and he pumped harder, clasping her jaw and muttering, “is sucking my cock making you even wetter?”

She attempted to nod, but it was virtually impossible, though he didn’t need confirmation seeing her rosy folds bathed in her arousal. Taking pity on her, he slipped three fingers in her, and they slid in easily and fully, the walls of her sex clutching at them strongly.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asked, his hand working inside of her with quick, deep thrusts, while he used her mouth brutally, watching tears spill down her cheeks from the pressure. She did not respond in any meaningful way, indicating that it was up to him to find his pleasure within her, wherever he wanted. He smiled and caressed her sweaty, flushed face, while she chocked lightly against him, stroking his balls with her usual tenderness. He moaned, especially when he glanced lower and gritted through his teeth, “Love, I can see my cock in your throat,” he gasped, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness, cloaked in oily lust. Every time he pushed, the member bulged and imprinted in her throat, and he couldn’t help himself and gently lay his scarred hand on the spot, feeling the vibrations of his dick against his palm. He almost came right then and there, himself panting and gasping for air, and even if this certainly wasn’t the first time he saw his cock protrude in her throat, it never failed to cause some instinctual male reaction in him. His wings flared and snapped open, uncontrollable, guided by nothing but base instinct to show his female who was inside of her. By the Cauldron, if he could stay like this forever, he would.

Alas, he could hold back no longer and with a few well-placed thrusts, he felt Elain’s throat contract on him and that was his undoing. His release swept like a tidal wave over him and came in her mouth, making her groan with feral pleasure as he spilled and spilled into her. He was thinking that maybe Calanmai was his favourite holiday as well.

He collapsed alongside her, his wings a mess beneath him, but he didn’t even care. His breath was ragged and heavy, but she lovingly fed her nipple between his teeth and he sucked, tucking her beside him, murmuring an endless string of ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you’ into the soft, wonderfully comforting globe. She held his head against her breast, moaning sweetly, delighted at his steady sucking, wiggling against him to get more.

Once they’ve calmed down a lit, she kissed his neck, while twisting her wrist before her eyes, watching the sparkling and gleaming bracelet explode with a thousand tiny lights in the shadows of faelights and the fire in the marble fireplace.

“Do you really love it?” he murmured, kissing her hand.

“Being yours…your bride and your Lady is all that I want,” she admitted, “but,” she smiled, “yes, my love, I love it. Isn’t it stunning?!”

He nodded, “I think I did well.”

“I can’t believe that you designed it yourself!” she kissed his chin, then his lips. “What other incredible talents do you possess that I am not aware of?”

He turned onto his back, rearranging his wings in some semblance of acceptable order and tugged her next to him. Running his finger over the bracelet, he said, “well, let’s see—I sing.”

“Uh-uh,” she pouted. “But never in front of me!”

“One day, my sweet, one day,” he teased.

“What else?”

“I enjoy building things…carving wood. I think that deep down, I am just a humble carpenter.”

Her brow furrowed, “have I seen any of your work? Or are you being stupidly humble as usual and refusing to show it to anyone?”

He laughed, amused by her indignation.

“No, I don’t believe that I am stupidly humble when it comes to my work. You might have seen it. Most of it is at Rosehall,”

“Oh, speaking of which—I promised your mother that I would visit!” Elain snapped her fingers, frowning at having forgotten.

He kissed her brow and said, “I am sure she’ll understand. Her daughter-in-law is a Lady of Hewn City,”

Elain smiled at the title.

“Even though,” she insisted, “I love her and I want to visit her. She said that she and the girls had made spice blends and mulled wine over the winter break and she wanted us to have it. And she also promised gifts for Calanmai,”

“You are my gift for Calanmai,” he whispered tenderly and kissed her. “My gift for every day. My gift for life.”

Elain cupped his cheek and kissed him back, running her tongue over his lower lip. She smelled and tasted of him, and he shuddered from the sensation, from the realization of how thoroughly his she was. His gift indeed.

Remarkably, it also made him hard.

Elain smiled and ran her finger down his chest, then his stomach.

“I am sorry, Lainey, I know you are tired,” he scrambled quickly, embarrassed by his response to her. Even by Fae standards, he was no spring chicken—not a green youth to be hardening at every kiss of these sweet, soft lips. Yes, he was a male in his prime, but,

“Once more?” she requested softly, batting her lashes at him and he grinned.

“Whatever my lady wishes,” he nodded with a courteous flair. The he kissed her and whispered into her lips, “tell me what you’d like, sweetheart?”

She chewed her lower lip, contemplating, the action making him ever harder. She found that very hardness at the ready for her, and wrapped her hand around him, rubbing him tightly, as she settled in the crook of his arm and he kissed her again.

“In my bottom, please,” she requested shyly.

Her secret, intimate pleasure that only Azriel was aware of. It thrilled him to know that she found pleasure with him, in him, in many different ways—from the simplest and most mundane, to the very intimate and personal, and only he could provide it for her.

“If that’s alright with you?” she added and he laughed, bringing her closer to his chest.

“I don’t think that I need to be pressured, sweetheart,”

She smiled and he parted her thighs, settling just behind her, muttering in her ear, “will you be a good girl for me? My good girl?”

She nodded, breath hitching in her chest, her breasts rising and falling in anticipation and she flicked her plump nipple with his fingers before biting it softly. She squirmed and her legs fell apart of their own volition, while he pressed his thumb into her clit and ground into it, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure, while he lined his member with her little opening. It was well-stretched from their previous bout, as he’d taken her everywhere in front of their Court, and then again, when they returned here, to their private quarters.

He pushed into her, easing slowly and carefully, and her back arched in his arms, as she pressed her face into his neck, moaning loudly. There was always a bit of pain, especially in the beginning, at the initial breach, and the sharp bite that he received on his clavicle was an indication of just that. She gripped the immense muscles of his shoulder, grunting and moaning into his neck, squeezing his arm so hard, it was sure to leave bruises. He was inside of her, his cock enveloped in such mind-boggling tightness that he ceased all movement, just to avoid coming at once.

He clasped her jaw and made her look at him. Her eyelids were heavy and a love-addled, blissful look settled on her face, while he lightly kissed her parted lips.

“Does that feel nice, my girl?” he asked, finally sliding a bit deeper, each shallow, easy thrust opening her up a little more.

“Az, Az,” she groaned breathlessly, “I can’t…it’s so…ohh,” she swallowed his thumb, still wet with her slick, needing to suck on something while he plunged forward, rocking his hips into her.

“Elain,” he hissed low and winced at the sweet, torturous friction that the walls of her bottom offered to his invading shaft. He pressed her to him, slowly bringing his hips against hers, and finally settling fully inside, while she went still and pliable in his arms.

The ache inside of Elain was particularly wonderful right now, even if she felt like she was being split inside—it always happened for a few moments—while her body spread to accommodate him.

“I fucking love you,” he moaned into her mouth, pulling his thumb out so he could ravish her with his tongue, while he returned back to her clit and stroked steadily.

He did not set an unreasonable pace, but rather moved languidly and deeply inside of her, kissing her to his heart’s desire. She nestled into his arms, stroking and kissing him lovingly, mewing and panting against his thorough, merciless thrusts.

“You feel sublime,” she confessed, watching him squeeze her breast, toying and tugging on the nipple.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” he asked, placing light, tender kisses all over her face. She laughed. “About a minute ago.”

“Good. Because I love you.”

“I love you too, Az,” she wrapped her arm around his neck, and then shuddered in his embrace, stuttering into his shoulder, “yes, yes, yes…like that…”

“You like that, my beauty?” he pumped harder now, knowing that the discomfort and pain were gone and she stretched wonderfully around him, taking him to the balls.

“Yes, yes,” she nodded, eyes shut, pleasure settling and growing somewhere inside of her. She milked and squeezed his cock frantically, urging him to move and give her more, and he did, pounding deeper into that marvelous tightness, against the lush silkiness of her quivering, trembling behind.

“Azriel,” she almost screamed, and then turned and swiftly straddled him, impaling herself with unstoppable determination, her wet, gleaming sex played widely in front of him, her other opening swollen and bursting around him.

Her plump tits bounced as she rode him, unconcerned about anything at this moment, her hair hanging limply over her body, her nails dug into his chest, her hips undulating on his cock.

“Baby, come for me,” he urged her, mesmerized by the wantonness of her creamy, pale body atop of him, the rhythmic bounce of her beautiful ass on his thighs, her determination to take what she needed from him.

With a roar that awoke the beasts, she shuddered and trembled over him, her rectum twitching and squeezing him so hard that he was unable to even work her through her climax, as he arched beneath her and his ecstasy was complete, as he spurted hot and thick inside of her. She went limp and he caught her in his arms, gently squeezing her against his chest and then waiting until the waves subsided for both of them, before kissing her hungrily.

He lay her down and then carefully withdrew, dragging his seed out of her with one long pull.

“Happy Calanmai,” she giggled and kissed him.

“Happy Calanmai, my love,” he stroked her damp hair.

He took her to the bathing chamber then, and they cleaned each other up quickly, for even the stoic Azriel was tired and all he wanted was to snuggle with his love and sleep. With her, he slept. She was his miracle.

By the time they returned to the bedroom, the bed was remade, the sheets changed and the subtle scent of jasmine perfumed the air. The wraiths who served at their court were nothing but efficient.

Elain’s beasts, two creatures who sat in stone for millennia, while Hewn City awaited its true master, and slumbered in its decadence, under the rule of the Night Court’s High Lords, awoke when the magic and power descended upon Azriel.

The creatures, and there were many of them here, awoke. But two, the ones who guarded the entrance to the City, were touched by Elain’s hand and released first. She freed them all, though some she put back to slumber, to be awoken when needed, though unlike before, they fed regularly, as opposed to once a decade.

But the two—Asterin and Sorrel—were Elain’s perpetual companions. The great fanged beasts, with powerful slithering bodies clad in impenetrable scales and with massive claws, not to mention keen intelligence and perfect understanding of language had made even Azriel a bit uneasy at first. Asterin was more physically powerful, but also playful, if volatile and temperamental, while Sorrel was calmer, if more brutal, and extremely overprotective of Elain.

Hewn City, especially during the transition of power, was not the friendliest of places, its new Lord well-known, disliked, feared and resented by a swath of its population. Even Elain, with her kindness and good-natured character, was not immediately successful in turning the tide of public opinion. Therefore, Azriel was more than concerned about leaving her here, if he had business elsewhere, but with Asterin and Sorrel, even his worries were put to rest.

The beasts were not exactly wyverns, or dragons, but creatures of their own. Like Rhys, they were able to summon their wings at will, which was perhaps something specific to Rhys’s bloodline, or somehow connected to Hewn City, but whatever the reason was, it was very, very useful. Elain had noted that having not one, but three winged creatures in the bedroom would be…excessive. Hence, when she and Azriel went to their palace atop the Court of Nightmares’ mountain, the beasts were free to fly and frolic about as much as they wanted. They also offered winged transportation to Elain.

At last, all three sisters were able to fly. Feyre simply summoned wings just like she always did. Nesta received her white mare pegasus, which she named Marena, from Helion (who still held out hope that she and Cassian would join him in some erotic escapade), as a mating gift. And lastly, Elain flew on her fanged beasts. Their three males could barely keep up.

Luckily, the beasts also went into hibernation when ordered, becoming stone-like, just like the sculptures that they once were. Because they insisted on sharing the quarters here, it was rather imperative that there was some privacy—because Azriel did not need to suddenly glance at a pair of slanted green eyes while licking Elain’s pussy.

Azriel deposited Elain on the bed and she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hearty hug.

The shadows had returned—they left when they sensed that their master was about to engage in something private with the mistress—while Asterin and Sorrel coiled around the bed.

Even though their private apartment was located far inside the Hewn City Night Palace, they could still hear the partying occupants of the underworld Court. Azriel rolled his eyes and Elain laughed in return. He threw a shield over the bedroom, blocking the noise.

“Who knew that you’d fit right in, with Calanmai becoming your favourite holiday?” he muttered, squeezing her behind.

“I suppose the Cauldron doesn’t only make stupid mistakes,” she shrugged. “And once in a while gets something right.’

Part II

The Heirs of Shadow

Spring was in full bloom across the Night Court territory, slowly but surely crossing into summer.

The wind in Elain’s hair was sweet and scented with roses and pine. Asterin was like an enormous scaly snake-like puppy, swooshing through the air, making all sorts of unnecessary maneuvers beneath Elain’s saddle. “Hey! I will be going on Sorrel when we return,” she warned her beast and Asterin gave her a petulant snarl, but slowed down. The flight made Elain queasy and she was glad to see the cypress and pine-covered hills, and beyond them, a flower-covered meadow and a glittering, turquoise lake.

The stucco-covered villa stretched along the banks of the lake, one wall covered in ivy, and the other, in pink and white roses. As Asterin and Sorrel approached the villa, two children rushed out of the wrought iron gates, waving their arms in the air, jumping and yelling. Elain smiled at them, waving back.

“Elain, Elain,” the children rushed towards her the moment Asterin touched down, “we missed you so much! You came! Can we play with the wyverns? Can we go flying?”

Elain dismounted and squatted in the grass, opening her arms and then getting tackled onto her back, once the two children slid into her arms, hands and legs flailing about, smiles and at least one mouth with missing teeth grinning at her. She kissed soft cheeks and thick black hair, so alike to that of their oldest brother—Azriel.

“You two are such hooligans!” she laughed, finally managing to sit up, but they wouldn’t let get up, so they remained in the grass.

“Where is Az?” asked Nataliya, playing with Elain’s braid and closely inspecting her emerald earrings. “These are pretty! Do you have presents for me?”

“Nat, it’s rude to ask that!” at nine years of age, her brother Riad was the voice of reason and propriety. More than any other child, he reminded Elain of Azriel—a uniquely handsome boy, with a contemplative and scholarly attitude and yet remarkably swift, agile and fast. She’d watched him climb the old oak tree that grew on the property in under a minute. Sometimes, he and Azriel would go for a run, and the boy would keep up the entire time, without complaint, steadfast and determined, just like his brother.

“Why it’s rude if I want a present?” demanded Nataliya, shrugging. Elain kissed her head and said, “Lucky for you, I do have presents for everyone!”

The girl squealed, her round face breaking into a happy smile. “That’s good. I want them! You wanna see our baby?”

“Of course,” Elain nodded and then gave each one of them a hand and they tugged her upwards.

“Come on, Elain! You can do it,” Nat encouraged her, grunting.

“Is Az gonna come?” asked Riad quietly, once Elain was up, and they walked towards the villa, holding hands.

“Not right now, my loves. He is very busy,”

“He is High Lord!” exclaimed Nat, squeezing her chubby hands in delight. “He is busy, Riad!” she added confidently, “so he can’t come visit.”

“Maybe you can come and visit us in Velaris?” proposed Elain.

“Be careful what you ask for, darling!” a laughing voice interrupted their conversation.

Azriel’s stunningly beautiful mother was smiling at them, standing by the gate. Her lustrous black hair cascaded in rich, ebony waves around her, and the bright green eyes were in fine contrast to her dark golden skin. Her eldest son inherited her sensuous full mouth and every time Elain laid eyes on the woman, she could see Azriel’s visage in her face.

“We’d love to have you all,” insisted Elain, throwing her arms around her mother-in-law.

“Ma, we gonna go play with the wyverns!” announced Riad.

“Yes, with wyverns!” Nat nodded immediately. She was not yet five, and basically repeated everything that Riad did and said. “Which one is good?”

Elain chuckled, “they are both good. Asterin, the green one, likes to swim, so maybe you can go to the lake with her. And Sorrel, the gray one, she may even fly you about, if your mother permits,”

“Ma!”

Rosamunde winced a bit, but Elain murmured, “they’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Alright, but,”

Before she could even finish her sentence the two ran off towards the beasts.

“Ellie, you look wonderful,” Rosamunde locked arms with Elain and they slowly made their way inside Rosehall. A riot of flower beds greeted them and Elain sighed with delight. Who would have thought that she and her mother-in-law possessed the same interest and passion? Though Elain felt that Rosamunde’s gardens put hers to shame.

“Thank you,” she smiled, looking around.

The villa was a tranquil and stunning place, nestled in a valley, surrounded by low mountains and crystal-clear waterfalls. Azriel had purchased the estate long ago, while he was in love with Mor and had hoped that they would have a blissful future together. While he knew that they would always be tied to Velaris and Hewn City, he had imagined that Rosehall would be their escape, their private place to enjoy.

It was stunningly picturesque, with a mild tempered climate year-round, and a town a few leagues away, which supplied the estate with everything that it needed. However, things did not go as planned and instead, Azriel gifted the house and the lands around it to his mother, for her wedding to her life-long and long-suffering lover, partner, friend and the male who had waited for her for a century, and ultimately helped to rescue her from the clutches of Azriel’s father. The male was now an elected mayor of the town—a long way to come for a humble hunter who had once fallen in love with an Illyrian laundress and loved her for all the days of his life.

“So do you!” exclaimed Elain, breathing in the fragrant air and smiling widely. She loved Rosehall. It was a serene and gorgeous place, full of delightful smells and exquisitely stunning scenery.

“Come, come,” Rosamunde pulled her by the hand and they entered the house. It was cool and dim, but once they made their way down the terracotta-tiled hallway and stepped into the opulently enormous kitchen, light flooded the place. This kitchen was Elain’s inspiration for her own home—grand and open on three sides to take advantage of the glorious views outside, it was also homey and cozy, a place to accommodate a bustling, busy family. All the doors were open and a pleasant breeze wafted in and out, bringing in the scent of flowers and mingling with the smell of freshly baked tarts.

“Sit, sit,” Rosamunde offered and immediately sat a tall glass of lemonade before Elain.

“How’s my Azzie?” the mother asked, joining her at the long butcher block that stretched in the middle of the kitchen. A mother’s privilege, to call the famed shadowsinger, the feared spymaster, and now Lord—Azzie. Even Elain didn’t dare, though she teased him with it at times, causing many dramatic eyerolls in response.

“He is good,” Elain smiled a happy, satisfied smile which did not escape Rosamunde’s notice. Her charming daughter-in-law looked blissful and for some reason, it made Rosamunde’s heart ache with joy and pride. “Works too much,” Elain continued, sipping her lemonade, and helping herself to a peach cake which Rosamunde supplied promptly. Like all mothers, Rosamunde was convinced that both Azriel and Elain were too thin and did not eat enough. Hence, each time they visited, they returned laden with bushels of food, treats, jars of preserves and gods only knew what else. Now that there were two wyverns to carry the care packages, Elain couldn’t imagine how much she’d be given. Not that she minded.

Azriel had introduced Elain to his mother just after the betrothal and they had come here and spent a few days getting to know each other. Rosamunde had four children then, besides Azriel—Enid, who was over three hundred years old, and who was married to an Illyrian General (not an asshole, as Azriel explained), and then, hundreds of years later, she birthed four children almost in a row—unheard of in Fae society—Rafael, Riad, Nataliya and finally Ellena, with whom she was pregnant when she and Elain met.

Ellena now sat up groggily in a little play crib that stood in the corner and looked around, having just awoken from her nap. Seeing Elain, she immediately stood up and extended her arms to her.

Family. Elain had loved her father, but…family…

There used to be a family, but it was never quite normal, cohesive. Her mother only doted on Nesta, their father was frequently absent, Feyre was a solitary, quiet, dreamy child and Nesta was a formidable creature of her own. Elain learned how to navigate the dynamics early on, floating quietly between all of them, playing the peacemaker, being the good daughter. And while her sisters, and her nephew were her blood family, this—this was her new family, the one she loved. Her Azriel and all her new little nieces and nephews, and her mother-in-law, who was both a mother and a friend, and her father-in-law—an enormous, gregarious male who reminded her of Cassian, but who was even larger than the Illyrian General. When she came here, she felt in place, happy and cared for.

Rosamunde watched from the corner of her eye how Elain and Ellena hugged and cooed at each other, giggling and whispering, and she already knew that Elain wouldn’t let the baby go until it was time to leave. The three of them, well two, since Ellena mostly stuck her hands into things and smooshed food around, prepared lunch and then went outside, slowly walking down the path that led to the lake. Riad and Nat were using Sorrel as a slide, climbing on top of her and then sliding down her scaled back into the water, shrieking and screaming with joy and excitement, while Asterin lounged next to them, sunning her hide, watching them with lazy amusement.

“You smell like Az,” Rosamunde murmured suddenly, as they took off their dresses and waded into the water, because Ellena was throwing a fit and wanted to slide off Sorrel as well. Elain only allowed her a little jump off the wyvern’s tail, but Ellena loved it and screamed with delight, falling all over the place, while to two of them tried to catch her.

Elain, her shift irreversibly soaked, glanced at the female, as she helped Ellena climb up Sorrel’s tail. It was an unusual comment for Rosamunde to make. They were very close, and even though Rosamunde was over 700 years old, she looked like a woman in her early 30s, which made it easy for them to become friends, because on the surface they looked like they were almost the same age. And Azriel was born so, so long ago that Elain hardly ever thought of them as a mother and son. However, some conversations were off limits, and they certainly never discussed her and Azriel’s intimate relationship, even when they talked about males and their ways around the bedroom, giggling and joking over a few glasses of wine.

“Well, I,” Elain began saying, feeling a blush spreading over her chest and neck. “We…”

Yes, of course they’d made love in the morning, before she came here. They made love every morning. Every evening.

Rosamunde waved her hand at her, laughing, “Oh Cauldron! Please spare me the details!”

“Oh,”

“All I am saying is that your scents—they’ve amalgamated. I,” she sniffed delicately, “recognize him within you…Not just on your skin,”

“Really?”

Something passed across the female’s face, a small smile of recognition. Then she nodded, her face remaining unreadable, much like her son’s.

She nodded, “Yes. The cedar and the jasmine. A lovely scent indeed.”

“You smell good Elain?” Nat barreled into Elain’s arms, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Elain kissed her wet hair and said, “I guess I do. Are you ready to go and eat lunch?”

“No! I want to do this more!”

“Why don’t we come back after lunch and you can play more?” Elain proposed, somehow managing to convince the unruly bunch to actually get back into the house. While they walked, Nataliya declared, “I wanna be High Lady!”

Elain chuckled, “Yes? Why? What will you do as High Lady?”

Nat thought for a second and then said, “Gonna wear pretty dresses,”

“You already wear pretty dresses,” countered Elain.

“More pretty,” insisted the girl. “And eat cake!”

“So as a High Lady you’ll be wearing pretty dresses and eating cake?”

Nodding, the budding High Lady hooked her little finger over Elain’s bracelet and added, “Will wear this too! And crowns.”

“Well, well,” Elain laughed, “all good things.”

Nat seemed pleased by the prospect of her High Ladyship and skipped ahead, dreaming of crowns and cake.

“You know,” Rosamunde’s voice was thoughtful and quiet, “she may sound silly,”

“I think she is adorable,”

“She is, but even if she is only dreaming of nice dresses and cakes now, I am glad that she is able to dream like this at all. It wasn’t available to us—females—before. There were no High Ladies—not for a very, very long time. So much so, we’d forgotten that we could be one. It’s ironic that it took a human woman to bring the practice back to the Fae world. Now it’s you, and Lady Feyre, and Lady Viviane…I never thought I’d see this.”

“But your son is also a Lord,” reminded her Elain, gently pressing her lips to Ellena’s damp curls. “Was it a surprise?”

They’d never discussed the power transfer—not at any length. It was all very sudden and there hasn’t been time or perhaps even desire to talk about it.

“No,” Rosamunde shook her head, “not exactly a surprise. We hail from an ancient race of Fae—from a Court that no longer in existence,”

“Dusk?”

“Yes. They say that when Dusk was destroyed a few hundred families managed to survive and escape. They were the original inhabitants and builders of Hewn City. Over the centuries, bloodlines thinned, some mixed with other Fae, some with Illyrians…My bloodline is pure,”

Elain shot her a surprised look. Azriel had never mentioned this before.

“Azriel is a true and direct descendant of the Dusk Court nobility—through me—and perhaps even their High Lords…So, no, I was not particularly surprised. That’s why Keir and that family were always ‘stewards’, and not Lords.”

She sighed and looked ahead, as they approached the villa.

“My son,” she said softly, “has had a difficult life. An unhappy life. A life of incredible violence and heartache. A life without childhood, or love, or anything positive or any light…That he is a shadowsinger is not a good thing, you know…It’s a curse, not a blessing. But,” and she glanced at Elain, her sad, soft face, “now he has you. Gods, Elain, you have no idea how happy you make him.”

Elain blushed, a tear-touched smile on her face. “I,”

“Elain, love, you will never know,” Rosamunde wrapped her arm around Elain’s shoulder. “He isn’t a man of many words, but believe me when I say this—I would have been heartbroken if he was granted this burden of power without you at his side. It would just be another weight added onto his shoulders, and I wouldn’t want that for my son. But you came along, and everything fell into place…You and him, and how the Power chose both of you,”

“We aren’t mates,” Elain reminded her quietly, knowing how much importance the Fae placed on the bond.

“And? Perhaps you are even more than that?” Rosamunde shrugged. “Believe me—I’ve seen some happy matings, Rhys and Feyre, for example, but I’ve seen some bad ones as well—Rhys’s parents come to mind. Your own mate bond ended up being faulty…What if you have more than a bond? Not just a bond of love, but that of power? Think about it…” she cocked her brow.

Elain hadn’t considered that option, but now she pondered the suggestion, the implication of it all.

“And you?” she asked instead.

Rosamunde smiled and looked back, towards the town which nestled under the mountains, leagues away.

“And I am an example that bonds don’t matter. No one can possibly love me more than Finrod does, and seven hundred years later, I still get weak in the knees at the sight of him—just like I did when I beheld him the first time, when he won an axe throwing competition and then flared his wings with more gusto than Cassian would,” Rosamunde began to laugh and then Elain joined. But then, her brow furrowed and she asked,

“Wait—Finrod doesn’t have wings!”

“I have wings!” yelled Nat, as she entered the house, and Rosamunde called after her and Riad to go and dry themselves and change.

Surely Elain wasn’t losing her mind. None of the family had wings. Her expression must have been so apparent that Rosamunde chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder, “We do,”

“But…what?”

“Do you know how Rhys can summon his at will? As does Lady Feyre?”

Elain nodded, so confused she felt like she was in some kind of out-of-body experience.

“That’s because Rhys has Hewn City blood. From his father. His mother was fully Illyrian. Us—we are the opposite. I am of Hewn City stock, but Azriel’s…father…” she grimaced, “was Illyrian. So Azriel has permanent wings. We—my children, and Finrod—can summon them at will. I don’t use them much, though they could be useful. Mine are mostly vestigial—I can hardly fly and,” her beautiful face darkened with sorrow, “and…”

Elain squeezed her hand in support and acknowledgement.

“I couldn’t save my baby,” Rosamunde choked, tears filling her eyes, “I couldn’t save Az…They probably would’ve caught me anyway, but I might have had a chance…But, but,” she sobbed and stopped, burying her face in her hands, “I couldn’t…I can’t fly. I couldn’t save him…I couldn’t save my boy…”

“Mam, ma,” Ellena babbled, seeing her mother in distress, and Elain brough her arms around the two of them, kissing both of them, the three of them crying together. For a little boy who couldn’t have a childhood and couldn’t be saved.

…The rest of the day wasn’t as eventful. They had lunch, with Nataliya demonstrating how to summon her wings and ripping her dress in the process, which caused a flood of tears, and laughter from Riad, and then Nataliya smacking her brother in retribution, and him scowling and pouting for the rest of the meal.

“You two are clearing the table,” ordered Rosamunde, and Elain had to hide her smile at their indignation.

“Az mentioned that he works with wood and that you have some pieces that he’d made,” she remembered. “Do you mind showing them to me?”

“Of course! Come,” they grabbed Ellena, who wouldn’t let go of Elain anyway, and walked through the house, with Rosamunde pointing out beautiful pieces of carved wooden furniture and decorative pieces.

“After Az was sent to the camp,” she recalled, “they allowed him to apprentice with the carpenter there…Because of his hands and his inability to fly, the Commanders didn’t think he’d be useful, and would ever be able to fight. So they figured that he should learn some kind of trade, if he didn’t make it as a shadowsinger for the High Lord, and it also allowed him to work with his hands and fingers, because he still had trouble with them even after 3-4 years after…” her voice faded and she didn’t finish her thought.

Elain ran her fingers along a beautifully carved mirror frame and murmured, “he is truly talented…”

He mother nodded. Then said, “I think he might carve something for you soon…”

“What?”

“Something for the house, I am sure.”

Azriel landed in the front lawn of his estate.

It was a large, rambling cottage that became available after the war—the family that lived there moved to a smaller place and the house sat unoccupied for a year. Azriel’s been eyeing it ever since it became vacant, but he didn’t need a place that big for himself and back then, he didn’t think that he ever stood a chance with Elain.

Asterin and Sorrel were lounging on the grass, lazily chewing on Elain’s roses, pretending to smell them. At seeing Azriel they immediately shifted, feigning innocence and acting like they weren’t gnashing on the bulbs just now. He shook his finger at them and they turned away, ignoring him.

He was forever thankful that unlike Hewn City, the cottage, while large, couldn’t contain two enormous, fanged beasts. So, they stayed outside. He reckoned that everything fell into place when Elain entered his life, including the location of this house—far away from everyone, secluded in brambles and weeping willows, it was just outside of Velaris, with stunning views all around—the city on one side, and the sea on the other. His presence made people nervous enough, even back when he was just a shadowsinger and spymaster of the High Lord, and an Illyrian with seven siphons. Now, as Lord of Hewn City, with a Cauldron-made betrothed, two fanged beasts in tow, and Bryaxis who loved visiting as well, having befriended Elain a while back (since two monsters as friends weren’t enough), Azriel did not make for a desirable neighbour. Thankfully, there were no neighbours around. Therefore, if Bryaxis felt like sitting in the garden, wrapped in dark shadow of terror, it didn’t result in a pile of bodies who died of pure fear.

“My love, are you home?” he called out, shucking off his jacket and weapons, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“I am here!” Elain’s voice sang back and instantly his heart gladdened. That voice was like a balm on his soul, sweet and welcoming, and Azriel had to mentally pinch himself to remind himself that this was real. This was his life. This was his home, the one he built with the only woman that he ever truly ever loved and who loved him unconditionally and with an undimming, everlasting passion. His Elain. His Elain who chose him against all odds, and who promised to walk with him side by side, regardless of what befell them in this life. And with her next to him, he felt no fear.

“Holy gods, what are you doing?” he cried, when he entered their vast kitchen and saw Elain balance herself precariously on her toes, on the top step of a stepladder, reaching for something on the top shelf of their pantry. “You couldn’t have waited for me?!”

She laughed at him, kissing the air in greeting and said, “You are fussier than your mom!”

“What are you doing?” he came closer, and crossed his arms on his chest.

“She gave me so much food, I am trying to arrange it all,” Elain giggled, “I think she thinks that we are starving.”

He snorted a laugh.

“I felt bad for Sorrel who had to haul all these baskets on her back,”

“I imagine that Sorrel managed just fine.”

He came closer and playfully pecked her bottom through her gauzy skirt, and she squirmed with enjoyment.

“My Lord Azriel!” she admonished him playfully.

“Lady Elain,” he slapped her buttock lightly and said, “get off that stool and give me a kiss! What smells so good?”

“Dinner!”

He went to the cupboard and started pulling out plates and wine glasses and setting the table.

“Six jars of pickles! Three jars of jam,” she was counting out loud, “Three jars of marinated peppers. Six baskets of dried mushrooms…Azriel, if I see you tucking into those blackberry tarts before dinner, I swear,”

In the next moment, she was swept off her feet and into a pair of strong arms, his mouth descending on hers in a savage kiss. She screeched and laughed, clutching at his shoulders, before softening against him and draping her arms around his neck. Her lips opened in invitation and he swept his tongue inside, gently overpowering her with his kiss.

“I love you,” she moaned into his mouth, running her hands through his hair.

“I’d like to hear the rest of your threat,” he invited with a chuckle, “about the blackberry tarts,”

“I’d make love to you,” she whispered into his ear, lightly biting his earlobe, “if you eat a blackberry tart,”

“Then perhaps I should have two?”

“Perhaps…”

“And if I eat a pickle?” he proposed, returning to her lips, placing small, loving kisses on her mouth and her eyes.

“The punishment remains the same,” she breathed.

He breathed in deeply, with satisfaction.

Then stilled, abruptly.

Elain looked at him in surprise when he pulled away from her mouth.

His hazel eyes blazed—blazed like the green forests of Illyria, like the obsidian of Hewn City, like the stars of the Night Court. Those eyes devoured her. His perfect, beautiful face, usually so tanned and golden, paled. She’d never seen him pale.

“Az?”

Confusion and fear were written on her face.

“El,” he sobbed.

He…sobbed.

Azriel’s gorgeous eyes filled with tears, huge and thick, the eyes brimmed with them before spilling onto his face.

“Azriel,” she cried in alarm, cupping his cheek.

“Elain,” he gasped, his voice so choked with emotion, so raspy, she could barely hear him, “my love. Elain. My love,” he kept repeating, as if in shock, as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Az, I love you, please, my darling, what is,”

“We are going to have a baby,” he blurted out.

Her eyes widened and his hand instinctively went to her stomach. He lay his heavy scarred palm on her belly, setting her down on the floor, and dropped on his knees before her.

She pressed her hand over his, still disbelieving his words, as they stared at each other, both in some kind of stupor of complete elation and doubt.

“Are you certain?” she begged softly, her eyes pleading with him for confirmation, for this to be true.

“I smell it…it’s so clear,” he inhaled again, and then again, “you and I and someone else in there,”

“Oh, by the Cauldron,” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, “you mother…Oh…”

“What?” he pressed his cheek to her stomach, wrapping his arms around her hips.

“She knew. I think she knew…She commented on our smell,”

“What did she say?”

“That we amalgamated into one scent,”

He chuckled softly, kissing her hands, her stomach, whatever his lips could reach, “We certainly amalgamated. I think it’s a bit more than just a scent though,”

Suddenly it dawned on Elain. It all came crushing at once and she wept, squeezing her face, a smile on her face so wide, it hurt her cheeks.

“We’ve made a baby?” she gasped, “Az, we’ve made a baby.”

“We’ve made a life together,” he murmured, awed. For a male who was so used to taking life, whose very existence was dedicated to war and blood, the thought of creating one, of creating something pure and good along with this female that he loved beyond reason, was simply magical.

“On Calanmai, you think?” she marveled, remembering the Great Rite, and everything that they did that night.

“I am certain,” he nodded.

“Our magical baby,” she grinned through her tears, looking down at him, at her stomach, and their hands, cradling it together.

It was a warm summer day, with the sky of the clearest blue and the sun beating down.

Azriel had worked up a sweat, but he loved it. It was quiet around their house, other than for the chirping birds and the rustling of leaves. Out as far as the eye could see stretched the azure sea—this view was one of the reasons Azriel bought this specific house. It was absolutely glorious and he loved the gleaming amethyst brilliance of the water, the smell of salt and brine in the air. One side of the house overlooked the city skyline, in the back, the towering mountains, and ahead, the vast expanse of the sea. When he was old and gray, he imagined that he’d be sitting out on the terrace, with Elain on his lap, and never tire of the view or of her. Not a Lord, not a spymaster or an Illyrian with too many siphons, but Azriel. He’d never tell her, but he already knew what he’d have written on his tombstone, if he ever had one ‘Here lies Azriel. He loved Elain, who made him happy’.

He looked up from the piece of wood that he was polishing. In their beautiful garden, the whole menagerie of their creatures napped or lounged. Deep in the shadows of the two weeping willows was a smudge of impenetrable darkness—Bryaxis came to look at the sun and smell the flowers. Around it, Azriel’s own shadows fluttered and floated. It was a little too bright for them out here, so they hid alongside Bryaxis, nestled in his darkness. Azriel figured that they could talk with each other, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the topic of their conversation would be. Asterin was cooling off in the pond, while Sorrel was sleeping on the grassy bank, sunning her wings. He supposed that he was also a strange creature, just like them, with his wings, that he was also presently sunning and his unnatural power. Perhaps, only Elain was the normal one amongst them, though probably not.

Elain was crouched in the flower bed, a wide-brimmed hat obscuring her face, even if her thin sleeveless shirt allowed a very generous and tempting glimpse of her unbound breasts under the unbuttoned collar.

“You look like a cat who just drank all the cream,” she noted, without moving her head or looking at him.

“And you are acting like an expert little spy,” he laughed, and walked over to her.

His scarred hand crawled under her hat and he squeezed the back of her neck, massaging gently.

“Mmm, that feels good,” she hummed, leaning into his hand.

Then, with a smirk, she complained, “I am hot.”

He chuckled and stooped over her, his palm migrating from the back of her neck to the front, squeezing her throat lightly and tilting her head back. The hat tumbled on the grass.

“Can I help you remove some of this offending clothing?” he offered, leaning deeper over her, his face ghosting hers in the barest of touches. He whispered and her tongue darted out and licked on his lips quickly.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please…”

He snapped his fingers, without taking his eyes off her and then said, loudly, “Hey! All of you! Find somewhere else to be!”

The monster, the beasts and shadows all made an indignant noise, and attempted to turn around, but Azriel shook his head, “No. No. Go. Leave. Come back later. All of you.”

His shadows flew closer to him, in hopes of being spared, but he flicked his wrist at them.

Elain was laughing.

“You are a terrible host!” she murmured, when he slid on the grass next to her.

“I am a stupendous host,” he countered, stroking her throat, before tilting her head the way he wanted to and placing his lips on the thin, smooth skin. He kissed. Softly. Unhurriedly. Up and down, from her ear to her shoulder, while his deft fingers unbuttoned the few buttons of her shirt.

“Stupendous, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” he breathed against her neck, and parted her blouse, sliding it down her arms and then arranging it so she could lay her head on it. “They lounge on my lawn. They swim in our pond. They eat your flowers. They terrify the neighbors,”

“We don’t have any neighbors,” she reminded him with a chuckle. “You hate people,”

“I don’t hate people,” he corrected, kissing her nose and then her lips, “I care about people. That’s why I don’t have them around, so they don’t die of terror should they come upon Bry or your sweet beasties,”

“You are my sweet beastie,” she whispered, stroking his face.

Azriel smiled, and agreed, “That I am. And, you’ve been very naughty, tempting me with these all morning long,” he cupped her bare breasts, which always fit so well within his palms and rubbed his thumbs over the nipples. Now, a month and a half into her pregnancy, they began to fill out, growing just a bit heavier and fuller almost daily. It fascinated him and, well, he couldn’t deny that it made him quite happy as well.

“You can play with them,” she offered.

“Yeah?” he leaned into her and wrapped his mouth over the nipple, pulling hard and deep, teeth and lips clamping on the sensitive tip. A violent shudder rushed through her, and she tugged on his hair, pushing his face into her soft breast…and if he was going to suffocate now, he’d die a happy male. But she released her hold on his head a bit and he sucked deeply and steadily, while working her out of her skirt. She wiggled out of it and kicked it with her foot, while going for the ties on his trousers, pulling on them impatiently. He laughed over her breast and then looked up at her, “eager, are we?”

Elain flipped him on his back and muttered, panting lightly, “Az, I need you,”

“You have me, love,” he assured her, as he pulled out his cock and stroked it a few times. She looked down, hunger in her beautiful brown eyes, her lower lip between her teeth, body almost shaking with anticipation.

He wrapped his hand over her hips and nudged her forward, murmuring, “come, my baby, take what you need.”

Elain didn’t have to be asked twice. The horrible ache in her core was becoming unbearable and there was only way to soothe it. While Azriel slid his trousers down his legs, finally getting naked beneath her, she straddled him and guided his thick cock inside of her.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, her eyes closing and head lolling to the side, pure, ravenous bliss written all over her face. She sunk on him slowly, for no matter how aroused she was, how wet and ready, his size did not allow for a singular initial thrust. It always had to be a tempered, gradual push, which they both loved, for it only heightened their senses, the anticipation of what was about to happen.

His fingers dug deeply into her thigh probably adding to an existing bruise, but Elain loved carrying his bruises on her body. Beneath her gauzy dresses, or the more daring, risqué outfits that she wore in Hewn City, or her gardening dungarees, or the simple skirts and shirts that she wore at home, her lovely, curvy body bore the marks of Azriel’s love. It was their secret, just like the bargain tattoo that was hidden on her thigh—only for him to know.

The moment he was situated in her, he set an ambitious pace, his hips working almost against his rational inclination, but the way the walls of her sex gripped him with such sublime strength and clenched and pulled him in every time he made a move was so overwhelmingly pleasurable, he stopped, just to gather his thoughts for a moment.

“You take me so well, my girl,” he grunted, “so tight,”

“Az, move,” she pleaded desperately, her palms pressing into his chest, her hips grinding onto him. “Faster…”

He sat up, biting his lower lip, his palm gripping her breast almost painfully, as he squeezed her nipple between his fingers, twisting it harshly. She panted loudly, the bit of pain always being something she craved, something he offered and she chased.

“Anything you want, baby,” he finally calmed himself enough to begin thrusting into her in earnest. Even when she was on top, she liked for him to do most of the work, and he did not object whatsoever. He lay back down, letting his eyes roam over her gorgeously lush body, mesmerized by her bouncing breasts, as they bopped and swayed with every thrust of his hips. He cupped her soft, pert ass and gently spread the cheeks, mashing them in his palms, his fingers pushing occasionally against and around her other little hole, eliciting pleased moans and cries from her parted lips.

“Az, my love, you feel so amazing,” she breathed. “Why does it feel so good?”

“Because you were made for me and I was made for you,” he said simply.

“Yes,” she nodded, “yes,”

His eyes drifted down her body and he buried himself inside of her, thrusting to the hilt and holding still. She moaned loudly, her head rolling back, unbound hair ticking his thighs. He ran his hand over her torso, her throat and her breasts and then paused at her stomach, pressing lightly to her lower belly. He could feel and see the small bump—not that of their baby—but his cock that was so deep, it pushed out from inside of her.

Azriel groaned loudly, wondering if he’s ever been so hard before. He has. But every time it felt new and different, the sense of possession almost indescribable.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the same spot. Her eyes widened with lust mixed with amazement and she rubbed the cock that was pocking her stomach.

“El, fuck,” he swore low and hissing, “fuck it feels nice, baby…” he held her hand right there, and she moved and stroked her stomach. “You are so tiny, I can see myself moving inside of you,”

She grinned, “You like that, bad boy?”

“Yes, my sweet, this boy really, really likes seeing you take my cock!”

Cassian could barely breathe.

He loved Elain, but the flowers…Her garden was gorgeous, a feast for the eyes, a work of art—and torture for his nose and eyes and throat.

Azriel and Elain had been holed up in their luxurious secluded cottage for over a month.

He saw them here and there, they visited once, maybe twice, and then there was the dinner at the River House, which they declined to attend, citing Hewn City business.

“Go check on them!” ordered Nesta.

“Why don’t we go together?” proposed Cassian, but she said, “I don’t want to ambush them. Just…it’s casual if it’s just you.”

So here he was, being casual.

Somehow even Rhys found out that he was going to visit them, and the High Lord ordered him to report on their well-being.

The two wyverns, or whatever they were, flew over the sea, flipping and diving into the water.

Cassian landed in front of the house and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again, harder this time, but was greeted with silence.

It was a nice day, so he figured that the two of them being in the garden was very probable. Elain with her flowers or berry bushes, and Azriel just watching over her like a hungry wolf in love. The male was so obsessively in love, Cassian figured that if he could spend eternity watching Elain garden, Azriel would be perfectly satisfied with his life.

Rounding the corner, Cassian was faced with the most disturbing scene that his 543-year-old eyes had seen—naked Elain, grinding on Azriel…riding his cock.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

His sister. His little sister. That’s who Elain was to him. She was his little petal, his sweet flower girl. Riding Azriel’s enormous cock. How that thing even fit into her was a miracle.

Oh gods. His eyes. He pressed his palms over his face and ran back. He slammed into something, refused to open his eyes, and ran until he was well out on the front law on the house.

Mother’s tits! Why were they outside? He knew why they were, because it was a nice day and it was perfect time for lovemaking, but gods, did Azriel have to do it with her?

Breathing heavily, Cassian shot up in the air. He’d fly around, for a few hours. A few hours should be long enough, right? Maybe a few days?

Yes, theoretically, Cassian knew that Elain and Azriel were lovers. They were betrothed and swore their love and loyalty to each other before a priestess, and one day, planned to perhaps marry, as humans married—Elain’s idea, though she was cooling off to it, no longer concerned about the human rituals and their ways. But they were both reserved people, rarely displaying overt affection towards each other and somehow, it was difficult to imagine them in more intimate situations.

Azriel had scented his brother nearby.

Elain was whimpering atop of him, as he was pounding into her and right then, his brother was of no concern to him. He wanted to bring his girl over the edge, and she was close if the fluttering of the walls of her pussy around his cock were anything to go by. Her breath came out in deep, hoarse sighs and she stretched over him, her hair draping over her breasts and his chest, swooshing and tickling his chest. She squeezed her breast in her hand, rolling her nipple, as she plunged down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Close, sweetheart?” he held her hips tightly, angling her so that her clit ribbed against his pelvis, while kissing her mouth. She nodded breathlessly and fell atop of him, sinking her teeth into his neck and sucking, as she thrashed and moaned into his shoulder, whispering how much she loved him.

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he murmured into her hair.

Azriel was working on an intricate carving in the piece of wood, chiseling slowly and carefully into the plank. He might have planned too complex a design, if he had to admit it, but he had eight months to complete it, so with some perseverance he figured that he’d be done just in time.

“I know you are there,” he said without raising his eyes from his chisel, “stop being weird.”

Cassian stepped in front of him, sniffling and hacking, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

“Were you hiding there long?”

“You know I wasn’t hiding,” Cassian sneezed, “I just flew in.”

“Flew back in,” corrected Azriel, smirking.

“My eyes did not need to see what they saw earlier,” Cassian sat heavily on a bench, shaking his head. “And stop smiling!”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for someone so modest and easily perturbed,”

“Umm, I am not easily perturbed at all,” he interrupted, “unless I see my sister doing all those things with you,”

“Well, she is my betrothed female and my Lady,” Azriel reminded him casually, “so we do ‘do those things’ as you call them,”

“I don’t need to be reminded!”

Elain appeared—thankfully dressed—with a smile on her face, and exclaimed, “Cass! I didn’t hear you come in!”

She skipped towards him and threw herself into his embrace. He swung her around in his arms, and kissed her head.

“I’ve missed you, petal!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

“You look—stunning,” he had to admit, giving her a once over. “Gods…you are glowing!”

She smiled shyly, ducking her head and then playfully slapped his shoulder, murmuring, “such a flatterer,”

Azriel was observing them silently, still carving the wood, though Cassian sensed some tension in his brother. Azriel was never jealous, especially not of him, but just in case, Cassian stepped away from Elain and sat back down on the bench. Azriel reminded him of a newly mated male, and for a moment, he wondered if they had a mate bond snap for them, which would explain their absences and secrecy.

He watched them exchange a quick glance, but a bout of sneezes interrupted his puzzlement at all of this cagey behaviour. Could Elain have been given two bonds? Elain was mysterious, her power still not entirely revealed, her Cauldron-given abilities developing and unraveling bit by bit. Her power matched Azriel’s in many different, intricate ways, most of which Cassian could not understand. Even Rhys had trouble comprehending what the two of them were capable of, and how vast that power reserve actually was.

“Cass, let me get you something for your allergies,” Elain offered. “Do you want lemonade?”

“Don’t fuss Lainey,” he began, but she waved him off. “Lemonade for my brother is not fussing. I have an ointment that will help you,”

She went back into the house and Cassian draped his arms over his knees, looking out at the sea. This was a damn nice view! No wonder they didn’t want to leave. They split their time between their four residences—Hewn City palace, Azriel’s apartment in Velaris, occasionally they used the palace on the mountain, but typically only for formal meetings, but this—this was their home.

“You are quiet,” Cassian noted, glancing at Azriel.

His brother seemed to have relaxed a bit, even his wings snapped not as tightly as before, and he shrugged in his usual Azriel way, saying nothing.

Cassian finally glanced at the wood that Azriel was working on and he nodded towards the fine carvings, “it’s beautiful…what is it?”

Azriel drew his scarred finger over the wood, and after a moment, said, “it’s headboard for a crib.”

“A crib? Really? Who asked you to make a crib?” wondered Cassian, cocking his brow.

Then he stilled, his eyes widening, “Shit?! Rhys and Feyre? Are they having another baby?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel chuckled, amusement in his eyes, “they haven’t told me.”

“Who else?” pondered Cassian. “Don’t be an asshole! Tell me!” he whined.

“Maybe you?” Azriel winked at him.

“What?” Cassian paled, “wha-…Nes,”

“Oh gods, no!” groaned Azriel, laughing, “I am kidding. Can’t you smell anything?”

“I can’t smell shit!” Cassian wiped his nose, “I am all stuffed up. What am I supposed to be smelling?”

“Elain.”

“What about Elain?”

In the next moment, Cassian tackled Azriel in his hug, both of them landing in the grass, a scream of joy ripping from Cassian’s chest.

“Elain?” he cried, tears springing in his eyes, “a baby…a baby for you,” he rocked Azriel against his chest, and for once, Azriel gently, easily embraced him back.

“Az, I…” Cassian, for once, was speechless. ‘”I am so happy…I am so happy for you,”

Azriel grinned, emotional again, his chest heavy and tight with joy.

“Actually, I need to make two cribs,” he said. “Care to help, uncle?”

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