#blurb: dulcet

[luveline]

hiii, can i have a blurb with emily, it can be literally about anything, i miss her and you write her impeccably ✨🥺

thank you ♡

Emily frowns at her computer screen. She's been having a hard time using the new system, and she can't stop batting at the feathered bangs that kiss her eyebrows, an agitated tic. 

She really doesn't like admitting that she can't do things. 

You rifle through your desk drawer. A few weeks ago you'd stopped for throat soothers on the way to work and found a packet of strawberry flavoured mentos at the gas station. I love the strawberry flavour, Emily'd said once, but I don't like any of the other ones. It feels like too much of a waste to buy the bag. 

You bought them. Chickened out on giving them to her. They're still sealed. 

"Hey," you say quietly, careful not to draw the attention of her deskmates. If Spencer or Derek were to witness this, they'd both laugh at you. Everyone knows how you feel except Emily, because isn't that always the way? "Emily?" 

She immediately turns her attention and concern to you, her eyes so dark and pretty it makes you feel sick. "Hey," she says, her voice dulcet, near melodic, "you okay?" 

"I got you these." 

You pass her the box of mentos without fuss. 

Her lips part in shock before melding to a smile that brags the pearl of her teeth. "Oh my god. Where did you find these?" Her gaze flickers between you and her newfound treasure. "How did you–" 

"I remembered, um, when we went to Austin, you," —you look down at her hands— "said you liked only the strawberry ones. So when I saw them I hoped you'd like them."

"Have you ever tried them?"

You rub at the inside of your wrist. "No." 

Emily's chair rattles as she stands, and mentos hit the sides of the box as she breaks the seal with her finger and tips a few into her palm. They're a light pink and smell strongly of strawberry, though there's a subtle coolness to them. 

"Here," she says. "I think you'll like them." 

You take it because she could offer you little tiny rocks and you'd eat them. You'd smile at her with cracked teeth. Emily doesn't realise how much power she has over you (remarkably) nor the effect of her closeness. You press the mento between your lips and she does the same, beaming this beatific, heart-racing smile at you as strawberry pops over your tongue. 

"They're good, right?" she asks, nearly smug. 

You nod quickly. You're not a reliable narrator and you'd say yes no matter what, but something about looking at her makes them sweet. 

"The– the new computer system, it's buggy, right?" you ask. When she looks at you dumbfounded, you correct, "Non responsive. Doesn't wanna listen." 

"Right?" She looks so relieved that it knocks you off kilter. 

"I think I figured out how to get my emails to stay in one place," you say, aiming for casual, barely making the mark. 

"Could you show me how to do that?" 

You sit in her desk chair at her computer and fix her emails to the desktop. The system isn't buggy, but you want her to feel capable. She is capable. Strawberry mentos over your shoulder, her hand resting on the back of her chair, fingertips brushing your back and silky dark hair skimming your shoulder, she's perfect. 

Spencer meets your eye from over the desktop monitors. He, of similar disposition, seems to be commending you on your demeanour with widened eyes and a small nod. 

Derek, on the other hand, taunts. "Is it hot in here?" he asks, fanning himself with his t-shirt. 

Emily leans over your shoulder to grab a case file from her desk, tossing it onto Derek's. "You can fan yourself with that once you've peer reviewed it for me." 

Spencer shakes his head in pity. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Emily asks you, looking down. "Are you hot too? You look flustered." 

"I'm feeling it," Spencer says. 

"Huh. I must be cold blooded," she says under her breath, the exhale tickling your neck. "Weird." 

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss oneshot #emily prentiss scenario #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 • 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦

The rain fell against the window of the car creating a dulcet sound. You were sitting in the passenger side while Jude was in the driver’s seat. A soft silence hung amongst you both as you stare out at the rainy outside.

You had come to an empty parking lot to have your date after your plans got ruined due to the nasty weather.

“I love these little moments with you.” You finally spoke, leaning back against the head rest, tilting your head to the side to look at your boyfriend. You couldn’t help the smile that forms on your face when his eyes meets yours.

Jude smiles right back at you, “yeah?”

All you could do was nod as you shut your eyes.

“ I wonder how I get so lucky to have you in my life. You always treat me like I’m the only girl in the world and it feels so amazing. I don’t deserve you.”

“that’s because you are the only girl in the world to me.” Jude says.

You opened your eyes, listening as him continue.

“I’m the one who’s lucky. Look I got the prettiest, smartest girl to ever exist right in front of me. To be honest I never thought I’d ever be in love, but the moment I saw you I knew that wasn’t true. You’ve changed my life for the better. Waking up next to you, hearing you laugh at my stupid jokes, seeing how you light up at my existence when I come home, those are the things I look forward to every single fucking day. If you could see yourself through my eyes you would be in love with yourself. I don’t want any other girl because the girl for me is right here.”

A smile forms on your face. You wouldn’t be lying if you said you weren’t fighting back tears.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with. I Can’t wait to have kids with you, can’t wait to grow old and still be obsessed with you.”

Jude Took your face in his hand. He runs his thumb across your soft skin while he stares into your eyes with his gentle ones.

I hope that in every lifetime, you are there with me. I’ll find you and love you over and over again because you’re the only person out there for me.”

You felt his lips on yours before you could say anything. Your hands found his shirt pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

When you pull away you look at Jude. “ I hope I find you in every lifetime too.”

-----

A little blurb I wrote the other day

#Jude Bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #Jude Bellingham fluff #Jude Bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham blurb

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Steve Harrington x Reader Blurb

For those that love the pure fluff!

Warnings: Smut. Fluff. Reader with a vagina.

WC: 1K

18+ Only!

“Steve, Steve.” You rushed out, trying to catch your breath, fingers tangled in his hair, trying to pull him away from your oversensitive cunt.

“Yeah honey?” He cooed, finally unlatching his lips from your puffy, abused clit to look up at you between your thighs. Arousal dripping from his chin, grinning like a madman.

You couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“C’mere.” You sighed dreamily; eyes half lidded. Watching as he happily obliged your request and started crawling up, placing soft kisses and light nips to your inner thigh, soft belly and the delicate skin of your breasts before finally pressing his lips to yours.

Your thighs part further to accommodate him. His hard, aching cock coming to rest between you.

His hair was hanging down in his face, ticking your forehead as his tongue began to dance with yours. The tangy taste of your arousal made you moan into his mouth, only spurring him further as his hand gripped your hip, pulling you closer to him.

His cock kicked up, alerting you once more to his needy state, as well as your own.

“Steve, I need you. Please.” Looking up at him with doe eyes and flushed cheeks. Begging as if he hadn't already made you come on his tongue. It was never enough with him though, you always wanted more.

He kissed the tip of your nose. “You sure, angel?”

You nodded, as he reached between you taking the base of his length running it through your folds gently bumping your clit on the way before catching the tip at your entrance.

He slowly pushed in, watching himself disappear into your tight heat. The way your walls sucked him in, as if your pussy was made just for him.

You whined out, catching his gaze as his hips were finally flush to yours. His cock jumping at attention, making another wanton moan fall from your lips.

“That's it, honey. Doing so good f’me. Always so good f’me.” He praised. “Pussy was made for me. All mine.”

“All yours Stevie,” you parroted, already beginning to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the alcohol or the earlier events, but you undoubtedly think it's him. The way he treats you. The way he fucks you. The way he loves you.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” He says, as he pulls out just leaving the tip before he's punching his way back in leaving you breathless before he sets a pace that leaves you both moaning, panting messes in a matter of minutes.

He moves slightly, taking your knee into the crook of his elbow, pulling it up as he drapes himself back over you.

The new angle has your nails digging crescents into his bronzed shoulders, as his cock drives deeper, kissing your cervix with every upward thrust.

You loved watching him fall apart, as his jaw went slack, closing his eyes from sheer pleasure. His hair is just beginning to stick to his forehead, from the thin sheen of sweat forming from his exertion.

He opens his eyes in time to see you looking up at him like he hung the moon.

His hips falter, pausing as he grins down at you mirroring your own dulcet smile. He knows what you're about to say and he gives you his full attention.

“I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you, angel.” He kisses your forehead before picking up his pace once more, as you close your eyes, sighing with contentment.

He releases your leg, letting you wrap them back around his waist on your own accord so he could press in close to give you another sweet kiss as his hand travels down past your navel, fingertips grazing your skin. Pushing past your mound, parting your lips to find your clit.

He swallowed your moan, as you arch further into his touch. The pads of his fingers catch your clit as he begins to draw soft, slow circles against you.

“That's it, honey. She's gripping me. You gonna come f’me? Gonna come all over my cock?” You nodded; lips parted but unable to speak.

“You're so beautiful. My girl, all mine.”

“All yours,” you repeated, whiny, voice almost gone as you felt him smile against your neck.

He had you careening towards the edge.

“Come on honey.” His lips now ghosting the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps across your heated flesh. “Give me what's mine.”

“Steve, please.” Not even sure what you were asking for, but he would give you anything. You suddenly felt like if he weren't pinning you down, you would simply float away.

His cock head keeps massaging that soft spot on your frontal wall, feeling every ridge of him upon every exit and reentry. His fingers never ceasing those ministrations to your clit.

“Steve, I’m cumming…” you barely got the words out before your orgasm hit with a blinding force, fire blooming from your core spreading throughout your entire body, electrifying every nerve ending within you.

“That's it. That's my good girl.” He finally stopped toying with your clit to chase his own release as your cunt pulsed and clamped down around him.

A few more quick thrusts and he was following you.

“Fuck… I love you!” He hissed, filling you to the brim and continues to fuck it back into you.

His hips finally stilled, pressing his body to yours, molded perfectly into his, as you finally allowed your eyes to open.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He breathed out, fingertips moving the loose hairs from your face, so he could gain a better look at your fucked out and dazed expression.

“Hi,” you giggled, feeling a little shy under his gaze.

The adoration in his soft eyes made your heart ache. It was almost too much.

He placed a soft kiss to your lips, as he rolled over, dragging you with him as you laid your head to his chest and hand over his heart.

“Happy Valentine's Day, future Mrs. Harrington.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, pulling your hand up to take another look at the new jewelry that adorned your left ring finger.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Stevie.” Raising up so you could pull him into another kiss. Grinning against his lips, as you spoke “my future husband.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #joe keery #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington blurb #valentine's day

[theliheat]

☆ || pain in my teeth!

summary! // tasm! peter parker x autistic! reader who has some very prominent and unfortunate sensory issues regarding a certain super suit.

inclusions/warnings! // gender of reader is not specified. reader’s sensory issues make their teeth hurt to a point where they have to use a stimulation (in the form of a rubber straw) to make it better, peter feels guilty about it which then causes reader’s empathy sensitivity to spike, reader says i love you and peter says it back, i don’t know how to end a fluffy blurb!! <3 no use of ‘y/n’ but uses of baby, sweetheart (for reader) and pete, petey (for peter) i wrote this based on my personal experiences with autism, so it may not be something that every person experiences!

not proofread! // please let me know if there are any mistakes/things that i should work on! and my inbox is open for any requests, or just a chat!

possession! // all of my work is my own. do not copy, translate, or repost any of my writing.

word count! // 700+

enjoy my lovelies! <3

。 ♡ 。　　♡。　　♡ {peter’s version}

peter honestly wasn’t sure what had happened to get to this point.

about 3 seconds ago you were fine, basking in his spider-man awesomeness and doting on him being the “coolest and best boyfriend ever!” and now you’re making a scrunchy face and uncomfortable noises.

because of his spider senses (but actually because he is the best boyfriend ever and knows what you’re feeling before you can even comprehend it), he jumps into action. as he moves closer to hold you and ask what’s wrong, what had suddenly changed to make you upset, you hold a hand up to stop him.

he frowns slightly, “are you okay? what happened, baby?” you shake your head in response.

“i’ve never felt your suit before.”

he completely stops, confused for a moment as to why that has anything to do with this and then it clicks. the texture.

you’ve always been super irritated by textures: velvet, corduroy, silks, and many many others. while you aren’t quite sure what horrendous type of spandex fabric peter’s blue and red superhero costume was made out of, you know that it hurts. badly.

“just made my teeth hurt really bad, ‘s okay, though. ‘m okay now, pete.” you try to smile widely at him to let him know that it’s fine but you cringe and purse your lips again as you watch him as he removes the suit hurriedly, ridding the thing causing you to not touch him.

“no! i, ugh! i should’ve thought about it and let you feel the suit a little bit first before i hugged you like that, sweetheart, i’m sorry.”

you shake your head fervently, mumbling assurances that it’s fine as you begin to bite onto the silicone straw in your cup to reduce the aching of your teeth. “really it’s fine! it just… threw me off. y’know how i am, pete. but it’s better now! my teeth aren’t even hurting anymore!” they definitely were, but you can’t stand to see him feel so guilty about something that isn’t his fault.

he throws a t-shirt over his head (one that he knows you never have a problem with) and he strides towards the bed. “i still feel bad, though. ‘specially ‘cause i know you well enough to know that they’re still hurting.” he grumbles as he lays next to you, covering his face with a pillow.

you reach behind you, still chewing on your straw, to rub a hand across his stomach. “really ‘s okay, peter! i’ll be fine in a minute. just please don’t feel bad.” your voice sounds a little strained with worry and that makes him feel even worse knowing that he’s affecting your empathy sensitivity as well.

“okay. okay, it’s fine. you’re okay. can i touch you, please?” his voice is dulcet as he whispers to you. you nod, humming in relief when you feel his hands settle on your hips.

your teeth finally rid of their ache after a few more minutes, and you turn to peter with a frown on your face. “no, no baby, why that face?” he pouts, rushing his hands to cover your cheeks and try to rub the frown away.

you mimic his pout, mumbling through his palms, “oou wor ‘sposed to tae me to swang frew da cidy!”

he giggles and removes his hands, “one more time?”

you crack a little smile, still frowning slightly.

“you were supposed to take me to swing through the city, petey! and now you can’t because ‘m sensitive!” you throw yourself dramatically onto the bed with a wail.

“oh.” he pauses for a minute as he turns to face you. “well, we could… go without my suit? like to somewhere where there aren’t many people or we could go at night! or! i could just wear the mask, then you don’t have to touch the whole suit!”

your heart swells at the boy in front of you. he’s so so sweet and you know that he’d do anything for you, and you would do the same for him.

“i think that sounds really nice, peter. i love you, by the way. thanks for always putting up with me.” you snuggle into his warmth, wrapping you fingers into his hair as you kiss little pecks onto his skin.

“yeah, ‘f course, baby.” you can hear his grin through your kisses. “i love you too.”

#tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #peter parker x reader #autistic!reader #tasm!peter parker x autistic!reader #bf!peter parker #tasm imagine #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x you #li’s creations

[jamespottersdaisy]

peter parker

dulcet| pt1 • pt2 • pt3 • pt4 • pt5

▸ fluff, angst, chemistry that i know nothing of, getting injured, angst again

no pain will last evermore

▸ fluff, peter being there for his best friend

a man without love

▸ fluff, banter, blurb

#peter parker

[indouloureux]

hi augustine!! how are you?

i just read joseph's interview with esquire singapore where he said he's a decent cook. would you be able to write a blurb or one shot about coming home from a tiring day to see that joseph has made a meal for you please? i feel like he would be sooo eager and cute about it!

thank you so much, and absolutely no worries if not! have a wonderful day/night <3

kait!!! thank you so much for requesting ily!!! (thinking of @mysticmunson's pesto that she sent me so i put it in here)

from work's dereliction, your feet ache from walking around all day. you hope the somewhat slam of the door don't give out the fact that you're tired.

the baritone dulcet humming shoos your exhaustion away into a corner; and delectable aroma fills your sniffing your nose. you toe your shoes off and place it aside, right next to his. your socked feet are futile at its attempt to protect your soles from the cold floor but you could care less.

you prance tiredly toward the kitchen. the light bass of the bluetooth speaker sits dangerously at the edge of the kitchen island. somehow, there are three different kinds of chopping boards and two knives scattered across that island, an empty bowl with specks of what seems like cheese but you don't know which.

regardless of that mess, the sight of him humming and swaying with an apron around his waist is a voluptuary vision of utter domesticity that whispers savage remarks to all the problems that haunt you.

you take your coat off and fold it somewhere. his arm moves in a struggled spiral as he mixes whatever's in the stygian wok.

you decide to surprise him. you tiptoe your way towards joseph, who hums lowly, and when you slowly wrap your hands around his torso, maybe you should have expected that he'd be startled.

"fucking hell!" the tongs clatter on the pan loudly. you squeal, hands shooting to cover your mouth. he puts his hand over his heart and heaves from the frighten. he's less than amused when you start giggling.

"oh, yeah, it's so funny giving your boyfriend a heart attack," he seethes blithely at you. "yeah, yeah. so funny. i might have slammed you in this head, y'know," joseph holds the tongs up, waving it in the air. "'s not funny, love."

"i know, i'm sorry," you hide your smile. suddenly he misses it and he pulls down at your hand and tucks it with his, turning the stove off with one hand before he turns to you. "hi,"

"hello," he murmurs, an ophidian curl draped across his forehead, damp slightly with sweat. "i made you something,"

"yeah?" you wrap your arms around his torso again, pressing your cheek on his chest. joseph turns you around 'till you're both facing the stove. "is that pesto?"

"yep. made by yours truly; not reheated." he smiles brightly into your hair, picking up a fork somewhere and jabbing it on the pale verdant pasta, sprinkled with parmesan and chicken. joseph twists the fork, your arms wrapped tightly around it still, and he brings it close to your mouth.

you take it inside, pesto on your tongue that navigates around your taste buds. the savory dish inside your mouth swims, its delicacy melts all your cramps away; the basil and cheese elucidates your cravings, and he smiles at your hum of contentment.

"is it good?"

"it's amazing," you sigh deeply, closing your eyes, head falling on his chest. "christ, what'd you put in this? jesus' sperm or what?"

joseph stabs the fork on the pan and wipes your mouth with the corner of his apron. "my sperm. kidding. god that was gross. i made it from scratch."

"this is amazing," you say again, reaching out to shove some of it more into your mouth. "fuck. so good."

"you don't sound this blissed out when we have sex," he jokes. "okay i'm gonna stop now,"

it's a futile attempt to hide his pride; he's glad to have satisfied you. being able to please your palate was something he's never felt more successful doing than he has been with his career in his entire life

another satisfied hum makes his heart race. "that good baby, huh?"

"super," you nibble on the tops of the fork. "can we eat more?"

joseph nods, kissing your forehead. "yeah, we can eat more."

#joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #stranger things

[imaginedreamwrite]

I'm having a really hard time today and I know you got a lot to do and a lot of requests probably but I'd really appreciate if you could gift us a little blurb for picture number one and Prince Hayden and his dress reader from another universe. <3

A dulcet melody of an orchestra was muffled by the distance between you and the ballroom. Tucked away in a side wing and hallway, Hayden and yourself were settled in the peaceful escape from the buzzing noise of common chatter.

“Still no way back,” you poised the statement while Hayden’s fingertips raked up and down your partially bare back, a ring slipped on your finger and a tiara upon your head, “and I’m still a fake.”

“You’re not a fake,” he raised his head, studying the tiara upon your head that symbolized a role that was synonymous with his own, “you’re a princess.”

“Accidentally.” You corrected him with a sigh, coming to rest your cheek against his shoulder. “Pulled through a magical book with no current way home.”

“Accidental or not, I’m glad you’re here.” His right hand had become flush with your back, his left smoothing down your hip. “My accidental princess-”

The sound of a door opening and shutting echoed in the hall, and Hayden turned his head to look at the intrusive sound. An advisor had entered the hall and bowed his head in greeting, initially addressing the two of you with a soft voice and then drawer a more firm tone.

“My apologies, but they’re ready to announce the two of yourselves. The engagement, officially-”

Hayden reached for your hand and raised it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. His smile was tender as usual, his voice warm like honey.

“They’re ready for us, Princess.”

[witchywomanrunningupthathill]

Burn the Witch - The King (2019)

Pairing: Hal/Henry V x Female!OC

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None

Blurb: Okay so this one has been spinning around in my head for a while, and now it’s finally on the page! For the sake of creativity, we’re just gonna embellish history a little and replace Catherine of Valois with the reader as queen, Gascoigne as a traitor, and a few other nobility tings. Not quite sure how I feel about this one, but it was more of a rust-buster than anything else.

After Agincourt, Hal took a peculiar liking to the palace gardens. The space itself was tranquil and provided a brief respite from the demands of court, from being King Henry V. He paces steadily through the greenery, past grandiose shrubs and plots of lilies and roses, then rounds a corner as the familiar words of the Hail Mary are uttered by a dulcet-toned voice.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…”

Hal stops and takes in the view of the woman who remains unaware of his presence before her. A demure vision sat in one of the garden’s alcoves. She wears her long hair down, pieces of it falling at the front of her bowed head. Her feet are crossed under her and she clutches a rosary in her hands, constantly running the final bead in between her thumb and index finger. His Queen of England.

“…Now, and at the hour of our death.”

She finishes the prayer with the sign of the cross.

“If I do recall, I am quite certain that I ordered your ladies-in-waiting to follow you around the palace.”

She gasps, eyes snapping open and dropping the hand that was suspended in front of her shoulder just a moment ago.

“Your Majesty—”

She stops fiddling with the rosary in her lap. Hal looks around at the landscape for a moment before he begins pacing around the woman.

“You gave me a fright,” she starts.

“I, too, enjoy walking these gardens,” Hal offers.

“They remind me of my home.”

“Which?”

“Bath.”

“Hm,” he retorts pensively. “You do not miss Agincourt?”

“It served its purposes, but I am afraid I did not form any attachment to it…”

He’s been easy on her. It’s no easy feat to be a spoil of war, a political transaction – to be married off to a stranger, come to a new place, and make a life with a king. At the same time, though, France had been her birthplace and her place of residence for only three years of her life, while England had been her home for twelve years. She knew Somerset like the back of her hand, having grown up living with the Hungerford family. In fact, the young man she thought of as a brother, Sir Walter Hungerford, had fought alongside the man she now calls her king.

“It is a bit strange – not being from here nor there,” Hal posits.

“In some ways, I suppose…” she says. Hal nods and stops once more in front of her. “But I have brought a piece of my life in Bath with me.”

“Your chambermaids?”

“Not only my chambermaids, Your Majesty. My cards – le tarot.” Henry offers a look of both confusion and interest.

“Will you show me?”

She nods and Henry holds out his hand to help her up from the stone bench.

The queen leads Hal up a large flight of stairs and down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor lies a dark passageway with a narrow, stone spiral staircase, its steps worn from the many footsteps taken over the centuries. At the top of the stairs, she lets Hal pass in front of her through the doorway and into a chamber lit with sunlight. 

Hal looks around. He hasn’t been in here before, not as a child and certainly not while he traipsed around Eastcheap. It’s small, cozy. A large Persian rug sits at the center. There’s an open book laid on top of it. A chair is pushed into one corner, clearly out of commission. There’s a long mahogany table running along the back wall, with quite the assortment of flowers and other, more leafy plants laid atop it. Along with the plants are many candles. Bound books sit along a wall.

“This is where I usually come to do my practice.”

“It is beautiful.”

She steps over to the table, running her fingers along the leaves of a basil plant, before reaching for the deck of tarot cards laying in a neat stack.

“What do you know about divination?”

“Erm…very little. It is magick, is it not?”

“In some ways, yes. It is used to determine the future. I mostly use it to pass the time, but I do believe there is some truth to it.” Hal chuckles, but it comes out more like a puff of air than a true laugh. The queen hands her king the tarot deck. “Hungerford gifted these to me when he returned from one of his trips to Italy,” she adds.

“Well, let us hope its magic is not black and unholy.” He examines the cards, flipping through the first few one-by-one. It’s a set of Visconti Sforza tarot cards, ornately decorated, cryptic, and mysterious.

“I could read for you, Your Majesty. If you would like.”

“You may speak plainly. Call me Henry. Or Hal. Whichever you prefer.” 

Hal moves to sit at the table as the queen does the same. She holds out her hand expectantly. He hands the deck back to her.

“Now that the cards have your essence on them, we may begin. Draw three cards and lay them on the table.” 

Hal follows her instruction. William Gascoigne, chief justice of England and advisor to the king, peeks through the door that was left ajar, eyebrows furrowed. He watches as Hal lays the second card down. The Queen reaches to flip it over. William gets a glimpse of the King of Pentacles card, his eyes widening slightly. He weighs staying and watching the king and queen as they divine or returning to the king’s other advisors. William stays put. Hal draws his final card and the queen turns it over, revealing an emaciated figure, not quite a skeleton and not quite flesh, riding atop a horse and carrying a long staff. William’s eyes go wide. What a cursed image! This cannot be the work of the Lord. No, this woman is cavorting with evil!

“Ah, Death,” the queen remarks. Hal silently sucks in a breath and glances quizzically at the card before shifting his eyes back to his wife. “Do not worry, it is hardly literal, Hal.” The king sighs, relieved. 

William is now seeing red. He storms away from the chamber. His footsteps echo in the staircase vestibule, causing both the king and queen to turn their heads toward the noise coming from the open door.

“Is someone there?” Hal calls out. There’s no response, save the wind whistling through the trees outside the window.

“We may continue later if you have other obligations—”

“No, let us continue,” Hal urges, placing his hand on top of the queen’s.

A group of men sit around the king, all offering their advice and conjecture on what shall be the fate of France. Hal has his arms crossed, displeased with the orders masked as suggestions that his men offer. He looks over to John Falstaff who is also silent. Hal raises his eyebrows at the man. Falstaff returns the king’s look with little more than a smirk. He never liked council meetings anyway. As Hal starts speaking, the councilmen’s voices lull to silence.

“Perhaps we shall adjourn this meeting for the day, gentlemen.” Hal rises and his councilmen follow before exiting the chamber. William stays put, standing not too far from Hal. Falstaff is one of the last out of the door. Almost.

“Sir John,” Hal calls. Falstaff whips around. “I would like if you stayed back a moment.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” John obeys, offering a nod.

Hal turns his attention to William.

“William…Is there something you need?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. There is a matter I would like to bring up with you.” He pauses before moving his eyes over to Falstaff. “In private.”

“Anything you wish to say to me may be said in front of Sir John,” Hal challenges. William exhales loudly, perhaps gathering the courage to continue.

“I am afraid there may be…witches…among us.”

“There may be? That is a serious accusation, William.”

 “And I concur.”

“What makes you say this?”

“Your Majesty…it is…our queen.”

“I would choose your next words wisely.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, Your Majesty. Just the other day, in her bedchamber – I was looking for you and assumed you may be there, but I was mistaken. She was there sitting with her ladies-in-waiting…sliding her hands across their palms.” He recalls the memory, the queen sits at a small round table holding one of the girls’ hands, examining it intently. “Voici ta ligne de coeur…et ici c’est…” she explains to them. “She read cards for the other girl. Telling her about her past, present, and future, ha!” William exclaims. “It must have been those girls who started this and pulled your dear queen into their witchcraft!”

“That is enough.”

“You must do something about this, Your Majesty! With your permission, I could speak to the archbishop on your behalf—”

“That won’t be necessary. I will confer with the archbishop myself. You may leave now.”

“But this is a most urgent matter! Your Majesty, I would not advise seeking…erm…wisdom through these means. Your Highness, this is the work of the devil!”

Falstaff lets out a large yawn, drawing it out comically. He cannot have William outdoing him for dramatics, can he?

“And what would you advise, William? Shall we stroll to the chapel, peruse the Scriptures for a while?” Hal suggests ironically.

“She has gotten to you too—used her sorcery on you. How dare she compromise a king in such a way! Burn the witch!”

“Enough!” Hal shouts as he bangs his fist on the wooden council table. William flinches at the king’s exclamation, but rage and desperation burn behind his eyes. Falstaff stares at Hal. Hal steps away from William and walks over to the fire place before turning to face the men once again. “Who am I, William?”

 “King Henry V...Your Highness,” William answers shakily. 

“And tell me, what does that mean to you?”

“Erm…You are the Sovereign—”

“That is correct,” Hal interrupts. “I lead men. I rule men.” He steps away from the fireplace, closer to William. “I’ve fought a war for men.” William breaks Hal’s gaze, looking at the floor, a brief reprieve from the King’s penetrating stare. “I have trusted your counsel, confided in you.” 

Hal steps even closer to William, only footsteps away from him now. “I once thought of you as my friend…Now you not only question me, but disrespect my queen. I put my life in all of your hands for the sake of this kingdom!” 

Hal raises his hand, pointing his finger into William’s chest. “I AM ENGLAND! And it is I who will decide whose head to have, whose body to burn!” Falstaff looks at the pair of men in front of him, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by his young friend.

“Your Majesty—”

“I did not give you permission to speak. The queen…she knows this country…this land…this realm. I respect that. She is my true advisor, apart from God, of course. I will not let my participation in a silly divination rite or your allegations that I misjudge which direction to lead this country have any impact on my rule. You are my counsel. But I am king. I have the last word in this council chamber. And God has the last word in all that is. Are you willing to doubt Him? Do you doubt me?”

“Of course not!”

“Well then let us consider this matter settled,” Hal steps away from William and places one hand in his pocket. “The queen is no witch. She is a woman passing her time in one of the few ways that she may.” He runs his hand over the queen’s rosary beads laid inside. “You may leave.”

#the king 2019 #prince hal x reader #the king #the king netflix #henry v x reader #henry v x oc #henry v x ofc #timothee chalamet #iz writes

[v1olentdelights]

Waltz Of the Flowers

Thank you all for 550! This year has already been crazy and I couldn't have done it without you February 16th - February 20th

please include gender preference and era where it is needed.

Fandoms: The Summer I Turned Pretty, Six of Crows, Criminal Minds (but I am only in season 4?), Dr Who, The Outsiders, Top Gun Maverick, Harry Potter, Marauders Era, Outer Banks, Marvel (including Frank & Billy), Stranger Things, The Hobbit, The Lord of The Rings, Supernatural (up to season 11), A Court of Thorns and Roses, Vampire Diaries, The Originals

🪻ceilings - give me a few facts about yourself and I will ship you with a character, and give you a few headcanons about your relationship

🥀 Growing Sideways - cast your mutuals, would you rather, kmk, this or that, etc...

🌷 All In Due Time - give me a few facts about yourself, and I will make you a moodboard of how I perceive you

🪷 Stay Gentle - send a character and a scenario, and I'll make you a little moodboard

🌼 doomsday - give me a character and a trope, and I'll write you a little blurb or some headcanons

Tagging some mutuals:

@magic-is-beauty @teddy-the-teddybear @murdockcastleslut @mikathemonster @faerykingdom @velvetcloxds @cupids-crystals @dulcet-lover @i-is-a-fan-weeb @regulusblacksworld @faerie-of-fallen-dreams @sheraayasher @pompompurin345 @pogueswrld @idiotic-problem

<3 thank you

#graces 550 #waltz of the flowers #the hobbit #stranger things #marvel #mcu #outer banks #harry potter #hp marauders #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #lord of the rings #lotr #supernatural #spn #tvd #the vampire diaries #the originals #six of crows #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #the outsiders #top gun #top gun maverick #dr who #the maze runners #criminal minds

[hrhbella]

Unhappier, Who?

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Word Count: 700 words

Summary: Theodore is catching on that this is quite a permanent situation.

Warnings: N/A; Unedited, please reach out via private message or through here if you will to assist Her Royal Highness in the editing process.

Author’s Note: A blurb/sequel to Unhappier, which will give context. - B

——

Theodore Nott did not understand how to catch a hint, it seems. There was a pile of neatly written letters, unopened, on the desk across the room. Reading had been all that was a priority since arriving home after term. Therefore the Slytherin had been conveniently unavailable for Parkinson’s social hour this past Thursday, as there would have most definitely been questions on Nott’s absence. Greengrass was doing a poor job on damage control as far as that is concerned, to be frank. And here, right in the bloody fireplace, was Theodore Nott’s face, where it had been for the past ten minutes.

“Darling.”

A sigh filled the room, the first sound aside from the young man’s voice since his arrival.

“I know you are there. Malfoy told me you’ve been staying in.”

The book at hand, Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science, was most interesting.

“You must be unaware that I can hear your pages being turned.”

“Stop ringing, Nott.”

“But I have an inclination.”

“Towards?”

“Towards hearing my girlfriend’s dulcet tones.”

“If you do recall, though in your sloshed state I worry you might not, I am no longer your girlfriend.”

“I-”

“And just as you are no longer my boyfriend.”

“Let me Floo in.”

“Under the influence? Most certainly not.”

“Most certainly? Then why, my love, is it still blocked?”

Swimming faster than the words on the pages were the reminders that Nott was only sweet, and equally as stupid, when he was not consciously in control.

“Zabini tells me you still partake in Quidditch after a night in muggle pubs.” Instant regret, Nott will of course thin-

“So you’ve missed me just as much, then?”

“Do not make me waste my breath, Nott.”

The faint sound of glass clattering against hardwood sounds out of the fireplace, “But Malfoy, h-”

“And there you go, unable to form any sort of opinion without one of your friends.”

“They are your friends, too. I would not put that atrocity on my shoulders alone.”

“What is actually an atrocity is how you’ve managed to blow off the last nine dates and not bat an eyelash.” The book long forgotten, the breathing of the two young adults and the small crackling of the fire is all that was audible. “Better yet, you’d planned a mate’s weekend over the fourth. A friend was kind enough to politely reschedule the brunch he and I had that very morning for the exact day that you lot returned from Paris, yet my ex-boyfriend was completely without concern for any of his dodged obligations.”

“Darl-”

“You must be aware of how deep my love is for France. Godric knows how many times Daphne and I have gone during the holidays, but any intelligent being might remember their girlfriend’s favor-”

“Yes, you love the bloody French! I understand perfectly.”

“Oh, do you, Nott? Then where am I going in a fortnight?”

A deep, hearty laugh shot out from the short flames, “France?”

“Where.”

“Within the borders, I reckon.”

“You reckon? Reckon this, it’s where the two of us were meant to be, together.”

“Us?”

The book had been quite forcefully reopened and the words of Argo Pyrites were starting to peacefully cloud the anger, “You never did discuss it further with me after my mother invited you, personally. She has since extended the opportunity to someone who seemed to care about not only their relationship with her daughter and her peers, but my mother herself. You seem to have fully ignored that the idea of forming a last and committed relationship has anything to do with the partner’s family, as you might have talked to my mother more than twice.”

It was Theodore’s turn to sigh, however the sizable swallows afterwards were not missed by either party. “Your mother.”

“And I practically shut out the red flags of that particular situation due to my own nativity. I assure you, Nott, that will not happen again.”

“I do not understand.”

“What has not been perfectly clear throughout this conversation? I think I have been making concise statements, even for your impaired mind.” The diagram was most interesting, and the annoyance of an unwanted conversation was almost pushed on the backmost burner.

“Who is it?”

——

> If you wish to write a formal letter to Her Royal Highness, please do so here.

> If you wish to see Her Royal Highness’ completed list of works, please do so here.

> If you wish to see some of Her Royal Highness’ most frequently asked questions, please do so here.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott drabble #harry potter imagine

[luveline]

For the zombie Steve au would you ever consider writing a blurb from before the college when Steve realizes he likes reader?

for you, my love!! steve zombie au —steve realises he likes you romantically, fem!reader

You're singing under your breath. Steve has it on record that he thinks you're a bad singer, but you don't sound half bad. Low, dulcet, you're singing an old song everybody knows. 

"Somewhere, beyond the sea, she's there waiting for me." You don't bother with the next line, interested more in the sock you're attempting to darn, the needle in your hand clumsy but well-meant. "Oh, ouch." 

"Prick yourself?" 

"I'm sorry?" you joke, laughing without answering his question. "I don't think that's any of your business, Harrington."

He grins at your saccharine, bubbly voice, enthused with laughter and unhurried. For once, you're not scared or anxious. The simple task of a repetitive action has distracted you from the reality of the world, and you're still being nice to him regardless. Steve's starting to think that, despite his bad moods and ill temper, you might like him. Or, starting to know it with surety. 

He figured when your shyness getting changed didn't ever quite abate, when you started snuggling into his waist at night, when one day you began complimenting him for things beyond survival skills —your hair is such a nice brown, Stevie— when you started calling him fucking Stevie, that you must harbour sweet feelings for him. He figured, and yet he had no idea how to feel about it. 

Steve started to confuse his feelings for yours, and vice versa. Wondering if maybe he was being nicer to you than he needed to be because he knew that was what you wanted. But he's sitting here now, cross-legged beside you on a double bed with no sheets in an abandoned house that's completely sealed from the inside out, no survival instincts, no ulterior motives, and he knows he likes you. That he might start to love you, if he has the time. 

He thinks about kissing you. 

"Do you need a bandaid?" he asks genuinely. 

"For this?" you ask, showing him your finger and the pinprick bead of blood that's blossomed there. You lick it clean. "No, thank you." 

"Alright. Want me to finish your sock?" 

"No, that's okay." You give him a suspicious look. "Why?" 

"What do you mean, why?" 

"Why would I want you to finish my sock?" you ask.

"Uh, 'cos you just hurt yourself? I'm trying to be nice." 

"Ooh, it suits you," you say, rolling your eyes. 

He reaches over to pinch your side. You jump, startled by his touch and surprised by his wanting to touch you, he can see it on your face. He really should be kinder to you. You don't do anything wrong, you're not mean, you're not even a liability or anything so strict. You're just a girl —you're more than a girl. You're the best friend he has right now, and you look out for him in more than necessities. 

"Who do you think you are?" he asks, giving you another jab. 

You laugh and squirm away from him. "I think I'm someone with a needle in their hand, ready to stab you," you say. 

"Really, you'd stab me? You're heartless. And here I thought you liked me." 

"I do like you," you say, tucking the needle you'd been waving at him behind a few threads of floss in the bobbin. 

"I like you too," he says. As soon as he says it, he knows it's true. You may not understand the depth of his words, but Steve does, and he can't shake the feeling that you need a reward. For being so likeable. For liking him first. "Give me your sock, I can darn better than you can." 

"You've had more practice," you explain away, though you do pass him your sock.

"Are you going to finish the song?" he asks. 

You glare. "Thought I sounded like a dying cat?" 

"You'll never let that go, will you?" 

"No, not likely." 

You laugh again, and this time Steve joins in. He retrieves the needle and sets about fixing the mistakes you'd made, hiding a smile as you lay down by his thigh, your hand curled up by his foot, and start to sing. "You have to join in," you say ugrnelty between lines. 

Steve joins in. Not worried about sounding good, not worried about anything, the two of you making up the words you forgot, out of tune but far from out of time. 

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[cognacdelights]

can I please request “We’re in public, you know.” with JJ?☺️

you sure can!

warnings: smut, 18+

It was something quite extraordinary how whenever you were with JJ that the bustling world around you ceased to exist; the mere sensation of the rough and calloused pads of his fingertips grazing against your skin sent you into an utterly euphoric state of ecstasy. His slow and sensual touch was your kryptonite — it made your stomach flutter with the delicate wings of a thousand butterflies, and the very depths of your core yearn with an unprecedented, carnal desire. You felt as though you had been injected with a shot of adrenaline, as the invigorating surge of delirium washed throughout your body.

You could feel the taunting upturn of his thin, chapped lips pressed flush against the nap of your neck as his toned, t-shirt-clad silhouette pushed itself up against you from behind. His loose, rhythmic hips moved with your own in a nonchalantly sensuous cadence to the echoing beat of the loud, emphatic music and his gentle lips peppered tender yet salacious kisses against your warm skin. Yet another, exhilarating rush coursed through your veins at a tenfold pace — intensifying the fervent desire that you felt within the very depths of your core.

Revelling under the ardent touch of his hankering, ring-cladded fingertips as they brazenly meandered along your upper thigh, you laid your head against the broad flat of his muscular shoulder and peered up at him with your piercing eyes. He met your intense gaze with his own, fire-like stare and pressed his thin lips against yours — engulfing you in a sultry, passionate embrace. His lips were soft and laced with the distinctive, bitter taste of beer as he continued to roll his hips against yours perfectly in time with the music.

You felt nothing but the sweet relief a sensual delirium, and you weren't ashamed to be wholly consumed by it. The way the very tips of his delicate fingers expertly slipped their way beneath the short hemline of your black dress was phenomenal — the gentle pads of his fingers grazing against the sensitive, hickey-marked plains of your thighs until they reached the lace boundaries of your panties.

"We're in public, you know," you reminded with a low and desirous tone, reluctantly pulling your lips from his. Nevertheless, you continued to enjoy the teasing taunts of his fingertips running leisurely stripes along the seam of your panties, evidently desperate to slip them inside and feel the heavenly wetness of your core.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," his deep, gravelly tone mumbled a response into the sweet, coconut-smelling locks of your hair as he effortlessly lipped his stubby, ring-cladded fingers beneath the dampened lace. A heavy, unsteady breath slipped from between your slightly parted lips as he trailed his audacious fingers along your slick folds, to your sensitive rose bud of nerves — a smug and proud smirk curling the corners of his lips upwards ever higher than before.

You knew that you should tell him to stop, but you simply didn't want to; you had, once again, slipped into the nonsensical daydream-land in which the world around you completely ceased to exist. It was, merely, just you and him in that very, hot and sensual moment as he traced focused figure eight motions against your clit. Your soaking pussy throbbed with a lustrous desire as, instinctively, your hips began to grind against his skilful fingers with a subtle rocking motion — desperate for the sweet relief of more friction.

"JJ," his name rolled so effortlessly of your tongue in a dulcet, whisper-like moan, as you allowed your entire body to succumb to the blissful caressing against your most sensitive of nerves. Your eyes subconsciously fluttered closed as he continued to work your clit with purposeful, fast-paced movements — your breathing now flustered and whiny.

As your high-pitched, whining breaths began to get louder, he captured your liquor-laced lips with his own once more in a quick-witted bid to keep your salacious actions under wraps — your euphoric high promptly impending. His expert fingertips quickened their pace once more, massaging pressurised patterns against your clit in sloppy figure eight motions until you reached the metaphorical cliff edge, one final flick of his finger sending you barrelling over the edge with frantic, bucking hips and intense, expletive-filled whines.

You were left indulgently basking in the surge of endorphins coursing through your body as JJ proceeded to trail sweet, salacious kisses along your sweat-riddled skin — sucking ever so lightly in select places, and grazing the sharp points of his pearly teeth against your exposed skin.

send in blurb requests from here!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #obx #franks' blurb night #outer banks

[dracossweetprincess]

draco malfoy 🫂

a series of scenarios and tiny blurbs of the new it couple, draco malfoy and y/n y/l/n <3

bf!draco <3

husband!draco <3

dad!draco <3

draco’s daughter’s first bf breaks up with her

a/n - hi babies!! it’s been a while :(, i know i literally went missing. but anyways, i’m back!! and with some changes. for now, i will only be writing for draco, and i won’t be writing full fics or one-shots. just scenarios, blurbs and headcanons <3

taglist - @leydileyla @mellifluousart @thesecretwriter @l0vely-lupin @pagesofhistory @dracoslittlesunflower @angel4you @kpostedsum @crowsandquills @gwlvr @alexismalfoy @velvetcloxds @daedreamss @loverspidey @fairydxll @ameliasbitvh @eunoniaa @dlmmdl @shespeaksinsongs @ruby-serpent @simp-for-cedric-diggory @slythermuf @wolfstarkiss @wintermorninghaze @yiamalfoy @wrongilbert @havenchy @i-love-scott-mccall @haroldpotterson @marcela6malfoy @hvgwartss @dulcet-lover @mvbldd @f4iryluvy @weaselbrownie @lolooo22 @missdrarrydawn @bisexualdragongirl @teenwolfbitches28

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x female reader

[julietsick]

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀'𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

oh my goodness! i just truly wanted to thank you all for the rapid growth my account has gone through the past four months, i am at loss for words! i wanted to thank all of my lovely, beautiful followers. 200 followers, wow. thank you all so much!

rules: one emoji per ask please! i also ask to please be mindful of my schedule, and that i might not always reply to your requests quickly, thank you!

stargirl interlude 💗 ( send in a small nsfw blurb and i will write a dialogue on it! )

loveeeeee song 💽 ( send in a cute blurb and i'll write a little something on it )

starboy 🌟 ( games! cym, fmk, wyr )

sullen girl 🕸 ( i'll give you a song based on your vibe! moots only! )

kiss of venus 🌼 ( three facts about you and your zodiac sign and i'll give you a character i think would date you! )

tagging moots: @claireunoia @planetflos @nevsluvr @spideylore @bisousbabie @dylwrites @dulcet-lover @fqlkrore @diorsitgirl @girlblogger69

#camila's 200 celebration!

[hockeylvr59]

I don’t know if you remember writing this but would you consider doing a part 2 to the blurb you wrote about Sidney having a son and not wanting to be in the picture and he comes back 15 years later?

So I’ve been sitting on this message forever and I wasn’t sure that a second part was ever in the plans but uh...here you go. I’m not sure I love the ending on this but we’re going with it. (1,703 words)

~~~~~

It had started with a favor. One that you hated asking for. One that you knew was likely to come with strings attached. One that was solely for the sake of your son. 

You remember sitting there with the number entered into your phone waiting for you to press the green call button for more than ten minutes. You remember the anxious feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as the phone rang. You remember hearing your name in that familiar deep dulcet tone. 

“Hi, Sidney.” You’d breathed, your throat going tight already. 

“I didn’t think you were going to call…” He trailed off. “It’s been...well months since I left you a message.” 

“I...honestly I wasn’t planning on calling.” You admitted. “But I need a favor. Well, Charlie needs a favor.” Before he could say anything you continued, jumping right into it. “You have a personal gym here, don’t you? Charlie...he’s...he’s going crazy not being able to work out with everything in lockdown. Which means I’m going crazy because he’s going crazy and with trying to work from home it’s all just a mess. We’ve made it this far but I don’t think anything is going to open any time soon and he’s already hating being away from the rink this long…” 

Before you’d been able to say anything else Sidney had cut you off. 

“If you’re asking if he can use my private gym to work out the answer is yes.” You remember letting out a sigh of relief but also waiting for the other shoe to drop. When the line remained quiet after that you spoke softly once more. 

“That’s it? Just yes.” You questioned. 

“Just yes Y/N.” Sidney stated. “Did you really think I’d say no?” 

You paused, pursing over your words. “I expected any agreement to come with a condition.” You admitted. You heard Sidney sigh over the line a few times. 

“No condition. Would I like to get the chance to talk to him...yes. But I’m not going to refuse to let him use my unoccupied gym unless he does. I fucked up and I don’t think I’m in any position to be demanding anything just because you’ve asked for a small favor. Goodness knows you have a right to ask way more than this from me given everything.” 

The brutal honesty with which he treated himself was only a bit surprising and you murmured soft thanks on behalf of your son who was going to be so excited to get to use a more proper gym. Not knowing what else to say, you made an excuse to end the call, your heart racing at having spoken with Sidney for the first time since he left. 

A key with a short sheet of information had been left in your mailbox only two days later and while you had expected Sidney to keep his word, you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Charlie had been thrilled when you told him and for at least an hour each day from that day forward you took your son over to Sidney’s gym allowing him to start training again even if he couldn’t go full throttle since mom could only do so much as a spotter. 

Having spent months watching your teenage son struggle through quarantine, it was incredible watching him come back to life right in front of your eyes. At the same time, watching him like this brought all of the Sidney out in him and you fought back how hard it was seeing your son take more and more after his father. 

___

Charlie had always had a large amount of respect for his father, at least as a player. And lately, it seemed like his respect for him as a person was growing. 

All Charlie’s life it wasn’t articles about Sidney Crosby on ice that caught your son’s attention, it was the ones about how he treats people off-ice. Many times you’d discussed the hurt feelings your son maintained knowing his father continued to do so many things for other people while being completely out of the picture with his own son. You couldn’t pretend you knew how it felt for your son to see Sidney running hockey camps and playing with his Little Penguins or spending time with Alex Letang and Nikita Malkin. But you knew that it was hard for him. 

But since Charlie had started working out in Sid’s gym, using Sid’s artificial ice, you could see some of your son’s hardened walls start to soften because for the first time his dad had done something for him and him alone. 

So when Charlie came into your room around 10:30 pm on August 7th, you knew there was something important on his mind before he even opened his mouth. 

“Can we…can we call him?” Charlie had asked. “I want to talk to him.” Charlie didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, you were well aware. And at first, your protective instincts took over. The Penguins had just been eliminated from the play-in round of playoffs and it was Sidney’s 33rd birthday. The odds were very likely that Sidney would not be in a good mood at all and you didn’t want your son being subjected to the brunt of his frustrations. 

Eventually, though, those light brown eyes wore you down. 

“We’ll text him.” You agreed. This way if Sidney was in a foul mood he could just ignore it or say so without putting too much pressure on him. 

Feel free to disregard this if you’re not up for it but Charlie would like to call you. 

Chewing on your lip you hugged Charlie close while waiting to see if you’d get any response. You knew that he would understand if Sidney didn’t want to talk after that kind of loss but at the same time you knew it would hurt a little too, facing any kind of rejection from his dad. 

After just a few minutes your phone lit up with a FaceTime request and you took a deep breath before answering it, Sidney’s tired face appearing on screen.

“Wow...someone is tech-savvy.” You murmured in greeting having not expected a FaceTime at all. You ignored the way you could tell his eyes were raking over you and instead murmured that you were going to let the two of them talk, passing the phone over to Charlie. For a moment you thought you heard Sidney’s breath catch as you left the room motioning that you would just be downstairs. 

“So I’m not sure it’s been a Happy Birthday so far…” You heard Charlie speak as you moved to give them some privacy. Settling onto the living room couch with a pint of ice cream, you waited as patiently as you could. 

It was nearly midnight when Charlie came downstairs with your phone in his hand, flopping onto the couch next to you after kissing your head. 

“Thanks mom.” He whispered and you nodded snuggling close for a few minutes before sending him up to bed. You didn’t feel the need to ask about what they had talked about, Charlie would share in time if he wanted to. It made you a little uneasy but that wasn’t important. 

As you slipped into bed, your phone buzzed with three small words. 

Thank you Y/N. 

____

After that first conversation, Charlie called Sidney every other week and the two of them talked for at least half an hour. 

Sidney never tried to push boundaries though. He never tried to buy his way into Charlie’s life, he never demanded more than either you or Charlie were willing to give. But at the same time, you knew that he was now playing a role in your son’s life that Charlie had needed for a long time. Even if it wasn’t quite a father yet, it was certainly as a mentor and because of that Charlie thrived even more in the way he trained and the way he interacted with those around him. 

For so long you had pushed Sidney out of your life but now he was slowly oozing back into it. 

Even despite all of this, you were surprised when you walked into the living room to find Charlie rewinding a national broadcast hockey game. Except he wasn’t rewatching a play, no, he was rewinding an intermission interview segment with Sidney himself. You could see the tears in his eyes and as he pressed play you immediately understood why. 

“So 1000 games. Three Stanley Cups, two Conn Smythe trophies, Hart’s, Art Ross’s, Leadership Awards, MVP awards...and that’s just your NHL achievements. You’ve done pretty much everything a player could dream of doing. Is there anything you would change about it all?” The interviewer asked. 

Sidney paused for a moment as if he was thinking about all of those things. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess there is definitely something I would change looking back if I could.” He admitted, his eyes going soft and a bit watery on camera. The interviewer just gave him a look pressing for more information and Sidney chewed on his lip before speaking. “I guess if there was one thing I could change, it would be having a family by my side. Having my son by my side. I see Geno and Kris with their kids sharing all of these experiences and I could have had that all along if I wasn’t so scared. If I could change one thing, it would be that.” 

The interview cuts out then, a broadcaster saying that the full interview will air on the channel’s youtube page after Crosby plays game 1000 with the Pittsburgh Penguins. Charlie quickly rewinds playing the segment for a third time before he realizes you’re there and he looks up at you crying steadily. 

Moving around the couch you pull Charlie into your arms hugging him tightly and letting him cry. You couldn’t imagine what Charlie was feeling, hell you barely knew how you were feeling. 

For the first time in 15 years, Sidney had publicly acknowledged his son’s existence and that acknowledgment had the potential to change everything.

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[imaginedreamwrite]

Hi, I know it's not the theme for today, but I was hoping I might be able to request something. Today is my birthday and it has been absolutely the worst day, I woke up with a stomach bug, and my whole family forgot today was my birthday. Your characters always feel like home to me, I was wondering if you might do a little blurb about Jake and the alphas making baby bear feel special on her birthday? Absolutely no pressure, love reading all your stories ❤️

Aww! I’m so sorry, honey! Happy birthday to you! I hope you get over your bug soon!

“Tomorrows gonna be better than last year.” Jake’s bright smile is boastful yet mischievous and you know he’s already got a laundry list of things to do for your special day tomorrow.

“You say that every year, Jake.” You retort with mild speculation that he’s bluffing before you drag you and your favourite stuffed bear/toy/animal with you to Ari’s room, only stopping on the way to kiss Ransom and Steve goodnight.

The morning comes with a slow start, the sun peering through curtains and your body morphed into Ari’s. You fixate on his scent early in the morning, the musk and teakwood combination endearing you. Its while you’re waking that you hear the first happy birthday, the dulcet croon of Ari’s voice in your ear while he feels every square inch of you that he can without moving.

You find yourself laying in bed with Ari, slowly and sensually waking up before you have to reluctantly crawl out of bed. You know Jake’s waiting for you downstairs, just like you know that if you don’t head down he’ll come up and find you.

Its another slow going process, getting dressed while wishing you could crawl back into bed. While you’re yanking a sweater Ransom got for you over your head, you see Ari holding the first of many gifts you’re sure are going to be given to you.

“Its nothing expensive I promise, Ransom’s got that figured out.” He hands you the gift, a photo album already partially filled with pictures of the pack starting from around the first courting date.

“Ari,” you finds yourself emotionally charged already from the first gift, overcome by the thought behind it, “this is amazing. Thank you!”

He doesn’t keep you long, he scents you full and well, kissing you almost numb and then sends you on your way, promising to see you later. As you leave one room and start for the stairs, you’re inexplicably aware of the giant bouquet of flowers waiting for you near the landing.

Your name is written in gold ink on the card, scrawled perfectly and beautifully. You reached for the card and read the name on the back as well as the sonnet Steve chose for you, the old English words effectively making your heart clench. The card is set back where it was and you lean in to smell the bouquet, all your favourites encompassed into one.

“Steve knew you’d like them. Unfortunately he’s got a mission, baby bear. But he promised to take you out when he gets back.” Jake steals your attention, proudly and boldly wearing a kiss the cook apron that’s cockeyed and rumpled, likely from Ransom.

“They’re beautiful, Jake.” You cross the floor and stand on your tippy toes, kissing him once then twice before you skid past him to enter the kitchen pausing when you see Ransom wearing a similar king of apron attempting to cook.

“That’s it, that’s the only gift I need.” You grin, speaking of the image of Ransom wearing an apron like it was worth its weight in gold. “You look cute-”

“I’m gonna spank you-”

“He gets my ass for two nights but its worth it.” Jake mumbled against your lips, kissing you tenderly. “Go sit, breakfast is almost done.”

“And then?” You question, taking your seat where he directed you. “Then what?”

“Then…we spend the rest of the day and night celebrating our favourite Baby Bear.” Jake addresses you and then taps the end of the spoon he was holding against the counter. “Mix, alpha. Faster.”

“Three nights, your ass is mine for three nights.”