#like i get stressed watching my own hand write certain letters

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day five)

summary; after getting caught up in a certain tradition, you and az face the outcome on the other side.

word count; 11,036

notes; kick your feet and giggle fluff. you've been warned.

You watched carefully as the wax before you melted, hands joined and propped under your chin, watching as glittery black beads slowly began to pale, swirls of silver sparkling throughout like the night sky. Sitting beside you, signing addresses onto all of the cards you’d spent the morning writing together. 

The candle flickered, casting shadows across the room as the wax continued to soften, and Azriel pushed the final folded letter towards the pile you’d created. 

“Staring at that wax awful hard, you got a lot on your mind?” You could only hum, turning to face him and watching the sparkle in his eyes as the flame flickered behind you. The truth was quite the opposite. There was nothing on your mind. 

For what felt like the first time in a very, very long time, you were entirely at peace. No unmitigated anxieties or lingering problems, no stressful scenarios or job lists to be ticked off the following day. This morning, when you woke up once again tangled in Azriel’s arms, his face almost tucked into your neck, you were happy.

There had been a crumple from his pillow along his cheek that had lasted the entirety of your shared breakfast, his hair still messy even now, as a second hour passed and the unmade bedsheets had grown cold. You’d been waiting for an update on the storm situation, after dragging open the curtains only to find the glass entirely frosted over, stacked over halfway up with snow. 

The fire had been burning steadily since, the logs crackling as the room was flooded with warmth. 

“Wanna’ talk about it?” He raised a hand, brushing one knuckle over the back of your cheek, his brows dipping in confusion. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Az. I’m just happy.” A smile tugged at the edges of Azriel’s lips even if his brows dipped further. “I slept so well. I woke up, with no stress, no worries, just happy.”

“Shadowsinger, spymaster, dreamcatcher. It has quite a ring to it.” He murmured, your scoff breaking the quiet between you both, and it quickly descended into giggles. 

“I was thinking it was more this vacation, thank you very much.” Turning back to inspect the wax, it was just short of two hot, your lips pursing to blow out a thin stream of air to extinguish the candle, as he let out a pained moan, clutching his heart. 

“You mean it’s not my fantastic cuddling? I’m so offended.” Your eyes rolled, laying out a series of letters before yourself and scooping up the bowl, a small serving of molten wax dripping onto the paper before yourself. “Fine, since my services aren’t needed, I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“You do that. You snore anyway.” You passed the latter across to him, watching as he tugged free the ring from his thumb, a signet ring with his initial sitting firmly in the centre alongside the Night Court crest, a gift from Rhysand, so long ago. “Maybe now I’ll actually get some sleep.”

Stamping shut the first letter, he gasped, smothering his chuckle and accepting the second latter you sent his way, peeling the ring away carefully only to mark the next, a system forming between you both. “Oh, that’s how you want to play it?”

“I’m merely stating facts.” You both knew it was a lie, Azriel was as stealthy in his sleep as he was awake, snoozing so quietly beside you that you’d miss him in the dark, shrouded by his shadows for protection, if he wasn’t wrapped around you. He may be silent in his sleep, but he wasn’t still.

When he slept, you’d found Azriel would still hold you tight. If you moved, he moved, his body followed your own, seeking you out even subconsciously, keeping as much of you pressed to him as possible. Wandering hands, clinging touches, needy caresses. 

Azriel, the feared shadowsinger, was a sleep cuddler.

“Alright. Well, maybe I’ll actually get some sleep, without all your twitching. Did you know you move around when you sleep, you’re a vivid dreamer.” He shot back, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. 

“I know, I can’t help it, I have some pretty thrilling dreams about Cassian.” His jaw dropped, and you could see it out of the corner of your eye as you dripped wax onto the final letter, swirling it around into a perfect circle for him to stamp. As he took the letter, he snatched it with a huff, your victory only sitting stronger over him.

“Wait ‘til I tell Nesta.” His final comment was an unofficial surrender to the battle of wit, and he scowled at you as you glanced up, turning to face him in your chair. 

“Who says Nesta’s not in those dreams too? Maybe I need two, I’m a lot to handle.”

“Don’t I know it.” His voice was low, so low you almost missed it, innuendo laced through his words that you didn't quite understand, but you weren’t given much time to contemplate it. A knock at the door broke you from your thoughts, the sound bouncing around the inside of the room, and excitement spiked within your chest. 

The last knock had been merely to collect your breakfast dishes, a promise soon of an update on the weather conditions and your plans for the day, your feet flying cross the floor to receive it as Azriel followed closely behind. He all but crashed into your back as you paused at the door, swinging it open, to reveal Viv standing on the other side.

Pressing up behind you, Azriel’s heat flooded across your back, wings wrapping around you a little, and the woman glanced between you both, the smile on her lips only growing as she took you in. You felt underdressed somehow, even though she was in pyjamas just the same as your own, hair braided neatly over one shoulder, she still somehow managed to look regal, even in sweatpants. 

“We’re snowed in.” 

It was the exact news you’d been expecting, and yet as she truly confirmed it, your heart sank a little. The weather was always going to be unpredictable, at this time of year, in this Court especially, and yet with so little time here, you didn’t want to miss a single day. As if sensing your disappointment, Azriel ran his hand comfortingly down your spine, before settling it on your hip with a squeeze. 

Vivianne wrung her hands together, but never dropped her smile, only letting it become more conspiratorial. “Kal and I were thinking it would be fun to have a game day. Very informal, we can stay in our pyjamas and make snacks. Most of the staff will be out of the palace helping to clear the roads and pathways to the town, the palace is quite low on the priority list for that. Are you feeling up to it?”

“Can we make hot chocolate?” Azriel’s deep voice echoed from above you, a chuckle spilling from Vivianne’s lips, and you turned to look at him, brows raising, and he only shrugged as he looked down at you. “Don’t act like you didn’t know I have a sweet tooth, sugar.”

A blush flared over your cheeks at the nickname, and you rolled your eyes to cover its effect, turning back to your friend instead. “You had me at snacks, and apparently, had Azriel at hot chocolate. We’re in.”

“Fantastic.” Her hands clapped together, excitement clear as day. “Shall we meet at the base of the stairs in a couple of minutes, then?”

You agreed, the door closing a second later, and as you backed away from it, your body pressed into Azriel’s, forcing him to back up with you. As your body came up to his own, the hand on your hip slipped all the way around your waist, tugging you in a spin as he turned towards the bed, your feet leaving the floor, and a giggle leaving your lips. 

“Azriel! Put me down!”

Your toes nudged at the floor, scraping as you kicked, but he wasn’t letting go until he was throwing you down onto the bed, your body bouncing as he passed you by. You rolled across the still unmade sheets, scrabbling to get back at him, and he only grinned wickedly as he closed the door connecting your rooms in your face, holding the handle firmly against you on the other side. 

“Hey! You brute!”

“That was for teasing me before Vivianne came to the door. You wanna’ talk about Cass, I’ll treat you like Cass would.” Your cheeks flushed with heat, palm slapping against the door, but there was no stopping the laughter that spilled from your lips. Cassian had never been shy about his manhandling, whether it be throwing you and Nesta around in training, lifting you out of his way in the Townhouse’s narrow corridors, or simply throwing you over his shoulder when you were too drunk to stumble home from Rita’s. 

Backing away from the door and mumbling under your breath, his own muted laughter on the other side of the door faded away as you both prepared for the day. You straightened out your bedsheets from their crumpled positions, a hand smoothing across your oversized t-shirt on your way to the bathroom. 

By the time you’d finished washing your face and combing your hair, you found Azriel lounging on your bed, lay across it on his stomach, tapping his fingers in boredom as he waited. He’d changed his pyjamas, a new pair of black sweatpants and a matching black t-shirt, which hugged his shoulders unfairly tightly and was almost strained around the thick biceps on display.

“I just made that bed.”

“Oh, because beds can never be remade. How much money you must be wasting buying new sheets every single day.” He mumbled, sliding down to the floor and tugging pathetically on one corner to smooth out the wrinkles, and you scoffed through a laugh as you made your way over to get a pair of fluffy socks from the drawer. You’d only brought a few pairs, not expecting to ever actually wear them outside of the bedroom, and you dug around for the best pair as Azriel shuffled over to join you. “Can I borrow a pair of those?”

You glanced down at his feet, noting the grey socks he already wore. “You’ve got socks on.”

“Yeah, but these look cosier.” He snatched out a pair of pale blue ones, with sparkly thread throughout, and you snatched them right back before he could get too attached. “Hey! Sharing is caring.”

“You’ll stretch them out with your big fuckin’ feet! You’re already ruining a perfectly good t-shirt with your shoulders.” He dropped a look down at himself, flexing his chest and arms unnecessarily. 

“Thanks for noticing.”

“I was insulting you.” You spat back, tongue sticking out, and he only hummed.

“You have to be looking to have noticed anything to insult.” He tapped on the tip of your nose, and you turned away from him, hopping a little as you tugged each sock onto your feet, wiggling your toes and letting him balance you with a hand on each shoulder. When your feet were taken care of, you only had your arms to take care of now, not being gifted with the same resistance to the cold that Azriel was, and you swiped up a hoodie that was lying over the back of the couch. 

It was in your hands for barely two full seconds, before he was pulling it away. 

“That’s mine.”

“Wha- give it back! I’m cold.” He only shrugged, hanging it over his arm, and his eyes twinkled with unknown mischief as you spluttered. “You’re not even using it!”

“So? You’re not using the fluffy blue socks, and yet you won’t let me have those. If I must get frostbite, you get hypothermia.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, unwanting to give in, but you were stubborn. You’d set your heart on that jumper now, and when his cheeky smile grew, you were willing to give in just to stop it getting any wider. “Fine! You can wear the blue socks. I guess I’ll use them as a sleeping bag on my next mission away, when you’ve ruined them!”

He handed over the jumper with a beam, lifting it to your head and hanging it around your neck, before leaving you to do the arms as he retrieved the socks. After successfully shoving his feet into them and tucking them under the cuffs of his pants, he offered you his hand, wiggling his fingers at you and taking your palm. 

Tugging you along and out of the room, Vivianne and Kallias were already gathered at the bottom of the steps when you reached them. Viv was chatting excitedly, while Kal simply watched his wife, tucking a stray strand of white hair behind her ear before cutting her rambling off with a sweet kiss. 

Your heart clenched, and Azriel’s hand squeezed your own. Perhaps he felt the same way, the same happiness but sadness, the balance of adoration for your friends at finding one another, but longing for yourself. It would be nice to not feel so alone in those emotions.

Azriel rustled his wings, a subtle sound but loud enough to gain their attention, both of them pulling apart just to look up, smiling widely as they saw you. “Sorry, we got caught. Had to kiss, I’m afraid.”

Viv shrugged, and Kallias only chuckled, even as his pale cheeks grew pink, and you came to a stop before them, brows raising. “You got caught?”

“Under the mistletoe.” She said, like that cleared anything up, and she pointed over your heads, to the sparkly sprig of greenery hanging from the high archway. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you have weeds growing in your house.” Azriel supplied, and you waved a hand idly in the direction of his body, a soft ‘oof’ leaving him as you smacked his solid stomach, and he nudged you with your linked arms in return. “That wasn’t there last night.”

“It’s magic mistletoe,” Kallias added, the confusion only growing more, and you gasped as you watched it disappear from over your heads, fading away in a puff of glittering white. “It moved around all over the palace, we have several set up. I’m surprised you haven’t seen any yet.”

“I warded their rooms,” Vivianne explained, taking her husband’s hand much the same way Azriel held your own, guiding you along halls you had yet to venture down, leaving you and your companion to follow after her in confusion. 

“It's a tradition here in Winter.” Kal glanced over his shoulder, shrugging a little. “You hang mistletoe at Christmas, and if you get caught under it with someone, you have to kiss them.”

“But it’s just a poisonous plant?” Azriel spoke, and wanted to roll your eyes, swearing he wasn’t cut out for a life as a courtier, if it wasn’t for the pale-haired man’s laugh at his bluntness. Somehow, Azriel seemed to have won Kallias over, the two making for fast friends. 

“I know.”

“So, why? What's the story there?” You pressed a little more, curiosity biting in deep, and as Vivianne threw open a set of double doors to an impressive, empty kitchen, she spun to you with a smile. 

“How about I tell you all about it while we bake?”

She gathered pots and pans, various ingredients were produced which Kallias was quick to take from her hands, measuring the quantities himself and beginning to divide them up, as you gathered around the central island ready to hear the story. 

“It all started with the goddess of love, and her favourite child. He was the god of light.”

“Doesn’t it always start with a god, or love, or both?” Azriel mused, brushing his lips over your hairline to hide his amusement, your cheeks flushing as Viv only watched him, a gentler smile pulling on her features as he left a kiss on your hair. 

“She loved her son so much that she wanted to protect him against everything, so that he could never be harmed.” As Kallias handed her a bowl, and passed one to Azriel too, she began to tell you of the goddess, of the God of Sunlight’s adventures, his highs and lows that led him to need such protection. 

She spun a fascinating tale, you were so caught up in it that you could barely stir your own mixture, tipping the chocolate chips into the batter when it was ready without ever taking your eyes from her. 

“So, she spoke to every animal, and person, and plant. She made everything pledge to never harm him, to protect him at all costs, but she forgot pretty little mistletoe.” She tutted, your heart beating and hand stilling in the bowl as the true excitement of her folklore tale began. Azriel took the bowl, from you, pulling it closer to himself to keep the work going, and you only leaned closer to his side in silent thanks as you continued to listen. 

“So mistletoe killed him because it was forgotten?”

“A trickster killed him.” She corrected, wagging a finger at you for your impatience. “One of the tricksters realised her mistake, and fashioned an arrow out of mistletoe. That arrow was shot straight into his heart, and he died.”

“But why did the trickster do it?”

“Why do tricksters do anything?” To cause chaos. The Night Court had much mythology of its own, regarding tricksters and demons and things that go ‘bump’ in the night, all revolving around making sure children behaved. 

This story was shaping up to have a far more romantic notion. 

She took a break there, leaving you to hang in suspense as the four of you worked to divide gather and shape up cookies, fling tray after tray in the oven until you had more snacks than you’d possibly be able to eat. She was loading pots into the sink for later, Kallias setting a timer on the ovens, and Azriel was leaning back against the counter. 

Tugging you closer to him, his arms banded around your body as your back met his chest, his chin propping on the top of your head as he spoke; “So, how does any of that make a tradition about kissing?”

You let out a steady breath at his question, the cliffhanger you’d been left on finally coming to an end, and you settled your arms atop his as you leaned back into him, both eager to hear the rest of the story. 

“The goddess was distraught, her favourite child had died. But she was a goddess of love, she did not seek revenge. Instead, she cried to the mistletoe, and her tears made white berries grow. When her son died, he took the sunlight with him, and so came the long days of Winter. He died at what you call Winter solstice, and what we call Christmas.”

Kallias joined the pair of you, slinging an arm around her waist. You felt like a child as she spoke of all the changes, of the way mistletoe began to grow, of the goddess seeking out every last shoot of it.

“She enchanted that too, to be the strongest love of all, that anybody caught underneath it should embrace one another in love, not anger or pain. Even enemies on the battlefield would put down their weapons and embrace, and call a truce for that day.”

“Cassian will be thrilled, we’ll buy him enough for a farm, and he can kiss all of our foes into submission.” Your joke brought laughter from them all, but the deep laughter by your ear was the one that left you breathless, a warm puff of air over your cheek. It terrified you, feeling so comfortable in his embrace, it made you want to run, and yet, it also made you want to stay. Hearing a tale of love, wrapped in his arms, leaving you breathless and your heart racing.

“After that, it became a symbol of love. New relationships would share their first kiss underneath it, for good luck. Married couples,” She gave a glance at her husband, who only placed his lips on her forehead in response, “kiss under it to maintain a happy marriage. Parents kiss their newborns to show them their love. It is tradition. You can never be angry under the mistletoe, and you must always show your love.”

“Perhaps we should take some home with us, let Elain grow it. It would make such a lovely addition to Solstice.” 

Azriel only hummed in agreement, clearly contemplating it, and your reverie was broken by the first of the timers going off. The smell of sugar and baked goods filled the air as soon as the door was open, steam pouring out as Kallias’ gloved hand retrieved the first tray, perfectly baked cookies steaming on the metal sheet. 

Together, the four of you worked, scooping up treats from trays to plates, icing and decorating as they cooled, hot chocolate being made, dishes washed, and the kitchen cleaned, until you were all ready to go for your game day.

You gathered the last of the gingerbread cookies, piling them up onto a plate with your poorly decorated chocolate chip cookies and some pastries, Kallias took the large platter from your hands. As you stared at it, it became more and more obvious why none of your career paths had veered towards baking. It was a sad attempt, but it was fun nonetheless, and as long as they were edible, you’d have fun.

Kallias led the way with the food, Viv following quickly after him as she attempted to snatch a cookie from the tray as he swept it out of her reach, the two bickering as they walked. Turning to your best friend, a laugh bubbled up in your throat when your gaze landed on him. 

“What?”

“You’ve got icing on your face.” 

He dipped his head, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, utterly failing to get the smudge of blue icing from his skin. He rubbed again upon seeing your lips pinch to hide a smile, failing again, and your eyes rolled fondly. 

Reaching up to him, your hand sat on his jaw, one thumb swiping over his skin to clear it away, the back of your pointer catching any last smears, and he smiled softly, letting you work. When you pulled your hand away, he had a tissue ready, wiping your finger clean and tossing the ball into the trash. 

“Ready to kick some ass at board games?”

“Az, I was born for this.” Your serious look made him laugh, head tipping back, hand settling comfortably on your lower back as he began to guide you through the halls. The palace was huge, far too big for you to properly learn your way around after only five days, but this route was one you were beginning to know well. Following the joyous chatter of Kallias and Vivianne until the light of the sitting area was spilling out, you let their voices guide you, Azriel’s hand never leaving your back. 

As you rounded the doorway, Vivianne held up her hands, eyes wide and arms extended, a yell on her lips that brought you crashing to a half, Azriel slamming into your back and both of you almost tumbling over. 

“What?” You burst, eyes scanning the immediate area for danger, guard flying back up from where you’d let it slip over the last few days. When you found nothing, you looked back to her, but instead of finding fear, you saw the excitement on her face.

“Look up!” She beamed, your heart thudding nervously in your chest and your eyes slowly travelling up, head tipping back to examine the doorframe above you. Hanging there above your heads was a green sprig of mistletoe, one you know wasn’t there before, and both Kallias and Viv stared innocently with smiles on their faces. Viv’s was wider, Kallias’ was merely indulging, adoring of his wife, and you knew she was behind this. 

Your heart gave another hard thud as you watched Azriel observe it from the corner of your eye. A soft laugh spilt from your lips as you turned to face him fully, his sweet smile setting a wave of reassurance spreading through your chest, and his brows raised a little. His shadows were beginning to swirl up a little higher, over his shoulders and around his head, a tell that he was nervous, and he gave a small shrug. 

“S’okay. It’s just a tradition, right?” Your heart ached a little in your chest at the tone of his voice, something self-loathing and worried in there, just loud enough for you to make out, private from your audience. You refused to believe that after these nights of cuddling, these near-miss moments and the feeling of waking up in his arms, that Azriel didn’t know how you felt. The inkling of doubt in your chest was quickly quashed when you made your decision.

Stepping closer, close enough to throw your arms around his neck and pull yourself up to a more even height, Azriel’s hands steadied you at your waist as his eyes widened a fraction, lips parting in shock. 

“It’s not just for the tradition, Az.” You whispered, before pressing your lips against his own, anxiety thrumming through your body like electric currents, fear taking over every nerve. His hands on your hips tightened, frozen still for just a second, before he was melting against you. Tugging you closer, his hands smoothed around to your lower back instead, a low sound leaving him, muffled between your mouths as he returned your fragile kiss. 

His lips were soft, so much softer than you’d expected, giving and taking as his nose bumped clumsily against your own, learning something entirely new between yourselves. He caught on quickly, though, pulling back barely an inch to take a breath, before twisting his head to the side, and letting his lips find your own once again. Rocking you back to lean over you, your feet sunk to the floor comfortably. 

As the nervousness died away, a smile formed on your lips, despite their current occupation with his own. Filled with burning love and utter devotion, your heart gave one final, steady beat, before something jolted, snapping like an anchor to the ocean floor or a rock through ice, grounding you to the moment with such force that you pulled back with a gasp. 

Emotions that weren’t your own came flooding in, a mirror image of something else, and when your gaze fluttered up to Azriel’s, he only smiled, brushing his thumb over your face, and staring at you like you’d hung the very moon in the sky. 

You knew what that feeling was, you’d waited all your life for it, and apparently, it was no shock to Azriel as he pushed another wave of affection down it towards you. Flicking a glance over to Viv and Kal, Azriel seemed to take the hint, the smile never leaving his face as he let you go. To be discussed later, when you were alone. This was not a moment for anyone else. 

With a final kiss left on your cheek, he stepped back, your cheeks burned hot, shock and surprise now all you could feel, and everything else felt numb. Everything except for where Azriel laced his fingers with your own, much more competent and stable as he tugged you along and into the living room, to the set up of board games and snacks. 

Sinking down onto the floor on one side of the large coffee table, cushions had been laid out, and Azriel took a seta net to you, wings comfortably spreading out across the floor behind him as Vivianne and Kal sat down opposite you. Pulling out the first board game, your hostess jumped into an explanation of it, but your mind was still spinning, utterly disconnected from the moment and in shock as you tried to put it aside. 

Mate.

It was like the word was bouncing around the inside of your skull, every heartbeat sending another echo of it to follow. A bloom of amusement inside your chest, a follow emotion that felt like smoke you could wave your hand through, not tangible like your own, and you’d have to get used to the feeling of… him.

His hand reached out, settling over your thigh and squeezing in gentle comfort, never taking his eyes off of Vivianne as she laid out all the pieces and explained the rules. Staring down at the large, scarred limb sitting so comfortably on your leg, nothing about it felt wrong. Azriel had always been affectionate with you, but openly showing a new level of intimacy, you’d have expected at least some level of weirdness, a period of adjustment. 

But nothing.

Reaching out carefully, you traced a finger over the back of his knuckles, before slipping the hand down and underneath his own, his fingers widening to link with yours. When your hands were laced together fully, he did turn to look at you, raising your hand to his face and pressing a kiss to the back of it, another one to your temple, before turning his attention back to the game. 

It was so simple, so settled, so right. 

Your mind, at last, went silent, because it was like the final puzzle piece had fallen into place, and at last, you could see the whole picture.

Azriel had opted to take a shower as you’d come back to the room, leaving you alone to your thoughts for the first time since your kiss, and they were drowning you. If you paced anymore, you were sure you were going to burn a hole right through the floor and fall throughout the palace.

There was obviously a conversation to be had, there was a bond sitting between your chests, one you were trying very hard not to let be tainted with your anxieties, and yet Azriel’s side was suspiciously quiet. You’d expected more from him, if he truly did already know about the bond between you both, and he was as happy as you believed him to be based on his actions, then why was it so silent?

Finally coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, you stared into the flames, listening to the logs crackle and pop as they burned, trying not to let your worries and insecurities build up once again. Time slipped away from you, the room around you melted into nothing, everything becoming a blur as you got lost in your head, only snapping back into focus at the soft clearing of a throat behind you for attention. 

Leaning on the doorway connecting your two rooms was Azriel - your mate, it seemed - his arms crossed over his chest and eyes raised. His hair was still damp, curling a little at the tips that needed trimming, his shadows swirling despite his calm demeanour, mirroring the worry you felt inside visibly. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded far too quickly, a high-pitched hum leaving you, and instead of pacing, your hands now began to fidget in front of your body. He fixed you with a look, one that suggested he didn’t believe you even slightly, and he’d have been able to tell that even without the bond connecting you both. Holding out his hands at hip height and waving his fingers, he silently beckoned you forwards, as if to prompt you. ‘Come here and prove it’, the action said.

Like a magnet, you were drawn towards him, stumbling across the room until his hands were on you once again, a sigh slipping from your lips as he tugged you into his body. The shadows over his head began to clear, until only a couple remained, hanging in thin air near the doorframe in the shape of mistletoe branches and leaves, and despite all your raging emotions, a smile was pulled from you at the notion. 

You were blasting all kinds of nerves, the bond between your bodies all but vibrating as you looked back to him, pink cheeks and a sweet smile, waiting for your response. A wave of comfort came to you, enveloping all that sickening fear and replacing it with adoring warmth, only confirming that he did know it was there, connecting both of your hearts. 

A small, breathless laugh left you at the feeling. You’d have to get used to that. With the sound, he sent another pulse of love, one so deep and unending your knees almost went weak, almost letting you tumble to the ground. Perhaps this was why you’d felt nothing from him, why nothing felt any different. 

This wasn’t new, you’d always felt a connection to Azriel that you couldn't explain, but never in your wildest dreams would you have thought you’d be lucky enough to be his mate. Instead of a sudden snap, or a surprise click, this had been a slow-forming thing, burning hot and bright within you both since the day you’d met, and building up one thread at a time. Unnoticeable as it grew, until it was too strong to ever be broken. 

You’d always been able to read him so well, and he’d known you like he could read your mind. Turns out, it was your heart he could read instead.

Wrapping your arms around his neck once again, he hauled you up against him, supporting your weight as he lifted you onto the tips of your toes, and met you halfway to the kiss. 

Just like before, it was shy and tentative, a new step in your relationship that had to be learnt, and you took it slow. Your mouth moved cautiously against his own, memorising every drag, every feeling of his soft sighs and the sweet sounds he made. It was intoxicating to be so close to him, to indulge in something you’d only ever dreamed of, and for it to feel so normal.

Like you were always meant to be right here, your lips moulded to Azriel’s and hearts beating as one. Nothing had ever compared to this, and nothing ever would. 

Nervous kisses melted away into curiosity. What had once been delicate, his hands sitting steady on your waist, soft presses of his mouth to your own, smiles and bumps as you twisted and learned became smoother. His fingers danced up your spine now to cup the back of your head, your fingers lacing into his hair, and he held you where he wanted you, each kiss getting longer, deeper, lips parting further as you grew bolder. 

Scratching your nails lightly over his scalp, Azriel gave a soft moan, the sound making your head spin and lips part. Given the chance, he sucked your lower lip gently, until you were so dizzy with the feeling that he was all that was holding you up. Twisting you around, your back pressed into the doorframe as he towered over you, one, ragged breath taken before his lips were crashing back down into your own, and it was your turn to moan. 

His tongue slipped between your parted lips, stroking slowly over your own, sensual in a way that made you breathless, letting him suck the air from your very lungs as you tasted him for the first time. It was addictive, the feel of him on you, the taste of him in your mouth, something you never wanted to forget, and never wanted to let go. 

His body was firm against your own, heart beginning to beat faster and faster once again in response to your own as something much fierier began to unfurl in your chest, flames burning hotter and higher together. Dragging his mouth from your own, you were left panting, his lips glistening and eyes dark as he pulled back to take you in, staring as though he’d never seen anything like you before. 

You couldn't take it, the intensity of his love, of his passion, it was too much, and if you were going to have any self-control at all, you had to act. You pulled him back down, until your lips could brush across his lips again in a kiss only designed to be a peck. By the time he was reciprocating, you were moving on, a kiss to his cheek, to his jaw, to his chin, anywhere you could reach, until the heat died down, and a laugh left his lips when you blew air over the ticklish spot below his ear. 

“So, that’s new.” You whisper, placing a kiss on that spot before sinking back down, letting him keep you crowded into the frame, but with your foreheads resting together, eyes closed. 

“Only physically.” He mumbled back, hand sliding away from your hair and down your arm, to link your fingers together instead. “I’ve been kissing you in my dreams for a long time now.”

“That was so cheesy.”

“Get used to it.” His laughter was laced into his tone, and your eyes rolled behind closed lids, but the smile never faded. “You’re the best gift I could have ever asked for.”

At that, your eyes snapped open, the excited gasp on your lips making him follow suit, pulling back to stare curiously. “I got you some really good gifts under the tree. I mean, maybe not as good as a mating bond, but, pretty good.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the look on his face, slipping out from under him and tugging him by your connected hands toward the couches, to which he happily followed. As you gathered the gifts, he winnowed out, returning minutes later with hot chocolates and a bag in hand, and making his way back over to your side. Sinking onto the carpet in front of the fireplace instead, you left him with a single, deep kiss in thanks, before retrieving the mug from his hands, and blowing carefully at the steam.

Marshmallows bobbed across the surface as he took a seat before you, tucked underneath one wing and pressing up to your side. Placing the bag into your lap, you found the remnants of today’s gingerbread cookies, the ones that had been your absolute favourite all day. Your head snapped up, lips parting to ask how he knew, before feeling the tug in your chest at the bond, and your lips closed once again, your answer found. 

As he sipped at his hot chocolate, you paced your own to the side, taking his cheeks in your hands and pulling him close enough to leave a kiss on his lips, his eyes sparkling when you pulled back. 

“What was that for?”

“Just for being you.” For being mine, you added mentally, and warmth rose to his cheeks, painting them a pretty pink in response. Dragging the two stockings across the carpet toward you first, you placed one into his lap, and he discarded his own hot chocolate to take it, watching you do the same. “Open the small ones first.”

He tipped it upside down, sending several small packages tumbling out across the floor, and he lined them up neatly, before picking up the smallest first. Slipping his thumb underneath the wrapping, you watched excitedly as he opened it up, a small box tumbling out. Picking it up, he turned to face you with a smirk, running his thumb over the velvet of it. “A ring box? Baby, it’s been hours since you gave me our first kiss, little soon, no?”

“Oh, shut up.” You blushed, slapping at his arm as he laughed. “I didn’t know when I bought this. Besides, wrong finger.”

Opening it up, sterling silver shone up and caught the light, showing off the engravings inside of snowflakes and Winter Court symbols, as well as the dates of your trip carved onto the inside. Lifting it out, he admired it for a second, before slipping it down onto an unoccupied pinkie, and holding it up to see. “How’d you get it so perfect on the sizing?”

“Sometimes I steal your pinkie ones to wear on my thumbs, so I knew one of mine would fit in reverse.” his gaze moved from his finger to you, lips rolling together to conceal a smile, and just before his mouth opened, the feeling racing down the bond warned you of the kind of comment that was coming. 

“If you wanted me to give you a ring, you shoulda’ just asked.”

“Yes, every girl’s dream is to ask for a proposal.” You scoffed, leaning away from him only to be met with the resistance of his wing, snapping against your back to send you tumbling back into his side. 

“Fine. When the time comes, I’ll surprise you with it, then. Catch you off-guard. But don’t complain now if your engagement memories are all of you in sweatpants or pyjamas. Or better yet, nothing at all.” Licking over his lower lip, he winked, and you groaned, burying your head in your hands, only to enhance his amusement. He reached across you, plucking up one of the gifts from inside your stocking, and balancing it on your knees, before tugging your hands away. “C’mon, you open this one.”

It was in different wrapping paper to all the rest as you scooped it up, and he scratched the back of his neck, smile dimming from amused to shy. “I got you this back home, I was planning to give it to you here anyway.”

You offered a silent oh. Turning back to the small package and tearing it open gently, and allowing a small, woven strand to fall out. About the length of your hand, woven together were blue, silver and black threads, a gem sitting in the middle that was awfully similar to one of Azriel’s siphons, a few silver charms laced throughout it. Tracing your thumb over them, you identified each one. 

A dagger, a heart, a crescent moon, a star, and a wing. 

“What is it?” You were breathless as you admired it, a perfect representation of Azriel, and he took it from your hands carefully. 

“It's… a bracelet. Gwyn likes to make them. I saw her wearing one at training one day and she told me about them. I made it for you. You’re all I ever think about, so, maybe it was selfish, but I wanted you to have something that made you think of me. I wanted you to have something that would make me come to mind when you saw it. You don’t have to wear it, but-”

“What are you talking about?” Thrusting your arm out before him, a sense of relief filled you inside, and his face softened to match the emotion. “Put it on me right now, and when we get home, I’ll have it enchanted to last. I don’t want to take it off, ever.”

“Well, that’s just a little dramatic.” He teased, but did as you said, latching it carefully onto your wrist and tying it tight so it wouldn't slip off by mistake. “You really like it?”

“Like it? Azriel, I love it.” You traced your finger carefully over the woven strands, the silver one showing a little glitter as you examined it even closer, and your cheeks started to hurt from how much smiling you were doing. “For the record, though, you don’t need to give me any gifts or jewellery to be on my mind. You’re living there rent-free already.”

He didn’t reply, turning away to hide the look on his face by selecting another gift instead. 

On and on you went, exchanging gifts and stealing kisses between them, moving through the piles as you opened everything you’d found for one another since arriving. 

You gave him some mystery books, a couple of new notepads and pens, and some various creams and potions. Also on his pile were the enchanted gloves, designed to keep his hands warm, a new dagger sheath with his initials printed in, and a first-aid kit that could fold up small and fit into his bags for missions. Lastly, were a few fidget toys you’d found, his shadows being the true recipients for those, and they were already busily occupying themselves with their new toys, leaving their master to a little peace and quiet. 

That particular gift has been such a hit that Azriel had practically dived atop you, his lips meeting your own as your back met the carpet, giggles swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you passionately enough to convey his thanks. 

His gifts for you included some romance books that he said came highly recommended, accompanying the statement with a smirk. Also in your pile was a new, handmade scarf, with bright colours and soft fabric that you couldn't wait to wear. A bookmark, a couple of candles, and a pair of earrings designed to look like the falling petals of your favourite flower.

He’d received equally passionate kisses for each of those, time melting away around you each time you fell into him. By the time you were finished, you were surrounded by piles of gifts, and bundles of discarded wrapping paper. Empty mugs, an abandoned bag of crumbs as you’d finished the cookies between you, the fire dying down to embers, sorely in need of new logs but utterly neglected as you’d kept one another warm all evening instead. 

“Should we tidy up a little?”

“‘Suppose so.” The words were mumbled into your hair as Azriel continued to nuzzle there, holding you curled against his chest as you laughed. Pushing yourself up onto legs that had gone numb long ago, he groaned, holding out his hands to you and letting you tug all that heavy Illyrian muscle to its feet, before stretching out and shaking his wings into action. “I’ll put the gifts away in our cases if you handle the other stuff?”

“Sounds like a deal.” You dropped down, scooping up the bundles of wrapping paper into your arms, crunching them tightly into balls as Azriel gathered up all of your gifts first, carrying them over to the bed and pulling out the case you’d stashed underneath. They took up half the space just as you watched him begin to stack things inside, a problem considering you had the rest of your belongings still to go back in there in a few days, but you’d have to figure it out. Maybe he had spare room in his. 

You eyed the pile of gifts you’d given him. Probably no spare room there, either.

Tossing the bundles of paper into the fireplace, the flames rapidly began to grow back to life, and you poked in the ashes to revive a little more heat, adding a few more logs and some coals to make it through the night. Gathering his gifts, he took them away to his room, leaving to clear up the mugs and wrappers, and drag the coffee table back into place. 

Just like that, the last few hours had all been cleared away, your room restored to its satisfying tidiness. You sensed Azriel before you saw him, every cell in your body reacting as he walked back into the room, making his way over to you, and letting you turn to face him just as he reached for you. 

Falling into his touch felt like home, his arms banding around your body as you cupped his face, smiling up at him as you took him all in. “Wow,” Running your fingers over his cheekbones, you shook your head in disbelief. “Wow, you’re mine?”

Silver lined his wide eyes, and he sucked gently on his lower lip as he nodded. “And you’re mine, my love.”

Your heart skipped several beats at the new pet-name, and you hoped you never heard yourself be referred to anything else from him ever again, because Azriel’s love was all you ever wanted to be known as now.

It was agonisingly slow, the pull and take, the give of his lips as they moulded to your own, bodies pressing further and hands grabbing, until the place where you ended and he began became blurred. Your hands were in his hair, familiarising yourself with the softness of the stands, the way he’d hum against your lips when you tugged on the strands, the way his hands would tighten on your hips. 

Teasing his tongue along the seam of your lips, you parted them, waiting for more, but he chose that moment to tease. Instead of diving further, he pulled back, lips grazing along your jaw as he dipped you backwards, head hanging on your shoulders as he kissed his way to your neck. 

“Az…” The words were breathy on your lips, his answering groan reverberating along your skin, sucking some of the skin between his lips until it stung and you gasped, his tongue soothing over the patch a second later. “Azriel…”

“Don’t say my name like that, it’s driving me crazy.” Tugging your hips flush to his own, your whimper was barely contained by his mouth sealing back over your own. More urgent now, he took that opening, tongue plunging into your mouth and coaxing your own to play, hot and frenzied as he took control. Another moan slipped through, one that had his hips jerking against your own as he gave a soft grunt in response. 

“You taste like peppermint, Az.”

“You taste like gingerbread.” He returned, biting lightly on your lower lip in response, and your mind swirled in response to the teasing nip. “I think it just became my new favourite treat.”

Sliding your hands down from his hair to his chest, you pressed lightly, pushing him backwards. He stumbled away, eyes snapping wide and hands leaving your body, fear of crossing a line, and you smirked at his misunderstanding. Backing him up, you followed his steps, until his legs were pressing to the edge of your bed, and he was falling back to sit. His confusion became a grin as you crawled into his lap, a leg caging either side of his hips, and his large, calloused hands slid up your thighs slowly. 

Your lips slammed back into his own, Azriel’s moan in your mouth tasted like honey on your tongue as you reunited once again. It was preposterous, to think you’d known Azriel for so long and hadn't been doing this the whole time, to think that you hadn't spent every moment of every day kissing him. The bond between your bodies was pulling taut, shaking with glee and glowing so bright it could light up the night sky. 

You could feel it within you, all but singing with anticipation, and you rocked your hips into his own. That one, small movement had you both falling apart, wanton spills of needy sounds leaving you as you repeated it, again and again, riding him through layers of clothes as your kisses grew messier. His hands took over, slipping over your hips to sit on your ass and squeeze roughly, rocking you down against him perfectly until your eyes were rolling in your head, the perfect friction pressing into you. 

Your hands skated around his body, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his lungs under your hands, until your fingers were running down the seam of buttons under one wing on his back. 

“Fuck, Az…” Your whimper only made him growl, picking up his intensity, biceps flexing through the sleeves of his t-shirt as he used you like a toy against his body. Your foreheads were pressed together, lips barely brushing with every pant for breath and your gaze moved down to watch the place that you were rocking together as your fingers fumbled with the catches. 

Your panties were sodden now, likely dripping through, and you were sure that you were starting to spot a wet patch growing on his sweats from your movements as you undid the seals behind his back. As soon as they came loose, you were pulling back, motions stopping for a torturous moment as you tugged his t-shirt up and over his head now that they were free of his wings, having to raise on your knees to get it off his arms. 

As soon as it was free, you were tossing it away, his hands returning to your body and he slammed you back down against his clothed erection, a cry spilling from your lips at the act. 

“Oh, gods, you feel so good already.” His head fell forwards, forehead sitting on your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin as he bit down to hide his desperate sounds. Your fingers traced over his shoulders, tattoos you’d seen a thousand times before but you’d never had an excuse to touch. So many promises, so many bargains, you wondered how many of them belonged to you. 

Over the centuries, Azriel had made many promises to you, and as if reading your mind, his head lifted. Taking your hand, he dragged your touch down from his shoulder to sit over his heart, various swirling patterns that would blend into the rest at a distance, and your fingertips twitched over his skin. 

“Your promises sit right here, every mark you’ve ever left on me has been on my heart, inside and out.”

“Oh, Azriel.” His hand sealed over the top of yours, your rocking slowing to a stop as your other hand cupped his face, breaking through the heavy lust for a breath of fresh air. He leaned up, nose bumping your own, smiles that made it impossible to kiss as you shared the same breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“You never even suspected it?”

“I never considered myself your equal, it didn’t seem possible.” Your power was nothing compared to his, your skill and stealth the same, and he gave an empty laugh, stealing a kiss from your lips despite it.

“You’re worth so much more than I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You scoffed, peppering his cheeks with kisses to banish his self-deprecating thoughts, and you felt the stretch beneath your lips, a tell of a smile. Sitting back you tugged your shirt up and over your head, breasts spilling free before his eyes, and he licked his lips, fighting to keep his gaze on yours. “You can look, Az. I’m yours to look at.”

“If I look, I’m going to lose every last shred of self-control I have.”

“So lose control.” Your smirk was back, leaning in to brush your lips together and taking his hand from his own heart, bringing it to sit in the centre of your chest above your own. “Every beat is for you, Azriel. I never let myself think about it, because it would have crushed me to know I wasn’t yours. I was preparing myself for the eventuality that one day you’d find them. Someone incredible, someone who is your equal, in power and skill and every way that matters.”

“You may not be as strong as I am.” He mumbled, standing from the bed with you in his arms, like you weighed nothing at all as he kept your legs tight to his waist and twisted you to the bed. “But that is because you’re not Illyrian.”

He crawled up and over you, balancing his weight on his knees and palms as he caged you in. Reaching over his shoulders, you dragged one finger along the ridges of his wings, watching his face screw up and jaw drop open as you toyed with his most Illyrian trait. 

“You may not have as much stealth as I do, but that is only because you don’t control the shadows to hide in.”

You never noticed the shadows snaking up your legs, the dark tendrils helping him to lift your hips, and he eased your leggings and panties down your legs, your thighs clamping shut with a sudden wave of anxiety as he dropped the material to the ground, leaving you bare before him, tracing his hands up your calves again. 

“You may not have my power,” His hands closed over your knees, forcing your legs back apart for him to settle between, and a flush of heat left a blush over your body at his strength. “But that is because your skills lay elsewhere, my love.”

“Oh, yeah?” There wasn’t nearly as much sass as you intended, and he only nodded, dipping down to leave kisses on your inner thighs, groaning the closer he got to your dripping centre. 

“Yes, darling.” Circling one finger at your entrance, your head fell back, a cry of his name as he sank that finger deep into you, biting down on the inside of your thigh as he slid into you easily. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“A result of another of your skills.” You huffed out, back arching as he crooked his finger, teasing you for your comment and pumping that lone digit. 

“You are sweet, and friendly, and the best courtier I’ve ever seen.” He picked up speed, your fingers clenching in the sheets, dragging at them as you clawed for strength, for anything to hold onto. “I may have brute strength in a physical fight, but I have never seen anybody win an argument like you, to win a battle of wit.”

“So, I’m the best at being bitchy? Gee, tha- ahh! Azriel!” Your sarcasm was cut short by one finger becoming two, a slam into you as your eyes rolled back, and he chuckled at the pathetic serious of whimpers you let out when he began to stretch you out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“You’re also the best at winding me up, nobody gets under my skin quite like you do.” Your body was trembling, teetering on the brink of ecstasy as his fingers continued to seek out and abuse the spot inside of you that made you cry out. “But despite those shining qualities, they are not my favourites. Your heart is equal to mine; you love fiercely, you care deeply, you are loyal and kind and true. You are brave and strong of spirit, and you never give up.”

Slipping his thumb up to your clit, your back arched clean off the bed, a few sloppy circles had your mind shattering as you exploded into bliss. His voice soothing you through it, deep and raspy as he watched you unfold, a spike of arousal in your chest from him as he watched you crest. 

“Most of all, my love,” He pulled his fingers out, your legs still shaking in the aftermath as he began to kiss up your body, letting your thighs tremble on either side of his hips as his lips found yours again. “Your power, is over me. I am entirely at your mercy.”

“Kiss me.” You begged, shaky hands coming up to grip his cheeks, and he nodded.

“With pleasure.” His lips worshipped yours the way his words had worshipped your mind, the way his hands worshipped your body, and your grip skated down to push at the last clothing on his body. Shoving at them, you whined at the effort, sitting up and letting your chest press to his own until you could get them down, his cock springing free, slapping between your wet folds and nudging your swollen clit. “Are you s-”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me if I'm sure, when thinking about this, thinking about you and me has been my guilty pleasure for decades.” Wrapping your fingers around him, he offered a shaky moan, hips rolling with your movements as you dragged his cock through your wetness, gathering your arousal onto his tip, before lining him up. 

“Not just for the bond, then?” He questioned, laying back into the sheets, one hand at a time raising above your head as he pinned them there, stretching your chest out before his face. Shadows swirled at your wrists, holding them in place for himself, a couple more tugging your ankles apart, rendering you utterly at Azriel’s mercy. 

“Not just for the bond, Az. For you.”

He nudged inside, sinking slowly into you, inch by inch until you felt like you were going crazy, needy for every inch of him to fill you up, for that bond to reach its strongest yet as your bodies connected wholly. When his hips finally sat snugly against your own, you were babbling his name senseless, and he was panting shallow breaths through his teeth to hold himself steady. “Gods, you feel like heaven.”

Azriel pulled back, a single thrust that had both of you calling out, your hands gripping him, legs tight around him, and he did it again. Building up steadily in pace, he rolled his hips into your one, hard and deep, your body firing in response like nothing you’d ever felt. With every slam of his hips into yours, every whisper of praise in your ear, you reached higher and higher, feeling like you were leaving your body behind. 

His name was a whine on your lips, your hands struggling over your head, fighting against his bonds, and they gave little. His head dipped down, marking every spot on your skin with his kisses, until he was tugging one of your nipples between his teeth, and tears line your eyes at the spark along your spine that resulted. 

This wasn’t just fucking, this wasn’t just making love. This was two souls bonding, finding one another and trying together so fully that you’d never be apart again.

“Please, please, Az. Let me touch you too.”

You found the strength to lift up, to meet his lips as his head raised to yours, a sloppy kiss slamming in the middle of you as his speed picked up. Every part of you honed in on the connection of your hips, the shudder that shot up your body each time, enough to send you flying up the bed if it wasn’t for his hold keeping you in place. You couldn't help the thought flickering through your mind, thanking the Mother and the Cauldron and everything else that the man you’d be tied to for the rest of your life was fucking phenomenal in bed.

“I want to hold my mate.”

He groaned out, body weakening at the word that fell from your tongue, and the shadows slipped away only a second later. As soon as you’d regained use of your hands, you were doing just that, surging out to hold onto him. One hand looped around his neck, holding him tight as your heads sat together, eyes held in an endless gaze, and he slowed his movements, bringing you back down to earth as your body wound up tighter. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” You teased, running a hand down his sweat-slicked arm, and he caught it, lacing your fingers together and pressing it back into the bed. The frantic swirling of his shadows began to calm, a frenzy becoming a sensual dance as his thrusts became nothing more than slow rocks into you, your hips working together in harmony. 

“You’re so much more than I could have ever dreamed up.” Your chest filled with emotions, clashing between your hearts along that newly formed bond, and you squeezed at your connected hands. 

Raising your other hand over his shoulder, you didn’t take it gently this time, swiping your palm along the inside of a flared wing, and he roared. A sound that wracked through your body, his hips growing fast once again, violent thrusts the longer your hand remained, his control fraying as you brushed the right spots. You’d touched his wings before, all the places that caused no sensitivity and arousal, this time aiming for every place you’d never dared reach for.

Moving inwards, toward the base of his wings, your touch grew firmer, rubbing your thumb along the place where his wings met his muscled back on the inside, and a broken sob left his lips as his arms gave way. The full weight of him collapsed down atop you, hips grinding, your own orgasm teetering on the edge. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop…”

As your peak crashed into your full force, his name was a shout on your lips as you came undone, your palm pressed into the thick leather of his wings. Twitching fingertips, your nails scraped, and with a sound like you’d never heard him make before, Azriel followed you over the cliff. 

His body shook, warmth erupting inside of you, leaking out around your connected bodies as you tried to rock up into him, meeting him thrust for weak thrust until the stimulation was all too much. He pulled his cock from you with a trembling breath, barely pulling away enough to release him before he was collapsing back down on top of you.

It hadn't been the wildest of sex, nor had it been the best it would be, you knew that by the feelings in your chest he sent across. No, this was different. This was needy and frantic and overwhelming because it was new. It was a boundary being crossed, it was lives being changed, it was the future finally falling into place.

Just one day ago, this time last night, he has nothing more than your best friend. As you’d curled into him to fall asleep one day ago, it had been with no idea what his lips tasted like, or what it felt like to connect to him so completely. 

His arms banded around your waist, soft kisses to accompany the thoughts you must have been blasting out as clearly as screaming them aloud, and he settled his head on your chest after leaving a final kiss on your lips. You let your arms circle him too, a kiss on the top of his head that made him smile against your skin. 

You both agreed, as you fell asleep once again tangled in each other’s arms, that nothing would ever be the same.

#under the mistletoe #UTMi #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

[liliavnrg]

i wanted to try to write something longer for lilia. this will most likely be, at the very least, slightly out of character, and i wrote it at 2am so there'll be some mistakes here and there. warnings; hurt/comfort, crying, hints of bittersweet ending, slight hurt/no comfort for lilia.

The old fae stood in front of your bedroom door, his eyes wide open in surprise as his hand stopped right before his knuckles knocked on the worn wood to announce his presence, frozen in place after being caught off guard by a strange sound. 

And there it was again, but this time he realized what it was: a sniff. 

It was a small, fragile sound that could easily fade away with the wind coming through the windows, but Lilia’s hearing was still much sharper than a regular person’s, catching it without much trouble. 

Even with the door separating your room from the hallway where he stood, his ears picked up the gentle rustle of a page being turned, confirming that you were inside. There was no sobbing, no wails or whimpers, only that single sniffle… but it was enough for him. 

Keeping his usual, friendly smile on his face, Lilia energetically knocked at your door, listening as the sound of turning pages ceased and, after a few seconds, your footsteps getting closer before finally opening the door. 

“Good evening! I hope you don’t mind my little surprise visit.” His red eyes were focused on your face as he greeted you. At first sight, there was barely anything unusual, but there was the slightest glint on your eyes that he would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. 

His suspicions only increased when you cleared your throat before replying. While there were many reasons, he was used to following his instinct, and this was no exception. Having raised a son taught him to pay attention to certain details.

“I don’t, I expected that you would just drop in after I told you that you could visit whenever you wanted.” Your reply only added something else to his mental list, your voice was croaky.

Lilia simply sent you a playful smile before following you inside your bedroom, leaving the box he carried on one of his hands on top of your desk, noticing the closed book to the side. It was old, even the magic spell used to preserve it couldn’t stop the letters making up the title to fade with time. 

“What an interesting book you have here.” His gaze moved from the object to your face, watching your reaction. “Would you mind telling me about its contents?” 

Ah, there it was. A small frown, your lips turning down ever so slightly as you fought to keep your expression neutral. He noticed how you played with the sleeves of your shirt, too, probably because of stress. 

“It’s just a book I picked from the library, it’s nothing special.” Your attempt to avoid the question was cute, but it wouldn’t work on someone like him. 

“I see. Although I find it strange how something that you claim isn’t special would make you cry.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“What? I wasn’t crying, what are you talking about?” And yet, there was the smallest of tremors in your voice, your body tensing.

“Maybe not crying, but I can tell you’re holding it in.” Lilia took a few steps forward, slowly reaching to caress your cheek with his gloved fingers, the fabric cold against your warm skin. “If you’d prefer not to talk about it, I can simply stay here with you and lend you my shoulder. But it isn’t healthy to hold your tears for too long, little one.”

Silence was his reply, but the expression on your face said enough. Faced with someone lending you a hand, it was more and more difficult to hold it in, the coldness of his touch feeling warm, his understanding eyes breaking your walls so easily that it was almost pitiable. 

“Come here, I’ll hold you.” The man’s deep voice sounded so comforting as he guided your body closer to his own, his movement slow to give you the opportunity to pull away if you wished to, and yet his arms were firm as he wrapped them around you.

Your own arms felt awkward, so you wrapped them around him in return, your embrace much looser than his while you hesitated. There was no rush from the fae, no comments, only his gentle touch as one of his hands stroked your back, as if he was willing to give you all the time in the world. 

With each caress, you felt your eyes burn, a lump in your throat as your vision began to turn blurry. You fought to keep your feelings inside, it was a habit. Your lip trembled, your skin felt warmer, too warm. Even in Lilia’s firm hold, your body shook, but it was a lost battle from the moment the fae looked at you with his soft gaze.

A sob escaped, followed by another, even as you tried to hold back the tears. Your head hurt, painful pounding against your skull from bottling your feelings for so long until the bottle shattered. 

Lilia’s hand never stopped stroking your back even as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, your loose embrace turning into a desperate one, your hands clinging to his coat as he felt your hot tears fall on his skin and the fabric of his shirt.

You clenched your jaw to try and put a stop to your sobs, but it proved to be useless as they continued escaping your mouth, your body trembling with each one as you tried to regulate your breathing. 

“I- I just miss my home so much, Lilia.” You sobbed, your voice croaky and muffled. “I know the headmaster isn’t trying- he’s always avoiding the topic! He- He only mentions it when he wants me to- to do something for him!” 

You sniffled, your body shaking even harder as you finally let your feelings out of the cracked bottle you had been trying to fix for months ever since the first time you noticed how nervous Crowley had acted when you asked about when you’d be able to go home, or if he had discovered something. 

“I’ve been- I’ve been trying to look for a way myself, but it’s just so, so useless.” You continued. “I like this place, I love you guys so much, but I- I-” A sob cut you off, and you didn’t try to continue talking, knowing that it would be nothing but incomprehensible words.

Lilia didn’t say anything, he knew that there was nothing he could say to comfort you at that moment. He didn’t know anything about how you got to Twisted Wonderland, at least no more than you did, and he couldn’t tell you that you’d be able to go back soon, as it would be empty words. 

So he chose silence, his hand moving from your back to your head, letting you weep on his shoulder without any rush. Your sobs and whimpers broke his old heart, he hated to see someone like you cry, as you had quickly become someone he held very dear.

And yet, what hurt him the most was the reason for your tears. You longed to go back to your world, to your real home, where you had been born and raised, a place he knew nothing about. A place where he couldn’t follow you if you managed to find a way back.

But Lilia knew that he couldn’t tell you about how he feared the day when you’d leave this world, about how much it’d hurt to see you go. A farewell should be happy, someone should be sent off with a smile rather than with tears and a frown, and he wanted you to go wherever you wanted as long as it made you happy.

How could he be so selfish to ask you to stay, when he himself didn’t even know how long he had left? He’d rather you went back to your home before you could see him grow weaker, and keep your memories always dear to your heart. 

Lilia stood there with you sobbing in his arms for a long time, until the tears finally stopped. He let you pull away from the hug, but kept one of his hands on your arm, giving a gentle, comforting squeeze before letting go. 

“Feeling better?” His voice was as soft as his eyes, putting a small stop to his playful self to pay more attention to you. 

“Yeah, I… I needed that, thank you.” It felt a bit embarrassing to admit, but you were truly grateful that the fae was there to convince you to stop holding back your tears. Even if your face still felt a bit too warm for your liking as you wiped away the remains of your tears, your chest felt lighter. 

“That’s good! Now, I brought something that will make you feel even better.” With a big smile on his face. Lilia reached to grab the box he had placed on your desk, opening the lid. 

Inside you could see cupcakes, except the color was extremely weird, even sickly-looking. There were strange ingredients used as toppings and, while you could see some decent frosting with colorful sprinkles, you were pretty sure there was a lizard tail, or something else in there, too.

“Did you… cook this?” You asked, trying very, very hard to keep a smile on your face, although the answer was obvious. 

“I did! So, which one would you like to try first? I made sure that all of these would be highly nutritious.” Lilia replied, the grin on his face showing nothing but pride for his cooking, completely unaware of the grimace you were fighting.

Your heart felt lighter, even with the danger of the suspicious-looking treats. At the same time, his chest felt heavier, with the reminder that your presence was even more temporary than he was used to.

#lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #random thoughts about peepaw

[sihakadan]

Your so nice ;-;

okay hum, anyway

reader is one of silcos main guards, right?

I’ve had the idea of reader having a notebook/diary (idk) that’s just FILLED with things about silco

ex.

how he likes his coffee

how his eyes look amazing

And maybe there’s some sketches of him

and reader accidentally leaves it somewhere, and Silco finds it, and he confronts reader.

and the rest is up to you

(if you choose to do it ofc)

also sorry for the long request

Hohohohohohohohohooooooo this shit is my jam. I actually have a fic that has something similar going on, but not really? It's about Scar though and he doesn't have a big fan base. But holy shit my broha, this is my time!!! SFW

You took this job to be part of what you thought was a group of badasses. You were tired of living on the streets, fighting for food and a place to sleep, fighting to live. The security, the pay, not wondering where your next meal was coming from? Yeah it was worth taking the job, but really, you were a glorified babysitter.

Silco was nothing to scoff at and Sevika was never too far, but you were there when she wasn't. You got to see all the things that no one else got to see, not even Sevika and that was because she wasn't willing to do things like you did.

Like make coffee, make sure there was always a clean glass and a cut cigar on his desk every morning. Keeping Jinx from painting the entire office but finding her little things she could take apart and toy with or decorate her little 'lair'. Little things like that. But most of the day, you'd sit on the couch in the office, listening to Silco's pen scratch on paper or he'd talk to you about an issue, get a second opinion.

Then one day, Jinx came waltzing in with a little book she had stolen, holding it out to you. "You like to leave doodles on my papers for me, thought maybe you could have your own book." You did leave her doodles, but that was so she would smile. When she cried or was upset, Silco became stressed and that made you stressed.

"Oh." You noticed that she had already taken the liberty of writing your name on the front with blue and pink letters, with an angry monkey face next to the words 'KEEP OUT'. You chuckled. "Thanks, kiddo. Did you steal a two pack and I am getting the extra?"

"Can't a girl be nice?" She clasped her hands behind her back and backed away, slowly leaving, braids swaying around her legs.

You turned the little notebook around in your hands and shrugged at Silco. At least she wasn't being antagonistic towards you like she was towards Sevika.

"Mighty kind of you, Jinx." Silco said, lighting his cigar as he looked between you both. You could almost see the wheels of thoughts turning in his mind.

See, that is where this whole thing started. You were given a book and to pass time, you began to write things in it. Then came the doodling that turned into artistic studies.

But when you spent most of your time with one person and his little ticking bomb of a daughter, you had limited models. You'd write your observations on Silco, how he acted, how he spoke, the way he'd interact with certain people.

Then, you noticed that most of your drawings were of his hands. His eyes...the way he smirked when you made a quip. Your entries changed too. Observations became ponderings, wishes, thoughts on him. They were soft and almost juvenile. Growing up on the streets, crushes weren't on your mind when you were just trying to survive another day. But now? Oh, the way he would hold his cigar. It just did something for you. To you.

As time went on, the more time you spent in his presence, the worse it got and you'd find yourself staring at him when he wasn't looking. You also became very overly protective of him and a couple of his visitors got their faces slammed on the desk when they spoke poorly to him. Silco would watch with that cool gaze, but it was almost approving when he looked at you.

And then, the entries became fantasies. Almost embarrassingly sad and an atonement to your loneliness and want of him. But no one would see this book, it was just for you, for you to get things out of your head so you could move on. You just were not moving on from him.

After a particularly long day of dealing with Sevika's bad mood, Ren getting into a bar fight you had to help end, and Jinx being, well, Jinx, you had said your goodnights to Silco, dragging yourself home and into the shower. The warm water made you shiver in delight as it relaxed you and a long sigh left you- before it turned into a gasp of horror.

You left your notebook in the office.

Maybe no one would notice or they'd respect your privacy. Then you thought of the people who you worked with and knew that was not going to happen. Someone was going to read it and they would find your dirty secret.

You cut your shower short and tried to keep your calm as you went back to the office, trying to get through the bar without being noticed, in case someone had already found it and you had to change your name and face and skip town.

When you peaked your head in, it was dark and quiet, giving you a sense of relief. No one was there- but the notebook was gone. Oh, shit. Oooh, shit. You rubbed your face and tried taking deep breaths. Maybe Jinx mixed it up with hers or it got moved and nobody read it. Another deep breath and you slipped into the office, closing the door and looking around the table to see if you could find it, moving couch cushions and checking other surfaces.

A voice from behind you made your spin stiffen and your eyes widen, footsteps approaching you. "-today he spoke with his hands a lot. I couldn't stop staring at them. Powerful, yet full of grace, conniving. Those hands are building a new path for Zaun, for us all. I wonder what they would feel like on bare skin." You heard a book slam closed and as the footsteps came closer, you could feel the heat of another body. "And there is a lovely picture to go with it." It was Silco's voice right next to you ear and it both aroused you and frightened you.

"I can explain-" If you turned around, you would turn into a blubbering mess, begging for forgiveness for your lechery.

"Oh, I am sure you could do more than that, my dear." You felt a rumble from his chest and it registered in your brain that he was pressed against you, holding up the sinful book for you to see. "You have many theories about my hands. Invigorating read."

Your eyes went to the notebook and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. "You're not angry?"

"Ah, no. In fact." His lips touched the shell of your ear. "Would you like to see what these hands could really do?"

#ahahahah cliffhanger #because evil #arcane netflix #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #silco x reader #arcane x reader #not a silco fan #but man when I saw this prompt #it was like my destiny had revealed itself #for you sweet anon #hope it was what you were thinking of

[blueheartedmayor]

Maybe Damien wasn’t technically meant to be receiving personal visitors during his office hours, but when had rules like that ever deterred Nora ? They stood by the door, leant against the frame, arms crossed in front of themself — giving a rather focused look to the Mayor.

“ I don’t know how you manage to do this all day. ”

Boots tapped against the hard flooring as she walked closer, then stopped as she crouched in front of Damien’s desk. Always dressed nicely, if in her own definition of ‘ nice ’ rather than a typical suit. Military style uniform was far too stuffy, and suits were far too formal. They’d worked out their own in - between — collared shirt, small decorative scarf around their neck and tucked into the undone collar ( a shade of light purple, on that day ) , a well - kept jacket, neutral trousers, and of course the typical boots. Hair tied back in a bun, loose curls falling into their face and occasionally colliding with their glasses.

Arms folded, placing atop the edge of the desk, as she continued to watch Damien work. A look to the papers, then back up to Damien.

“ You’re fading. I can see it, ” she said, raising a hand to pointedly wave at Damien’s face. “ The life, it’s seeping out of your eyes. When was the last time you spent a night out ? The last time you actually had any fun ? How long has it been since you enjoyed even a walk about town ? ”

[ you have been visited by a @lcstfcund ! … yay ? ]

@lcstfcund

-

In actuality, the Mayor's office was closed to visitors, both professional and personal, but it had never stopped certain people from going in anyway. Damien was in the middle of reviewing a very important letter that he was writing to the teams of various local projects requesting a report on their progress ASAP. It was something that needed to be phrased just right: formal but not too stuffy, firm but not too pushy. The council needed a record of the progress, after all, and the last thing Damien needed was one team using a poorly phrased letter as an excuse to hark on about the Mayor being rude.

Of course, the important project had to be interrupted once he heard a familiar voice.

"I do it because I want things to go well in this city, Nora. I thought I told you that before."

A simple reply that didn't even get a glance up. Damien spotted a mistake that he wanted to note in pencil so he could remember it when using the typewriter later. By the time he was finished, they were kneeling on the other side of the desk, intently watching him work like a hawk.

"I'm not 'fading'," he countered with a sigh, putting the pencil back into the decorate pot to his right. There was no point even trying to get work done when she got into one of these moods. The pages were lifted to be straightened as he continued, "I am trying to get something important done. It only stands to reason that I am feeling a little stressed. Surprisingly, not everyone has the luxury of being footloose and fancy-free." Finally, dark brown eyes lifted to give her proper attention through a deadpan expression. "I don't do 'nights out' because I spend most of my life attending formal events and would rather not do the same in my free time. I went for a walk around the area yesterday, if you must know."

#lcstfcund #v; a day in the life #(I don't know what I'm doing. Hopefully it works) #(this is not a Damien who overworks himself :P )

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

The way some people write certain letters and numbers stresses me out irrationally... like why the fuck you gotta write 8 like that your scaring me

#i know i cant talk cause my hand writing is ass #but im not talking about handwriting #this is about like litterally the way their hand goes to write the letter that just stresses me out #like i get stressed watching my own hand write certain letters #incase your wondering its capital L caputal T g and e #someone puts a line through 7 and i go ape shit #or like i see someone write 5 in a weird way and my brain shuts down #its usually like if someone writes a letter in a way that is less streamlined and thus takes longer to write #it stresses me out cause im like but then you cant write it fast and you need that extra 8th of a second not pickiny your pen up gives you #brain say go fast and if someone else isnt doing the most timely efficent shit brain get nervous cause they cant go fast #im being mean im sorry

[thevirgodoll]

What are healthy coping mechanism you'd recommend? Thank you 💕

Coping Mechanisms Guide

Coping Thoughts:

•Circumstances are what they are, but I choose my attitude towards them.

•Step by step until this feeling subsides. If I focus on how I feel in this present moment, I can reduce my anxiety.

•Remember to breathe and take a moment.

•I am learning to accept things I can’t control.

•I have survived before, I will survive now.

•It’s okay to feel this way, it’s a normal and valid reaction. I can feel bad and choose to take a healthier path.

•I can learn from this, and things will be easier next time.

•It’s okay to be overwhelmed and have limits. What this means for me won’t mean the same for someone else. That does not mean something is wrong with me.

Reframe Strategy:

•This is too much. I can’t do it. -> What do I need right now?

•This will never work for me. -> What else can I try?

•I always fail. -> What did I learn?

•I should just give up. -> What are my limits? How can I adjust to make sure I don’t push past them?

Remember:

Avoid calling yourself names...

•If someone else did the same, would I think they were stupid or the worst person ever?

Avoid saying certain words: “never, should, everybody, forever can’t.” Especially “always”.

For example, “I always fail”...when you failed that time. Instead: “Just because I feel like a failure or made a mistake does not mean I am.” You can own the fact you failed at something but not that you are a failure.

Handling Conflict

Learn how to say, “People aren’t against me, they’re for themselves” and “I will not take this personally.”

When overwhelmed, form a habit of asking yourself, “What other outcomes are more likely than the worst case scenario?”

Acknowledgment

When you have gone through a stressful situation or an episode while using positive coping techniques, acknowledge it.

“I can be pleased with my progress.”

“If I keep this up, I will succeed and live a better life.”

Positive Habits:

•taking a relaxing hot bath with bubbles and oils, lighting candles/incense or running a diffuser

•drink warm tea made for calming you down (pick the ones named sleepytime, yogi stress relief, relax)

•guided meditations or yoga

•engaging in your favorite hobby

•draw, doodle, color, games, puzzle

•listen to music or make playlists

•cleaning and tidying up your space

•create a to do list and manage your time

•walk your pet / play with your pet

•go outside and take a mindful walk

•read and learn something new

•watch your favorite show or movie

•go for a drive somewhere to clear your head

•socialize or recharge alone (depends on your needs)

•ask how the emotion feels in your body: hands, neck, chest

Learn what positive habits make you feel good the most and incorporate it into your care routine. This will keep you grounded in the face of adversity.

Release It:

•scream into a pillow

•write a letter to someone and throw it away

•use a stress ball or a fidget object

•do high energy exercises

•let yourself cry

Get Ahead of It:

•mood tracker (Daylio)

•impulse log (what are you feeling like doing at first instinct, what can you do instead, and how do you feel after doing this)

•take your medications or see a doctor

•see a mental health professional if needed or possible

#mental health #coping strategies #actuallyadhd #actuallybipolar #you can do this 🤍 #save #actually bipolar #bipolar #recovery #adhd #autism #chronic illness

[t5u]

nishimura riki; photobooths (2)

(2/2) three words, eight letters.

previous part - (1/2) cotton candy.

pairing: nishimura riki x reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint hard enough

synopsis: between two best friends who don't realize their feelings for each other just yet.

trigger warning(s): abit of swearing, ferris wheels?

word count: 1.7K

a/n: the ending to this im not really satisfied with but its been in my drafts for so long i've gotta just :D

~~

[6:55 PM]

it was starting to get dark, you were walking with a bunny plushie in hand that riki got for you at the balloon popping stall, and with riki walking right beside you of course. looking around to see whatever interested you both next.

for riki, he was just in his own world, going wherever you led him.

what was he thinking of? the moment you decided to name that bunny after him as soon as you had it in your hands with no hesitation, and that caught him off guard for a bit. now you're just going to have a bunny in your room named riki.

and of course, back at the cotton candy stall, when the lady called you both lovebirds, it made him feel a certain way.

that same feeling he gets every time you called him cute. or whenever you fixed his hair for him, whenever you brought him banana milk randomly, whenever you feed him random things, whenever he did something wrong on purpose just so you can do it for him instead.

that same feeling he always gets when he's around you.

his act of service, his constant teasing, his little gifts, his little notes he'd usually write you whenever he was bored in class, a lot of them contained with drawings of bunnies and funny looking strawberries cause he knew they were your favorite things, or just notes telling you that he liked your outfit that day.

the way he takes you places whenever he knew you were stressed or when you needed it, when he appears at your doorsteps whenever you texted him telling him that you weren't feeling your best, when he tries to compliment and make you feel better when you're down although he's bad it it, thats his love language.

yours was physical touch, like when you'd play with his hair, which he loved, when you'd drag him around by his hand or when you hug him when you're feeling down just for comfort.

your clinginess, like when you unconsciously hold his hand when you're in public places, when he's playing games with controller in hand but you're bored so you'd always end up laying on his lap, watching the screen although you don't understand anything that's going on, but since it's riki playing it, you're interested

your patience for him. he'd make mistakes and instead of getting annoyed over it, you'd calmly tell him to try again and would help him with it. whether with homework, cooking or anything you both decided to do together. or when he's feeling down and stressed, your arms and ears are always open for him. you're always there to listen and hug him whenever he needed.

your constant scolding whenever he purposefully did something wrong so that you'd do it for him instead, he'd enjoy it whenever you were mad at him just because he thought that its cute.

he loved everything about it.

he knew how you liked your coffee, what you wanted your pancakes with and how many you'd usually eat, your favorite colors. he knew when you'd get nervous just by how you fiddle with his hands, how you loved it when he'd comfort you by giving back rubs, hand rubs or head pats. just like you did for him. he knew every single tiny detail.

you don't know how much of an impact you took upon this boy, and he wasn't against any of it either as he loved every second of it.

whatever the other did, you both have no hesitations to give it a try too.

this was alot of emotions for a boy to keep to himself. it was the first time he felt like he wanted someone to know how much he liked them. which was why this whole date-like after school amusement park thing was a good idea. he was going to tell a girl that he liked her on her favorite ride in an amusement park, where it all started. he planned it all out 2 weeks prior.

why did it take two weeks when this whole idea popped into is little head in the span of 10 minutes? it's because he's nervous, he's never confessed to anyone, ever. and like the perfectionist that he is, he wanted everything to go as planned.

"riki look! a photo booth!" you pointed.

"y/n, no more pictures" riki replied, dragging his feet.

"i just want some pictures i can put in my phone case. its so blank right now, see?" you said, extending your arms and showing the back of your phone case directly at his face.

and with that he was already convinced, to miss the chance to get his face inside that clear phone case of yours? anything.

"didn't you just have a picture of that one k-pop idol you were obsessing over for weeks?" riki said smiling a bit, looking down at you.

"well yes, but i've looked at that same photo card too much it got kinda boring."

he remembered vividly how you were squealing at him over it about a week ago.

"alright, fine" he said in a stern tone, but was jumping around inside "but it has to be in there for at least 5 months".

"okay okay fine! let's take four sheets worth so we both got two sheets each okay?"

"alright."

and there he finds himself taking pictures with with you and riki the bunny in your arms. and that character hat he came to like because every once in a while you'd turn back to tell him that it looked cute on him.

riki being riki, he was awkward.

"smile a a bit won't you, nishimura?" you poked him, placing your chin on his shoulder staring right at him. he looked back down at you. gosh if he had to count how many times him heart rate accelerated today just because of one person.

snap

"alright just get your chin off me it hurts" he giggled and grabs you by your face to lift your head up

snap

"yah!" you tried grabbing his whole face too but it was more of a struggle with his hands blocking you view. at that point you both have forgotten you were taking pictures.

--

[7:15 PM]

you brought out your phone and popped off your phone case to settle the pictures in the right spot.

he really made to that phone case of yours, he thought.

popping it back on, you lifted your phone and started taking pictures of the view.

"y/n"

"hm?" you looked up, he was taking photos of the both of you.

"i'm sending these to my mom, she just texted me"

"send me them too"

after he was done, you handed your phone to him. "could you take a couple for me?"

he smiled, knowing what to do.

the lighting on your face was just perfect. and you couldn't look even more adorable with that bunny on your lap.

he started clicking, but of course, he couldn't miss this chance.

"here you go" he handed you back your phone

"riki these are all you!" you said swiping through them rapidly. he really just spammed the button didn't he

he laughed, "alright alright, i'll take you some" you handed it back but he brought out his instead

"no no, i feel like the lighting on my phone looks better, i'll airdrop them after"

smooth.

-

"i miss the feeling of being on ferris wheels" you said.

you knew damn well the last time you were on one was with him and it didn't end well.

"me too" he replied with a smile, looking back out to see the view.

nervously thinking of the right time to say the three words that he's practiced in front of the mirror in his bedroom countless times making sure he won't mess it up just for today.

the atmosphere was a lot different from when you both were last here, more lights, more lively, more stalls.

"riki?"

"y/n" he replied. you froze, not being able to mutter out your words. chanting in your head that it's now or never and that you can't keep chickening out when the timing is perfect. but nothing seemed to come out of you mouth.

three words, eight letters was all it took and yet it was so hard to say. being too scared of rejection, too scared of the outcome. you can't handle the thought of him ghosting you again. god knows whether or not he's going to ghost you or just cut you off for good.

it was just silence. you two were just looking in different directions, staring out of the ferris wheel.

again, you failed to say how you felt towards the boy. again, you tried changing the topic.

"people look like ants from up her-

"i like you, y/n"

"what?"

"i like you" he said, with no hesitation looking straight at you now but you were too nervous to look into his eyes right now. what the fuck.

"i do too riki"

"i don't mean it in a friendly way y/n." you paused to look at the boy, he continued, "i mean in way that means you make me feel things whenever i'm around you. i like you a lot, y/n"

"i like you too, riki."

your heart was thumping in your chest it felt like it was going to burst. you weren't on a roller coaster, it was just a ferris wheel but yet the excitement was incomparable. he confessed before you did.

thats when you realized that those pictures you took from the photo booth were also in his phone case.

riki was never the type to say or do these things, which took you by surprise. he just said he liked you.

like, like like you.

it was minutes of just looking around after that. to riki, this was new, never once in his life has he confessed and god if he was along right now he would be jumping around because he did it, and he didn't fuck it up.

"so, you wanna grab coffee tomorrow morning?" he said looking out

"yup"

"8?"

"yup"

he smiled looking down

the awkwardness was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

what mattered at that moment though, was that it happened, you confessed. or he did. after years, it finally happened and you didn't get rejected, which is a big relief. it wasn't all that bad after all.

character hats, cotton candy stalls, bunny plushies, photobooths and ferris wheels. three words, eight letters. it all worked out.

~~

check out my playlist! (pls)

previous

taglist (open!) @sunwoahkim @chanshyuck @squiishymeow @maiverie @thicccdiccdaddy27

#riki00143 #enhypen #enha #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #enha fics #enha scenarios #fanfic #kpop #fluff #spotify #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha niki #nishimura riki #niki imagines #niki enhypen #niki fluff #niki angst #riki fluff #riki scenarios #riki x reader #niki x reader #niki scenarios #niki fanfic #Spotify

[modx-reborn]

helloooo again :] its ur favorite pansy, im gonna throw more worms in ur compost heap

imagine being like. a camboy/camgirl/porn livestreamer. and simpbur comes across ur stream when searching for. stress relief. and he starts just,, frequenting your stream. becoming more enamoured by you and stalking you outside of stream. on social media and if you live nearby in real life

maybe you have a po box where people can send you toys/things they want you to use on stream, and knowing simpbur he'd spend so much money spoiling you.

eventually you start wondering who's the anonymous donor sending you money and other items, you sort of want to give them a private show. after all, its just a small thank you for everything they've done for you.

you dm them after stream, trying to coax them to turn on their camera. ask them what they're into, explaining you want to know them a little more.

you tell him you want to get off with him, this is a personal show after all.

ill let you take it from here :) <3

-🍊

Oh ho ho 🍊, yes.

Your shows weren't site toppers or even top five on the days you do stream, and yet there are still quite a few regulars that you know off by heart, their screen names are written on something or other or maybe even on a schedule for a private stream after they had spent a certain amount of money during one of your shows and yet there was one that you only had as an anonymous account with a few numbers.

This particular person would donate, tip, and do paid votes often even sending things for you to wear or use in streams to your P.O box, mind you some of the things they write in the letters they send make you flush a deep red with how they seem to long for you and your attention.

Little did you know that your dear anon was beyond enamoured with you, knowing everything he could. Names, birthdate, home town and even your apartment complex (if not the actual floor, not the number not yet but he would get that sooner or later) all this information was tucked away just waiting for the day he gets his chance to be near you, to have you and be your only one.

After all, he could give you everything you ask for and then you would only do shows for him and him alone, or so his mind told him.

So after another one of your shows you put a plan in motion, knowing that your dear anon would sit and wait till the very last moment to log out, lingering in your room till you disconnected and the screen goes black. Using this little piece of knowledge you call him out, cooing for him to DM you and let you put on a private show for him, telling him it would be for him and him alone as thanks for all he has sent/done for you.

His message shooting through before you could finish your sentence, letting him hear a small laugh before the main screen goes dark and a small pop up tells him you're calling, a private call with you made his mind melt.

Your face filling his screen, and your voice streams from his speakers as you try to coax him to turn on his camera, wanting to see the person who had been so good to you. Even going as far as pulling some of the toys that he had bought for you into the frame, running your fingers over a rather life-like cast dildo knowing that it was most likely a cast of his own cock hoping that the sight would spur him into doing what you asked.

When he does, you're greeted with the bottom half of his face, lips parted and his breath shaky when it reaches his mic, a rumpled button-up shirt parted over unbuttoned jeans. One of his hands curled at his chin as the other grips his thigh, not wanting to move till you speak again, cooing over how good he looks on your screen telling him how this is for him and him alone and thus he could ask for whatever he wanted.

Finally getting to hear the voice of your top donator and loving the sound you hear, filing it away for future use as it was a delight to your ears even if he stuttered and stumbled over some of his words. Asking for nothing more than being able to get off with you, to watch you us the toy still being traced by your fingers, knowing full well that it had never been used in any of your shows, inadvertently confirming your thoughts on what it was.

"Oh, pretty boy of course I can, wanna watch me get off on your cock. Want to see how you touch yourself to my shows, knowing that right here, right now it's your cock in me, not some factory cast imitation? God, you are a big boy wonder how you would actually feel in me..."

Your words feeding into his obsession, especially the last sentence, his mind-warping the words into something like a confession of wanting him rather than just something cooed at him to help him get off.

#🍊 anon #c: simpbur #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #k: exhibitionism #k: toys #k: teasing #cw: sex work #mxad #anon response

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 1; Alone

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Here’s the first chapter! Let me know what you think <3 this is based off of this request I got. Any and all feedback is appreciated. Please know I know this theme/part has little to nothing to do with the actual meaning of the song, but some lines work if you ignore the rest 😅

Summary; After Gideon leaves, Reader takes up chess to comfort Spencer through the difficult time.

Category; Fluff, Angst(?), Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings; Sad Spencer otherwise none!

Word Count; 3.5k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next

It started when I found Spencer one morning. He had fallen asleep on a chair at the bau, and he explained to me that he’d been waiting for Gideon because he promised to play chess with Spencer that night.

“Is Hotch in yet?”

“No, he will be soon. We have a case, JJ is gonna brief us and we leave in 30.”

He thanked me and left the room, with his head down. He kept the same mood during the briefing, he kept drifting off as JJ was talking. Spencer was known to be stuck in his head often, but this was far more unusual behaviour. I figured maybe he slept wrong, or maybe just was simply looking forward to playing chess with Gideon. That was their usual routine, to have a game or two after cases to relax. It was understandable to see him on edge after not hearing from him all night.

As we got on the jet he didn’t sit with me on the couch right away as he usually did, instead he walked over to Hotch in the back corner. I craned my neck to try and see what he was doing and hear what he was saying. He spoke in soft whispers, seemingly asking questions I assumed were about Gideon’s presence. I saw Hotch shake his head, to which Spencer’s expression dropped. He thanked him, then made his way over to the couch beside me.

“You okay?” I asked.

He gave me a quick nod -- yet didn’t meet my eyes -- then curled up at the end of the couch to presumably take a nap before we landed.

We were all worried about Gideon, none of us had heard from him since the last case. We figured he just needed a break from the chaos; having a loved one die would take a toll on any of us. It was logical really, any one of the team would need time to recover when presented with that situation.

Spencer remained more quiet throughout the case, not engaging in conversation when it wasn’t crucial to the work. We ended up sharing rooms but even then he didn’t budge. He mostly sat in the corner and played chess against himself, often zoning out and staring at the wall. It was hard to see, and even harder to sit back and let him try to get through it. I could tell he was fighting himself in his head, probably going over scenarios on Gideon’s whereabouts. I imagine the stress was affecting him heavily -- or at least it was clear with the way his forehead had been creased all night.

Chess. Nobody on the team had a fair shot at him besides Gideon. Sitting there staring at the pieces probably wasn’t doing him too good, only making him worry more.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care because I did, but when it comes to certain things Spencer can be defensive and refuse help, so I wanted to give him a chance to get better. It wasn’t unlike him to refuse help, and I didn’t want to make the situation worse by opening my mouth. Instead, I opted to ask, “Mind if I join in for a game?”

“What? Uh- no it’s fine. I mean, okay yes. Sure,” Spencer stuttered, spooked by my sudden appearance beside him.

“Stop slouching, you’re gonna make your posture even worse,” I chuckled lightly, patting his shoulder to remind him. He shot me a small smile, watching as I rounded the table to sit across from him. I wasn’t too good of a player, but I wanted to make Spencer feel just a little less alone.

“Do you even know how to play?”

“Ouch,” I mocked offense, slapping a hand over my heart. “So cruel, Spencer.”

He raised his eyebrows in a form of asking again, to which I replied with, “Kind of. I haven’t played for years but I’ve observed you.”

“Y-you’ve observed me?” Spencer questioned, resetting the chess pieces on the board.

“Well, yeah. Kind of hard not to. You’re a pretty interesting guy.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

I smiled when he finally made eye contact with me. He looked tired -- more so than usual -- with his eyebags a deeper shade than they were normally.

The game didn’t last long. In only seven minutes, he managed to beat me. I groaned at my loss, lips pulled into a tight line. Spencer didn’t react, however.

“Okay that’s enough for me,” I said, heading over to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. “Goodnight Spence. Get some sleep. No offense but you look like you need it.”

He hummed at me, cleaning up the table before he climbed into his own bed.

I could tell he didn’t sleep much that night, as he kept a lamp on and littered his bed with various books. He looked cute, all swaddled up in the blanket he brings with him on every case for a sense of stability. His glasses were perched on his nose, and he was chewing his fingernails -- a habit I’ve tried to get him to kick over the past two years.

We didn’t talk during the night, but we both knew that each other were awake. I was kept up by my thoughts, trying to figure out how to get Spencer out of his slump. Re-learning how to play chess seemed like a decent enough idea -- yet one that would take some time. I was proved tonight that my skill needed to be greatly improved. It was nice in the moment, but realistically it would take a few weeks, if not more, to get the hang of.

The next day at the precinct I was stationed at the map, trying to figure out our geographical profile. I heard faint chattering coming from outside, and looked over my shoulder to see Spencer and Derek talking. I couldn’t hear much, but I did get that Spencer mumbled about calling Gideon, to which Derek answered that he might’ve just missed the call. It was possible, but likely deeper than that.

“Six times? Six calls? Something’s wrong,” Spencer sighed, rubbing his eyes.

I didn’t intervene with the conversation, instead deciding to finally speak to him about it after the case had ended.

On the last day, we all headed to our rooms after grabbing some dinner, to get a good rest before we took off early the next morning.

“Hey Spence, you awake?”

He hummed in response, and I could hear the rustle of the sheets as he rolled over in his bed to face me.

“I know you’re worried about Gideon. How about when we get back tomorrow I’ll drive you down to his cabin? We can go check on him.

“Would you really?” he asked softly. I couldn’t see him fully in the darkness, but I could sense he was looking at me with pleading eyes.

“Of course. I don’t like seeing you this stressed and down. I want to help.”

“Thanks ____, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

After our conversation it was like a blanket of grey was lifted over his head. He settled in more, drifting off to sleep within minutes. I hated seeing him sad, and I did my best to try and fix his mood whenever I could. Spencer didn’t like change, I knew that, and the team knows that. A part of me had a sneaking suspicion that Gideon wasn’t coming back, and I had fear for what that would mean for Spencer.

-----

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I asked, pulling up in front of the cabin and turning off the engine. The only sounds were the faint hum of rain outside, splattering against the windows.

Spencer shook his head and took a deep breath, before unbuckling himself and opening his door. He mumbled something about being right back, as he headed off towards the building. It wasn’t dark yet -- only being four pm -- but it wasn’t too light either.

It looked as if the lights inside the cabin were off, and I could just hardly see Spencer as he knocked on the door. He waited on the porch for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would come to the door.

Nobody did.

It was hard to just sit there and watch, as his desperation grew stronger by the millisecond.

-----

I took deep breaths, trying to even out my intake of air and remain calm. When nobody answered the fifth time that I knocked, I reluctantly grabbed a hold of the knob and turned it. Much to my surprise the door opened, creaking inch by inch as I stood there unmoving.

“Gideon?” I called into the home, taking one step inside. “Jason?”

I wasn’t greeted with an answer, he didn’t come to the door and thank me for coming to visit. It was eerily quiet -- so quiet I took a few more steps inside to create some sort of volume.

“Hello?” I spoke again, louder this time. Shutting the door behind me I took off my jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the entrance.

The place had been mainly cleared out, there weren’t many personal items behind. I stalked over to the kitchen, to see if there was any trace of someone within the last few days. It’s been officially a week and a half since anyone had last heard from him that I was aware of. I thought someone must have eaten, or at least left a bit of a mess behind them that would signal a presence.

As I turned the corner to enter the new room I noticed something on the table. I stopped in my tracks, leaning down to take a closer look.

Gideon’s badge, gun, and an envelope.

I swallowed thickly, walking around the table and took a seat in front of the items. When I saw the envelope had my name on it, my heart dropped. With shaky hands I picked up the paper and opened it, seeing there was a letter inside.

Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me.

You must be frightened, I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. But then I also never envisioned writing this letter. I’ve searched for a satisfactory explanation for what I’m doing, all I’ve come up with is: a profiler needs to have solid footing. I- I don’t think I do anymore. The world confuses me. The cruelty, indifference, tragedy.

I stopped there, my eyesight becoming blurry from tears. I shoved the letter in my pocket, not caring at the moment if it got crumpled or not.

I was out of the cabin in no time -- choosing not to stay there and sulk in a deeper sadness.

-----

Waiting in the car for Spencer felt like torture. It was difficult, letting him go in there alone to be met with possibly no answers. I was thrown out of my thoughts by the sound of the cabin door slamming shut, Spencer jogging over to the car.

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, red flags hanging immediately as he climbed in the car, tear soaked face pointed down towards his lap. It took me a moment to realize he was crying -- the rain had completely soaked through his top layer of clothes. He didn’t reply with words, instead reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a piece of paper. He handed it over to me, still not meeting my eyes.

I unfolded it and began to read -- it was hard, through the tear stains smudging the ink across the page.

“Oh, Spence…” I whispered and stopped after the first few sentences, leaving the rest for him. I didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him.

“He’s gone,” Spencer sniffled, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his nearly drenched jacket. “He just left. He didn’t say goodbye. He left me a note,” he froze, taking a few deep breaths. “Just like my dad did when I was a kid.”

“It’ll be okay. Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s okay,” I assured him. “You know he cares about you, right?”

“I know he is. It’s just-” he started, trying to find the right words between his gasping for more air. “Can you just take me home, please.”

I nodded, while turning the car back on to drive away. Spencer kept his gaze towards the window, refusing to let me see his face. I’m selfishly almost glad for it, because I don’t know if seeing his heartbreak is something I could handle.

It was a long, quiet drive, taking around an hour and a half to finally reach his apartment. He scrambled out of the car fast, but I still walked him up as I usually did. He got to the door before me, thanking me for driving him home. He shut the door just as I got fully up the stairs, leaving me standing with my mouth open.

‘Baby, when you fought me at the door

Kinda hard to force what's natural

Maybe you don't want what you need most’

-----

The next day when he came over after work he was almost back to normal. It was weird to see, to see such a shift in his behaviour after less than twenty-four hours. As much as he tried to hide it, I could tell just how hard it was for him. The sudden change didn’t go well with anyone, we’d all been informed that Gideon wouldn’t be returning and that he’d moved on from the BAU. It was especially hard on Spencer too, since Elle had just left not too long ago, and then Emily joined the team. First he loses a friend, someone who truly understood him as I did, and then someone he considered a father figure.

And neither of them had said goodbye to his face. It was scary, knowing a member of your team could walk out and never return before you know it.

We were seated on the couch, a game of chess displayed on the middle cushion between us.

It wasn’t anywhere near a fair game -- Spencer’s skills were still far ahead of mine. However I noticed it made him smile, and that’s all I wanted. For him to feel loved, and secured. It was a sense of grounding, a routine that was regular in his life. I still wasn’t very good -- not having played since high school and that night on the last case. But I downloaded an audiobook and several player’s guides for the plane ride home to study, because I wanted to learn for Spencer’s sake. However I soon realized it was easier to watch Spencer and how he plays, and to ask him questions. He seemed to enjoy it, having someone else in his life to play with.. And he loved to teach, to help people learn. He was so good at it too, his big brain being used to help people no matter the context.

Eventually he won the game as usual, causing me to groan in frustration..

“You bastard.”

“Not my fault you kinda suck,” he laughed bashfully, lips curling up into a small smile. It was nice to see a bit of happiness on his face, no matter how temporary.

“You’re so rude to me,” I joked, moving the board to the coffee table. “I thought we were friends.”

It was silent for a few moments, with me figuring out what I was going to say next.

“Spencer I know you haven’t wanted my help, but please tell me what I can do for you. Tell me how you feel, at least?”

‘Maybe you don't want what you need most’

“It’s nothing, ____,” he breathed, looking away from me and instead at the wall the couch was facing. He could see our reflection on the blank tv, and instead opted to just look down at his lap. “I’m better now.”

‘You ain't even there for me

Now you're scared to be alone’

“Respectfully, that’s bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on. I know you don’t want to talk about this but at least give me something. Don’t keep it all in. It’s not healthy.”

His face screwed up at my words, eyebrows furrowed and lips twitching. I could tell he knew I was right, as much as he hated it.

“I’m just- I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Spencer whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

‘Got me thinkin' that you scared of yourself, not me’

It all made sense -- the way he’d been distancing himself lately. It took me promising candy and Star Trek for him to come over tonight, and even then he almost declined. Too many blows to the heart made him afraid to get attached. He didn’t want anyone else from his life to disappear in a flash.

“Look at me,” I said, and he snapped his head to face me. “I’m not going anywhere. I can’t claim to be far in the future, but right now? I’m here. You’re stuck with me for a while, Spencer.”

He smiled, closing his eyes as a stray tear graced across his cheek. I used my thumb to wipe it away, and pulled him into a tight hug. He relaxed against me, I felt the tensions in his shoulders deflate as I held him.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. His breath shuddered, and he wrapped his arms around my middle tighter, pushing his face into my shoulder to muffle his crying.

We sat for a while, my hands tracing patterns along his back. It took a few minutes for his cries to calm down, but eventually his breathing evened out with only a few hiccups here and there. He was practically sitting in my lap with his legs flung over mine, suddenly not caring about his personal space. I couldn’t blame him -- the boy was so touch starved he so clearly craved all contact he consented to.

“Do you want to spend the night?” I asked, quietly so I didn’t scare him with the sudden sound.

“Could I please?”

“Of course,” I smiled, pulling away. He still held on tight, not wanting to let go.

We made our way to my bedroom, repeating our usual routine. This wasn’t the first time we’d had a sleepover, and it won’t be the last I’m sure. Sometimes after particularly harder cases he would spend the night, just to be close to someone.

I went into the bathroom to change, giving him the opportunity to do the same. When I returned, he was dressed in a t-shirt and flannel pants he left at my place for sleepovers like this. He was already in bed, and when he saw that I was done in the bathroom he lifted the side of the blanket to welcome me in.

I joined him, grinning as he scooted over and pressed his back to my chest. I felt him breathing softly, my right arm slung over his torso to bring him in closer. He held onto my hand, and didn’t let me drift away. I was happy to comply, happy to feel his body warmth radiate through me.

“Thank you, ____. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Spence.”

From that day on for the foreseeable future, I swore to myself to have check-ins with Spencer whenever it seemed necessary. Whether it was in the form of words, sleepovers, movie nights, or chess.

His smile got brighter everyday, and eventually he no longer felt as much weight on himself a few weeks down the road. He still cried to me about how he missed Gideon, but it had gotten less frequent. And I was always there for him, offering my shoulder and the promise of my embrace. I knew he appreciated it too.

After a few months since our first game, I beat him in a game of chess. We were on the jet on the way to Montana for a case, and Derek was sitting beside Spencer. He kept annoying him, doing little things like twisting his hair and fanning him with files. Spencer kept shrieking quietly -- trying not to alert Hotch of the bickering.

“Checkmate,” I said, biting back a smile.

“What?!” Spencer froze, arm raised in what looked like to be a poor attempt of whacking Derek’s head.

“Awe, pretty boy. You’ll get her next time,” Derek threw his head back in laughter.

“What?” Spencer repeated quieter, eyes darting across the board, likely running calculations in his head.

“Better luck next time,” I smirked, tilting my head to the side. I wiggled my eyebrows, my small victory boosting my ego.

Spencer tried to keep a neutral face, but I could see by the tension in his cheekbones that he was happy. He was enjoying it.

-----

Please tell me your thoughts on this chapter here!

You can also send me an ask to join this series’ taglist.

permanent taglist; @spencerscumrag @spenxerslut

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x self insert #mgg #gublernation #matthew gray gubler fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #its not christmas til you come home #thanks for reading!

[fraiserabbit]

i usually draw something first and then put a story to it, but this time i wrote the story for some stress relief/venting and then i doodled this thing while feeling sad from my own writing like a doofus

here’s Little Diesel

“I love the Bluebell Railway, I really do, but…” A shaky hand ran through Stepney’s curls. “…I’m getting old, Rusty.”

The diesel worker was silently watching a butterfly flitting in and out of the blades of grass, eventually managing a small nod of understanding. Stepney continued, “These past years have been absolutely wonderful! I’m truly grateful you saved my train from that yard. Can you believe it? I was so ready to give it up right then and there. The career I was so passionate about, the engine I was so unbelievably joyful to wake up to every day – and I let it sit there to be turned to scrap.” Stepney chuckled, turning to his friend. “Then you came along.”

Rusty only replied with a small smile, but his eyes didn’t follow along. The older man didn’t seem to notice as he kept talking, turning his attention to the deep orange clouds crawling across the darkening sky. “You went out of your way to find a new engine for the line. You went out of your way, travelling a whole day to find one. You went out of your way to find me.” Stepney closed his eyes, feeling the cool evening breeze on his skin. “And you gave me a second chance at life.”

“Just doing my job.” Rusty mumbled, absentmindedly picking at the grass beside him.

“You did a marvellous job, Rusty.”

The diesel driver felt a sharp pang of sadness in his chest as his whole body tensed.

“I always wonder what all these years would’ve been like if my train did get scrapped. Would I be sitting in an office cubicle staring out the window daydreaming? Maybe watching a film with a family?” Stepney opened his eyes. “And not once did I ever wish that you didn’t drive up to me that night.”

Rusty felt sick. A feeling of immense unease crept into his mind, but he managed. For now.

“But I’m getting weaker, Rusty.” Stepney’s tone had dropped, as did Rusty’s heart. “Maybe it’s time I sat down with other folks my age for a cup of tea, complaining about young people like you!” He laughed, but the younger man could only stare blankly at the trees across the tracks. They seemed menacing as the sun set lower into the horizon, painting large shadows across the landscape.

“What I’m saying is…” Stepney lowered his voice – a more solemn tone than Rusty was used to from the lively man. “It’s time I retired, Rusty.”

Those had been the words Rusty was dreading. Ever since this morning when Stepney had called to meet ‘by the bluebell field’, with a certain sadness in his voice Rusty could perceive through his jolly tone. He never wanted to believe it. Of course he had heard of numerous previous workers retiring from the other old workers, but he never imagined one would right in front of him.

“It’ll be a sad sight to see Old Bluebell be sent to the yard a second time. Though it’ll be the final time, eh? There’ll not be another little diesel to save it.” Stepney paused. “There’ll not be another driver to operate it.”

Rusty shivered at the implication. His expression was grim as his shoulders slumped.

Stepney’s gentle eyes studied the younger man for a while, and his voice was kind as he spoke slowly. “Cheer up, little diesel! You’ve given me all I ever wanted. Take a look here.” He produced a neat pale blue folder from seemingly nowhere. “It sure was a surprise, seeing that first letter you wrote to me. If I recall, the first line was…” Stepney clicked his tongue in thought. “…‘Salutations, old man!’ Oh, you were silly indeed! And you just kept writing. Years and years of letters, even though I only had time to respond to half of them.” He fondly gazed at the folder before handing it to Rusty. “Do what you will with your letters. I won’t need to read them again.”

Rusty’s hands tightened around the folder. “So you did read them.” He half-smiled.

“Why wouldn’t I? The man that revived my life-long passion, and I ignored him? That wouldn’t be right!” Stepney grinned, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a single envelope. “Now take this, Rusty.”

Rusty took the envelope, carefully opening it. His voice caught in his throat as he unfolded the pages inside.

“I finally found the time to write a good one. No need to read it all in one go.”

The younger man quickly turned his head away from his old friend, blinking back the tears welling in his eyes. Stepney patiently sat in the silence as Rusty struggled to compose himself. “I’ll miss you.” His voice was breaking as he found it harder to keep his posture straight, shakily placing the envelope and folder on the ground beside him.

“Look at me.”

Rusty’s shoulders were visibly shaking as he tried to hold back his feelings, turning back to face his friend. Stepney’s hands gently cupped Rusty’s blazing red cheeks, and he lowered himself to be at eye level with the younger man. “You have been one of the best things to happen to me, little diesel. You’ve been like a ray of sunshine bringing life back to a field of dying bluebells. And the bluebells were beautiful.”

At that moment Rusty allowed himself to break down, placing a trembling hand over Stepney’s and leaning into it. And he cried.

#thomas and friends #ttte #ttte rusty #ttte stepney #ttte humanized #some creative writing #they're best friends after Rusty to the Rescue <3 #rusty rarely gets emotional but he's got a soft spot for the old man alright #imagine as many years have passed as you like #no specific time frame :] #✍🐇 #UtE AU

[you-did-well-moon]

Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate

Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader

Word count:  2,994

A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!

TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.

You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared. 

You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty. 

You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words. 

“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”

How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.  

The end of the month was in two weeks. 

You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building. 

Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings. 

Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.

“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”

You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago. 

Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago. 

Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.

You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest. 

You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you. 

“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut. 

Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly. 

“Fuck you”.

Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place. 

Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue. 

It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.

“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.

 Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.

You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant. 

You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways. 

A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something. 

Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one. 

A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.

You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran. 

He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished  with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.  

“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?” 

You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.

“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.

“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face. 

You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck. 

You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today. 

“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.

After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.

There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears. 

The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor. 

A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Hey bud, you need some help there?”

The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.

“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.

You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.

With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.

“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest. 

As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”. 

You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.

With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt. 

You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down. 

With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand. 

You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones. 

You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.

You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart. 

You felt warm. 

After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest. 

You were scared of it. 

With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you. 

“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind. 

You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered. 

You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away. 

“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand. 

You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone. 

With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away. 

He couldn’t.  

Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting. 

“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.

At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs. 

He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself. 

“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever. 

That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.  

#ateez reaction #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #werewolf ateez #werewolf!ateez #ateez werewolf au #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho imagines #yunho scenarios #yunho fanfic #yunho au #yunho fluff #yunho angst #jung yunho x reader #jung yunho au #jung yunho imagine #werewolf!yunho #yunho werewolf #yunho werewolf au #yunho oneshot

[sourholland]

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

a royal convenience blurb - i highly suggest reading the series before reading this

a/n - this is much longer than my usual arc blurbs, it’s almost three thousand words. it’s very nostalgic, though. it’s almost like a second epilogue!

Many years had passed, the nineteenth century fading into a distant memory. As quickly as your youthful teenage years had dawned on you, they were gone just as fast. It was a bittersweet thing, watching your skin become ridden with age and stress.

Even in the years that had passed so feverishly, you could still recall the smell of fresh air as you stepped off that ship at eighteen years old. The times were changing, the people were changing. It was a progressive era, one you felt sad you wouldn’t be able to see through to the end. At the same time you were content, you had enjoyed a very disorderly youth.

In the time that passed, your children had now had their own children, some of which who had begun to have their own children. It was odd, to watch them as you and Tom once were.

“Granny?” Anne called out, Alexander’s youngest who had been named after your dearest, most loyal friend.

Anne had died shortly after the birth of your fourth child. She caught the fever, already into her older years. It was a difficult loss, terribly difficult. She had very fortunately been able to see your fourth child, Prince Leopold, take his first breath, offering his nickname. From that day on, he was called Leo.

When Alexander had named his only daughter after the woman he only remembered bits and pieces of, you wept. He knew how much you adored her, especially with all of the stories Tom had told him as he got older.

“Where’d you find that old thing?” You asked her humorously, noticing the large, very overcrowded scrapbook she was holding. “I haven’t seen that in ages.”

“I found it stowed away in some of papa’s old things,” she remarked. “I thought you might like to look through it.”

Anne was a curious thing, just sixteen and very keen to know everything and anything. She looked a lot like you as a young girl, with those eyes that Tom had passed to Alexander. Funny enough, she’d even inherited that same lopsided grin that you knew so well. It was the same one you’d been on the other end of for decades.

The scrapbook was quite familiar to you, especially being that it was so shoved full of things from when you had just been married. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, many years of neglect quite prominent in the condition.

“Of course, darling!” You smiled unwaveringly at her. “Set it down, let’s have a look.”

There was an inscription on the inside, reminding you that the book itself had been a wedding gift from Charlotte. It felt so long ago that she was just a dear friend and companion to you. She was your lady in waiting for a brief time, then she went on to marry Harrison and have two daughters.

To document many years to come and their happy memories.

Lottie

The next page caught you by surprise, only the first bit of the book and you were nearly in tears. In a grainy black font, clippings of at least five newspapers were pasted to the dull yellow page. It felt like you were being knocked into the past, hand grazing the paper gently. Smiling softly, you heard Anne chuckle from beside you.

THE PRINCE OF WALES ENGAGED TO BE WED THIS SPRING

“Were you scared?” She asked. “Auntie Maggie told me some.”

“I was absolutely mortified, if I’m being perfectly honest. I took a ship from France, for days I couldn’t keep anything down. Once I reached land, I was just happy to be able to step onto solid ground.”

Recalling the events of that day, you remembered your atrocious hair after the long journey and disheveled clothing. They’d put you in the carriage and sent you off like it was nothing, the next thing you knew, you were standing before the King and Queen of England. How bizarre times were, these days there was something called the automobile. Carriages would be out of fashion soon enough.

“Is it true, then?” Anne questioned bashfully. “I never believed that you and Grandfather could ever have hated each other.”

“Oh, you should have seen us that young and stubborn. He told me he’d never willingly marry him that day, I was furious.”

“What did you say?” She leaned forward as if it was gossip.

“I told him the feeling was mutual, of course!”

She erupted into a fit of girlish giggles, saying something about how she wished she could’ve seen it. You thought back to that moment, wishing you could tell your younger self how you would get through the hard times. How worth it, it would be.

Flipping to the next page, you could have cried with tears of joy. It was not uncommon to find pressed peonies around any space you inhabited, but this was one of the first white peony that Anne had ever threaded into your hair. It was from that first ball you’d attended, a week into your stay at Buckingham Palace.

Looking down at your lap, it was like your aged hands disappeared and you were seeing yourself from that moment. The blue gown you wore sat so nicely, the bitter taste of your situation re-emerging on your lips.

“Is there some significance of this dating?” She pointed to the small ink at the corner of the page: March, 1871

“There is,” you murmured to yourself. “It was a very significant night, when I wore these flowers in my hair. Ask your grandfather and I’m sure he’ll tell you all about how he called me childish and proud.”

Flipping to the next side, you sighed at the very tainted and tear-stained draft of a letter you’d intended to send to your mother. From what you remembered, this copy was very similar, but much less put together compared to what you actually sent. It had worn heavily with age, but some excerpts were clearly legible. Anne began to read aloud.

“‘I am writing to tell you that this wedding cannot go forth, it will be an absolute catastrophe for everyone,’” she read wearily. “‘I do not wish to marry the Prince of Wales, nor do I wish to become the Queen of England. Frankly, I would rather any other man.’”

She was skipping to see what made sense on the parchment, majority of it was unreadable and the authentic letter was long gone. Your mother had succumbed to disease many years ago. Some bit before your father died and Louis became King of France.

“‘Maman, please help me. Please tell me that it is not too late,’” she made out. “‘I cannot go on like this any longer, I will not. I love my liberty far too much to subject myself to such a fate.’”

“I was quite the fan of dramatics back then,” you laughed at the long and drawn out passages you’d written in hopes of a way home.

“Granny, it sounds like you were miserable in England,” Anne sighed, clearly taken aback. “I just don’t understand.”

And hopefully she never would, you thought to yourself.

It had been a lucky draw, yours and Tom’s situation. Love had blossomed from something more like hatred. You’d grown fond of each other, eventually building a life with each other. Many marriages forced at the hands of a monarchy were unalike.

Beside the drafted letter was a single slip of parchment, carved into it was a quote you remember so clearly from A Tale of Two Cities. The words were pushed deep into the paper, ink splattered all over it.

“Think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you.”

Anne did not need to know of a certain auburn haired mistress that had inspired this little art project. Nettie Bennett was a name you had not spoken aloud in decades, a name you wished terribly to forget. You did not judge Tom based on Nettie, nor had you ever planned to throw her back in his face by telling Anne.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your granddaughter to keep such a thing close to her chest, but the fact that you had reserved that name for the past only. Anne need not think of her grandfather any less.

This time she moved to see what bit of history was next. It was a very familiar bit of sheet music, a Chopin duet to be specific. This memory was nearly tainted by Nikolai, but you chose to look at the more positive outcomes of that night. A boy and girl at the piano, sworn to despise each other at all odds. Only they couldn’t, not in that moment.

The next few pages were little things here and there, fabric swatches and drawn up plans from when they were crafting your wedding gown. Oh how disappointed everyone was when you’d chosen white. Anne asked a million questions, she spoke so fondly of the wedding that was held long before her birth.

The next was a headline you remember gravely:

SHOTS FIRED AT PRINCE OF WALES AND BRIDE

You definitely did not miss only being referred to as his bride. It was quite a tasking thing, being engaged to the next King of England. Anne had known the story from the carriage ride through Hyde Park, Tom told it every Christmas. He usually left out the part about how you’d teased him with your engagement ring.

“What’s this?” She asked, pointing to the bit of black lace threaded into the paper.

It was from the veil you’d worn that dreadful day at the Tower of London. It was a memory you wished not to rehash, one to never be forgotten, though. It had been the first and last public execution you witnessed.

“A story for another day,” you breathed.

Next was a bit of the corset Tom had ripped apart from that ball a few days later. Even now, the memory turned your face ablaze. Shaking your head, you wished to rid yourself of the burning sensation with a chuckle.

“How about this one?” She touched the corset, looking at you curiously.

“A story for—when you’re older.”

Looking to the next page, you realized it was the first photograph in the book. A black and white moment captured between you and Tom, straight faced and clearly vexed with each other at the time. You had just had a row the day before, it was by the pond on the property if you recalled correctly.

Nicola had dragged you inside to take the photograph, your ring on display very clearly. Your dress was light, Tom was looking rather put off with you. However, this was normal for the time it was taken. Beside it though, you barely remembered this photo. White spots covered the corners, but it was slightly off guard in a way that your face was slightly blurry from moving your head and he was staring at you so intently.

“Look at you,” Anne cooed. “You looked so beautiful, you look a bit like—”

“You,” you responded coyly. “That’s where you get your good looks.”

In a small bunch, you noticed the pins all pasted to the page of the next section in the book. You had retrieved them from the library floor after Tom pulled them from your hair in a fleeting decision. They were old, little pearls at the top of the clip. It had been a long time since you’d seen them.

Anne had pointed out the photograph of you and Tom during your engagement at Windsor Castle. Sam and Harry were beside you, Paddy still very short at your left. It was taken outside, you remembered all of the equipment being put out and the man who crouched underneath the black sheet to capture it.

“Windsor was what made me really fall in love with Tom,” you smiled at the memories. “It turned out being such a nice trip.”

“It must have been so magical,” she replied with a breathy laugh.

“Well, we’d had a bit of a row about a man called Nikolai. Another story for another day.”

As if the world was mocking you, there was another small note that Tom had written up and given to you on a spare bit of parchment. That night, well Tom had made sure Nikolai left the country. It was in his once pristine and very beautiful handwriting that had now gone shaky.

I need to speak with you, meet me in my chambers just following dinner.

— Tom

There was an assortment of small things, photographs of just you, some with Sam and Harry. You found stamped lilies from your wedding bouquet, eyes watering at the sight. Anne picked up the letter you knew all too well, it was Tom’s vows to you from your wedding day.

She read silently, a smile playing on her lips and she went on. It was quite nostalgic, to see that paper after such a long time. Setting the parchment down, she had tears in her eyes.

“That’s so romantic,” she said outwardly.

It was beginning to get late, watching Anne flip through some photographs from the beginning of your marriage. She found pictures from when Alexander had been born, and then when James came along. It was much more difficult to get them to sit still after Margaret was born and they were so hyperactive.

“We opted for paintings majority of the time,” you added. “Oh look, there’s Leo’s christening. He was the first and only with any actual photo from his, all of the rest only had paintings we commissioned.”

She watched the children grow up through old photos, little things pasted to the pages. When Leo was three, you had your fifth and final child. Princess Alice sat idly on your lap in one of the photos, she looked so happy. Her face was a bit blurry from movement, but you could make out her smile. Standing at your right was Alexander, he was nearly fourteen and looked so much like Tom when you first met. Beside him was James, twelve and disdainful looking. You remembered how adamant he was to not be taking this picture.

Margaret was six, her hair at her shoulders with a bright grin playing on her lips. She had a hand on her new sisters dress, looking down at her adoringly. Leo was three, his hair was slicked down and he only wanted to run around and play. His mouth was opening to speak, you could still remember what he was saying. Margaret had stepped on his foot so he was going to shout at her.

“Maggie!” He had yelled, his kid-voice making you laugh.

Finally shutting the book, your promised Anne that you would go through it more later on. She was saddened, wanting to see more, but agreed nonetheless.

“Don’t worry,” you told her. “I’ve got plenty more stories to tell you.”

#a royal convenience #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #tom holland series #tom holland blurb #royal!tom

[everafterkeiji]

yay!! ok, so i was thinking, itadori, konoha (or kageyama if u don’t write for konoha!), & bakugou (and any others if u want!) with an s/o who prefers to write everything they feel instead of saying it (or maybe to sum it up, an introvert s/o but personally i don’t think u have to be an introvert to feel comfortable with writing ur feelings down instead of saying it out loud) bc i like to do that a lot more than talking it out. not that i’m trying to hold it in but i’m not much of a talker irl in the first place and it feels like i have a lot more freedom writing stuff down (jeez, i didn’t mean for this to get personal *smh and sigh*) but uh yeah :-) of course take ur time with this, hell, delete if u don’t have any inspo or if u don’t feel comfortable but thank u for letting me request something as such if u do write it <33

i can actually relate to that! i personally like being able to express myself with words much more than voicing it out but thank you so much for requesting (i also included a few characters cuz i feel like they suited this so i hope thats ok!!), ily mwah <3

𝐇𝐐, 𝐌𝐇𝐀, & 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

PAIRINGS: HQ, MHA, & JJKS BOYS x gn! reader

GENRE: fluff, comfort

⟡ 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 notices the slump in your shoulders and the rather tiresome expression in your eyes. As much as he wanted to approach you, he contemplated hard on the his decisions. He definitely didn't want to add onto your possible headache or stress you out with his constant bugging. While he sits in his class, he can only admire you from afar as you write away—busied by your writing to ever listen to the lesson anyway.

Even you could feel Yuji's consistent glance at the times where the teacher was occupied by writing on the board. You didn't mean to worry him to such an extent but no certain words could express the way this heavy feeling was weighing down on you. The only energy left for you to do was let the pen It it's way to your emotions, jotting down every twist of your sudden despondence. By the time the bell had rung signalling you for a break, you noticed Itadori had his head down while you slip the letter underneath his arms.

As the others left, you reached for the chair in front of him while you watch him carefully read the letter that was filled with your emotions along with a little apology for making him worry. "Why are you sorry?" He asks softly, scooting his seat a little closer to you. "I hate making you worry." You answered him but he only smiles, understanding your thoughts as he pats your head.

"I'll always think about you first so worrying about you is not a problem to me."

⟡ 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐇𝐀 wonders why you grew quiet by the end of practice but even as he watches you while you helped the team, you didn't look like you were mad at him or at anyone. Even so, he could feel how drained you were just by the way your head rests on his shoulder. The team sees how exhausted you were and even went their way to grab their own beverages and lift their own baskets which was what you usually do. "I'll just get some snacks." You excused yourself before leaving but a letter falls out of your pocket the moment you stood up. Once you left, Konoha picks up the letter as his eyes scan over the piece of paper filled with your sudden drifts in emotion and the exhaustion that never seems to leave.

He read how frustrated you were in terms of the exam and how a few subjects have been bugging you as well as the lack of sleep you receive. He sighs but once he sees the little line that says how you didn't want to show how much it affected because you didn't want to drag him along with your problem, he only wanted for you to return so he could embrace you.

The moment you entered the gym, snacking on the chips you got from the vending machine, Konoha walks right up to you with a hand to your head. "Why don't we rest at my house later? Exams are up but I think we've gone through too much lately, so you up for it bub?" He asks, the genuine care for you immensely showing when his hand cascades down to your shoulder while you felt as if those were the words you've longed to hear since the last week. "Of course." You answered before he pulls you with him, your head buried in his chest while he sighs in relief.

"Even if you don't talk it out with me, I promise you it's okay. So don't stress over something without me, okay?"

⟡ 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 hums in comfort while his hands rake though your hair. He skims through the pages of the book while you scrolled on your phone. His eyes glance over to the table to see a folded piece of paper while he casually reaches for it as you paid no attention to it. You only turned your phone off before fully leaning to his side with his hand snaking around your waist while he reads the letter.

The moment he sees his name written on it, a small smile falls upon him the more he reads through your scribbles of adoration for him. There's also a growing heat to his cheeks as his heart feeds off your words describing how thankful you were to have him and how loving him had been the best experience you've had. He knew you were more comfortable in letting written sentences translate the emotions that you were having and he loved it more now that you expressed it in a beautiful way. After reading the remaining lines, Akaashi lands a kiss to your hair once he acknowledged your sleepy state.

"I love you." He whispers while you press your own lips to his chest right at the position of his heart. "I love you more, Keiji." He smiles, almost as if it'd never be able to leave him.

"I know you do."

⟡ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 would figure you out majority of the times but maybe you were just good with not settling for your emotions to bottle up. Though he recently noticed you with your head locked on a notebook, just writing blurbs of your thoughts and rooms for improvement. He hasn't had a clue of whatever you were writing though, he figured you were just doodling instead of listening to Aizawa. He knows you were comfortable with letting him read through your stuff but he sometimes feel as if it was a mistake to be curious to the point if he just borrows your notebook to read them all.

"You're always too busy with that notebook. What shit are you up to anyway?" He asks, almost a scoff leaving his lips when he finds you all alone just at the entrance of the dorm late at night. "I just like to take a breather here. You too, Katsuki?" You turned to him while he just sits a few inches beside you. He doesn't want to edge on the topic of how curious he was or was he willing to show how zoned out you were from a few classes. When he sees how you open the notebook, he sneaks a peak to see a bunch of paragraphs making him grow even more eager.

"For someone who doesn't talk as much, you sure use a shit ton of paper." He said while you turned to him chuckling. "You're right but I'm just not really good with voicing out whatever I'm feeling. I thought writing it was the best option for me." You explained but you were surprised he paid attention to a mere second you left it open.

"Pft, if you're actually smart then some dumbass is willing to listen to whatever you have to say." He mutters as you turned to him confused but by his tone, you figured he meant it as comfort even if a few words would've meant different things. "I know you're willing to listen, Katsuki." You said with a soft smile.

"Took you long enough to know, shithead."

⟡ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 has always respected you and took you as one of the most important person he's ever had. He was always thankful to see you support him in every aspect, training with him then comforting him at times his insecurities resurface. He loved that about you and all he wanted to do was do the same to you, hopefully with a greater amount just to show you how much he appreciates you.

Recently he's just noticed how you would usually sleep earlier than the rest of them after dinner and he worries if training has brought you to your limits at a daily. So when he knocks on your door after dinner, he was ready to ease you into rest if that was your problem. "It's open!" You screamed with your stomach flat onto the bed while your boyfriend enters.

"Hey Kiri, you okay?" You asked him when you saw the furrow in his eyebrows and the pout to his lips. He closed the door before sitting on your bed, glancing at your open notebook. "I'm okay but what about you love? Are you tired or any other problem you're having?" He asks, a hand to your cheek softly caressing your skin making you smile. You sat up before wrapping your arms around his waist catching him by surprise. "I'm sorry for not letting you know any sooner but you can read my notebook, I promise it's okay." You allowed him to browse through the pages while he nods, before leaning to the bedframe and scanning through your handwriting as you remained to his side.

"Bub—hey thank you for allowing me to read this." He whispers while he leans his head on your head just to feel you. "I'm happy you're still comfortable to let me know how you feel. No matter what way you want to express to me, I'll be here. You're important to me so even if it takes a lot of letters, I'll read them all." Kirishima says making you smile as you land a peck to his cheek while he blushes.

"Thank you, Eiji."

#haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #konoha akinori #konoha x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fluff #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #itadori x y/n #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #kirishima imagine #eijiro kirishima x y/n #kirishima fluff #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro fluff #mha fluff #jjk fluff #xine requests

[erenyeagerssgf]

college!eren with an artsy girlfriend (modern au)

♡request: Can you do Eren x fem reader modern college setting headcanons where she draws them together and gives him the drawings, leaves him cute notes, loves hugging/kissing him, museum dates, the reader loves art and animals. ♡please and thank you

♡a/n: this is my first request and i adore it! anon, you’re too cute🥰

♡contains: fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, hcs

as an art major, you were in love with anything that had to do with art

you and eren constantly went on museum dates

eren doesn’t enjoy museums as much as you do, but he always goes because seeing you so passionate about something makes him extremely happy

you analyze certain pieces of art that interest you and he makes a point to listen attentively

after a bit, i can see eren getting a little bored if you guys are just walking around (lmao sorry)

you notice and swing your guys’ intertwined hands,,

he gives you a smile & you pull him down and give him a little kiss on the cheek as compensation for going to so many museums with you

he likes to take you to a restaurant or cafe after every time

instead of sitting across from him, you love sitting next to him instead

eren adores this and feels loved because of how desperately it seems you want to be with him at all times

you LOVE leaving cute notes for eren

you’d leave a note for him when you woke up in his dorm the next morning

you’d sneak them into his bag when you see him in the cafeteria before you went to your next lecture

you would compliment his appearance or encourage him when he had an important test

a pretty blush forms on his face when he read your notes

it’d make his day

eren would often return the favor w his own cute notes

once mikasa caught him writing one,,

he got angry and tried to deny he was writing you little love letters on sticky notes

mikasa didn’t believe him tho and ended up telling armin about it

they both teased him about it and continue to when they catch him writing more

eren and you would spend a lot of time in each other’s dorms

mostly cuddling and watching movies or the shows you were watching together

A LOT of make outs

hands and lips on each other 24/7

often falls asleep in your dorm

your roommate is tired of him lol

eren’s birthday was coming up and you wanted to gift him a drawing of the two of you

eren mentioned that one of his favorite pictures of the two of you was on his social media

you found the pic and started working on the drawing

fast forward to eren’s birthday,,

you give eren the drawing, with an excited:

“happy birthday!”

eren smiles as he grabs the present

++ brings you in for a kiss

“you’re so talented. this is beautiful, baby.”

puts it in a picture frame on his desk

any time he gets stressed with studying/homework, he’ll look at the drawing

it instantly calms him down as he begins thinking about you

instantly missing your cuddles

i hope you enjoyed this request. feel free to request some more! 

#💐.cutie #.hcs #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager fluff #fluff #hc #headcanon #aot headcanons #eren headcanons #eren jaeger headcanons #eren yeager headcanons #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #attack on titan headcanons #boyfriend eren #this request is so cute #eren with an artsy girlfriend

[wyn-n-tonic]

We Can Stay Like This Forever

Word Count: 2,385 Warnings: Uh... yearning. A crumb of smut. Dialogue heavy bullshit tbh. Author's Note: God okay, I've been sitting on this for like a month now? I wrote this when I couldn't focus on my own characters anymore and my brain needed to visualize parts of the scene I was trying to write using the body language of a character I already know and love so well. This is written in second person but the reader has a name. It was an experiment dashed out in a drunken fervor that made my editor weep. Anyway, if you see any of these lines in a book one day... no you don't.

MASTERLIST

“Javi, I haven’t loved you since I was twent—“

“That's bullshit and you know it,” he interrupts, voice coming out hard but arms crossed tighter than they have been all night, replacing the pressure of kevlar he’s so used to. Protective, defensive, stopping the bullets from reaching him where it matters the most.

Your lips are raw from dragging your teeth across them but biting down is the only thing that stops the tears from springing to the surface. You never thought you’d see him again, you never thought he’d be standing in your kitchen only strides away; two for him, four for you. You saw the news coming out of Colombia, heard it in the supermarket passed from ear to ear straight from his dad’s mouth. Javier Peña was the walking dead.

Javi left Lorraine for you. You gave him a choice and he made it and you, being certain he’d lean the other way, couldn’t live with that guilt. When you wrote that first letter, you didn’t expect a response. You just wanted to apologize, you wanted him to know that you were sorry. You didn’t expect to hear his voice on the other end weeks later when you picked up the phone. Hell, you had pushed the letter so far out of your mind that you’d forgotten you’d included your number.

And now he’s standing in front of you, tangible as ever. No longer just the boy you loved but a man aged so roughly by sun and stress that you are breaking within wishing that you had been there to smooth it all over.

“Goddamn it, Clara,” that hard tone reaches towards you again but he loosens his stance, the toned arms still holding close to his body but the tension bottoming out to his exhaustion, “are you going to say anything or are you going to just keep looking at me like I’m a fucking ghost?”

“Is that not what you are?” Your voice is broken when you find it again, the tears really do come now. “A ghost from my past come back to haunt my bad decisions? Tell me I fucked up?”

“Is that what you think I’m here for? Is that why you think I came to you first thing instead of my family?” He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and drags a hand through his hair, pinning you in place with his eyes. “Can I smoke in here?”

“I thought you quit.”

“Yeah well,” another exhale, the slightest hint of laughter on his lips, “I thought a lot of things I’ve been wrong about too.”

And god, those eyes. Simultaneously the warmest, softest brown but so black they look like blown out pupils. Like he’s the one who’s been snorting the cocaine, not busting those that do. You don’t even register the insult before nodding your head. What’s a little cigarette smoke when you run the risk of him walking out that door and not coming back?

But isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that the purpose of this conversation? Are you not being the same bitch you were all those years ago praying that he’ll be the one to walk out on you this time? Bringing it back full circle to that decision you forced on him half a lifetime ago?

“Yeah?” He doesn’t sound sure and even though your eyes are anywhere but on his now, you haven’t felt his leave you this whole time.

“Yeah,” you whisper to your feet like they’re the most interesting goddamn thing in the world.

After years of practice, he’s quick about it, you don’t even realize he’s lit up until he lets go of that first puff and, with it, the entire room changes. It’s not angry, it’s not hard, it’s… twenty years of heartache and longing compounding, neither party believing they’re good enough for the other.

You look back at the tired man standing in front of you, “Javier, I—“

“No. No, let me talk,” he rubs his eyes with his free hand, drags it down his golden cheek and smirks. Another inhale and, “I didn’t come here to tell you that you fucked up, you’ve said it plenty. We’ve been talking for months, we fell back in stride like nothing ever happened, like I hadn’t spent years pretending every woman I fucked was you because it was like you’d never left my side. Almost twenty-five hundred miles, Clara, I was a world away from you and when I came home at the end of the day the last six months…” he’s the one biting his lip now, “I could call you no matter the time and the sound of your voice made me feel like a normal person. Like I still had a shot at this world beyond the bounty on my head.”

His exhaustion, his softness, is palpable now as he stops to suck in a breath like he hasn’t taken one this whole time and then…

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have written. If you didn’t love me, you would’ve hung up. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t answer the phone at one o’clock in the fucking morning to tell me to breathe through the anger and the sadness and the horror I witnessed. But if that’s the story you want to stick with, I’ll go. I don’t expect anything I just…” his voice hitches, the cigarette long forgotten between his fingers, “I just wanted to see if your face still lights up when you laugh or if that had changed after two decades. It hasn’t and it’s still both my favorite sight and sound in the world. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to watch it grow through the years.”

He looks to the right of him and throws the cigarette in the sink. Pushing off the counter with his other hand, he takes one step forward and fixes his eyes on yours again. “Tell me I’m wrong, Clara. Tell me you don’t love me and I won’t ever darken your home aga—“

“I love you.”

And he’s on you. Just like that. Just one more step to close the distance and his body presses to yours. His large hands come up to cradle your jaw and his nose slots perfectly into place against yours and his lips touch down like a plane with faulty landing gear, crashing against yours all hot breath and stale tobacco and, oh god, the smell of him. Soap and sweat, the chemical make up of his scent flooding your senses to make you feel whole again when you didn’t even know how much you missed it.

His hands are sliding down gently, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. With his strong arms lifting you away from the counter, you no longer need to support yourself against it and you’re grabbing for him, trying harder to wring the space from between you like a worn rag but nothing is left.

The feel of him is something new, however. He’s not that scrawny kid who awkwardly held you to him, unsure of how his touches were affecting your body and pleasure. No, this Javier is different. Older, experienced, more tender than you remember him ever being, so sure of himself and just… thicker. Two shirt sizes up from the man you walked away from, his formerly wiry muscles are almost bubble wrapped in a way. What used to knot against you in hard planes of flesh and bone now give quietly against your touch as you’re pulling at the only thing that separates you now.

But suddenly, he’s breaking away. All heavy breaths and wildly flushed cheeks, his lips have left yours and the ache you numbed in his absence returns like a migraine after sleep. You need him and he’s gone again and you’re chasing his kiss with a whine as he replaces his lips with a thumb, cradling your face once more and shushing you, “Cálmate, mi amor. Está bien. Are we moving too fast right now?”

And you are breathless as you answer, “We are not moving fast enough, Javier.”

“I just don’t want you to think that this is all that I want. That you will wake to find an empty bed tomorrow.”

“If I woke to find an empty bed tomorrow, that’s exactly what I’d deserve.”

Those eyebrows knit up in confusion, the lines that have made their home on his forehead making you simultaneously weak in their beauty as evidence of his life and sad in the tragedy that you weren’t there to watch him earn them.

“Clarita,” his tone is so soft, the endearment coming to him as naturally now as it did in the before, “If it’s punishment you think you deserve then I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. I chose you, you didn’t beg for it. I did that of my own accord. And when you chose to walk away because you felt guilty, I did beg you. I’ll own it, I begged and pined but you couldn’t get out of your own head long enough to see that you were never the issue, you were the solution. You still are. I have searched for you in everybody I’ve ever met. So tell me,” his hands are wrapping around your arms now, “Are you ready to forgive yourself and find me in your bed tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” comes barely audible through parted lips as his find yours once more, knocking the breath from your chest as his hands slide down to your hips. He digs his fingers into the denim there and slowly starts to guide you through the home that’s not his thinking, correctly, that the only door at the end of the hallway is the destination he really booked from Bogotá.

And he is burning a hole through you, his entire being set on fire against you in the already blazing Texas heat. He is gentle as he pushes you down, climbing on top with one arm out to break both your falls. His shirt was abandoned somewhere in the kitchen, shoes kicked off in the hallway with your shorts not far behind. His belt buckle is riding against you as he rocks his hips down, forgetting the metal between you in his hunger for you to feel him.

He feels you wince, the whine swallowed between his lips but he’s pulling back like he’s electrocuted you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” your hands are shaking as you take advantage of the space between, “just take your pants off.”  

He hits you with that crooked smile and meets your hands where they’re still trembling at his hips and, god, he’s swift. He wastes no time kicking off his jeans and falling back into you, pressing back into you. You can feel him straining against his briefs but his patience is unmatched as he savors every taste of your mouth, every nip at the warm skin of your neck and chest. His hands are exploring the years that have marked your body as you mentally catalogue the scars that have taken over his.

He’s pushed your shirt up as far as it will go without leaving you but when he finally does to lift it away, the separation is so quick that it feels like nothing. He’s everywhere and you’re delirious, half thinking you’re imagining him moaning into you as he takes your hand in his to put it where he wants it.

You almost think…but, no, that’s not how that works. Your brain is fucking with you, unable to reconcile the man on top of you with the memory of the boy you loved once upon a time. But you swear, he’s bigger. He holds his breath as your hand slides between him and his waistband and he’s looking down at you like he’s never been touched at all. The sadness showcased across the softness of his face is made worse by the sheen of sweat and blush across his nose. You’d almost believe it if you couldn’t feel the heartbeat in his hardness, waiting for you to make the next move.

After two beats of aching silence, looking up into the galaxies he has the audacity to call eyes, your other hand moves to push at his waistband. If you thought he was urgent before, the graceful rush to join your efforts is gold medal worthy. Your senses are delayed, you’re not sure if the sound of fabric hitting the ground comes before or after he’s ripping at the only bit of fabric that separates you now.

“Fuck,” he rests his forehead to yours, “I'll buy you another pair.” The confusion bubbles into laughter as you realize that, yes, he actually tore them from your body.

But the bubbling laughter in your throat squeezes into a tight gasp, the air punched from your lungs as he steadies himself against you. His long fingers are brushing your hair to the side as he leans down and whispers against your lips, “Can I?”

“Please,” but your begging is lost in his response before the word has fully left your lips. He is grabbing in a way you haven’t felt in years. Hungry, like he can’t get enough, like it’s all he needs.

It is devastating, the build up. He’s ripping through the deepest parts of you and you’re convinced, wholeheartedly, that the only truth you’ve ever known rides on the waves of his name. His grip tightens, his teeth dragging down your jawline and warmth takes over as an earthquake shatters what little composure you’ve kept.

He moans low in his throat once.

Twice.

Three times it dies out against your ear like it’s only meant for you. Like it was all only meant for you.

He’s smiling as he softens, you can hear it in his voice as he slowly asks, “Can we just stay like this for a minute?”

You press your lips to that dimple, singular and lonely on the right side of his face; so far gone from a five o’clock shadow, you’d almost think he’s been forty all his life.

“Javier,” your fingers wind tighter through the sweat slick curls at the crown of his head, “we can stay like this forever.”

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ 

#narcos #fanfic #fanfiction #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal