#but PLEASE comment/tag anything you have!!

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 13

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

When the sun rose and light peeked through the gaps in the curtains, you allowed yourself to rise from bed, savoring the feel of the blankets beneath your fingers as you took deep, steadying breaths. Finally, you pulled yourself up and opened the armoire to find clothes Feyre had given you throughout your stay. At the bottom of the closet, you discovered a rucksack filled with clothing for all climates, fresh skeins of water, and various dried fruits and ready-to-make meals. You dug through the bag, wondering who could have left it for you. Nesta, perhaps? You shook your head, smiling lightly as you dressed, pulling out a cable-knit sweater and layering it over a turtleneck. You opted for green cargo pants and a knit blue wool jacket, then pulled on a pair of hiking boots. You tied your hair into a braid, securing the end with the ribbon Anthea had given you, allowing your fingers to linger over the frayed ends as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You slung the rucksack over your shoulder and walked into the hallway, knowing you would need to find someone to bring you to the ground or face the many stairs that would have you walking until nightfall. As you made your way down the hall, you heard indistinct chatter behind a closed door in the common room. 

“You’re sure?” a deep male voice asked.

“Absolutely,” Rhysand responded.

“How is that possible?” the deep voice asked.

“When my father was High Lord, diplomatic affairs were very different. There weren’t strict border enforcements, and he and my father were quite close.”

A scoff from the deeper-voiced male.

“So you think it’s possible that he’s her father?” Azriel’s voice interjected.

You paused. They were talking about you.

“I would recognize that voice anywhere,” Rhysand responded.

“She was a child. Who knows what she accurately remembers,” the deep voice replied.

“Where else would she know his voice?” Rhysand countered.

There was a pause as you pressed your ear closer to the door.

“So what do we do?” Azriel asked finally. “Do we tell her?”

“What good would that do?” the deeper voice asked.

“For her safety, we can’t tell her anything,” Rhysand responded.

“So we just sit with this information?” Azriel asked, irritation lacing his voice.

Rhysand shot back, “What would you prefer, Azriel? That we tell her and risk not knowing what will happen afterward?”

“What do you think she would do?” Azriel asked.

“I don’t know,” Rhysand replied.

Azriel’s voice grew louder, “She has no other family. Is it not wrong of us to keep this from her? What if she wants to go to him?”

The deep voice responded, “You want her to go live with them? That messed up family?”

“I don’t think that’s for us to decide,” Azriel shot back.

“You know how they treat their females,” the deep voice responded.

Azriel said nothing.

The deep voice then continued, “Rhys, what do you want us to do?”

“I want you to keep this quiet for now. For all we know, he’s still looking for her.”

Azriel, hesitantly but with a touch of frustration, asked, “What about her mate?”

Your heart caught in your throat.

A pause from all of them. “That is not our concern,” Rhysand responded.

Azriel’s voice grew louder. “She’s running from him, Rhys! We can’t just do nothing. Who knows what he might do to her?”

Rhysand, his voice calm and collected, said, “Az, she doesn’t want to tell us anything about him. We can’t do anything unless she asks for help.”

Azriel, almost yelling, responded, “She’s terrified to say anything!”

The deep voice tried to calm him, “Az-”

“No!” Azriel stopped him. “Rhys, he’s in her head all the time. She screams his name every night. She’s been running from him. Who knows what he’s been doing to her?”

Rhysand replied, “Azriel, we cannot overstep boundaries. I’ve already entered her mind without her consent. If we do anything without her permission, we are causing more harm than good.”

“So we let her go? Let her keep running from him?”

Rhysand paused. “It is her choice what to do with her life.”

“She doesn’t want this!” Azriel yelled again.

“How can you be so sure what she wants?” Rhysand responded.

Your mind raced. Why did it matter who this male in your dream was? Why would they care? Your heart nearly stopped as you considered them knowing your mate existed, suddenly fearing they might call him to come and get you. You started thinking through a story to stop them, but then you heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and footsteps approaching. You stepped back, pressing your rucksack against the wall. The door flew open, and Azriel stood before you, his face hot with anger that faded slightly when he saw you.

“Y/N-” he stammered, “Hi, good morning.”

“Good morning,” you responded, taking a step forward slightly.

Azriel looked over his shoulder back into the room and then turned back to you, shifting slightly as he looked you up and down. “What—where are you going?” he asked, his face turning more concerned.

You looked down at your clothes and then back at his face. “I’m heading out. I was wondering if someone could take me down.”

Azriel’s fingers flexed around the door as he seemed to fidget more. “You’re leaving?” he stammered.

“I think it’s just time for me to move on,” you said, shifting slightly in your boots.

As you finished, Rhysand appeared in the doorway behind Azriel, who took a slight step out of his way. “You don’t have to go,” Rhysand noted. “You can stay as long as you like.”

You looked at Rhysand, smiling politely. “You’ve been so generous, but I’m just feeling an itch to move on.”

Azriel started to speak, but Rhysand cut him off. “Of course,” he said. “It’s been our pleasure to have you.”

You looked to Azriel, whose face hardened at Rhysand’s words, but he didn’t speak. From behind Rhysand, another male with Illyrian wings, a much larger frame, and shoulder-length black hair appeared.

“You’re leaving? But I just got here!” his voice boomed.

“You must be Cassian,” you said, smiling at the bright face with a beaming smile back at you.

“So you’ve heard of me? These guys don’t just spend all their time talking about themselves?” Cassian pushed between the two males, coming to stand in front of you, his hand outstretched.

You reached to him, shaking it lightly, his calloused grip hard. “Well, mostly Nesta.”

Cassian smirked. “So you’ve only heard the bad things.”

You chuckled, readjusting the pack on your back. “Just that she missed you.”

“Not that I’m the biggest pain in her ass and that she wishes I’d fly into the side of a mountain?” Cassian smirked back.

“No, nothing like that,” you replied, “just a little.”

Cassian chuckled slightly. “Well, it brings me too much joy to terrorize her day to stop now.”

Rhysand broke back in, “I can take you down. I have to get back home anyway.”

You nodded slightly, noticing how Azriel’s face tightened to the point where you thought his skin might snap.

Cassian gave you a kind smile. “It’s been nice to meet you, even if you’re so rudely leaving.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my fault you’ve been avoiding me.”

Cassian turned, walking down the hall towards Nesta’s room. “Someone has to work around here,” he threw his hands up and continued through the doors at the end of the hall, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck out there, kid!”

Azriel’s fingers loosened and gripped the doorframe again. Rhysand reached out his hand to yours. “Shall we?”

You looked between Azriel and Rhys before taking a few steps forward and wrapping your arms around Azriel’s neck. “Thank you,” you whispered to him.

Azriel seemed stunned momentarily before he wrapped his own arms around you, resting his chin on your head, one arm coming around your shoulders, pressing his fingers into your shoulder, the other coming around your waist.

“Of course,” he whispered back.

You took in his scent, mist and cedar, breathing him in deeply as you clenched your eyes shut. You couldn’t figure out why, but you felt a deepening sadness when you pulled away. Azriel seemed reluctant to let go. You pushed onto your tiptoes, pressing a kiss onto Azriel’s cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Take care, Azriel,” you said to him.

“You do the same,” he responded, opening his eyes, and letting one hand take your own. He rubbed his scarred thumb over the back of your hand as you stepped back, taking Rhysand’s hand in yours.

When you let go of Azriel’s grip, the world spun in black and gray, and you felt a single tear slip down your cheek.

When you landed, you found yourself standing in the middle of a busy cobblestone street near the large gates to the entrance of Velaris. Fighting off the nausea, you leaned forward, and Rhysand placed a comforting hand on your back. 

“Does that ever get less disorienting?” you panted.

“I’ve been doing it for about 400 years. I don’t think I’m the right person to ask,” he laughed.

You took a few more gasping breaths, trying to steady yourself. As you did, the familiar scents of your childhood city filled your senses—the sweet smell of baking bread and the yeasty delight wafting from the baker's square. You stood upright, peering around at the gray stone buildings with the banners of the Night Court flying high above their spires. Your heart felt suddenly full as you envisioned yourself walking through the streets with your mother, seeing the world from so much closer to the ground. You tried not to let your mouth fall open in awe.

Rhysand gave you a light smile. “You recognize this?”

“I spent a few years here in my early childhood.”

“It’s a pretty magical place to grow up,” Rhysand remarked, looking around.

You nodded slightly.

Rhysand’s gaze landed on you. “You don’t have to leave, you know? You can stay here. We can find you a place to live.”

You shook your head, smiling politely while looking at your feet. “It’s alright. Somewhere else is calling me. I just need to find it.”

Rhysand nodded. “I understand. Sometimes we have to carve our own paths.”

You nodded again.

“If anything happens, or you need anything, you will always have a home here,” Rhysand assured you.

You tried to push down the tears and the lump forming in your throat as you smiled at him. He gestured to the gates. “This is the closest I can get you to the exit without putting you outside.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You have everything you need?” he asked.

“More than enough,” you responded.

Rhysand nodded lightly, reaching out his hand to shake yours, but instead, you took a step forward and wrapped him in a hug. He hugged you back. “Thank you,” you said.

“Of course,” he responded as you pulled back, turning and walking toward the shining steel gates.

“Be safe,” Rhysand called.

“I will,” you called back, before stepping outside the gates of Velaris and into the wilderness, immediately feeling a hole forming in your stomach as you walked farther and farther from that wondrous, shining place.

To my readers, much love. Be prepared for what's to come, we're getting serious out here. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra

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[missmatchablossom]

Gojo x Reader Royalty AU | Part V.

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. gojo leaves on a trip, leaving you to face your true feelings for him

a.n.: I just wanted to thank everyone who follows this series and takes the time to leave me comments about it! you are the reason I enjoy writing it <3 enjoy the angst + fluff of part 5!

tags: @lysaray @nourhanfarid13 @geniejunn @weirdoaroundtheblock

~

A soft rain pattered against the windows to Gojo’s bedroom, casting the grand space in a cool gloom that mirrored your own melancholy.

“Do you really have to go?” you asked quietly, wincing as soon as the words left your mouth. You meant to come off as playful, casual even. But you sounded more dejected than anything as you sat atop Gojo’s enormous four-poster bed, watching your prince pack away his clothes.

Though, by the way Gojo paused to shoot you a smile, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Please accept my sincerest apologies, princess. I tried getting out of it, but apparently I’m so important that ghosting them could cause a cold war or something. Stupid, isn’t it?” he said, the corned of his lips upturned. 

You rolled your eyes as you chucked one of his pillows at his head, which he caught easily in a fit of laughter. You layed onto the bed in a huff, curling up towards the edge with your back facing the prince. 

Am I the only one sad that he’s leaving? you thought, burying your face into the pillow you hugged to your chest. The familiar sweet scent of his shampoo was a welcome distraction from your inner turmoil.

Gojo would be leaving the palace tomorrow morning to embark on a two week-long trip to visit the neighboring countries. He would be meeting with fellow blue bloods, doing important work to strengthen relations before your wedding.

Rationally, you knew two weeks wasn’t a long time. But when you were used to ending your nights cuddled into his side, it felt like eternity. There was an unspoken agreement that Gojo would slip into your room at night, and no matter how late he finished his work, you’d be up waiting for him. He’d outstretch his arm, beckoning you towards him with a smile on his face no matter how tired he was. 

Your jolted in surprise as Gojo crouched beside the side of the bed you were on, leveling your eyes with his. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, sending your heart into a fury with his proximity.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked softly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. It was a gesture he repeated often, but it nearly coaxed your heart out of your chest each time he did it.

“No,” you began, cheeks burning as you fiddled with the pillowcase. He watched you patiently, all traces of his earlier teasing mood gone.

“I’m just going to miss you.” 

You watched as your favorite blue eyes softened before you. He shut his eyes, leaning forward until his face was buried in your side, the cool, delicate skin of his eyelids pressing against your arm.

“Maybe I don’t have to go after all,” he murmured.

You giggled as you slipped your hands into his hair, something you did for him often to help when he had heacaches. He sighed as he leaned into your touch.

“Just come with me,” he said. 

Oh, how you wanted to. But your schedule didn’t allow it, since you were undergoing strict “crown princess training,” filling your days with historical and political lessons to match Gojo’s education.

“I tried getting out of it, but apparently I’m so important that skipping training could cause a domestic war. Stupid, right?” you said, reveling in the hearty laugh he released. You heard him mumble something along the lines of such as smartass before he turned his head to the side so that his face was mere inches away from yours.

“Will you pick a few outfits for me to pack? That way, when someone compliments me, which they undoubtedly will,” he said, throwing a quick wink your way, “I can say my princess picked it out for me,” he finished, the faintest dusting of pink decorating his cheeks.

You mirrored his smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek to mask just how giddy his words made you feel.

“Mm, it will cost you,” you said cheekily, loving the way his eyes danced with humor as he shook his head at you. His eyes always seemed the prettiest when he was looking at you.

“You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you,” he said, laughing to himself as he disappearing into his closet.

“Good thing I came prepared,” he said, coming out with a stack of his hoodies. You threw your head back and laughed as he set them down beside you, raising his brows expectantly.

Gojo knew you loved wearing his hoodies. It wasn’t because you admitted how much you enjoyed the way his cologne clung to the fabric, making it feel like you were being held by him. You didn’t explain how you loved how casually intimate it was, wearing something of his. You weren’t sure what he thought, actually. Just that you must’ve loved them because of how often you asked to borrow one.

“Well? Do we have a deal, princess?” he said, making sure to drawl out his voice as he called you by his favorite nickname. The one that almost made you blush everytime you heard it, especially when he said it the way he just did. 

Instead of responding, you slipped one of his oversized hoodies over your body, enjoying the indulgent look in his eye as he watched you.

~

Gojo leaving for his flight felt like a hazy memory, something that could’ve easily been a dream if you didn’t know better. 

You vaguely remembered being awoken by the sound of shuffling and zippers. You lifted your head up, eyes heavy with sleep as you checked the spot beside you. The spot where Gojo usually occupied was empty, nearly sending you into a panic before you found him at the foot of the bed, the sound of a zipper reaching your ears. He turned to look at you, all dressed up in his formal attire. It had to be a crime to look so devastatingly good before the sun was even up.

“Sorry princess, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, casting you an apologetic look. You shook your head, too tired you verbally tell him you didn’t mind. It wasn’t his fault that your sleep was already fitful and light, like your body was rejecting a good night’s rest knowing Gojo was leaving.

Gojo padded over to you quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to where you were laying.

Your prince reached out, stroking his hand across the back of your head. You closed your eyes as he cupped your cheek, swiping his thumb against the soft skin.

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be back soon.” 

You could’ve sworn you felt something soft press against the top of your head before sleep took you, and you woke up to a cold, Gojo-less room.

~

The hallways seemed dimmer. Food tasted blander. The sky looked duller. Maybe you were imagining things, but you didn’t imagine the sadness that has been nagging you since your prince left. There was no way to prepare yourself for how everything seemed to take more time and effort knowing you couldn’t go to your room at the end of the day and crash into Gojo’s arms, where no stress seemed to exist.

He messaged you as soon as he landed, sending you pictures of himself holding up the sweets he was trying. But the messages lessened as his trip progressed, and the daily news report was eager to tell you why. 

You found yourself tuning in to the chanel everyday, watching your prince walk across the screen and shaking hands with a new noble every day. He thrived under the media attention, shooting endless smiles and waves towards everyone itching to catch his gaze. But you knew Gojo, and you recognized the dullness in his eyes. He was definitely tired.

don’t forget to get some rest and eat properly! You texted, sighing. He still hadn’t responded to your texts from before asking if he had time to call.

he’s busy, he’s just busy, you reassured yourself. It was taking all of your mental strength not to worry about him, not to feel disheartened by his lack of contact. He didn’t owe you daily updates…did he? You weren’t married yet. 

The impassioned voice of the news reporter ripped you from your thoughts.

“Prince Gojo was spotted sneaking away with another girl! Is a secret love affair going on?” 

A sour feeling plagued your chest as an image flashed across the screen. It was an obvious paparazzi shot, taken from odd angles unbeknowst to the subject of the photos. But there was no doubt in your mind that it was Gojo in the photo - you’d recognize his tall frame and proud shoulders anywhere. But his arm was wrapped around the slender shoulders of a girl you didn’t recognize. All you could tell was that she must be someone important or rich or royal by the fabric of her dress, the shine of her hair.

You felt jealousing rearing its ugly head, burning through your body as a wave of nausea hit you. 

Who is that girl?

Is he…seeing someone else?

But we’re fiances.

But he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t choose to get engaged to you. 

But I thought we had something together?

But you never discussed it.

But he could have been in love with this other girl the whole time and you came between them and ruined it

But….but?

Your bottom lip trembled as you dropped your face into your hands, taking shaky, deep breaths in a failed attempt to stop the thoughts assaulting you. 

Maybe you didn’t know Gojo as well as you thought you had.

~

It was really hard to ignore the palace staff, with the loud glances and whispers you’d been hearing. You weren’t sure if it was pity or concern, but it made you feel miniscule nonetheless. You went about your work with your head held high, meeting their stares with a smile that they quickly looked away from.

As soon as you were alone, your brave face would crumple. There wasn’t much you could bring yourself to do except wander the outskirts of the palace, where you found comfort in being hidden amongst the lush overgrowth. Hidden away from the heavy eyes of the palace, hidden from the tabloids speculating about your failed engagement, hidden from the texts Gojo sent you. 

sorry princess, they’re working me to the bone

I’m free to call now if you are

I miss you

princess?

everything okay?

can we talk?

You plopped down at the base of a tree, sighing as you read over the texts you’d received but didn’t respond to for the past two days. 

It’s okay, I know you’ve been busy. Don’t forget to eat okay? We can talk when you get back

As soon as you hit send, your phone began buzzing with an incoming call. Gojo’s contact picture popped up on the screen - a picture you took of him laughing and reaching towards the camera. It was your favorite photo of him you’ve ever taken, but right now looking at it filled you with dread.

sorry, I’m pretty busy. I probably won’t be able to talk for a while, you texted, feeling yourself flinch at the lie. 

you’re a bad liar, princess

please talk to me

But you couldn’t. How could you talk to him when you were questioning if anything between you two was real, or if it was him just doing his duty? Sure, he treated you well. But he never admitted he had feelings for you. You could’ve been misreading him the entire time.

You knew what you were walking into with your arranged marriage. The most you could ask for was to get along with your fiance, some people were stuck with awful partners. Gojo was never obligated to love you, and it was never something you expected, so why were you hurting so much?

Because I’m in love with Gojo, you finally admitted to yourself. 

You slowly sank down against the base of a tree, tipping your head up as the tears rolled down your cheeks. As you came to the realization, your scramble of emotions fought for their spot in the front of your mind. Relief at finally accepting your own feelings. Fear that your love was unrequited. 

You sat there for a while, gathering your thoughts as the wind and leaves kept you company.

~

Once you arrived back at the palace, eyelids swollen and cheeks rosied from the cold, you were approached by one of Gojo’s retainers.

“Pardon me, your highness?” he called out, eyebrows burrowing as he took in your appearance.

“Are you alright?” You shot him a tight smile.

“I’m fine, thank you. Did you need something?” you said, hoping he wouldn’t keep you much longer. The older gentleman narrowed his eyes slightly, and you knew he didn’t believe you. But he didn’t press it.

“I have Prince Gojo on the line, he has been requesting to speak with you.”

Shit.

“Please tell him I’m unavailable,” you asked quietly, bracing yourself for the man to tell you he couldn’t do that.

But the older man looked at you once more, his face relaxing like he could see the exhaustion and stress lining your features. 

“Of course, your highness,” he said, tipping his head kindly as you thanked him. 

When you got to your room, a tray of your favorite tea and cookies sat on cart next to the door. You swore to give that man a raise when you had the power to.

~

You had one week until Gojo returned to the palace. One week to figure out how to talk to him again and how to address the photo of him with the mystery woman. One more week for you to chicken out and ignore his texts and calls.

The evening was nearing, and you found yourself once more on the palace outskirts. You leaned your head back against your favorite tree, stretching your legs out to get comfortable. Your eyes burned and your chest felt like lead, but at least you had a beautiful view. 

Heaving a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and tried focusing on what you would hear, a grounding exercise you’d been taught recently.

unidentified birds chirping 

water flowing

breeze shaking leaves

footsteps

Footsteps? Your eyes shot open. No one ever followed you out here. 

“Princess.” a voice began. It was low, haunted even. And painfully familiar. 

You turned as you saw Gojo standing before you, dressed to the nines in his navy suit he only wore for official business. His silver locks were disheveled, his face was pale, and he looked uncharacteristically serious. His sweeping gaze felt heavy as it ran over your entire body, as if he were checking you over for an injury. 

You blinked up at him, waiting to see if he was an illusion that would disappear the next time you opened your eyes. But he didn’t. He was real, he was here.

“You’re back early,” you stated, offering a small, close-lipped smile. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, though.

The harsh sound of his bag hitting the ground surprised you. He reached up towards his neck, roughly loosening the tie you knew he hated wearing. 

“I had a more pressing matter to attend to,” he said, and you flinched at the cold lacing his tone. 

“Rushing through a trip like that could be bad for international relations,” you commented evenly, not addressing the second half of what he said.

“I could care less about international relations when my wife has been ignoring me for the past week,” he said sharply, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m not your wife,” you said softly, knowing it was a low-blow. He sucked in a breath, kneeling down to be at eye-level with you.

“You will be,” he said with confidence, as if there were nothing in the world that could challenge that. You still didn’t look at him.

He cupped your face gently with his hand, turning your gaze to finally look him into his eyes - where a storm of hurt, confusion, and exhaustion brewed. It was enough for traitorous tears to begin slipping down your cheeks. You shut your eyes as you wept silently, feeling the soft pads of Gojo’s thumbs brushing against the delicate skin beneath your eyes, 

“What happened, love?” he said softly, hearing the desperation in his voice.

You took a deep breath, struggling to make out Gojo’s expression through your blurry vision.

“I saw the picture of you with your arm around that girl,” you whispered.

The hand on your cheek froze, and you braced yourself to see a flash of guilt over his expressions. But he continued to stare at you evenly, like he had nothing to hide.

“I know you didn’t have a choice in marrying me. But if I came between you and someone else you love, then I’m truly sorry. I’ll be fine if you w-”

“Okay princess, I’m going to stop you right there.” 

“Her name is Utahime. We grew up together but there has been nothing between us ever. In fact, she can barely stand me most of the time,” he said, sweeping his eyes across yours.

“I needed a huge favor from her. We were walking outside and she slipped on something, so I caught her by the shoulder to steady her. If the paparazzi had a front angle, they would’ve seen her flicking my arm off and looking pissed that I helped her at all.”

It hurt your heart, the way his voice wavered as he spoke to you. You had never heard him sound so scared. He was worried you wouldn’t believe him.

“Please say something,” he begged softly, laying his cool hand atop yours.

“I believe you,” you said, flipping up your hand to grip his own. The furrow between his brows relaxed, the tightness in his jaw easing as he slumped down next to you, in what might’ve been the least princely manner you’d seen from him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked calmly, turning your head to look at him.

“You didn’t give me the chance. I was losing my mind trying to reach you, princess,” he said, his voice heavy as he gently slid the back of his fingers against your cheek, his hand traveling until his hand cupped the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. The rumors were affecting me more than I thought,” you began, pressing your lips together to steady yourself.

“All I could think about was how you are being forced to marry me. And I began wondering what you would do, who you would be with if you had a choice. How much happier you could be,” you said, the self-loathing thick in your voice as more tears slipped out. 

He looked as if you had just struck him. He took a deep breath, a determined look coming over his features as he leaned into your space.

“You’re right that our engagement wasn’t my choice. But it was my choice to fall in love with you,” he said, lifting your palm to his lips. 

You weren’t sure if there was a word for how you felt hearing those words. The relief, the joy, the disbelief that Prince Satoru Gojo was in love with you. 

“You…love me?” you asked in a whisper, like the words were forbidden. A smile made its way across your lips as you spoke last few words. Gojo’s smile responded to yours - immediately softening his beautiful face.

“I am in love with you princess. I would choose you over and over again,” he said reverently, looking at you in that way of his that made you feel like the only person in the universe.

You launched yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he caught you with a surprised grunt. His big hands coming up to stroke your back, his arms around you pulling you in close against his chest. 

You pulled back slightly, until your foreheads were nearly touching.

“I’m in love with you too, my prince.”

The breath left your lungs as the most gorgeous smile you’d ever seen stretched wide across his features, lighting up his eyes and brightening his face.

“You love me?” he asked, his arms around your waist tightening you even closer to him.

“I love you,” you said again, giggling at the pure, childlike happiness emanating from his face.

Suddenly, you were up in the air as your prince lifted you up and swung you in a circle, like the ending credits of a Disney movie. 

The two of you laughed and spun until you were both out of breath, Gojo settling back down against the tree with you on his lap once more. 

“You make me happier than I ever thought I could be,” he said, sending the blush straight to your cheeks. But instead of looking away in embarrassment, you shifted closer.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. You are more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of,” you said, leaning up to press your lips against the smooth skin of his cheek. 

A beautiful pink dusted across his skin, but that brilliant smile remained on his lips. 

“So, can I finally kiss you then?” you asked.

You bit back a laugh at the pure shock on his face - the way his eyes widened, pupils dilated, jaw slackened, like that was the last thing he ever expected you to ask him at this very moment. 

“Fuck,” you heard him mutter under his breath.

“My prince?”

“Kiss me, princess,” he said, his voice heady as he spoke. 

You smiled as you leaned forward, gingerly pressing your lips to his. 

One soft peck to test the waters, the faintest brush of your lips. Then another one - your lips lingered longer, long enough to feel the press of his soft, full lips that chased yours when you pulled back.

You stared into his eyes for a moment, his eyes that looked glazed over and nearly black as he watched you with fevered intensity that must have mirrored your own. You leaned forward once more, tilting your head as you slanted your lips against his.

He groaned softly as he met each press of your lips, one hand cupping around your jaw to pull you even closer to him, the other hand sliding up the hem of your shirt.

“You are so,” he began, speaking in between kisses.

“Soft,”

“and warm,”

“and sweet,” he rasped, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he lightly tugged your bottom lip between his teeth.

You broke away from the kiss for a second, your heaving chest a match to his.

“I love the way you taste,” you said, and it was true. His lips were sweet, and he tasted like the mints he always had.

But your words must’ve struck something in him, as those cerulean eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as he tugged you to him with renewed fervor, kissing you like he would die if he stopped. 

By the time you two finished, walking back into the palace well past sunset, the servants took one look at your linked hands and bruised lips and filled the halls with whispers and giggles.

#gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #female reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #satoru #jjk au #jjk smut #jjk fluff #satoru gojo #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #gojo drabbles #jjk satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #gojo #gojo jjk

[wangxianficrecs]

🔒 As good as by apathyinreverie

🔒 As good as

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

T, 6k, Wangxian

Summary: Cangse Sanren would be disappointed. (Where LQR, right smack in the middle of the war, realizes that WWX doesn’t have a Core. He promptly enlists his own pining nephew in ensuring that, after winning the war for them, WWX is going to end up with GL instead of YJ. He owes that much to Cangse Sanren.) Kay's comments: Read this and understood why the author was struggling whether to tag good uncle Lan Qiren or bad uncle Lan Qiren lol. I mean, he creates a fix-it and is the force behind Wei Wuxian getting a better life during and after the Sunshot Campaign even with the outlook of a new golden core, but his methods are questionable, intentionally making Wei Wuxian addicted to regular energy transfusions which Lan Wangji is happy to supply. Really great read and a fascinating take on Lan Qiren. Excerpt: Wei Wuxian had been one of his brightest students. Clever and smart and curious in a way that spoke of a brilliant future. Qiren has been furious at the thought of the potential lost to the boy falling to the temptation of power. And yet. Qiren has done nothing to aid him, nothing to turn him back towards the righteous path. Not now. Not while it is the boy’s unorthodoxy that lets him carve a path for the Sunshot Campaign’s forces to march onwards. They are at war. Many of those fighting are still young, but many of them are also old enough to recognize a child risking his own soul for the benefit of all. It is disingenuous for the allied to claim distaste at his powers when they are also relying on him to aid their war. To win it for them. Yes, Cangse would indeed have been disappointed. But not only in her son. If anything, most of her disappointment might have been reserved for everyone else. For everyone watching and whispering and condemning but not doing anything to help.

pov lan qiren, canon divergence, lan qiren is so done, lan qiren tries, fix-it, golden core reveal, colden core transfer fix-it, addiction, manipulation, dual cultivation, tired wei wuxian, genius wei wuxian, developing relationship, getting together, friends to lovers, sunshot campaign, possessive lan wangji, protective lan wangji, angst with a happy ending, cultivation sect politics

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#May 2024 #Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #Wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #As good as #apathyinreverie #short fic <15k #teen #pov lan qiren #canon divergence #lan qiren is so done #lan qiren tries #fix-it #golden core reveal #colden core transfer fix-it #addiction #manipulation #dual cultivation #tired wei wuxian #genius wei wuxian #developing relationship #getting together #friends to lovers #sunshot campaign #possessive lan wangji #protective lan wangji #angst with a happy ending #cultivation sect politics

[https-milo]

DATING IZUKU MIDORIYA INSTAGRAM!

details..!

instagram posts w/ comments about dating Izuku Midoriya

itsurfavey/n · 8w

1,456 likes liked by: pinkiethealien, crimsonriotfan, uravity_, creati

itsurfavey/n raise your standards ladies.

tagged: deku_

deku_ anything for you!! <3

↳ itsurfavey/n deku_ I LOVE YOU!!

pinkiethealien they don't make guys like this anymore, I fear

deku_ · 4w

789 likes liked by: k.bakugo, crimsonriotfan, uravity_

deku_ THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!

tagged: itsurfavey/n

itsurfavey/n OFC IZU!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY <3333

↳ deku_ itsurfavey/n I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!

k.bakugo 🤢🤢love🤢🤢

↳ itsurfavey/n k.bakugo someone's jealous

↳ k.bakugo itsurfavey/n die.

itsurfavey/n · 2w

2,649 likes

liked by: pinkiethealien, invisigirl, creati, rainydayfroppy

itsurfavey/n he surprised me with matching onesies :')

tagged: deku_

deku_ happy one year angel! :D

↳ itsurfavey/n deku_ I have a long big paragraph post ready to post 🥸

↳ deku_ itsurfavey/n i cant wait to read ittt (i have one for you too)

pinkiethealien oh god. they're gonna make each other cry with their one year posts.

itsurfavey/n · 2w

3,864 likes

liked by: pinkiethealien, uravity_, creati_, k.bakugo, chargebolt

itsurfavey/n happy one year to the love of my life :) One year ago today I made the best decision I'll ever make, saying yes to being your girlfriend. You are the light of my life and not a day passes without you in my mind. I love you sososososososo much, never forget that <3

tagged: deku_

deku_ :(( i love you so much its not even funny

↳ itsurfavey/n deku_ i love you so much more <333

k.bakugo this is what he was crying over??

↳ deku_ k.bakugo SHUSH!

deku_ · 2w

1,014 likes

liked by: k.bakugo, chargebolt, fanta.fero, uravity_

deku_ happy one year to my angel :D she's the love of my life and my never-ending spark that keeps me going. You will never find a girl as kind and funny as her. She makes my days so much better and every day with her is a blessing. I love you more than life itself <333

tagged: itsurfavey/n

itsurfavey/n IZU :'( i love you so freaking much

↳ deku_ itsurfavey/n i love you so much freaking more <3

uravity_ y/n collapsed on the floor and started crying btw

↳ itsurfavey/n uravity_ OH SO WE'RE OPPS NOW?

chargebolt k guys whos tryna get w me...

↳ earphonejack chargebolt no one, I fear

↳ h.shinso earphonejack there might be someone, I fear

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #xreader #anime #anime x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #deku #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoria x reader #mha smau #izuku midoriya smau #deku smau

[thatbanditqueen]

Louisiana Saturday Night, a new fic.....

I have been working on a new WIP set at the Louisiana Hayride from 1954 - 1956, and will probably post chapter one in the next few days. It starts in October 1954, when 19 year-old Elvis had never played outside the small clubs of Memphis, except for that once. At the Opry. And that didn't go too well.

Now he faces his biggest audience ever at the Lousiana Hay Ride: over three thousand people in-person (a thousand more than the Opry!) and millions over the radio. He has only recorded two singles, never been away from home much or gone beyond second base with a girl, and doesn't know much about life as a touring musician. But he's eager to learn and grab every opportunity he can with those long, inexperienced slender fingers.

This fic will have my usual blend of poorly executed dry humor, fluff, smut and angst.

please comment or reblog if you want to be tagged - here is a preview.

Here is a snippet from Chapter 1: Hot Wax

Approximately 9:15 p.m.

Saturday, October 16, 1954

The Municipal Auditorium in Shreveport, Louisiana

The first time she saw Elvis up close he was hunched over the sink tapping his fingers along the porcelain rim. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he reminded Freddie of a bottle rocket about to blow. She smiled at the thought of him bursting through the ceiling like a comic book hero, his oversized sports coat trailing behind him like a long pink cape.

She wasn’t sure if he was recovering from his first set or talking himself into the second, but what she did know was that this kid was as green as they came. Horace had been reading Pappy the riot act yesterday when she walked by his office, yelling at him for booking “some hillbilly who just fell off the turnip truck, cuz Sam Philips brings you a bottle of Jack every time he comes through town.”  The audience out there had been so taken aback by his country bop they’d forgotten to clap, and she doubted Pappy would be allowed to invite him back.

As she watched the show up in the control booth, Freddie had wondered if Elvis’ performance had gone over better with the radio listeners who hadn’t had to watch his stilted, awkward movements on stage. There was a ragged emotional tenor to his voice, and now that she was standing right in front of him she had to admit he had a dark, sultry allure that was strikingly different from all these other boys doing their best Gene Autry impression.

But geez, now the poor kid began to mutter into his reflection and she hoped he wouldn’t cry. Freddie barely knew how to deal with the girls she found balling in the bathroom. 

“Um, hey there. You ok?”

Elvis jerked around and ran his hand through his sopping wet hair and straightened up, stiff like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Most folks are nervous their first time. That’s a big crowd.”

“Don’t you worry about me, honey, I ain’t nervous.” He looked her over, a sneer forming at his mouth. “Didn’t you heard the man? I’m the hottest thing on wax. Mr. Logan just asked me to play a second set.”

“Oh - uh - well, I guess I was wrong.”

“MMhmmm. Just getting geared up to go back on stage.” He settled his hands at his waist and shot her a sulky fierce glower, then waggled his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Oh, well that's good. Maybe you can answer something for me then.”

“Anything baby.” 

He softened and bit his lip, giving her what she took to be his version of a come hither look. He looked like he was fighting back a sneeze and Freddie had to swallow her laughter. 

“Why are you in the Ladies’ Powder Room?”

Elvis paused and looked down for a beat as he shook his head and laughed.

She nodded toward the shelf of perfume bottles, powders and the basket of dainty pink sanitary napkin boxes with Kotex printed along the sides.

He let out a low whistle and rubbed his mouth.

“Man o man, I guess you got me, might be jus a lil nervous. I ‘spose I really weren’t watching were I was going, huh?”

Freddie couldn’t help the way she dumbly smiled back, noticing up close how long and thick his eyelashes were as he looked down at her through them. She suddenly had the urge to take his hand and lead him to the green room where she could make him a hot cup of tea and comfort him and give him all the advice she had from her four years of working at KWKH. But instead she took a deep breath and fidgeted with her cardigan.

“I won't tell anyone you were in here. It can be our secret."

other fic taglist - i won't tag you again on this unless you comment you want to be tagged:

@whositmcwhatsit

@from-memphis-with-love

@vintageshanny

@shakerattlescroll

@peskybedtime

@be-my-ally

@ellie-24

@missmaywemeetagain

@powerofelvis

@arrolyn1114

@lookingforrainbows

@eliseinmemphis

@kingdomforapony

@everythingelvispresley

@richardslady121

@dkayfixates

@artlover8992

@freudianslumber

@amydarcimarie

@toreigh

@18lkpeters

@yynneessmons

@ashtag6887

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@returntopresley

@rjmartin11

@louisejoy86

@notstefaniepresley

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@j-v-9-2

@beeandheroddobsessions

@doll-elvis

@burningloverdoll

@ohjustpeachy1

@everythingelvispresley

@velvetelvis

@horror-movieshoes

@ooihcnoiwlerh

@moonchild-daniella

@lialocklear

@obsessionisthecure

@tacozebra051

@elvispresleywife

@bisexualwvtson

@father-of-2cats

@lillypink

@godlypresley

@crash-and-cure

@misspresley

@daffieapple

@louisejoy86

@burningloverdoll

@stargirllily19

@amydarcimarie

@elvisrealgf

@littlehoneyposts

@eapep

@stylespresleyhearted

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #ok not right away but there will be smut #the louisiana hayride #louisiana saturday night #1954 elvis #baby elvis #banditqueenwrites

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #inbloomwriting #jamie tartt x fem!reader #everythingtomefic #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines

[itsonlydana]

Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing. 

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth. 

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now: 

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone. 

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you. 

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment. 

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second. 

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls. 

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves. 

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by. 

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge. 

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf. 

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters. 

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now. 

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head. 

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king? 

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then: 

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort. 

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare. 

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin." 

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back. 

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?" 

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room. 

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains. 

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture." 

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment. 

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air. 

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past." 

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended." 

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended? 

You can only stare at him aghast. 

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling. 

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become. 

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart. 

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard. 

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?" 

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it. 

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways." 

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance. 

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter. 

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

#📁files: thranduil fanfics #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #king thranduil

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (1)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, work stress, impossible tasks

Summary: You're Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as "The Librarian". You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: I honestly do not know where this is going and why I even started this. It was an idea that sort of popped into my head while at work. I hope you enjoy it! Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

Papers fluttered to the ground around Loki as stared down at the young woman who ran into him. He cocked an eyebrow as he heard a low hiss of pain come from her gritted teeth. The impact could not have been that painful, but how was he to know? He was minding his own business, walking down the fairly empty hallway reading a book when something had come crashing into him. It was not the first time he had been assaulted, but it was certainly the first time to be tackled in the middle of an empty hallway. Glancing around, he noticed there were a few people lingering about, watching to see what he would do or see what transpired.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Her voice drew his attention back down to the ground to see her on her knees trying to gather the scattered sheets of paper. He slid his right foot back as she reached for one near it.

“You are excused,” he responded in a level tone that held little emotion, if any at all. She looked up at him in wide-eyed shock which had him raise an eyebrow yet again at her. He hesitated for a moment to speak, feeling the eyes on them.

“Is there something else you wish to say?”

“Huh? Oh, no, just surprised to hear you say anything. I’ve never heard you speak before, so I thought that maybe you couldn’t.” She admitted, tapping the bottom edge of the sheets to make the pile more uniform. “You have a nice voice.” She added, carefully inspecting the surrounding area, oblivious to the bewildered look of the prince before her. “Ah-ha!” She grinned, crawling forward and reaching between his feet. Startled by her actions, Loki quickly took a few steps backward, leaving a noticeable shoe print on the paper she had been reaching for. “Thank you, this was the last one I needed.” She smiled at him, though when she saw the print her lips quickly curled downwards into a noticeable frown. “That’s not good, Fury’s not gonna be happy.” She mumbled, carefully placing the dirtied sheet on the top as she stood up with her sizable stack of folders and binders in her arms. “Well, it was a pleasure speaking to you Mr. Loki, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

He watched as she casually resumed her walk down the hallway, unperturbed by the fact that she had just walked straight into him, Loki, the monster that had wreaked havoc in the world and destroyed their precious city. The very city they were currently in now. What an odd Midgardian, but I suppose this would be the place to find plenty of odd ones. He turned to look at some of the spectators and watched them visibly flinch or stumble as they met his gaze, scrambling to leave the vicinity and get away from here, away from him. Opening his book once more, he continued on his way towards

Just as she had anticipated, Fury was not pleased with the surprise print on one of the report pages. He looked between it and her in silence, sliding the packet across his desk in her direction as he leaned back and turned his chair slightly.

“Mind telling me why you suddenly decided to decorate such a vital report with a shoe?”

“It was an accident, sir. While on my way here, I was reviewing the content and ended up crashing into someone on the way. They unintentionally stepped on the sheet while trying to avoid the others. I didn’t have time to reprint the documents prior to this meeting. I will be submitting a clean copy into the record and have this one shredded.”

“I’ll let it slide this time only. Next time, watch where you’re walking and leave reviewing for when you’re at a desk. Everything looks to be in order, reprint and file it.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll have it done right away.” She bowed her head and picked up the report.

“Don’t let this happen again.” He sternly remarked. “The next time it does, you’ll have to deal with the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” Y/N nodded. “The next item for discussion is the transition of all physical resources into digital. I do understand that many have requested that all resources be scanned and made digital, but that task is a lot larger than many realize. Also, not all of our sources are safe to scan due to age or the need to be translated and checked prior to scanning. It is not impossible, but a sizable team would be needed in order to have it completed. I propose that the physical sources we have are properly cataloged and organized so they are easier to be found. We can have them scanned in the process, but again, we run into the issues of needing to translate and verify that the translations are correct.”

“Y/N, just get to the fucking point. Can it be done?” Fury cut her off, looking at her pointedly with his good eye.

“In an ideal situation, yes.” She let out a small sigh.

“And what is an ‘ideal situation’?” 

“A team of at least five agents per letter, several translators for the various languages we have to make sure we have them properly translated, and a warehouse filled with scanners and computers to scan, name, and upload. With such a team and ideal conditions always, it could take about five to ten years to complete.”

“Oh just that?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, his frown more pronounced than usual. Y/N knew he was not pleased with her answer, but there was no use in trying to make it lighter than it really was. They had an extensive library in house and warehouses of delicate and confidential artifacts which included tomes and scrolls. She was the head librarian and managed all of this with only a handful of others spread across the various locations.

“Ideally, yes.”

“And if it wasn’t ideal?”

“Depends on what factors are not present, but without those minimum requirements it could take decades.”

“But it can be done.” He flatly responded, sitting forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the desk. “We won’t destroy any of the physical resources, but you’ll have to make do with what you get. We don’t have the luxury of just handing over a slew of agents for this. We need boots on the ground globally to keep an eye out on things out there bigger than us.” A weight suddenly dropped in the pit of her stomach. Though she was not expecting anything close to what she listed as an ideal, there was something in his tone that screamed out that she was going to hear the worst case scenario.

“And what would I get to work with?” She managed to keep her voice steady.

“State of the art technology per library staff member per location and a god.”

Silence fell over them as she stood there, slowly blinking at her superior. This had to be some sort of sick joke. She knew the organization could not give what was needed, but this? This was hardly anything at all.

“I’m sorry, did you just say new computers and a god?”

“That’s what I said.” He nodded his head.

“You must be joking, right? This task would take more than just decades to do and what does ‘a god’ even mean? A ‘god’ per person or location or just one god? And what sort of ‘god’ Do you just have deities on demand or something? Are they just going to snap their fingers and things will be done magically? What can they do for me and this life long assignment I have now been tasked with?” She paced in front of his desk, muttering to herself on how this could work and what sort of person this ‘god’ was. He cannot be serious, right? But Fury isn’t the type to just say shit or joke around. She turned and looked at her boss. No, not a joker. She frowned.

“Y/N, calm down. We’ve got two Asgardian gods that have a knack for understanding all languages. You don’t need a team of translators when they can do it on the spot just like that.” His sharp tone made her stop and turn to face him. “So that whole crap can be cut and you can work with one of them to get all this done faster with less people and just get to organizing shit. You’re getting what you get, end of discussion. Anything else?”

“No sir,” she sighed and shook her head.

“Good, I’ll get Agent Hill to talk to them and reach out to you. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes sir.” She slightly bowed her head and left the office, her shoulders dropping the moment the door closed behind her. This was not going to be easy.

Tag list: @vbecker10

#loki #loki marvel #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #mcu #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #y/n #your name #reader insert #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x fem!reader #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #agents of shield #shield agent reader #tom hiddleston #loki of asgard #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #loki avengers #shield agents #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #s.h.i.e.l.d.

[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 7 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12

(feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

Sorry this took so long, I just graduated college, was briefly dating a new girl that I hung out with like 5 times in one week, and this chapter is longer than usual. Def not my best work either, but I hope you guys still like it!

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 7

You have some intimate moments with Hazel when you do her makeup, and even go on your first date. 

Word count: 5.3k

CW: Profanities, a little suggestive kind of? Changing clothes in front of each other and sitting on her lap to do her makeup, mentions of counting calories (nothing compared to negative body talk in the movie), not beta read 

A few days after your movie night you start teasing Hazel on the car ride home. “You still haven’t given me one of your sweatshirts like you said you would.”

“Shit, you’re right. You can come over whenever and pick one out.”

“I can pick it out?” You question with curiosity. 

“I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted if I could.” She murmurs. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear and clear your throat. “Well I will keep that in mind, but for now I think I’m okay with getting to steal one of your sweatshirts.”

You pause for a moment and it’s silent.

“Wait, remember you said we would dress eachother up in our clothes? We should do that, tomorrow.”

Hazel peers over, looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll come over to your house before school tomorrow so we can get each other ready.”

“Come over at 6:30.”

“6:30?” She groans, “You seriously take that long to get ready in the morning?”

You jokingly roll your eyes. “I’m going to need extra time if I’m going to do my makeup and yours.”

“You can’t wear makeup if you are trying to fully embody Hazel Callahan.”

You gasp dramatically, purely to be dramatic. “How could you do that to me Haze? I don’t want to look like a zombie!”

Hazel punches your arm softly. “Are you saying that I look like a zombie, because I don’t wear makeup?”

“God no, the way you look, it’s literally perfect. I, on the other hand, need it to look like a normal human being.” You bite your lip when you realize what you said. 

“Would you please shut up? If I’m perfect, that makes you extraordinarily flawless. There’s not a single girl at our school that could even try to compare to you. I can’t even think of any girl on this planet that is more beautiful than you are. I just wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you.” She takes a shaky breath, looking straight ahead. 

“I, uh, thank you.” It’s like all the thoughts in your head have been picked up and thrown around by a tornado. 

Hazel clears her throat. “I’ll still come over at 6:30, that way we can spend some extra time together.”

“You are going to wake up that early just to hang out with me?”

“I’ve already lost so much sleep thinking about… well I haven’t been sleeping well anyways. Might as well make the most of that extra time.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Hazel arrives at your house with your go to coffee order and favorite doughnut from Dunkin’.

“Hazel, you didn’t have to do that.” You could almost cry because she remembered this little detail and went out of her way to do something special for you. 

“I wanted to,” she assures you. 

“You treat me so well,” you murmur, gazing longingly at the girl you are in love with. 

Hazel puts her hands on your shoulders and her blue eyes bear into your soul. “You deserve the best, never settle for anything less than princess treatment.”

Your lip quivers when you whisper, “I hope I don’t have to.”

Hazel pulls away and crosses her arms without breaking eye contact. “I would never treat you… I mean I would never let anyone treat you badly ever again. As long as I’m around no one is going to hurt you.”

Having maintained a cautious mindset for so long, your brain refuses to process what she has said. Responding is completely off the table. “Well I guess we better get started, yeah? Put on whatever music you want. My phone is already connected to the speaker. My passcode is 3900.”

Hazel picks up your phone and scrolls through your music. “You got a text from Isabel, in a group chat with her and Brittany, do you want me to check it for you?”

You are about to say yes, but remember that you were telling them about how excited you were to get to wear Hazel’s clothes today. How it almost makes you feel like you are her girlfriend.

“No!” You shout at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to..” she stutters, her voice sounding weak and wounded. 

“No no no, that’s not it at all.” You explain more tenderly. “It’s just that- Isabel has been talking about something personal. Just want to respect her privacy.”

Hazel lets out a long breath that she must have been holding in. “Of course.”

She selects a playlist and locks your phone, placing it face down on the. 

“Which one do you want to wear?” You ask her, gesturing to the 3 different ensembles laid out on your bed. Hazel looks over the options and goes for the outfit you assumed that she would. It was the least girly of the 3, and the closest to something she would normally wear. A simple white tank top and some casual khaki shorts. Though the shorts are much shorter than anything she owns, and the tank top is rather tight, the outfit is overall within her comfort zone. You knew she would wear whatever you chose for her without complaint, but you wanted to make sure she was comfortable, while still making it clear that she isn’t in her normal clothes. That she is wearing your clothes, that she is yours. 

Hazel pulls a few articles of clothing out of her backpack. “I didn’t think to bring you options, I hope that’s ok.”

You giggle, “I trust you Haze.”

You turn away and start to pull off your pajama shorts, fully aware of what you are doing. 

Hazel coughs in a way that sounds like she is choking. “Do you want me to leave while you change?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. We used to change in front of each other all the time. If you want to leave though you can.”

“You’re right, I’ll just change here.” Her voice trembles.

You continue to change, but you hear nothing, which means that Hazel has not moved to start changing. Most likely because she was watching you change, just as you had intended. You allow your long t-shirt to cover up just enough while changing the clothes on your bottom half.

When you pull off your top, exposing your bare back, you hear Hazel start to shuffle around and pick up the clothes off your bed. However, you can feel her eyes on you and the thick tension in the air.

When you finish changing and turn around Hazel is already in her clothes and her eyes are glued to you. 

“Haze, you look great!” You smirk at her. She looks down at the clothes she is wearing and laughs. “Yeah I do look good. But not as good as you do.”

You glance at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. A white short sleeve button down under a tan argyle cardigan, paired with some loose fitting jeans. You two wear the same size clothes, but everything Hazel wears is oversized. Your clothes are mostly tight, and you know she is only wearing them because they are yours. “I do not look good, I look like somebody’s grandpa.”

Hazel pretends to be insulted. “Do I look like a grandpa to you?”

“You look good in this stuff, it just works. But me, not so much.”

“You would look good in a paper bag,” she casually throws out and then you watch her wince at what she just said. 

“You need to get your eyes checked.” You giggle, “sit down so I can do your makeup.” You gesture to your desk chair, and Hazel makes herself comfortable while you pick items out of the drawers and off the shelves. 

You stand slightly bent over, hovering above her when you promise her “I am not going to go crazy.” 

The first step is sculpting out Hazel’s dark eyebrows. They are already nice on their own so it wasn’t too difficult.

“For your face I’m going to use blush and highlight, is that ok?” You hum switching out the products in your hands. 

Hazel’s head turns to the side and concentrates for a moment. “I have no idea what that means.”

You smile as you cup her chin in your hand and she stares back in wonder. “The pink stuff and the shiny stuff. I’ll make it look as natural as possible.”

“I trust your judgment,” she mumbles, lost in your eyes. 

The brush delicately adds a sweep of color to her already perfect face. She looks unbearably adorable after dabbing a hint of pink on her nose. When switching out the blush in your hand for highlight you notice a twinge of pain in your lower back from hunching over. You stand straight up and place a hand where you feel the pain as you flex and stretch.

Hazel’s delectable lips curve into a frown. “Are you ok?”

“Bending over, it's just a little uncomfortable. I would move the chair and sit on my bed but i don't want to accidentally get something on my blanket.”

“Sitting down would be better?” Hazel inquires, looking around the room for a solution. 

“Yeah but it's probably easier to just stay over here.”

“You could just sit on my lap, right? Would that help?” She bites her lip, eyes wide and expectant. 

Help. Most definitely. In more ways than she knows.

You nod casually, trying to hide your excitement and play it cool. “That would actually help a lot, are you sure you don't mind?”

The way she looks you up and down hungrily makes you want to check your pulse because it can’t be at a safe level. “Mind? Of course not. It's ideal actually. I prefer to keep you as close as I can.” You nearly pass out when she says that. Scratch that, you nearly drop dead and ascend into another plane of existence. This isn’t a side of Hazel you are used to but damn, you are loving it.

You sit down on Hazel's lap facing her with one leg on each side of her and the chair. You shift a little to balance yourself properly  and she puts her hands on your waist to help steady you. “Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” she chuckles. 

You bite your lip as your head spins and Hazel just smiles patiently until you tell her “I’m going to to do eyeliner now.” She nods her head along to the music.

You catch her chin in your hand to stop her from moving her head. Hazel’s eyes go soft and flicker between your eyes and lips. Or are you just imagining it?

“Close your eyes,” you tell her and she does. You needed her to do so in order to apply the eyeliner, but not having her beautiful blue eyes looking at you temporarily minimizes the urge to kiss her. 

“I’m just going to do a tiny little wing. I don’t want to bother with your waterline, it’ll be uncomfortable since you’re not used to it. Your eyes don’t really need any help standing out anyways.” Before switching from one eye to the other you stop to admire her divine features. As if she knows that you are watching her, and is trying to make you squirm, she licks her alluring lips. You feel like she’s inviting you into them but that’s not a signal you can risk misreading. You are so shocked that you drop the eyeliner on the floor. Hazel’s eyes open when she hears it hit the ground. You go to reach for it, but Hazel stops you. “I got it.”

She wraps one arm around you while her other reaches to the ground. She passes you the eyeliner and you mumble a thank you. Hazel then wraps her other arm around you and holds you tight around your waist. She closes her eyes again and you draw on the other wing. 

In preparation for her opening her eyes again, you take a deep breath before instructing her to do so. Hazel’s eyes flutter and they are looking right in yours, as if she knew where they were, through the power of your connection. You tell her to look up, so you can apply mascara, but she doesn’t do it right away. Her gaze lingers on your face, like she is studying your features before she has to look away. 

“I know that staying still isn’t usually your thing but I’m going to need you to for about a minute, is that ok?”

She looks over your face one last time before saying, “anything for you.” Then she looks up. 

“I’m going to be super careful. I promise I won’t poke your eye out.”

She runs her hand up and down your back before holding you tighter. “I know, I trust you more than anyone else.”

You carefully apply the mascara, leaving Hazel's dreamy eyes unscathed and well defined. 

“Do you have a lipstick color preference?” You ask, looking over at the vast collection. 

She looks over at the array of colors and she points at one. “That one that you had on that day, with the coffee cup.” Did she remember the color from looking at your lips or her own?

You are extremely familiar with the shape of Hazel’s lips, you spend enough time looking at them, though you wish to become acquainted with them in other ways. You effortlessly trace their shape with lip liner and then swipe the lipstick over top. The addition of color only draws attention to her lips and you hope that they don’t catch anyone else’s eyes. 

Wishing you could ignore it, every queer girl in school notices Hazel in the tight, low cut, tank top. PJ eyes Hazel like a predator stares down its prey. Fortunately, you get the chance to pick first at that afternoon’s meeting. 

“I think I’m finally ready for a rematch, princess,” you coo at PJ. And that was true, this wasn’t an impulsive decision driven by jealousy, though you aren’t above that. It’s been a long time coming. 

However, your rage has you quickly taking the offense. PJ dodges your first punch but your second one hits her square in the jaw and sends her stumbling backwards. Her eyes squint and her lip curls as she regains her balance. You just smile at her and it makes her even more angry. 

PJ charges at you and is met with much more force than she was expecting. Your hands are on each other's shoulders, trying to push down your opponent. You head butt her instead of continuing the power struggle. It hurts, but it’s obvious that it hurt PJ more when she looks dizzy, holding her hand to her head and says “fuck!”

You don’t show her any mercy, she’s pushed to the hard gym floor before she knows what hit her. PJ sits up on her hands like she is about to continue, but she just shakes her head in defeat. You have to bite back a smile as you pull her to her feet and she sneers at you. 

PJ spends the rest of the meeting glaring in your direction and in all honesty, it makes you feel great. 

At the end of the meeting Josie announced that tomorrow is going to be a bonding day. 

“You looked so pissed at PJ today,” Hazel laughs on the car ride home. 

You tuck your hair behind your ear. “I might have been.”

“Did she do something?” She sounds protective and ready to fight. 

Yes. “No. It’s just that she… she’s just PJ.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Hazel laughs, sounding relieved. 

“How do you feel about having a bonding day tomorrow?” You wonder out loud, the question for the both of you. 

“It was actually my idea,” she announces confidently. 

“Josie made it sound like it was her idea. Her and PJ are starting to get popular, well less unpopular, and it’s really starting to go to their heads. Like I get it, they are the ugly, untalented, gays, and never got any positive attention before now, but they need to get their egos in check.”

“I hadn’t really noticed it until you pointed it out,” Hazel mumbles. 

“They also don’t appreciate you enough,” you spat, disgusted by the thought of someone mistreating Hazel. 

“Maybe,” she whispers. 

“You deserve better, Hazel, the best.” The reminder is stern. “You should stay away from people like them. Stay close to the ones who treat you like the special person you are.”

“Well you do,” her puppy dog eyes are looking at you like you make the world turn. 

“Of course!” You put your hand on her thigh. “No one is more important to me than you are.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel like she’s the only one in the world,” Hazel laughs shyly. 

“That’s because you are.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The members of the fight club sit in a circle. You are sitting next to Hazel, and when she isn’t looking Brittany gestures for you to get closer to her.

You slide closer to Hazel and when she notices she moves her knee so that it's touching yours. She smiles at you and you return it, but you know you must be blushing hard. 

The discussion starts off a bit awkward, but it’s not too long before everyone gets comfortable and begins sharing. After Brittany vents, Hazel starts to share. She talks about what she has been going through with her mom and you are surprised, why hasn’t she talked about this with you? As sad as you are to hear about it, she is so cute when she talks about how happy she is to have made a bunch of new friends. Then PJ, being the dick she always is, cuts Hazel off. You keep your anger contained but you will not be forgetting about this. You put your hand on Hazel's leg to show her that you are listening and that you care about what she has to say. 

The meeting gets cut pretty short after an interesting story from Josie about juvie, that for some reason sounded vaguely familiar. You, along with several other girls, didn’t even get to share. 

When you go over to your backpack you pull out your water bottle to take a drink. You notice that PJ’s bag is right next to yours. So you ‘accidentally’ dropped the bottle, spilling out the full contents on PJ’s bag. You quickly grab your own bag and go to find Hazel. By the time you are standing next to her you hear PJ yell “What the hell! My fucking bag is all fucking wet!”

Everybody turns to look and Hazel notices the shit eating grin on your face. “Did you…” she questions and you just laugh. She starts to laugh too, but covers her mouth with her hand so that it isn’t obvious. You can still see it in her eyes though and it’s adorable. 

“We should probably get out of here, right?” You ask her and she just grabs your arm to pull you away, the two of you stifling laughter. 

As you walk towards your car in the parking lot you hear Isabel yell “Hazel! I have something for you!”

She tries to run after you and Hazel, but she ends up shuffling with little steps because of her high heels.

Isabel hands something small to Hazel and it’s a… Chili’s gift card?

“You mentioned craving chips and salsa the other day and I figured I would get-give this to you. Someone, um, gave it to me, but ya know, I’m watching my calories,” Isabel explains.

There is no way that anyone who has ever met Isabel would give her a gift card to a restaurant that didn’t have at least 1 Michelin star. And watching her calories? Yeah her mother was constantly pestering her about it, but she literally just had ice cream the other day. 

Hazel is so endearingly gullible that she buys it all.“Thanks Isabel, that’s so nice of you.”

Isabel can hardly contain herself. “You two should go together, wouldn’t that be like, so fun?”

“That’s a great idea. I think it would be a very fun d-“ Hazel pauses for a moment, “a lot of fun.”

After thanking Isabel again, you and Hazel get into the car. She starts fidgeting with her rings. “Would you maybe want to go out to eat tonight? I know it’s Friday so you might have plans or something but if you’re free…”

Isabel had said she had something fun planned for tonight, but you know now that she must have been referring to this.

“I would love to.”

“How does 7 sound? I can drive.”

You nod with a shy smile, though bubbling with excitement. 

You don’t want to assume anything, but this might actually be a date, so you are treating it like one. Preparing the way you would for any other date, you get started early to make sure everything looks perfect. You lay out a go to date outfit, one that you know you look hot in, and you do your hair and makeup the same way you always do, it looks good but also like you didn’t put too much effort into it. 

You are buzzing with excitement when you walk outside to meet Hazel. She’s already sitting in her car. Her expression makes it look like she feels absolutely defeated, but it melts away into a dreamy daze as soon as she lays eyes on you. 

Hazel puts on a playlist that she says she made just for the two of you, and it makes your heart flutter. 

As Hazel drives you notice her glancing over at you every chance she gets. It makes you wonder if something is wrong with your hair and makeup.

“What?” You ask her nervously.

Hazel raises one eyebrow and tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Did I forget to brush part of my hair or something?” You anxiously bite your lip.

“No!” she yells and it makes you jump a little.

“Not at all!” She says in a softer tone, trying to recover. “You just… you just look, like, amazing.”

You play with your hair to distract from the warm blush you feel creeping across your face. “Awe, thanks Haze. I just wanted to look nice I guess.”

“It’s just Chilli’s.” God, this girl is so oblivious. 

“I know, it’s just that…” you huff and decide maybe you shouldn’t say anything. “Never mind.”

“Cmon, just tell me,” Hazel groans dramatically to make you laugh. Then she pokes your arm. “You can tell me anything.”

“I just wasn’t sure if this was like, I don’t know, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, a date?” You cover your face with your hands because you are so embarrassed. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Hazel’s comforting voice reassures you.”I was scared to call it a date, but I really really want it to be a date.” You uncover your face as your jaw drops all the way to the floor. The anticipation is killing you until she finally says “so if you want this to be… it’s definitely a date.”

“For real?” You are practically bouncing up and down in your seat. 

“Yeah of course babe,” she smiles looking over at you, putting her hand on your leg. It makes you so happy that you aren’t even concerned about how that might make her bad driving even worse. 

You put your hand on top of hers for a reality check, to know that this is actually happening, and not a dream. “I can’t believe this is really a date.”

“Me either. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Hazel really should be looking at the road more but you are enjoying her attention too much. 

“Probably not as long as I have.”

Her face is lit up by her smiling and laughing, she is shining like the sun. “I doubt it. Let’s just say it’s been a really long time. But no need to compete here, right? I know I’m winning either way.”

You nod in agreement. “Very true.”

The rest of the car ride isn't awkward per say, but you're both very nervous, in a cute way. Instead of trying to force a conversation while processing everything,  you take the time to appreciate the playlist that Hazel made, and sing along to the familiar songs. The songs that you don’t know are poetically sweet. 

This is actually happening. You absolutely wanted this to be a date, and you prepared by looking good. But emotionally? You never bothered to hype yourself up for this, like a FOOL. You start nervously picking at your cuticles. 

When the car comes to a stop you finally have the nerve to look back over at Hazel. She’s already looking over at you, her face is excited more than anything else, but she still has a death grip on the steering wheel. 

“Are- are you ready to go inside?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, looking at Hazel's white knuckles. She finally realizes what she’s doing and quickly places her hands in her lap and nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

Hazel walks a few steps ahead so she can hold the door open for you, and when the hostess brings you to your table she pulls out your chair. 

You start looking down at the menu to see what you want. When looking up at Hazel to ask if she has any ideas, she hasn’t even picked up her menu yet, she’s just watching you, starry eyed.

You giggle and point to the menu “aren’t you going to look at that?”

“I’d rather look at you,” she mumbles and leans her head on her hand. 

You put down your own menu. “Oh come on Hazel, really?”

“I’m totally serious. I’m finally on a date with the most amazing, beautiful, girl in the world. How am I supposed to focus on anything else?”

You study her face, making sure that you can picture her like this from now on and forever. “You really are just the cutest human to ever exist.”

Hazel sits back up and drops both her hands to the table. “Me?”

“Yes you! Just look at you! You are so sweet and funny and compassionate and empathetic, just anything you could ever want in a...” The waitress cuts you off. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” She asks and sets down a bowl of chips and salsa. 

It’s very difficult to even think about what you want to drink.  You almost called Hazel your girlfriend. No matter how bad you want her to be, you are happy that you didn’t. It’s too scary to say out loud, even though you’ve been married for years in your head. Verbalizing it would make it real, and real things hurt much worse if they don’t work out. 

Hazel is looking at you, clearly hanging on to every word you say, wondering how that sentence was supposed to end. 

“I’ll have a, uh, lemonade,” you tell the waitress without looking away from Hazel, your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted, dying to utter one last word that would change your life forever. 

“And for you?” It doesn’t even seem like Hazel heard that.

You smile awkwardly at the waitress and tell her “sprite.” She nods at you confused, “I’ll have that right out for you.”

When she is walking away Hazel finally notices that the waitress was there at all, and she looks a little embarrassed. 

She starts adjusting the collar of her shirt, even though it looks fine, so you ask, “do you uh, want an appetizer?”

You can tell she is still longing to continue your previous conversation, but you just aren’t ready for that right now. She doesn’t even bother to look at the menu. “I’m good with chips and salsa. But if you want something I’ll share it.”

“I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.” That’s because nerves are fluttering in your stomach. 

“Me neither,” Hazel smiles shyly. 

You shift around the way you are sitting to try and expel some of the nerves. Hazel mirrors you, moving around as well, settling with one knee tucked under her. You start to eat some chips and salsa, trying to collect your thoughts, before looking back at the menu. 

“I can’t decide between the honey chipotle  chicken tenders and the chicken bacon ranch quesadilla,” you sigh. 

“Why don’t you just get both?”

“I’m not hungry enough for an appetizer Haze,” you giggle, “I’m definitely not hungry enough to eat two dinners.”

“I don’t know what I want so we can just get what you want and share it.”

“Hazeeeeee,” you drag out, sounding almost a bit whiny. “Don’t be silly, just order what you want, I can flip a coin or something.”

Hazel slides her menu over towards you and looks away from it. “I just want you to have what you want. Besides, we always like the same things anyways.”

You place your menu on top of hers. “Fine, but you have to pick next time so that we are even.”

“Works for me,” she hums in approval. The two of you are just staring at each other, wondering where to take the conversation from here. 

Next thing you know the waitress is putting down your drinks and taking your dinner order. 

Hazel finally looks like she’s gotten herself together after your earlier conversation. 

“I can’t believe you dumped water on PJ’s bag,” she laughs after the waitress takes the order and walks away. 

“That bitch had it coming. I hate the way her and Josie brush you off, like they are better than you. They take you for granted, who do they think they are?”

Hazel bites her lip and looks down glumly. “I guess I’m just used to being treated that way.”

You cross your arms over your chest and sneer, “Well anyone that treats you like that has to answer to me now.”

Hazel laughs, even though you are very serious. “Are you going to beat up everyone that doesn’t treat me right?”

“Yes, actually.”

“If that’s the case I will punch your ex in the face if I ever get the chance.”

“That’s a deal.”

You wouldn’t call it gossiping, it’s more like discussing, when you start talking about the unfortunate relationship circumstances of other girls in the club. Like how does Isabelle put up with Jeff? Is Brittany single because she is too attached to Isabelle?

The rest of dinner goes well, and you listen to the playlist Hazel made on the car ride home.

She walks you to your front door and gives you a hug. With her arms still wrapped around your waist she pulls the upper part of her body away from you to take a good look at your face. Hey eyes wander over you dreamily until they stop on your lips. As she leans in you close your eyes, only for her to press her soft lips to your cheek. 

#hazel callahan #hazelcallahan #bottoms hazel #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan bottoms #hazel callahan brainrot #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazelfanfic #hazel x reader #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan oneshot #hazel callahan x fem reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x fem!reader #hazel from bottoms #hazel callahan master list #bottoms fanfic #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #bottoms x reader

[thesapphicsoldier]

Do you guys have any recommendations for a live action show that has a main and/or significant sapphic couple? I’m starved 😭

#I’m only saying live action because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen basically every sapphic cartoon #but PLEASE comment/tag anything you have!! #bonus points it has a heartstopper vibe #but that’s not necessary #just something with a good plot that has a sapphic ship involving the main character and/or a sapphic ship with a lot of screen time #sapphic #sapphic ship #wlw #wlw ship #wlw ships #f/f ship #sapphic representation #wlw representation #lesbian #nblw #sapphic shows #wlw shows #jamie posts random stuff

[royalarchivist]

With over 20 members currently on the QSMP and more on the way, it's almost impossible for a single person to stay up to date on everything that happens, even with help from QSMP's official Twitter recap accounts.

For people who are interested in QSMP's story, characters, and/or streamers but don't have time to watch hundreds of hours worth of VODs, I've created the QSMP VOD Timestamp Archive.

If there's a particular lore moment you missed live and can't find, search for it in the archive!

Timestamps include quotes, notable lore events, and funny interactions. Interesting or important moments from each stream are bolded for emphasis. I'm also adding short summaries for lore-heavy / eventful stream.

I've organized the document so it should be easy to navigate, and you can CTRL + F to search for specific streamers and/or events.

Complete VOD playlists, recaps, and additional resources are also included in the document for people who might be feeling overwhelmed by the amount of QSMP content out there. It's never too late to get into the series!

If you have a streamer you watch consistently, consider writing down important timestamps to help fellow fans! You don’t have to take detailed notes like mine – even one or two timestamps can be a real lifesaver. If you have any helpful timestamps you want added to the list (or even a 1 sentence summary of a particular stream), send it to me via DM so I can add it to the archive.

I am just one person, so unfortunately this archive is by no means comprehensive, but I'm constantly updating things and adding more streams and timestamps to the document. I've been working on this project for a while now, so even though it's not complete, I hope people find it useful!

[ VOD Timestamp Archive ]

#QSMP #Quackity #QSMP Resource #QSMP Masterpost #QSMP VOD Timestamp Archive #Also I saw the comments and tags y'all left on yesterday's post... thank you.... #That made me smile a lot :') #It's nice getting feedback and it's nice knowing my stuff is helping people #I know most of the people featured here are the same 5-6 people I'm trying to diversify but good god there's so many frickin streamers on th #I wanna watch Maxo more but his streaming schedule doesn't match up with mine very often #also. My Spanish needs work. #But I'm giving it my best shot! #Also if you have any feedback or suggestions on the organizations please let me know #I'm going to try and start linking to the official QSMP stream summaries they post each day #and then I'll retroactively add those to past streams #because god fobid you try and find anything on Twitter #after 24 hours its wiped off the face of the earth practically

[citrushomie]

gumiku as this photo i found on pinterest

#arts #hatsune miku #gumi megpoid #vocaloid #gumiku #thats all my tags anyway the link is to the pinterest pin i got the pic from #BUT if you go in the comments someone says its ai generated. youd have to be shit for brains to think that anyway i know they say that #because of the chinese text in the bottom right thats common in ai images but thats not any ai program watermark #that is a watermark of an app called xiaohongshu (小红书) that pinterest users steal from commonly. idk who those people are #i dont even know if theyre in a band or anything i didnt get that far. i dont know if that ID is even to their original upload. #if anyone is bored enough to want to find out please let me know. thanks for reading i feel insane about that. mostly because #of that one person who says its ai. you stupid idiot its not ai look at it with your eyes. its not even high quality. anyway

[guinevereslancelot]

babe would you still love me if we were superheroes and you were in danger and i went absolutely bonkers and crossed every moral boundary imaginable to protect you at literally any cost?

#would you still love me if i was covered in blood for you? #anywayyyy more superheros going of the fucking deep end for love thanks <3333 #this isn't based in anything in particular unfortunately i would simply like to see it #anyway.....people compromising their morals for love!!! doing the wrong thing for selfish reasons!!! #too many people commenting on my betrayal post think its about ur lover changing your mind/making you realize u were wrong #no!!! its about choosing the wrong side in purpose!!! going against ur beliefs bc u love someone more than ur conscience #KNOWING its wrong but doing it anyway in absolute AGONY because what other choicebdo you have!!! #anyway <3 #sacrifice ur soul for ur lover or don't waste their time #this has been a shitpost #please tag your blorbos <3 #ig this is lowkey and anidala post but i want the superhero version please and also without the totally implosion of the ship and hero #i want the good guy lover to live with the weight of his sins knowing he can never atone but he would make all the same choices again 🤌 #devotion to your lover above everything!! past the point of redemption or the ability to forgive yourself!!! #(this is good when the lover is horrified but better when they forgive their lover for the atrocities committed for their own sake) #otp dynamic fr #worm discourse

[flowering-darkness]

okay actually these can go here as well (picrew linked here)

My selfship with Clio (using Lorenza):

..versus my selfship with Zero (again, using Lorenza):

..Suffice it to say I have quite the range of vibes =P

#heart of the void #selfshipping #love: crown of clovers (clio) #FFXIV!clio #selfship: wayward inflorescence (clio/lorenza) #self‑insert: void‑kissed princess (lorenza) #and then also #love: final memoriate (zero) #selfship: in a land forever strange (zero/lorenza) #again with lorenza #of shards and crystal (final fantasy) #creations from the void #though I should stress I did not *draw* these; the picrew I used to make them is linked in the post #so you can reblog or comment on these as you wish I don't mind. but I didn't draw them! #please let me know if this should be tagged with anything #I will walk in and place down my lore point that lorenza's blood is black and then walk directly back out again #the one with clio was supposed to be set earlier on in the story (hence why lorenza is still covering her eyes + doesn't have her crown) #..but then I gave clio her eye scar which she doesn't get until the end of shadowbringers. so. whatever. it can be a mix =P

[thedeadthree]

-`. TAG LIST POST ❦

i cannot recall to save my life if i did this yet but i thought it would be cute (and helpful for my brain sizjzj) to join in with the besties and make a post for y’all if you wish to be tagged in oc content / tag games / quizzes/picrews / edits / etc !!!!!!!

#leg.txt #*personal #please feel free to like or comment if you wish to be added! and please be welcome to ask to be tagged in anything in particular! 🌸💕 #i have a few edits and things in mind and thought this would be cute to do! #i have seen a few mutuals and besties do this and thought this would be helpful for my brain in remembering and things 🌸💕🥹 #and i miss being here and hope to be more present and post more and create again 🌸💕🥹😭✨✨ i miss creating !!!!!! #i hope y’all are doing well !!!!!!! #i have the memory of a goldfish and can’t recall if i did this yet (i feel it in my soul that i did zizjjxjx) but just in case !!

[corrodedcoughin]

Eddie does that thing where you turn your eyelids inside out (it’s actually what hellfire club use instead of a secret handshake). Steve screamed the first time he saw Eddie, dustin, Lucas and Mike pull the ‘handshake’ out when Steve was trying to take a group photo of them

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #henderdads #me waking up in the middle of the night to post a hc then fade Back into sleep? #well apparently that’s my symptoms of withdrawing from my antidepressants #it’s going to get SILLY #hope you all had a nice weekend #(btw I hope it’s clear that any post/tag/thing I reblog is an invitation to send me an ask/message/comment #abt anything you want I won’t have Steddie nation feeling lonely or ignored 😤 #but like if you are a minor I’m legit an old man I’m in my late twenties please look after yourself I am not here to make u uncomfy) #idk it’s 3am I am not making sense but that’s not new