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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Pink Christmas Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make Christmas special for your daughter, and he's nervous he might have blown his cover as Santa. As Christmas Eve approaches, he pulls out all the stops for the two of you. But will you let him give Ellie everything from her wishlist?

Warnings: Fluff, language, single mom reader, mentions of loss of spouse

Length: 7000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Pink Christmas masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32. Written for @bellaireland1981 Winter RomCom Challenge

Once you started kissing Bradley, everything came back to you. Fingers in his soft hair, your body pressed to his, and his tongue softly caressing yours. You knew just what to do, and you didn't want to stop. When his big hands came to rest on your back, you couldn't even remember why you'd been nervous in the first place.

Your thumb found the rough stubble and slightly raised scars on his cheek at the same time you heard your front door knob rattling. When you pulled away from Bradley's lips, you looked up at his handsome face and smiled, completely distracted as your daughter let herself inside. You pulled free from Bradley's warm embrace just as you heard Ellie ask him, "Who are you?"

Bradley licked his lips as he examined your face with his pretty brown eyes. Then he turned his full attention to your child. "Are you Ellie?" he asked, and when she nodded and set her backpack down, he reached out to shake her hand. "My name's Bradley. I'm a handyman from the North Pole."

"A handyman?" she asked, shaking his hand firmly. "What does that mean?"

"Means Santa sent me here to set up your pink tree, because he got a little busy this week," he replied so smoothly, you almost believed him yourself.

Ellie gasped and looked past him into the living room. "Santa got my tree!" she gushed. "Mommy!"

"Yeah," you replied with a laugh. "Santa really knows what he's doing."

Bradley looked at you with a little bit of a blush coloring his face, and you were shocked to find that you instinctively wanted to reach for his hand and kiss that pretty shade of pink on his cheeks. You barely managed to stop yourself as he took a step toward you.

"That was close," he muttered, watching Ellie run her hands along all of the ornaments that she could reach. But you were still busy looking at him, because his response to your daughter was what had you melting inside. He had a soft smile on his lips as he laughed. "I think she likes her tree."

You rubbed your fingers along the back of his hand, and his gaze met yours immediately before falling to your lips. "I think so, too."

He nodded toward the door. "I should go," he said slowly. You didn't know how to tell him that for some reason you knew your house would feel too empty if he left right now. When Ellie spoke up, you could have hugged her for her brilliant idea.

"Mommy, is Bradley allowed to stay for pizza?"

You let go of his hand as Ellie came back over with one of the pink heart ornaments. Then you and she both looked up at him as he asked, "Am I allowed to stay?" He looked a bit like a wayward puppy as he added, "I love pizza."

Your heart swelled at the idea of him in your house a little longer, maybe sharing a few more secret touches. "Of course you can stay."

Ellie reached out and took him by the hand, dragging him toward her playroom, and he went willingly as she asked, "Do they have pizza at the North Pole? Which one of Santa's elves is your favorite? I liked Phoenix the best, but I liked grumpy Hangman, too."

Her voice faded as she rambled on, and you could hear Bradley laughing. Then you were alone in the pink glow of the tree as it grew darker outside, and you took your phone out to order pizza just like you always did on Friday nights. But for the first time in a long time, you couldn't stop smiling.

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

"I've never played dolls before," Bradley said as Ellie picked one up to brush its hair.

"That's okay," she replied, handing him a different doll. "I'll show you how. It's not really that hard. Just brush her hair and make her look pretty for the party we're taking them to."

Bradley grunted and picked up one of the toy brushes. "I think I can handle that."

A few minutes later, he was very into coordinating which outfit his doll was going to wear to the birthday party they were going to be attending. "How does this look?" he asked her, and she handed him a pink ribbon.

"She needs a bow in her hair."

"Right," he muttered, and he tried a few times, but his fingers seemed to be too big to get it right.

As he was struggling with it, Ellie paused what she was doing and said, "You seem really familiar."

"Do I?" he asked cautiously, still fighting the bow and hoping she didn't immediately realize that he was in fact Santa Claus.

She was quiet for a beat before she said, "I think you remind me of my dad." Bradley's eyes met hers, but she didn't look sad or upset, just resigned. "He was good at dolls, too. But not tying the bows."

Then Bradley felt your hand on his shoulder as you said, "Do you need a hand?" He nodded and passed the doll to you, watching as you made it look so easy to tie the perfect bow. "Pizza will be here soon," you said softly, handing the doll back to him.

"Thanks," he whispered, still surprised by your daughter's words. Somehow it didn't make him feel nervous or weird to be compared to your late husband. But it did come with a sense of responsibility of sorts. He already ordered Ellie her pink art kit, but he found himself just wanting to spend time with the two of you. The kisses had been one thing, but playing dolls and eating pizza seemed natural as well.

When the food arrived, Bradley hopped up and tried to pay for it, but you'd already put it on your credit card. So he snatched your wallet out of your hand and pulled tip money out of his own for the delivery guy. And if he was able to get his arms around you in the process and press a soft kiss to your cheek, it was just a bonus for him. Then he watched you cut a slice of pizza in half for your daughter as you tried to hide your smile from him.

"Where did the flowers come from?" Ellie asked, pointing at the big bouquet and the smaller one.

"Santa sent them with me," he replied, picking up the small one so she could smell them. "He told me that you and your mom both like pink."

"Santa knows everything," she said as she nodded, and Bradley smiled down at her. "I want to eat by the tree," she insisted when you handed her a plate and a juice box.

"Yeah," Bradley agreed as he picked out some slices of pizza. "Me too." So you handed him a juice box as well, and he followed Ellie back to the living room with a smile. The three of you sat on the floor in a little circle next to the tree, and Bradley regaled the two of you with made up stories about the North Pole. Ellie was in stitches, and you bit your lip every time she laughed, your smile absolutely infectious.

Bradley ended up eating Ellie's pizza crust as you cleaned up the plates, and he knew it was time for him to leave. It was late. But he was nervous he wouldn't see you before Christmas Eve when he planned to come by as Santa.

"Mommy, can Bradley come back and look at Christmas lights with us?"

You paused as Bradley stood up next to the pink tree, and then you said, "Ellie, I'm not even sure where to go for that in San Diego."

"I could ask Santa," Bradley blurted out. "I'm sure he'd know the best spots in any city to see Christmas lights."

"Yeah!" Ellie agreed. "Santa would know!"

You only hesitated for a second before you said, "Only if it's not going to take up too much of your time."

Bradley patted Ellie on the head and said, "I can make time for that. Let me get back to the North Pole and ask Santa where the best lights are. Thanks for teaching me how to play dolls." Then he met your gaze and said, "And thanks for the pizza."

"It's our pleasure," you told him, echoing his own words from the other day.

He swallowed hard; the urge to lean in and kiss you was so strong. He fought it though, because he knew he had another excuse to see you both again soon. Then he forced himself toward the door. "I'll be in touch," he promised, and when he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, he noticed Ellie's gaze settle on his Bronco, a look of curiosity on her face.

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You were a mess the rest of the weekend, texting Bradley late into the night on both Friday and Saturday after Ellie was in bed. You found yourself continually peeking at the selfie he sent you like a kid trying to find their Christmas presents early. He was just that damn good looking.

More importantly, he was sweet. He had invited you and your daughter to join him on a drive down to Imperial Beach to look at lights on Tuesday night, and of course you'd immediately agreed.

Ellie and I wouldn't miss it.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I'll pick you up at six. I already have a little treat for the ride.

You giggled and flopped down on your bed, eyeing your wedding photo across the room. "I really like him," you said out loud with a grin. Then you texted Bradley back.

What kind of treat?

He must have been holding his phone, his response came that quickly.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Something pretty and sweet, just like you. I absolutely can't get you off of my mind. Not that I'm trying very hard.

"Okay," you said out loud, finding it easier to give yourself a little pep talk when he got you flustered like this. "You can do this. Be cool."

I thought you looked cute in your Santa beard, but your real mustache is even better.

There. Flirtatious but not too much. A solid response. You gave yourself a little pat on the shoulder. But then he upped the ante just a tiny bit by sending a selfie of him blushing. You groaned, because his mustache was immaculate, and you wanted to get your lips all over his cheeks and see if you could make his blush deepen.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I've been thinking about our first kiss on repeat. When Santa shows up on Christmas Eve, are you going to kiss him, too?

You laughed as you texted him back.

Yes. I think I have a crush on both of you.

Then you got yourself into bed, knowing it would feel like a very long wait for Tuesday night to arrive, but you fell asleep with a smile on your lips when he wrote back.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Then I feel doubly lucky.

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It was honestly a good thing you had so much to do for work, because it took your mind off of your nerves. But when Tuesday evening finally arrived, your hands were shaking as you tried to get ready in front of your bathroom mirror. You kept looking at the most recent text in your thread with Bradley, and it was bringing out your anxious energy. It was a simple message with a photo attached, but now you were second guessing everything.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I hope I look good in pink.

He did. He looked fantastic in his pink and black floral print shirt. That wasn't the issue. It was your daughter's words echoing through your mind as she stood in the bathroom doorway that had you rattled.

"Hey, Mommy? Is Bradley going to be your boyfriend?"

You looked at her as you tried to put on some lip gloss. "Do you want him to be?"

"Maybe," she replied, eyes narrowing a bit. "I just need to do a little more research and make sure he's the one I asked for."

You almost laughed. You would have if you weren't so nervous. "What kind of research? And what do you mean the one you asked for?"

Ellie just shrugged in response. "I'll take care of it. You look pretty, Mommy."

Your throat felt tight as you swallowed against the thing that was really bothering you and whispered, "If Bradley ever does become my boyfriend, he's not going to replace the memory of your dad. Understand?"

Ellie nodded and sighed sadly. "I understand. But you said he's not coming back."

"He's not," you confirmed softly. The sharp, stabbing pangs of sadness had dulled a bit over time, however you still felt one now. But you'd also spend days doing some soul searching over the fact that you knew you were attracted to everything about Bradley. You didn't feel as hesitant around him as you thought you would after losing your husband. After more than a year alone with Ellie, you felt like this could be something.

Then your daughter helped you push your thoughts aside as she said, "Bradley was pretty good at playing dolls, and I could teach him how to be even better. And he looked like he was good at holding your hand."

"Oh," you gasped, setting your makeup aside. You didn't think she'd seen that, but she didn't seem upset in the least about it. "Yeah... he was good at it."

"Is it almost time to go look at lights?" she asked you just as your doorbell rang.

"Oh god," you groaned softly, butterflies and unidentified nerves erupting inside you. What if you did something stupid tonight? What if you didn't even know what to talk about?

"He's here!" Ellie called as she ran for the front door with you right behind her. And when she swung the door open wide, there he was in his pink shirt with a bright smile on his face and two, oversized pink candy canes in one hand.

"Hey, Ellie," he replied easily as she beamed up at him. Then he looked at you and his smile faltered a bit. He swallowed, and it took him a few seconds to greet you. When he did, it was just one raspy word. "Hi."

"Hi," you replied softly, and the butterflies were still going wild, but the nerves were replaced with longing. "Bradley."

Ellie was reaching for the candy canes, and he patted the top of her head, but he was still looking at you. "Hi," he repeated, and you couldn't help but laugh. "See, talking to you in person is way better than texting, even though you take all the thoughts out of my brain and all the words out of my mouth."

You ducked your head to the side and covered your embarrassingly large grin with your hands as Ellie asked, "Are these for my mom and me? Santa's usually the one who brings us pink treats."

"Oh," Bradley replied, "well, these ones are from me. I hope that's okay. I saw these fancy candy canes at the North Pole sweet shop and thought of the two of you."

Ellie was already unwrapping hers, and Bradley held the other one up right in front of his chest with a grin, coaxing you closer. "Thank you for the treats. And for taking us to look at lights," you said, letting your fingers meet his as you took your candy cane.

"It's my pleasure."

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

Bradley didn't know really how booster seats worked, but you moved one from your car to his Bronco, and then Ellie climbed in.

"Are we ready to look at lights?" he asked as he started the engine.

"Yes!" she replied from the backseat. "Did Santa tell you the best place to go?"

"He absolutely did. And he remembered that you liked pink, so I'm thinking there might be a special surprise for you."

"Special surprise?" you asked from next to him in the front seat. It had been so long since he'd had even one passenger let alone two. When your fingers came creeping across the leather seat, he reached for your tentative hand and held it tight in his.

"It's a surprise for you, too," he promised, hoping you had no idea what the grand finale of the drive through light show was going to be.

You laced the fingers of your left hand with his right, and Bradley had to take a calming breath. He hadn't felt this strongly about someone in a long time, and he just met you. But his brain had already been filling in the blanks of how good it might feel to be around you the longer he got to know you, because the chemistry was definitely there.

He glanced at your profile at a red light and reached with his left hand to turn on the radio to the station that was playing Christmas music. Then he pulled your hand a little closer to him as the light turned green, and he could see you smiling out of the corner of his eye. "How's that candy cane?" he asked Ellie, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Good! It tastes like cotton candy."

"Do you like cotton candy?" he asked, noting you were still holding your treat in your right hand.

"All kids like cotton candy!" Ellie squealed with a laugh.

"I like cotton candy. Does that make me a kid?" he asked her as he turned left toward the beach, the darkest streaks of pink and purple running along the horizon behind the setting sun.

She giggled in delight and so did you. "No, you're too big," Ellie told him. "Nice try."

"Harsh," Bradley muttered as he made another turn, and then the enormous light display along the beach came into view. "Okay, here we are." He turned your way as he pulled up to the kiosk to pay, saying, "I'm going to need my hand back."

You immediately pulled your hand away from him and hurriedly said, "No problem," as he reached for his wallet.

He chuckled and said, "It's coming right back to you once I pay, so don't get too comfy."

"Oh, I can pay!" you tried to insist as you scrambled for your bag on the floor by your feet, giving Bradley enough time to hand over some cash and pull through the gate toward the light displays.

"Absolutely not," he said as you gave up and tossed your bag back to the floor. "Now where did your hand go?"

You turned to look at him before glancing back at Ellie who was mesmerized by the lights all around the Bronco. "Right here." And then Bradley felt your hand slip into his grasp where it already felt like it belonged.

"That's better."

He barely took his foot off the brake pedal to keep coasting forward behind the car in front of him, and he hummed along to the music on the radio. Ellie's commentary from the backseat was pretty amusing with her occasional interjections of "Frosty!" and "Rudolph!"

The light display was massive, and there was a long line of cars in front of them, which was great. Bradley didn't want to rush taking the two of you back home again. Especially not when you leaned in a little closer to him and whispered, "Thanks for this. She's having a great time."

Bradley came to a stop in front of a lit up display of ice skating penguins and turned to face you. "So am I. Been having a pretty great time since I met the two of you."

You whimpered, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter as he fought the desire to lean in closer and kiss you. Then you whispered his name, and he nearly lost the battle. "Bradley. Are you still going to want to see us after Christmas?"

When he opened his mouth to tell you he wanted to see you every day, Ellie gasped in the backseat. "It looks like Santa's sleigh!"

Bradley turned to face forward, and sure enough, Santa's sleigh was just ahead, and the other cars had started to move up as well. "Sure does," he replied to her as he coasted forward so she could see. Now you were looking at the lights as well, and Bradley watched all the colors dance across your face. When you tilted your head to look at him, he said, "I'm going to want to see you as much as you'll let me."

A soft smile curled along your lips as he kept moving the Bronco forward. You didn't respond, but your fingers laced with his again, and Bradley could feel your thumb stroking along his. He took that as a pretty good sign, and then you and Ellie both started to laugh at the same time.

"Hey," Bradley said when he saw them, too. "A bunch of pink flamingos for my two pink loving girls."

"I love them!" Ellie gushed, clapping her hands as Bradley pulled up between two light displays of hundreds of flamingos wearing Santa hats. "So much pink!"

Then your lips were on his cheek before brushing back toward his ear, and he had to stop the Bronco again as your hand grazed his knee. "This is the best," you laughed softly.

If you wanted to, he'd bring you both back tomorrow and the next night and the night after that. He wanted to watch your face illuminated by the pink lights as you bit your lip and smiled. He wanted to hear Ellie's laughter from the backseat while she sang Jingle Bells.

Bradley moved the Bronco as slowly as he could so you could enjoy the flamingos for as long as possible. Then he drove through fake snow being blasted at all of the cars which somehow made him feel like he was back in Virginia again.

"I do not miss the snow," you told him, cradling his hand like you did this all the time. He very carefully pulled back out onto the road using one hand, because the last thing he wanted was to let go of you.

"But Mommy, what if it's snowing at the North Pole?" Ellie asked. "How will we visit Bradley?"

Shit. He didn't know what to say, because he didn't want to confuse her or mess this up. "Maybe after the busy holiday, Santa will let me spend a little more time in San Diego so you don't have to brave the snow again."

Ellie hummed skeptically from the backseat as Bradley wound his way back through the neighborhoods on the outskirts of the city. "Yeah... that might work," she replied. "I'm going to have to stay up on Christmas Eve and have a conversation with Santa."

"I'll remind him to bring his A game," Bradley muttered. "Now let me drop the two of you off since you still have school tomorrow."

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You watched Bradley lift Ellie out of his Bronco, and then he moved her booster seat back to your car for you. When he walked both of you up to the porch, he had his hand at the middle of your back, his fingers teasing at your waist in the cool, night air. When you approached the front door, however, he knelt down in front of Ellie and asked, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!"

"Should I tell Santa that was a good light display?"

"Yes!"

"Did you like the flamingos?"

"So much!" Then she flung her arms around his neck and said, "Thank you." The fact that your daughter seemed perpetually happy around this man whether he was dressed as Santa or just being himself had you nervously wiping your palms along your jeans.

"You're welcome. I'll see you soon?" he asked, patting the top of her head as he stood, eyeing you as he asked the question.

"Yes," you answered quickly as you opened the front door. You paused once Ellie walked inside, and you turned toward her. "Start getting ready for bed. I'll be up in just a minute."

"Okay. Bye, Bradley."

"Bye, Ellie," he replied with a laugh, but you were already pulling the door closed, leaving you and him alone on the porch together.

"Hey, I had a great time-" he began, but you cut him off when you lunged for him. You couldn't help it. Bradley caught you in his big arms, and wrapped you up tight against him as he grinned. "-with you tonight."

Your fingers were tangled in his soft curls as your lips mashed against his, but even with you pressed right up to his body in desperation, he was a gentleman. His hands were splayed across your back, rubbing up and down, slowly bunching the fabric of your shirt.

"Me too," you promised between kisses, nodding slightly as you nibbled on his lip. He hummed softly as your hand drifted down to the back of his neck, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue tasted sweet, and you felt beautiful and desirable when you were with him.

But you broke the kiss and whispered, "I need to get Ellie in bed."

"Right. Right." He was still holding you close, still slowly rubbing your back with his hands. And then you kissed him one more time, because you needed to. It was soft and perfect just like Friday when you helped him decorate the tree. "I'll see you soon," he whispered as his nose grazed your cheek.

You felt your whole body tingle as he pressed one more slightly rougher kiss to your lips before turning back to his Bronco. You had to fight the urge to chase him down for more, waving like an idiot as he pulled away instead. There were just a few more days until Christmas, and you wondered if it would be too forward of you to tell him that he's the only thing you wanted for yourself this year.

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Bradley took a deep breath as he pulled on his red flight suit and grabbed his matching hat and white beard. It was getting late for Ellie to still be awake, but you'd promised him it was okay to stop by around 9:30. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, but he hoped she was still excited to see Santa.

With Christmas music playing and wrapped gifts on the front seat, Bradley spent the drive over trying to decide how to explain to your daughter that he was the same person when he was dressed as Santa and when he was just himself. Just Bradley. And then he started to get antsy. Just Bradley. He didn't have much to offer to either of you. Just a guy who occasionally got deployed and suddenly liked the color pink.

When he parked in front of your place, he sat for a minute, afraid he was going to do or say the wrong thing. If Ellie still believed in the magic of Santa Claus, he didn't want to take that from her. He glanced toward your front window and saw movement. The two of you were dancing in front of the lit up pink tree, and a smile found its way to his face.

"Just be Santa," he said out loud, snatching up the presents and closing the door behind him.

With his beard and hat securely in place, he knocked and immediately heard Ellie squeal. "It's Santa! I just know it!"

And then she was there, swinging the door open so quickly, Bradley was surprised it stayed on the hinges. "Merry Christmas," he greeted, getting the wind knocked out of him by the five year old launching herself at him and by how cute both of you looked in your matching pink snowflake pajamas.

"Santa!" Ellie gushed, reaching for his hand to lead him inside. "We made you some heart shaped cookies with icing!"

"I love that," he replied, but his eyes were stuck on you. Bradley could just tell you'd welcome a kiss from him right now, and he wanted to give you one, but instead he followed you over to the tree.

"Cookies and some hot chocolate," you told him, picking up a plate of sweets and that same mug he drank from last week. "Just for you, Santa."

Bradley set down the presents, including the art kit filled with every shade of pink paint anyone could possibly want. That's when he noticed that instead of eating the pink candy cane he gave you on Tuesday night, you'd hung it on one of the tree branches. He was already smiling when he saw the little box with a gift tag next to his boot that said "TO: SANTA. FROM: ELLIE."

"This is for me?" he asked, bending to pick it up.

Ellie nodded, looking up at him hopefully. "I made you something."

"Well then I'm sure I'll love it," he replied.

He was just starting to unwrap his gift when Ellie turned toward you and asked, "Mommy, would it be okay if I talk to Santa alone for a minute?"

Bradley's fingers stilled as you nodded and softly said, "I'll just go sit on the steps." You bent to kiss the top of Ellie's head before smiling softly at Bradley, and then you were gone. And he was alone with a child who was eyeing him with such curiosity, it made his heart beat a little faster.

Ellie tugged on his hand until he was kneeling, and then she leaned in a little closer. Bradley felt like he was under a microscope as she examined him, but then she smiled.

"You were a very convincing fake Santa. But after you brought the tree over, I knew it was you right away, Bradley."

"You did?" he asked, heart plummeting as her words washed over him. If he just ruined Santa Claus for this adorable little girl, he didn't know what he'd do with himself.

"Yeah. I figured out that you were the same guy since both Santa and Bradley drive the same car and have the same voice."

Oh, shit. His eyes went wide as she pulled his beard down below his chin and smiled at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't actually intend to lie to you about being a North Pole handyman."

"I know," she said, taking his gift from his hand and opening it up for him. Inside the box were two Christmas ornaments. They were made out of construction paper with popsicle sticks glued to look like pictures in frames, and there were ribbons attached to the top so they could be hung.

"Ellie," he whispered, taking them both out of the box to inspect them more closely in the soft, pink light. She'd taken the time to draw pictures on both of them. The first one said ELLIE and had a well drawn F/A-18 and some elves along with a pink candy cane and three flamingos. The other ornament said SANTA and was complete with pink flowers, a pink tree and a picture of a man. "Is that supposed to be me?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah. But just you, Bradley. Not really Santa."

"Thanks," he muttered, not sure how to tell a five year old that this was perhaps the best gift he'd ever received in his adult life.

But now she was standing with her hands on her hips. "I need to know what happened when you went to talk to the real Santa after the air show. And don't lie to me this time."

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart beating faster again.

"Since you got permission to dress as a pretend Santa for kids like me at the air show, you get to sometimes talk to the real Santa Claus, right?"

Oh. Maybe he hadn't completely fucked this up after all. "Of course. That's how it works when you get chosen to be a Santa representative."

"Yeah," she said, nodding like a CEO closing a business deal. "That's what I thought."

"You're a very smart kid," he told her with a smile, but clearly she wasn't quite finished with him yet.

"So? What happened when you talked to him? Did Santa know you'd be perfect? Is that why you kept coming back to our house to see my mom?"

"Perfect?" he asked cautiously.

She grinned at him as she said, "Yeah. The perfect boyfriend for my mom. The one I asked for."

Bradley was speechless. That's what he wanted to be. Your boyfriend. Maybe more than that someday. His eyes roamed Ellie's face, so innocent in the way she still believed there was magic here. But maybe there actually was. "Yes. That's exactly what happened, Kiddo. I went to meet with Santa, and I told him what was on your wishlist. And I told him how important it was that you got everything you wanted since you're always on the nice list."

She clapped her hands and bobbed up and down. "And he knew you'd be the perfect boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Bradley said, throat tight with emotion. "He knew I'd fall for your mom and you and the color pink and just all of it."

She hugged him tight, and he scooped her up and hung both homemade ornaments on the pink tree. "Merry Christmas," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas," he replied. "Think it's okay if I talk to your mom now?"

She nodded, and he carried her to the stairs where you were sitting with your own mug of hot chocolate waiting for them. "You ready for bed, Ellie?" you asked, looking between your daughter and Bradley with his beard down below his chin with some concern.

Then Ellie kissed his cheek and said, "Goodnight, Bradley," as he set her down on the steps next to you.

"Night, Ellie," he replied, and he watched her kiss you too before climbing the stairs and going into a room that was lit by the soft glow of a nightlight. And then you and he were alone, and you were sliding over to make room on the step next to you.

Your hesitant smile made him a little lightheaded as you asked, "So she knows you're Santa from the air show?"

He chuckled softly. "Something like that. But don't worry, she still knows that the real Santa exists. She's got quite the imagination."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll ever have to worry about that," you replied, setting down your mug and reaching for his hand. It was the easy way you laced your fingers with his once again that spurred him on. You were grinning as he leaned in to kiss you, his white beard tickling your chin. "Hi, Santa," you whispered against his lips, and he just knew this was how it was supposed to be.

When he pulled away from you with a smile of his own, he said, "There's something I need to tell you. About the day we met."

Your brow creased in concern, and he leaned in to kiss you there as you asked, "What about the day we met?"

He wanted to be delicate with you and take his time. It's what you deserved. You and Ellie both. But he also wanted to once again make his feelings crystal clear for you. "That first day, at the air show... when I took Ellie up to sit in my jet, she asked for a pink tree and an art kit with pink paint." Bradley paused, stroking his rough fingers along your soft cheek before he added, "But she also asked Santa to bring a boyfriend for you."

You gasped. "She did? My five year old asked Santa to bring me a boyfriend?" You buried your face in your hands and groaned softly. "That's so embarrassing."

Bradley gently peeled your fingers away from your face as you grimaced at him, but he just laughed. "It's not embarrassing. It's sweet." He waited until you were looking at him again, even though you were nibbling on your lip a little anxiously. "And the thing is... somehow, I think it's supposed to be me."

When your lips parted on a soft sound, your face looked hopeful, and Bradley squeezed your hand as you barely whispered, "You?"

"Yeah. Me," he told you with a little laugh. "I'm nothing special, but I'm hoping you'll let me give Ellie everything she wants for Christmas?"

You slowly climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your eyes bright and sincere. "You want to be my boyfriend?"

"Desperately," he promised. "And I'm not trying to replace Ellie's dad, and we can do this at whatever pace works for the two of you. But I think this was meant to be."

And then you were smiling against his lips and kissing him as he held you on the steps. You laughed as you pushed your fingers through his hair, sending his red hat down the stairs followed by his beard.

"Then I guess Ellie can have everything from her wish list."

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

One year later....

"The tree looks beautiful," Ellie said, hanging up the two ornaments she made last year as you and Bradley each sipped mugs of hot chocolate. The pink Christmas tree stood tall and proud in the same spot it had occupied until February, when you finally convinced her it had to come down after Valentine's Day.

Bradley had gone overboard, perhaps even more so than last year, coming home from work a few hours ago on Christmas Eve with more pink ornaments for your daughter to add to her collection.

"You're spoiling us," you told your boyfriend, and you watched a grin bloom on his lips. But maybe you were spoiling him back just as much. This year, you and Ellie had on matching pink pajamas covered in gingerbread cookies, and Bradley had coordinating pants to wear with his white undershirt. It felt good to have him here, like he was always meant to step in when he did.

"I love spoiling you," he whispered, taking your empty mug and collecting you in his arms. "I love spoiling both my girls."

You and he took things slow at first. He spent the night with you last Christmas Eve, his limbs tangled up with yours in your bed. But your clothing had stayed on, and his lips never went further south than your neck. After that, you fumbled your way through a few dates with him; sometimes Ellie joined the two of you, and sometimes she stayed with Bradley's best friend and former elf, Natasha. But you quickly learned that you hadn't forgotten how to be with someone intimately. All you needed was the right someone who would let you realize that for yourself.

Bradley moved in with you a few months ago, and you hadn't looked back. He was becoming an expert at playing dolls with Ellie, and he made both of you so happy, sometimes your face hurt from smiling so much. He wasn't a replacement, and he wasn't an improvement, but he was something you knew you couldn't live without now.

"Hey, I almost forgot," he murmured. "I grabbed two more things on my way home today. I'll be right back."

When he left the living room, you walked over to Ellie and kissed the top of her head. "I'm really happy we got Bradley for Christmas last year," she said, making you laugh.

"Me too. It's a good thing you asked Santa to bring him for me."

She looked up at you with wide eyes and a little smirk. "Just wait until you find out what I asked for this year."

You looked down at her with an amused smile. "What did you ask for this year?"

But she was distracted now as Bradley came back in with a soft smile on his lips and two small pink boxes. He knelt down in front of Ellie and handed her the bigger one, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Kiddo," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas," she told him, and when she opened the box, you gasped.

"Bradley."

He got your daughter a rose gold necklace with a pink diamond charm, and Ellie squealed in delight when she saw it. "It's so pretty!"

"Just like you," he said, taking it out of the box and clasping it around her neck. She wrapped one hand around the charm and smiled as Bradley turned to look up at you. "I got something for your mom, too."

At first, when he handed you the smaller box, you were convinced it was a necklace to match Ellie's. But then you met his eyes, and you knew it wasn't. Your heart was racing as you looked at him, fingers shaking with anticipation as he said, "I love you. So much. The last year with you has been magical, and I want to be here forever."

You glanced at Ellie, and she was all bright smiles as she bounced up and down as you opened the box. "Oh," you gasped, because it was the prettiest pink ring. And it did match her necklace.

When you looked up from the box and met his eyes, he asked you something that you already knew the answer to. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

You held the box tight as he stood and spun you around the room in his arms, his soft laughter filling your heart as Ellie loudly cheered, "I asked Santa for a husband for my mom!"

You laughed as Bradley smothered your face in kisses, and then he pulled the ring free before tossing the box aside. As he slid the rose gold and pink diamond ring onto your finger, he grinned and said, "Santa never disappoints."

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

Happy holidays! I hope Santa Bradley brings you everything from your wishlist! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

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onebadassunicorn · 25 days ago

Text

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: talk of mutilation (clipping of wings)

word count: 4.7k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho, @tiredsleepyhead, @tele86

***************

Chapter 4

Y/n POV

The morning sunlight bathed Velaris in a soft golden glow, illuminating the city’s vibrant streets and sparkling waters. I stood at the front of the House of Wind, my dark, feathered wings tucked neatly behind me as I waited for Azriel. A faint breeze tugged at my hair, carrying with it the faint hum of the city waking up below.

I must admit…it was nice not to have to glamour my wings while in Velaris. I felt a sense of hope, like I could be myself without having to worry about what others might think of me and want to take from me.

I glanced up when I heard the sound of boots against stone, my eyes meeting Azriel’s as he approached. He was dressed simply, his wings tucked against his back, but there was an unmistakable air of quiet confidence about him. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

“Good morning,” Azriel said, his voice low and steady.

“Morning,” I replied with a small smile, adjusting the strap of the satchel slung over my shoulder. “Ready when you are.”

Azriel nodded, gesturing toward the cliffside path that led down into the city. “We’ll start at the Sidra,” he said, his tone businesslike. “It’s the heart of Velaris. From there, we’ll see the Rainbow and the markets.”

I followed him as we began our descent, the city sprawling out below them like a painting. The air was crisp, the sunlight catching the rooftops and cobblestones in a way that made everything seem impossibly vibrant. I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it, my wings twitching slightly as I took it all in.

“It’s… beautiful,” I whispered, taking in all the sights and sounds of the city.

Azriel’s lips twitched slightly, the faintest hint of a smile. “It is,” he agreed, his hazel eyes flicking to mine briefly before returning to the path ahead. “Velaris is more than just a city. It’s a sanctuary. A place where people can feel safe.”

As we reached the Sidra, the river sparkled in the morning light, its gentle currents reflecting the colors of the sky. I paused, my gaze sweeping over the water and the bustling streets along its banks. Vendors were setting up their stalls, the scent of fresh bread and flowers filling the air.

“This is the Sidra,” Azriel said, stopping beside me. “It runs through the heart of Velaris. A lot of life here revolves around it.”

I nodded, my eyes lingering on the water. “It reminds me of the Summer Court,” I said softly. “The way the water seems to hold the light.”

Azriel’s gaze shifted to me, his expression softening slightly. “You’ll find that Velaris has its own kind of light,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s subtle, but it’s always there.”

They continued walking, Azriel leading me through the winding streets of the Rainbow. The colors of the artist’s quarter were vivid and lively, the walls adorned with murals, and the air filled with the sound of musicians tuning their instruments. I stopped to admire a mural of a phoenix, my lips curving into a faint smile.

“Do you like art?” Azriel asked, his tone neutral but his eyes watchful.

“I do,” I replied, tracing the edge of the mural with my gaze. “My mother used to paint when she had the time. I always found it fascinating—the way colors can tell a story.”

Azriel nodded. “The Rainbow is where Velaris’s artists thrive,” he said. “If you ever want to explore it further, you’ll find no shortage of inspiration here.”

We moved on to the markets, where the lively chatter of vendors and shoppers filled the air. My gaze darted from one stall to the next, my curiosity evident as I stopped to examine a table of intricate jewelry. I picked up a bracelet made of woven silver and tiny sea-blue stones, my fingers brushing over the delicate design. A wave of memories of home and my brother, Tarquin, swept through me.

“It suits you,” Azriel said quietly, standing just behind me.

I glanced at him, my cheeks warming slightly at the unexpected compliment. “It reminds me of home,” I said softly, setting the bracelet back down. “The ocean.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes lingered on me for a moment, something unspoken passing between them before he looked away. “There’s more to see,” he said, his voice steady. “Come on.”

As we continued our tour, I found myself relaxing more, the beauty of Velaris and Azriel’s quiet presence easing the tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. And though Azriel kept his tone professional, there was a softness in his gestures—a subtle care in the way he adjusted his pace to match mine, in the way he answered my questions with quiet patience.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel had never been one for crowds, but as he stood beside Y/n, he couldn’t help but feel the magnetic pull of the city’s warmth. Velaris, the City of Starlight, was a place of beauty and magic, and even though it was filled with people, it felt intimate with the right company. Today Y/n was that company.

The soft breeze ruffled his dark hair as they walked side by side, and he noticed how she seemed to light up whenever they passed a shop or a stall. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet wonder, a stark contrast to the tension that had often marked her presence before.

Azriel could sense a subtle nervousness in her. He figured she had not been truly this close to people she didn’t know very well. He had always been the quiet shadow, the one who lurked in the background, never quite allowing himself to show the depth of his feelings. But now, with her beside him, he wanted to do more than simply accompany her; he wanted to know her.

“I can see why my brother has fought to protect Velaris and its people.” Y/n murmured, her voice quiet but filled with awe as she looked up at the mountains and sky. Her Illyrian wings fluttered slightly, almost as though they too were entranced by the city’s magic.

Azriel glanced at her, unable to ignore the way the sun seemed to reflect in her eyes, or how her long black hair seemed to shimmer as it caught the sunlight. He could see how she stood taller here—more at ease, more herself, and it made something inside him stir in response.

She looked at him then, her gaze meeting his with a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to say something, but instead, she just smiled. Azriel could feel the weight of her thoughts, the storm behind her eyes that she had yet to share with him. He wondered if she had any idea how much he wanted to hear them.

As they moved deeper into the city, they passed an artist’s gallery, and Y/n paused, drawn to the paintings displayed in the window. One caught her attention—a painting of a landscape with sweeping hills and a crashing ocean. She stood there for a moment, her eyes soft and reflective. Azriel watched her in silence, wondering what memories the painting stirred within her. He could sense her hesitation, the guardedness she wore like armor, and he couldn’t help but want to unravel it, piece by piece.

“What is it?” he asked gently, his voice almost too soft, careful not to break the moment.

Y/n glanced at him, her lips curving into a small, hesitant smile. “It reminds me of home,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of the cliffs by the sea. The waves crashing against the rocks… the sky always so wide. It was where I felt most... free.”

Azriel didn’t speak for a long time, letting her words hang in the air between them. He only knew things about her past that Tarquin had mentioned, but nothing beyond that. But in that moment, he understood something important. Her beauty wasn’t just in the way she looked, in the way her wings spread so gracefully behind her. It was in the quiet depth of her experiences, the things she had lost, the parts of herself she still carried with her.

“I didn’t know that about you,” Azriel said softly, stepping closer, his voice uncharacteristically open. “But I think I’d like to know more.”

Y/n turned toward him, her eyes searching his face, as though she were trying to read him in the same way. “You’re not what I expected,” she said, her tone thoughtful, as if she were still trying to reconcile this new version of him. “I always thought you were just... shadows. But you’re not like that, are you?”

Azriel gave a slight smile, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I’m not. But I’ve spent so much of my life hiding, I’m not used to letting people in.”

She nodded, her expression softening as if she understood, and for a moment, there was a shared understanding between them—a recognition of the walls they both carried. It made Azriel feel both vulnerable and exposed, but also strangely at peace.

“I get that,” she said, her voice steady, yet there was something deeper in it, something that felt like a promise. “But sometimes, letting someone in is the only way to heal.”

***************

Azriel POV

The quiet walk through Velaris became something of an unspoken conversation between them. They didn’t need to fill every moment with words. Their shared silences, the way their steps fell in sync with one another, said more than any conversation could. Y/n’s presence, her beauty, the vulnerability that she wore like a second skin, all seemed to pull him closer, as though every step brought them just a little bit closer to understanding one another.

And when they finally reached the Heart of the City, standing near the glowing fountains, Y/n turned to him with a quiet smile, and for the first time in a long while, Azriel felt a sense of peace settle in his chest. They hadn’t spoken much, but somehow, in this place, with her beside him, he felt as though he had finally started to understand her—and perhaps, she was starting to understand him too.

Y/n broke the silence first.

"Summer Court," she began, her voice softer now, almost as if she were saying the words out loud for the first time. "Is always warm. The sun never truly sets, not in the way it does here." She paused, her lips curving into a small, bittersweet smile. "The air smells like saltwater, flowers, and sunshine. And the beaches... the beaches are golden. Endless stretches of sand where the sky and the sea seemed to melt together. It is a place of peace. My peace."

“I decided to accept Rhysand’s offer to come to Velaris because I was scared,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “I was scared of being trapped in a world where I couldn’t be myself. But even now, I wonder if I made the right choice.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I don’t really know if I’ll ever be able to return there—if I even want to. I just don’t know where I truly belong, Azriel. My family, my being an Illyrian female with different wings and strangely-colored eyes... it’s just not simple.”

Azriel stayed silent, letting her words settle between them. He could feel her heart laid bare before him, the raw vulnerability she had never shared with anyone else.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he reached out, his hand brushing against hers in a gesture of quiet comfort. He could feel the weight of her emotions, the complexity of her feelings for Tarquin, for her home, and for the place she had left behind. It wasn’t just a story about a family divided; it was about the struggle between who she had been and who she was still becoming.

"You don't have to return to Summer Court. You can stay in Velaris with your family if you choose. Azriel said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his understanding. "And you don’t have to carry this alone. Whatever it is, whatever is weighing on you, you don’t have to face it by yourself. You have a family here now too that will help you with that decision whenever you’re ready."

Y/n’s voice dropped to a whisper, as though the very memory of her past had the power to unravel her. Azriel, always patient, stood silently beside her, the weight of her words pulling at him.

“My mother...” she began, her gaze distant, her tone weighted with grief. “She did what she had to do to protect me.”

Azriel didn’t press her to go further, knowing she would share in her own time. Instead, he gave her the quiet space to breathe, to find her voice.

“She knew what they would do if they found me in Illyria,” Y/n continued, her voice trembling slightly.

“They didn’t know what to do with me when I was born,” Y/n stated, her gaze fixing on the ground as if she could still feel the weight of that rejection, that fear. “My wings... my wings were nothing like theirs. Theirs were strong, broad, designed for battle, but mine... mine were different. They were smaller, more fragile. My mother told me they were feathered, delicate—like the wings of a bird, not an Illyrian warrior. I could never fly the way they did.”

Azriel could hear the pain in her voice, the hurt of being different, of having something so beautiful and yet so feared. There was nothing wrong with her wings, but he knew the truth of the Illyrian males—they feared what they didn’t understand.

“They thought I was weak,” she continued, her voice hardening with the bitterness she had long kept hidden. “They were afraid that I’d be a liability, something to be ashamed of. There were whispers... about how I wouldn’t be able to fight alongside them. I was just a baby at the time so I don’t recollect it, but my mother told me what was said later on when she came to visit me.” She shook her head, as if the memories were too painful to relive. “My mother, she could see it—she could see the way they looked at me, the way they treated me like I wasn’t one of them.”

Azriel’s fists clenched involuntarily, the surge of anger building within him, but he held it back, not wanting to push her. He could feel her emotions like a shadow, pulling at the edges of his mind, and the truth of what had happened to her—how her very existence had been rejected by her own kind—made him ache for her in a way he hadn’t expected.

“She couldn’t let them hurt me,” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So, she did what she thought was the only thing she could. She took me away. Snuck me out of Illyria.”

“She took me to the Summer Court,” she continued, her voice softer now, filled with a kind of reverence that Azriel hadn’t expected. “I was told about my father, the High Lord of the Summer Court and met my half-brother, Tarquin. He was young then, but he was kind. My father along with Tarquin promised her that I would be safe there, that no one would hurt me. And she believed him.” Y/n’s lips trembled slightly.

“My mother had been with him—Tarquin’s father, when he was a High Lord," Y/n said, her voice thick with the pain of the past. "I didn’t know him, not really. He was... well, not the kind of man my mother ever spoke of with affection. She never told me the truth about him, not about the way he treated her, not about anything that had really happened between them. Nothing about him actually, but she kept the secret for years. And she kept me—me, her daughter, from him—so that I would never know who he was until she decided she no longer had a choice. She was terrified of what the Illyrian males would do to me once they saw what I was. She couldn’t risk it. The truth was, they had no place for me, not with wings like mine. They would have taken them from me if they had the chance. It wasn’t just fear—it was what they had done to others who didn’t fit their mold. My mother was afraid that my wings, my difference, would make me a target. And so, she gave me away... sent me away for my own safety. And I grew up for many years without her, only seeing her on visits as she would travel through Summer Court with rescued Illyrian females…”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with a pain Azriel could only imagine. He knew all too well the violence of the Illyrian males, the way they looked down on anything that didn’t fit their strict, unyielding expectations. It was why he, too, had been forced to live in the shadows. But hearing her speak of it—hearing how it had been her wings that had made her a target—cut deeper than anything else.

“You don’t have to explain,” Azriel murmured, his voice gentle as he reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over the back of her fingers. “You don’t have to carry this anymore, Y/n. Not alone.”

Y/n gave him a tight, almost fragile smile, and for a moment, Azriel thought she might cry. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply nodded, grateful for his understanding.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she spoke of the next revelation, her voice soft, almost in disbelief as the memories came rushing back, each word wrapped in the quietest sorrow.

“It wasn’t long after I learned about Tarquin’s being my half-brother that my mother... she told me the rest of it on her last visit to Summer Court,” Y/n said, her gaze distant, as though the very memory of it still had the power to freeze her in place. She paused for a moment, gathering the words she’d never thought she would need to say aloud.

Azriel stayed silent, his focus entirely on her, his presence a quiet reassurance as she shared this deeply personal part of herself.

“My mother had always been so careful with her words when it came to Rhysand,” Y/n continued, her voice wavering slightly as if speaking his name caused something ancient to stir within her. “She never spoke of him much. She always referred to him as ‘the prince of the Night Court,’ or ‘the High Lord of the Night Court’—never his name. But one day, when I was older... she couldn’t keep it from me anymore.”

Y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if reliving the pain of that moment. Azriel could see the hesitation, the uncertainty still present in her every movement. The weight of what she was about to reveal was not lost on him.

“My mother... she told me she was his mother. That Rhysand was my half-brother. That she had given birth to him before me.” Her voice grew quiet, almost a whisper now. "It didn’t make sense at first, not to me. When she spoke of him, it was with a quiet reverence I couldn’t understand. But then she told me... she told me that he was born before me, that his father had been the one she had loved—the one she had kept close—and that she had come to love my father, the High Lord of Summer Court, in a different way. And somehow, from that, Rhysand was her firstborn, and I... I came second."

“She told me Rhysand was always meant for greatness, but that he was so much like his father—but also different in so many ways. And when I came along, it was like I was... an afterthought, a piece that didn’t fit. That’s why my mother had to take me away, keep me safe from what would’ve happened to me had I stayed with them.” Her voice dropped lower, as though the memories had become too heavy to bear. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How fate works. To be born of the same mother, to share the same blood with someone you’ve only met later in life, only to find out you’ve always been connected in ways you never understood.”

Azriel could feel the depth of her emotions, the confusion, the pain of having grown up without truly knowing the full extent of her family. The way Y/n spoke of it—as though she had never truly belonged to anyone—cut through him like a knife.

“I couldn’t help but wonder,” Y/n continued, a bitter edge creeping into her words, “if my mother had kept that truth from me on purpose. If she had been trying to protect me, or if it was just too painful for her to speak of it. She and Rhysand’s father, they had... their own history and lives together.”

"How did you feel when you learned the truth?" Azriel asked gently, wanting to understand the depth of what she had endured.

Y’n's gaze softened as she looked at him, though there was still a veil of sadness in her eyes. "At first, it was... too much. I didn’t know how to process it. I was just a baby when my mother sent me away, when I was taken to Summer Court for protection. I had never known about Rhysand or any of the other complexities of my lineage. And when my mother told me the truth, I didn’t know how to reconcile it. To think that I had been so close to him—so close—and never even realized it. To find out that my half-brother was someone so... important. So vastly different from me.”

Azriel nodded, understanding the hurt behind her words. "It's hard, when everything you've known about your past, your family, is turned upside down. It feels like a lie. Like it was all kept from you for so long, and now you're just supposed to accept it."

"Exactly," Y/n agreed, a quiet resignation in her voice. "To know we share the same blood but nothing else, and he never even knew about me until... until recently. It hurts."

“I think that’s why it’s always been hard for me,” she said softly. “I know I’ll never belong there. I’ll never be one of them. I’ll always be... different. I don’t really belong in Summer Court either. Sure, I have the same abilities with manipulating water that my father has, but I’ve never had the courage to show anyone who I really am. Not until now.” Her voice caught on the last words, but she steadied herself. “My mother wanted to protect me, to keep me safe. And I... I don’t even remember if I ever thanked her for that.”

Y/n’s eyes met his then, something raw and unspoken passing between them. She hadn’t been sure about him at first—hadn’t known if she could trust him—but the quiet honesty in his eyes gave her a strange sense of comfort. Azriel wasn’t perfect, and neither was she, but in this moment, it felt like they didn’t have to be.

As she continued to gaze at him, Azriel saw the faintest glimmer of relief in her eyes. She was starting to let the weight of her past settle, not because it was gone, but because she wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

And for the first time, Y/n felt a sliver of hope—that maybe, just maybe, she could start to heal.

******

Azriel POV

As they wandered onward, the knowledge of their bond lay heavy and secret within Azriel’s chest, both a blessing and a curse. He felt the tether that joined him to Y/n humming quietly beneath his skin, a silent vow inscribed in his very bones. However, each time another male’s gaze lingered too long on her face, on the graceful line of her neck, Azriel’s senses sharpened almost painfully. He knew this feeling—primal and protective, as old as the magic that made them mates—yet she remained unaware of its true nature.

He couldn’t resent these strangers for seeing her beauty. She was radiant, a steady light who’d guided him from solitude into quiet joy. He had no claim on her beyond what his heart and soul had forged in secret. The bond remained concealed. He hadn’t spoken of it, not yet. Perhaps he feared how that knowledge might burden her. Perhaps he worried that naming it aloud would demand a response she was not ready to give. He had promised himself that he would not force the bond upon her, that he would not use fate’s decree as a chain. And if she ever learned of the bond between them - if she chose him, it must be of her own will, not because the Cauldron or Mother decreed it.

But the truth weighed heavily in moments like this, when hunger or interest sparked in another’s eyes. Mates were drawn to one another beyond logic or reason, and while Azriel fought to keep his outward composure, inside something raw and protective snarled at the attention Y/n received. He tried to soothe it with reason: she was free, she deserved to be cherished. He would not become a cage around her. He would respect her freedom, always.

Still, the lack of her knowledge pressed at him. If she knew they were mates, would these lingering glances bother him so profoundly? Perhaps then he might stand at her side with quiet confidence, assured that no passing admiration could shake the foundation they shared. It would eclipse any casual interest others displayed, rendering it harmless.

But she didn’t know, and so he bore the weight of uncertainty alone. Each admiring look from a stranger chafed at the fragile hope he carried that one day she would see him as he saw her—part of her soul, although he knew he didn’t deserve such a gift. He kept his silence, not wanting to push, not wanting her to think her choices were predetermined. He had promised himself that when he told her, it would be at the right time, with the right words, so she understood that he wanted her happiness more than anything else—even if it meant risking that she might not return his feelings in full measure.

Now, as they paused in front of a tailor’s display, he studied the line of her face reflected in the glass. She held up a swatch of deep blue fabric, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. He smiled softly, meeting her gaze in the window’s mirrored surface. She offered a small grin in return, and something in that expression was both comforting and painful. Comforting, because the bond thrummed with quiet delight at her presence. Painful, because there were truths still left unspoken, feelings yet to be laid bare.

When another male strolled by and cast an admiring glance in Y/n’s direction, Azriel merely tightened body, careful not to let tension show.

Inside, the bond pulsed. Inside, a quiet storm of possessive love and longing raged. Outwardly, he remained committed to her freedom, committed to her choice—whatever and whenever it might be. For now, he would let the world admire her, let them see the gifts that fate had hidden in her beauty, laughter and strength. And he would stand guard over his secret—that he was her mate, forever changed—even if she remained blissfully unaware.

By the time they returned to the House of Wind, the sun was high in the sky, and Y/n’s heart felt lighter than it had in days. She glanced at Azriel as they reached the top of the stairs, her eyes meeting his.

“Thank you,” she said simply, her voice earnest. “For the tour. It was… more than I expected.”

Azriel inclined his head, his expression calm but his chest tightening slightly at her words. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice quiet. “If you ever want to see more, let me know. Grab yourself some lunch and I’ll see you in the training ring in afterwards.”

Y/n smiled faintly, and for a moment, the bond between them seemed to hum louder, though she didn’t seem to notice. Azriel, however, felt it acutely—the quiet connection, the growing pull he couldn’t ignore. And as she walked away, he found himself already looking forward to training with her in the afternoon, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise.

Chapter 5

#azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel spymaster

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aethon-recs · 4 months ago

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Themed Rec List | Tomarrymort Recs with Hemipenes 🍆x2

What is better than one? TWO, of course! I think the monsterfucking potential in Tomarrymort is one of its most unique aspects, at least within HP ships :D If anyone is monsterfucking-curious, this is a great place to start.

I’m so excited to share this delightful smutty nasty dirty and super fun collection of one of my favorite tropes in Tomarrymort: not just snake-like Voldemort, but snake-like Voldemort with snake-like appendages 😏

Standard rec list disclaimers apply: There’s a lot of dead dove in the selection below, so please mind the tags, and read at your own risk. I strive to include a diverse range of fic genres these lists, so you'll come across lighter fare such as crack fics, along with fics that definitely cover darker themes.

Tomarrymort Recs Feat. Hemipenes

a dainty lace noose by @mrmxlemons (E, 4k, complete)

Voldemort likes pretty things, and Harry is his favorite, prettiest thing.

A real voyage of discovery by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (E, 2k, complete)

Harry captures an alien from an Earth-like planet for the spaceship's research division to examine. The alien might have its own agenda.

a snake, an eagle, and a phoenix by @virgil-anon (E, 9k, complete)

Harry Potter is angrier than ever, thrown into a tournament he wants no part of, without any assistance except for his Defence Instructor. But when the Goblet of Fire turns out to be a portkey, he’s in for a surprise.

and make it double by @captainremwrites (M, 1k, complete)

Well, Harry thinks, that answers that question. He's definitely telling Ron and Hermione about this.

Dragon Me Down, My Love by @wolfantlersinspace (E, 2k, complete)

Harry had been a virgin sacrifice, given by the people to appease Voldemort. However, Voldemort had grown rather fascinated after he discovered Harry chose to come here, to take the place of a friend. And now, Voldemort liked him too much to let him go, liked him far too much to use him for his intended purpose.

Ensnared by @loneamaryllis (E, 4k, complete)

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harriet finds a white snake in the grass. She quickly befriends the poor, lonely creature.

Hands-On Anatomy Lesson by @ivory--raven (E, 2k, complete)

Harry uses Liquid Luck to ask Voldemort himself how snakey he is.

I will follow you into the dark by @i-dream-of-libraries (E, 6k, complete)

Harry loves a good horror book, and this new one about a monster called Voldemort is now his favorite. Unknowingly, he calls out to the shadowy entity, and gains the monster's full attention and appetite.

Inquiring Minds by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 2k, complete)

Harry has a burning need to know, and Voldemort is just so done with teenagers.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

Love at First Sight by @dividawrites (E, 5k, complete)

Voldemort rises from the cauldron with two dicks and some extra powers. Harry is mesmerized.

Monster Fucker by Destiny_Of_A_Dragon (E, 10k, complete)

During their nightly gossiping session, Ginny poses a question about how snake-like Voldemort might be. They fantasize a bit, then go to bed and assume that that was it. A week later and Harry just has to know.

ovoviviparous by @cindle-writes (E, 5k, complete)

In which Voldemort captures Harry at the Final Battle, and immediately puts him to use as an incubator.

splits your skin from end to end, down the center of the earth by @cannibalinc (E, 19k, complete)

Snape has just killed Dumbledore before Harry’s eyes, and he will not rest until he makes the man pay. But Snape isn’t the only Death Eater wanting to gain favor with the Dark Lord. No, there are ambitions far worse than even Snape’s, Harry learns. Ambitions that deliver him directly into Voldemort’s hands. “I was so very nearly tricked, you see, but Lord Voldemort is not so easily fooled. No, I shall not kill you Harry, not yet. I think I should like to keep you instead.”

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

“I shall show you just how far you’ve fallen,” Voldemort whispered, breaking the thick silence that had settled between them. Harry wanted to laugh, to bare his teeth at the man like the wounded lion that he was. There was nothing for him to do but snark and snarl at the man that had hidden him away from all prying eyes...save for those he trusted most. His legs were useless, his body weak. “I’d like to see you try,” he goaded.

Preparing For A Legacy by @ellionne (E, 5k, complete)

Marriage, especially with magical folks, required to be consummated to have the legal consequences Voldemort demanded for their treaty to come into effect. And Harry had been terrified. Voldemort's thoughtful proposition had seemed like a godsend then. The consummation of a marriage was a purely physical act; Harry didn't need to be aware for it. Didn't need to be awake.

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Secondary Objective: If Subject is a living Horcrux, determine whether the soul fragment can be extracted intact and transferred to a different vessel, allowing Subject to be terminated thereafter.

Roughly 19 Years Later by @dividawrites (E, 2k, complete)

Platform 9¾ is a nice place for reunions.

thrice-bound, twice-filled by @cindle-writes (E, 4k, complete)

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night to the sensation of a blunt, hard cock slowing pushing its way inside him.

The Arsonist's Lullaby by Saeva (E, 101k, WIP)

It’s Harry’s bad luck that his mate is Voldemort. A possessive Voldemort, giving out the most reassuring scent, a scent Harry aches for. No one can blame him for giving into it... just a little... right? Magic Made Him Do It.

War Prize by @duplicitywrites and @moontearpensfic (E, 6k, WIP)

Ten years ago, in the name of world peace, Harry Potter signed his hand away to Lord Voldemort, Dark Lord of the British Isles, Saviour of the Realm. If Harry had known he would spend his days serving as the man's bodyguard and personal stud... He would have asked Dumbledore to include protection against retaliation in the form of sexual objectification.

Venomous by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 4k, complete)

One would think a famous collector of magical creatures would know better than to set a Naga loose in a room full of people, but Sirius Black was never known for his common sense.

Violent Delights by @katsitting (E, 5k, complete)

Harry was shoved against something hard and unyielding. It scratched along his back, chafing the skin. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, refusing to make a sound when more jeers sounded in the clearing, the words cutting through the rush of blood flooding Harry’s ears— “Fuck him, m’Lord.” “Defile his corpse.”

yer a monster fucker, harry by @exarite (M, 3k, complete)

Voldemort suggests they fake a relationship. It's a reasonable suggestion, so of course Harry says yes. Or: Harrymort Fake Dating AU

you're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature (finger-bangin' my heart) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 135k, WIP)

Harry keeps thinking about it. The way he smiled, with sharp white teeth. The way that smile had felt pressed to his own, to his throat, to the inside of his thigh. The clutching fingers; the desperate grip. The sweat clinging to his skin, salty on his tongue. The red eyes behind the mask that Harry would recognize anywhere— Harry keeps thinking about it.

#tomarrymort #harrymort #hemipenes #monsterfucking #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs

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alexa-fika · 3 months ago

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Aight aight

Okay so as a kid I tried taking a little ticket from a store and my parents responsibly made me go to the clerk and apologize- if child!dokusha were to steal what characters would be proud(bc pirates be pirates) or scold them

I feel like out of all the whitebeard crew spoiling (any) dokusha marco is the one with the most self control besides pops. Dokusha just comes home and sees anything they looked at that day

Child!dokusha trying on izou's fancy kimonos

Whitebeard being scared to pick up child!dokusha because of his size :(

After the fic 'puppy love' and After ace and thatch's 'talk' with whitebeard of appropriate language around child!dokusha, both men went to dokusha in the crows nest and talked about said punishments

Puppy Lessons (Whitebeard pirates x child!reader)

Part One Part Two

A/N Holo, you Rascal you sneaked in a request in your headcannons 🤭 (I love you) Yall seem to really love the puppy series so I hope this lived up to your expectations

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in Japanese

Dividers by @/drinkthesky and @/firefly-graphics

“Alright Vista we got it from here” Marco called as he joined both him and Dokucha in the crow’s nest, Thatch and Ace following right after.

Dokucha paid no mind to the goodbyes the swordsman threw their way, their eyes focused on the younger commanders and their bandage-covered body

“Thatch-nii, Ace-nii!” they exclaimed running towards them over.

“Are you okay?!” they asked, fussing over them and examining their bandaged limbs.

“Marco-nii! Can’t you make them all better?!”

“Don’t worry about them, Dokucha; they are okay; some wounds just need to run their course to make sure that we learn from them, isn’t that right-yoi?” Marco called, putting a hand on the shoulder of each man as he stood between them

“Yep”

“Yes”

“Bu-

“Regardless, we are not here because of that-yoi,” He called, cutting off their words as he gave the two commanders a slight push toward the child

Ace looks back at the Phoenix, a scowl on his face at the action, receiving a smug look in return.

“Listen, Dokucha. Those words you were saying earlier?” Thatch began

“Like fuck and hell?” They questioned, a small tilt of their head as they asked

“Yes, th- don’t say them!” Ace exclaimed, scolding the child

“But brother, you say it all the time, Ace-nii!”

“Yes, but I’m older. I can say what I want,” he countered, only to suddenly wince as Marco hit him upside the head at the comment; he glared at the man again but wisely kept quiet as Thatch tried to fix his mistake in a way that would not get both him and the flame-user in another round of punishment from either pops or the phoenix himself.

“We do say them Dokucha, but it’s a mistake, alright? We shouldn’t have said em when ya were with us.”

“Oh, so I can tell them when you guys are not there?”

A drop of sweat fell on Thatch’s forehead as he felt the menacing glare from the first mate behind him as he hurriedly tried to fix his mistake

“No, we shouldn’ be sayin those words anytime, we have to work on it too. We can’t say them words either, alright, sweetpea?”

“But how will I know if it’s a no-no word?” they whined

“Let’s do this, if you hear someone hear the word and you don’t know what it means how about you come to ask us what it means? We can help you tell which ones are no good words,” Ace piped in

“Okay!” They cheered, their mood falling for a moment as they remembered something

“Umm, am I in trouble?”

“No.” this time, it was Marco himself who spoke up as he addressed the child

“Given that you weren’t aware of what the words meant and it was these knucklehead's fault, you are not in trouble-yoi.”

“Does this mean I can go play?”

“Yes-yoi”

“Thank the fucking sea,” Ace muttered as he, too, started leaving the crow’s nest

“Well, I will be in tha kitchen if ya’ll need me; I need to prepare for lunch,” Thatch

“I need to go do some maintenance on the Strider, so if you need me, I will be there.”

“Hey, Marco-nii, can you fucking play with me then?”

The three men pause at their words, an ominous aura leaving the oldest as he put a heavy hand on the younger commander’s shoulder a, heavy pressure falling on him

“Dokucha, that is a no-no word, alright? Now, how about you stay with Thatch? Help him prepare lunch yes-yoi? He said, dragging Ace with him as they left the Crow’s nest

“Uh, Thatch-nii, where are they going?” Dokucha questioned as they popped their head over the ledge to watch as Marco continued dragging Ace away

“Don' worry, they just going to have a chat with pops if I have to guess,” He said as he joined the child in looking at the two

“Oh, I want to go see Papaw. Can I go to?”

“Trust me, ya will want to sit this one out.”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Don’ worry about It sweetpea how about we go make some food?”

What are we thinking?

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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whispers-of-gallifrey · 10 months ago

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Cannot stop thinking about an au where Turnabout Trump doesn't happen/happens but Olga is convicted instead so Apollo is still working at the Gavin law offices for his first few cases. He meets Trucy at one of the crime scenes and she tags along on his investigations, but she doesn't tell him about her connection to Phoenix until after their first case together. Ema likes Apollo less at first bc she doesn't like the fop and you work for his brother, who she also hates bc he's very condescending when he cross examines her in court.

When you meet Klavier in the second case you can ask Kristoph about him and vice versa. They don't interact with each other but you get to learn some more things about the brothers, their opinions on each other and their backstory. You also find out that Klavier was the one who got Phoenix disbarred and Kristoph is apologetic about it, given that Phoenix is his "friend" (though they haven't interacted at all since phoenix was found not guilty).

At one point Trucy is visiting Apollo at the Gavin Law Offices when Kristoph returns and "politely" kicks her out. She then reveals to Apollo who the daddy she keeps talking about actually is. You get to meet Phoenix again in the next case and find out more about the incident 7 years ago.

Over the course of the game you/Apollo starts to grow more suspicious of Kristoph and his intentions, alongside a growing sense of horror that you got an innocent person convicted in your first case. It all comes to a head in Succession when Drew Misham finally uses the stamp, which turns up fixed to a letter in the Gavin Law Offices postbox that Apollo collects on his way in one morning. You hand it to Kristoph and he promptly disappears with it, feigning excuses. Phoenix uses this case to finally spring his trap and test the jurist system. Kristoph gets the double whammy of his brother and mentee turning on him at once and the murder of Shadi Enigmar is properly resolved. It's also revealed that Trucy started tagging along on Apollo's investigations to collect intel for Phoenix.

At the end of Succession, Apollo is offered a role at the newly-renamed Wright Anything Agency and there's a final rise from the ashes-style case that serves as Apollo's first proper case as an official WAA employee and helps tie up some loose threads/lets the characters deal with the fallout of Succession.

Idk I just think it'd be fun/satisfying to realise slowly that there's more to everything than meets the eye.

#yeah im using you/apollo interchangeably bc both are applicable #idk i just think itd be really fun #plus you'd get more history for the gavin brothers and who doesnt want that?#ace attorney #apollo justice #kristoph gavin #klavier gavin #trucy wright #phoenix wright #how did olga end up getting convicted in turnabout trump? who knows!#maybe phoenix chose not to forge evidence to implicate kristoph #maybe trucy wasnt able to deliver it #i feel like the second and third cases would still be Corner and Serenade but adapted #maybe switched round so serenade is first and corner is second #so you meet klavier after theres a murder at his concert and he returns to prosecution to find out which of his friends/colleagues #is the culprit #and then you meet phoenix in the third case after his incident with the car

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weena-mercator · 3 months ago

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Inbetween reblogging all the fun “unnecessary feelings day” stuff, I’d like to touch on the bigger part of what’s happening here.

I think that for the most part all the giddiness about it which produces all the fanart and other “gay gay homosexual gay” posts probably originates from the same way I see it… which is that it’s fun and silly to point at Miles “Gay Disaster” Edgeworth but also understanding that this line is really more like 70% about questioning his morals and place in the legal system and 30% about Phoenix (along with some deeply buried feelings he’s not ready to admit at all yet)

(admittedly I only got in Ace Attorney in 2019 and then didn’t get really into it until this year, so… apologies if this is all very obvious. But I guess new people are joining the fandom every day, so if you’ve been around a long time this is nothing new to you I’m sure - for others maybe they’re just now exploring this stuff)

Edgeworth is struggling with the fact that he’s now questioning everything he’s been taught to believe when it comes to the law and prosecuting. And why? Because of Phoenix.

Phoenix has opened his eyes to the fact that not all those who are deemed guilty by the police are actually guilty, that not everyone lies because they’re guilty and committed the crime, but perhaps they didn’t commit the crime and they lie for some other reason (they’re not guilty but worried the truth about something will make it look like they are, they want to protect someone, etc.).

“Unease… and uncertainty.”

Edgeworth is uncomfortable with acknowledging that his whole belief system is fracturing after Phoenix comes back into his life. He is absolutely not okay with feeling anything but certain. And sure, a lot of that belief system was probably born out of a) survival under MvK’s roof and b) some self-inflicted punishment because even though supposedly Yanni Yogi murdered his father - they still managed to be found not guilty, so he can’t help but wonder if that verdict was right, maybe Yogi really is not guilty because he himself might be the guilty one… He can’t know for sure, but the last thing he remembers is throwing the gun, the gunshot, a scream - it haunts him nightly. But the nightmares are reminder enough of his possible guilt, so he tries not to dwell on it during his conscious hours if possible, he’s got a job to do: get guilty verdicts for others. But he’s not going to say either of these reasons out loud for sure (at least not for a bit), so it’s easier to try to convince himself and others that he is following in MvK’s footsteps under the guise of the man who murdered my father was declared not guilty because of a flaw in the legal system so I will do whatever is in my power to ensure all those charged with a crime do not escape the punish of the law.

And as a cherry on top, who is the one bringing all of these feelings of unease and uncertainty to the surface? Phoenix Wright. A childhood friend he hasn’t seen since he lost his father. Someone he must have really cared about as a child, surely - there’s too much indication that they were very close for a while before Miles disappeared because MVK took him away, making their reunion all the more complicated for Edgeworth. Phoenix still sees him the way he did as children, and Edgeworth knows he’s anything but the same as the boy he was back then (or really, parts of him are still buried deep down but it will take a while before he’s ready to examine things further).

Whether you want to believe Phoenix and Miles had inklings of feelings stronger than friendship as children is up to your personal headcanon (I lean on the side of yes, because I’m a sucker for kid fluff and the story just gives this whole vibe of childhood best friends who got very close very fast and felt really strongly about each other, even if they were too young to understand/seek out romantic love - but they knew they really cared about each other a lot).

Phoenix seems as idealistic as ever to Edgeworth, and it’s too much to handle that Phoenix could still be trying to see Edgeworth as someone he doesn’t believe he is capable of being anymore - someone he hasn’t been for quite a long time.

I think Miles probably tried to hang on tightly to his memories of Phoenix (and to an extent, Larry) after his father died, because Phoenix was still out there somewhere. But eventually he had to push them down… bury his feelings because he couldn’t survive that way in the von Karma household. Feelings and relationships were only distractions.

Well… now Phoenix is back and largely responsible for this crisis of conscience that Edgeworth finds himself in. That’s the largest meaning behind the line.

But I don’t think it’s a stretch to still say, yes, the gay reading of it is not inaccurate either - just a smaller piece. Those feelings of nostalgia and caring about Phoenix are being stirred back up - he thought he had been able to successfully bury them, apparently not.

On top of everything else, his thoughts are going to be that he cannot handle dealing with feelings for Phoenix. He has not allowed himself to develop relationships with others beyond what is necessary for his job, and even his relationships with MVK and Franziska are not healthy by any standards. So yeah, some of that unease and uncertainty is about Phoenix specifically, not just what Phoenix has showed him, but also what Phoenix represents to him - a past that’s not only painful to remember, but also a time where he cared about and was close to Phoenix. But he’s not at all in the right headspace to try to deal with that, so he’s going to continue to try to pretend he’s not having these feelings.

I like to think the moment when Edgeworth really goes “oh shit I have feelings for him” comes later, at a point during Turnabout Goodbyes (I have my specific moment in mind - I actually did not even ship them hard by the “unnecessary feelings” line, it was more like haha silly gay lawyers that’s fun and later it became I depend emotionally on this homosexual ship)

Um anyways is that how most people also view this? Lol

Okay back to the fun reblogging for the celebrations.

#I wrote more than I planned #I’m focusing on this part right now for my very long fic I’m writing can you tell?#unnecessary feelings #ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #narumitsu #wrightworth

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

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Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 1

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {Established relationship}, platonic Snape x Reader.

Timeline: DH1- Set during the events of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we dire like Madeye.

"Dumbledore's dead, it was Snape."

Your eyes opened in sheer panic as you startled awake, quietly gasping to force air into your lungs as you attempted to center yourself, realising you were safe. You looked around the dark room, breathing deeply and squinting through the darkness, familiar outlines of furniture slowly coming into focus as you took in your surroundings, realising that you were safe in your bed. The familiar weight of two arms slung around your waist gave you an immediate sense of relief as you quietly lay there, your breathing and racing heart slowly calming as you listened to the small snores and steady breaths of your two sleeping boyfriends lay either side of you.

Fred's body was pressed tightly to your back, his arm crossed over your waist as his hand cradled your clothed breast, whilst George lay beside you, your head on his shoulder with his hand resting on your hip. Despite the comforting knowledge that you were safe, surrounded and protected by your beloveds, the words from your dream replayed in your mind like a continuous, tormenting loop, casting an essence of foreboding within you.

"Dumbledore's dead, it was Snape."

Those words had haunted you since the moment you'd first heard them, the words and the greater meaning completely unfathomable to you. You weren't there when Dumbledore had died, but you saw the pain in Harry's eyes each and every time his name was mentioned and for some reason you couldn't escape the moment you learned of the headmaster's demise at the hands of your mentor, Professor Snape.

You'd always had a certain proficiency for potions, that much was clear as early on as your first year when you'd passed the first year examinations with flying colours, earning top marks in your written work and had drafted an exemplary specimen of Forgetfulness potion from memory. You'd proven time and time again that you were both able and interested in potions and for those very reasons Snape had seemed to take a liking to you, never giving you the same harsh treatment he so often bestowed upon his students. At the start of your sixth year, Snape had offered you the role of Potion Master's assistant, a highly esteemed role that had never been offered to a student before. You'd accepted with sincere gratitude and had found that working alongside Snape was much more harmonious than you could have anticipated, both of you sharing a bond of sorts, finding that you were a good team. Of course you were conflicted with his treatment of Harry and his general preference towards the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy, and you could hardly excuse his past as a death eater but for some reason you sensed conflict and guilt within him that redeemed him at least slightly in your eyes. Most students wrote him off and cold and uncaring but you saw beneath that, having seen first hand his caring nature, both with yourself and Draco in particular.

You'd been with Snape the night that Harry and Draco had duelled in the sixth floor boys bathroom, when Harry had unleashed an unknown curse he'd found in that cursed book to block the cruciatus curse that Draco had fired.

Snape had sped to the bathrooms with you in tow upon hearing Myrtle's scream and had tended to the gravely injured Malfoy without hesitation, casting healing spells and incantations that manage to stop more blood pouring from the gashes that littered Draco's body. He'd ordered you to get the essence of dittany from his personal store at once and you'd applied it to the wounds that were knitting together as Snape concentrated on the incantation. Later that night, when he had taken Draco to the infirmary, he'd called you into his office and told you never to speak of it to anyone, and you had kept your promise, knowing the grave consequences you and your loved ones could face if you did.

When you were told of Dumbledore's demise at the hand of your mentor, you'd been astounded and profoundly shocked. Though Snape could be cold and harsh, you'd never once seen him be anything other than loyal and respectful to Dumbledore, which only greatened your shock and horror at the events that had transpired.

"Angel," a voice whispered gently in the dark, the hand holding your hip squeezing gently to get your attention. You turned to George, seeing that he was awake now and watching you. He offered you a small smile as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, his hand moving from your hip to stroke your cheek. "What's got you awake?"

"The usual," you whispered back, with a sigh, nuzzling down into his bare chest to comfort yourself. He placed his arm securely around you and made room for your snuggling, though you still had Fred's arm around you which restricted your movement just a little.

"Want to talk about it?" He asks quietly, stroking your hair, knowing exactly what you are referring to. You don't reply verbally but instead shake your head against the smooth skin of his shoulder, your hand rising up to run your fingers through the sparse patch of hair beneath his pecks, feeling mostly smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said quietly, drawing little circles on his chest as he stroked your back soothingly.

"You didn't," George says, though you know he's lying. "Need to get up soon anyway."

Disappointment surged through you at his words, realising that he was right as you looked at the little digital alarm clock beside the bed, seeing that there was less than twenty minutes before the alarm would sound out to prepare you for the big day ahead. You hummed a little vague reply and snuggled down closer to his side, already feeling morose at anticipating having to leave him later that day.

"Want to take a shower with me?" He asks, his hands running up and down your back gently. You consider it for a moment, not yet willing to part with the warm, comfy bed but a shower with George did sound like a nice way to wake up.

You looked up at him and nodded, earning a sweet little smile from George as he slowly leant down to place a kiss to your lips, just a small peck that was meaningful nonetheless.

You managed to manoeuvre out of bed without waking Fred and as you slipped into the bathroom with George, you cast one last glance back at your sleeping boyfriend, seeing him now sprawled across the entire bed, seeking the rare opportunity even in his sleep.

George had started the shower ready for you both and was just in the process of checking the water temperature when you walked into the bathroom, really looking at him in the light. You always thought George looked incredible in the morning, still rousing and slightly dishevelled from sleep, his newly cut hair spiking in every direction. He was only wearing a pair of lounge shorts that hung low on his hips, his muscular back completely on display for you as he adjusted the knobs before turning round and flashing you a gorgeous smile.

"It's ready Angel," he says, walking over to you and immediately grasping your T-shirt, or rather one of Fred's old ones, by the bottom and slipped it off of your body, leaving you in just your panties. The whole act wasn't overtly sexual, it was comforting if anything spending a little time just being intimate with one another but you couldn't deny that the scales were tipping and everything that George did seemed to light a fire of desire within you, your nightmares already forgotten. You didn't miss the way George's gaze rested on your naked breasts before he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, clearly needing to feel as close to you as you did him. Your hands stroked down his chest as you kisses and you started tugging down his sleep shorts so that he was bare before you, feeling him smile into the kiss at your desperation to get him naked. Your panties were next, George's long, deft fingers slipping into the waistband and slowly dragging them down your legs as he broke the kiss, moving downwards with your panties until you were both completely naked.

"Get in angel," he says with a smirk, smacking your bum gently as you pass him to step into the steaming shower cubicle. The hot water feels heavenly against your skin as you step under the spray, ensuring to leave enough room for George too. Because of your boyfriends' height, the shower had to be raised right to the top of the slide rail, shock created a wonderful waterfall effect for you. George stepped in behind you, closing the door and placing a dry towel over the top of the cubicle away from the water spray for after.

His hands immediately begin running over your hips as you wet your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. You each lather up your hair with the shampoo you shared and take turns washing it out under the spray. You laugh and joke as you reach up to style his shampoo-filled hair into different configurations, manipulating the suds to form different shapes. You'd successfully created the shorting hat on top of his head, though with his new shorter hair it was much more abstract and you poured as he stepped under the spray and washed away your masterpiece.

"Let me," he says as you reach for your shower gel hanging by the little rack. George's hands roam over your shoulders as he spreads the sweet scented gel over your body, watching as it turns to suds in his hands. When his hands slip down over your breasts you can't help but rest your head on the tiled wall, a little puff of breath escaping you at the sensation. You could tell that it was having an affect on George by his increasingly excited member in your peripheral vision that was beginning to run against your leg.

"My turn," you say with a smirk, turning to face him completely as you reach for his products, squeezing a little out into your hand as you begin to lather him up, starting with his shoulders and slowly working your way across his abdomen and down.

He gasps and groans when your hand comes into contact with his hard cock, beginning to pump him slowly, just how he likes.

"Fuck Angel," he groans, eyes closed as he tips his head back in pleasure. Your pace slowly increases as you squeeze him just a little tighter, building the sensations he needed, rewarded in turn by his frequent moans.

"Angel, fuck," he moans, reaching up to suddenly grab at your wrist to stop. You look at him with wide eyes, worried that you'd done something wrong but he immediately pushed you back into the tiled wall, smirking at your little gasp from the coldness of the tile before he kissed you passionately, hands wandering all over your body. You moan into the kiss as his fingers drag over your pebbled nipples before slinking down your body until they slip between your legs, feeling the heat and wetness there.

"Georgie," you moan as his fingers begin to circle your clit, knees trembling already at the sensation. "Georgie I need more, please."

The spot he'd been kissing on your neck is suddenly punctured by his teeth as he groans and dominantly spins you around, manhandling you with little to no effort as he positions you as he likes. Your breasts are pushed against the cold glass, nipples already aching from the cold as he presses you gently into the glass wall. His hand reached down and spanks you, earning a gasp followed by a deep groan as his fingers begin to toy with your little pussy once again, this time from behind. His finger slips inside you and you can't help but buck your hips at the sudden but welcome intrusion. He pumps his finger in and out of you a few times with precision before he suddenly pulls away. Seconds later you can feel the familiar bulbous tip of his erection pressed against your labia and you rock your hips again, desperate for him to enter you as he snickers at your desperation.

Grabbing hold of his cock, he slips back and forth through your folds before pulling away slightly and slapping his tip against your clit a few takes making you cry out. Without warning, he suddenly reaches for your leg and holds it up, spreading your thighs and leaving you completely open for him as he slides in all the way, your hungry pussy greedily accepting him as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him.

You moan out in unison at finally being joined together and he slowly pulls himself back out, dragging it out so that you can feel every single inch of him, every vein and every ridge before he slams back into you, setting a brutal but tantalising pace as he fucks into you from behind. His moans and groans echo in the little cubicle and those mixed with the steam from the shower make you feel lightheaded and completely fucked out already.

George shifts you forward just a little, still keeping hold of you securely before resuming his thrusting, making you cry out at the new angle. He manages to slip even deeper in you now and you can't help but rock your hips at the intensity of the feeling as he bites and sucks at your neck from behind, never once loosing his momentum.

Suddenly, he spins you in his arms so that you're facing the shower and with one swift reach up, the spray of the shower is no longer above you as George knocks the shower head off the clamp, allowing it to bungee down until it was spraying your bodies. With his unoccupied hand, he reaches for the showerhead and immediately aims it up at your pussy, causing you to scream at the new sensation. The spray of the water was focused entirely on your pussy, the forceful droplets hitting your clit in the most perfect way which only furthered your pleasure. You were completely overwhelmed, the water vibrating against your clit, your nipples taught and aching from the coldness and George's perfect cock filling you entirely. You couldn't hold out any longer and you could feel your climax charging through you, all of your pleasure spots being played perfectly by your boyfriend as you begin to cry out louder and louder.

"Georgie fuck, fuck, George I'm cumming," you cried out as he fucked into you harder and harder, balls slapping against your pussy as he feels you begin to clench and roll your hips at the intensity of the orgasm crashing over you. He lets go of the showerhead immediately, knowing that it would overstimulate you quickly as he focuses on thrusting through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure and cresting his own as he fucks into you. Your clenching walls squeeze his length in the most wonderful way and he only lasts mere moments before he's cumming inside you with a roar that reverberates around the small room.

He stays inside you as you both catch your breaths, George's arms lowering your leg back to the ground as you wiggled your toes, feeling the familiar ache begin to creep into your limb from being held up for so long but you only smile, feeling blissfully fucked out. He slowly pulls out of you, resting his head on your shoulder as you keen at the sensation, both of you breathing deeply as you feel his cock slip out, followed by a stream of his cum that slips slowly out of your little sore hole and down your thigh.

"Perfect timing," you laugh as you hear the alarm blaring from the bedroom, followed by a loud groan from Fred who you can picture slinging his arm over the side of the bed to whack the clock into silence. George chuckles against your shoulder at your words before placing a kiss to the spot he was resting on, moving to stand at full height again. His hand reaches out for the showerhead and carefully avoid any areas of your body that would be too sensitive, he washes away the evidence he'd left on your body with his hands before turning off the shower and placing it back into the bracket clamp.

"I love you so much," he says suddenly, prompting you to turn and face him, seeing the trepidation in his eyes. Today is the day that the order would be transporting Harry to the burrow, a dangerous but necessary mission and unfortunately for you, both of your boyfriends had been chosen to assist with this operation. Tensions were high and the stakes were even higher, meaning that you were all scared of the outcome.

"I love you so much George Weasley," you smile, feeling your own emotions bubbling under the surface at the prospect of what could happen tonight. You moved forward and stepped into chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as you fought of the chill, no longer having the hot water to warm you up.

"If something," George begins to say, but you place your lips on his to silence him, not wanting to hear it. You pull apart and though he still looks downcast, he understands.

"We love each other, that's all we need to think about right now." He nods gently and pulls you in for one last cuddle, placing a kiss to your wet hair as he holds you. The sentiment is not lost on you, both of you completely bare before each other both physically and emotionally, each needing to cling to the other as you navigate the next 24 hours.

"Have you two done fucking? Some of us need to take a leak!" You hear Fred shout, though his voice is muffled through the door. "I don't need to point out that I'm feeling very left out here!"

You laugh and pull apart as George reaches up to drape the towel around you before you both step out of the shower. You walk over and open the door as Fred bursts in, staggering straight to the toilet as he pulls down his own pyjama pants and pulls out his cock, not even caring that he has an audience as he relieves himself. His bleary eyes look over at his twin and he instantly grimaces, seeing him completely nude with only a small towel ruffling his wet hair.

"Gross, get some clothes on," he says, flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink to quickly wash his hands.

"You see him naked all the time," you say, watching his reaction, pointing out the facts. Fred turns to you with a frown before seeing you dressed in only a towel which clearly piques him interest.

"That's different, I don't actively look at him, in fact I try and avoid it. When you're naked I don't see anything else," he grins, moving toward you and messing with the towel where it was tucked, hoping to catch a peak of your naked body but you gently slap his hand away, making him pout.

"So he gets to rail you and I can't even get a peak? Where's the fairness in that?" He says with mock outrage.

"Stop pouting and you'll get more than a peak later," you say with a smirk which makes his eyes widen and his hands immediately fall to his sides as he puts his bottom lip away.

"Yes ma'am," he jokes before leaning in to kiss you, pulling you right into his chest as his hands snake over your bare shoulders.

Fred slips into the shower as you prepare breakfast for the three of you. George makes you a cup of tea and kisses you as he slides it over to you on the counter before taking a seat at the little table in the corner of the kitchen, pulling out the daily prophet and reading through the news of the day. Freddie joins you only a few minutes later and slips behind you as you cook the breakfast, pressing dangerous kisses to your neck as his arms wrap around your middle.

When breakfast is ready you all take a seat and eat in comfortable silence, listening to the radio that Fred had flicked on as he entered the kitchen. There's tension in the air as the news reporters begin to list off the names of witches and wizards that are declared missing, with a few familiar names creeping up on the list such as Charity Burbage, the muggle studies professor at Hogwarts.

You tried to push down the anxiety that was swirling around you and tried to focus on the positives of the day. The shop was closed today on account of it being a Sunday as to not arouse suspicion for the sudden closure to anyone who might be looking for signs that Harry would be moved, knowing that the death eaters were all waiting for this information.

Your orders from Madeye had been simple, though you were still a little aggrieved that you hadn't been selected for the mission, you were to apparate early to the burrow alone and set up a base camp for the returning members. Your talents in potions had been mentioned by your ex-professors Snape and Remus numerous times and this information had earned you the unofficial role as the healer of the group, with your own draughts having been created and shipped to the burrow in preparation.

You had a few hours until you were due to arrive at the burrow and so you took your time getting ready, checking and re-checking the bag you were apparating with, namely containing your personal items, clothing, toiletries and copious amounts of dittany and other healing and restorative herbs that you could use incase of injury or worse.

When it was time to say goodbye to your boyfriend's you could barely hold back the tears as they held you between them both, all three of you cuddled together as the reality set in, those dark thoughts twirling about in all your heads as you looked upon your boyfriends for what could be the last time. If it was, you wanted to commit this to memory, the feel of both of their arms around you, their towering height, the softness of them and the small little differences that you could physically feel between them both.

"I love you Princess," Fred says, pulling you into him as George steps back, letting you both have a moment. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember and there will never be a time that I don't, whatever happens tonight." Tears pooled in your eyes as you nodded to his words, feeling his hand delicately cupping your jaw as he looks into your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, you're stuck with me forever you know that? Him too, but mainly me," he smirks, nodding his head to George who you're certain is rolling his eyes.

"I love you Freddie," you say, reaching up to kiss him before turning to George.

"You already know how much I love you," George says, taking your hand in his and pulling you closer.

"Yeah I think I heard that this morning," Fred mumbles before receiving a glare from George that makes him step away, leaving you to have a moment with his twin.

"We'll be back before you know it, be safe, I love you." He presses a firm kiss to your lips, hands clutching at the fabric of your dress.

"Now, future Mrs Weasley, do you have everything?" Fred says, moving back towards you as he placed at the bag by your feet. You smile widely at the nickname, butterflies raging in your tummy as you nod.

"My dress is already at the burrow," you say, thinking of your dress for Bill and Fleur's wedding in a few days, "everything else is here."

You glance at the clock and take a deep breath, knowing that you needed to leave. The twins both seem to notice and though you can tell Fred is trying to play it cool, you can see his fingers fidgeting at his side as they often did when he was uncomfortable. George's eyes told you everything you needed to know, the torment and sadness at being parted so clearly visible in his sad look.

"Don't keep me waiting," you say with one last smile before you reach for your bag and with a loud crack, you begin to pull through space and time before ending up directly outside the Burrow in the tall grass.

Molly rushes out to greet you, no doubt having been waiting for your anticipated arrival for quite some time and pulls you into a warm hug, ushering you inside and thrusts an already made cup of tea into your slightly shaking hands. Ginny heard the commotion and comes barrelling towards you, sweeping you up in a hug before you do the same to Hermione who follows suit. Ron stands back awkwardly but you simply step towards him and wrap your arms around him, knowing he wouldn't make the first move. He doesn't resist in the slightest and you hug your boyfriend's younger brother for a moment before pulling away, smiling at them all. Arthur then rounds the corner and ushers you in to a fatherly embrace, asking after his twin sons. Bill and Fleur arrive not long after and then Remus and Tonks, who pulls you away to the front lounge to speak with you.

"Tonks, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you both!" You say with wide smiles as you embrace the mother to be, overjoyed at their wonderful news as she shares it with you privately whilst you await the rest of the order. Upon entering the kitchen once again, you see Remus look up from his discussion with Bill and you smile widely at him, mouthing congratulations secretly so no one else would see. He shoots you a shy but kind smile with a nod of his head that shows his thanks before he engages in conversation once again.

Kingsley shows not too long after and you greet each other formally but fondly before Madeye bursts in gripping the collar of a disgruntled Mundungus who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

"Right, Hagrid is meeting us in little whinging, as are the twins," he says, stomping forward to address the small crowd. "The plan has not changed, we will be executing it precisely as Dumbledore wanted." Suddenly he turns to address you, his fake eye wandering around the room as his real eye focuses entirely on you. "Have you brought everything I asked?"

"Yes, everything's ready," you reply with a nod, eyes flicking over to the little wooden box on Molly's table that housed all of your pre-prepared potions.

You walked over to the box and pulled out a large vial of pre-prepared potion you'd been brewing all month before walking back towards Madeye and handing it over. He examined it briefly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar flask, sniffing it once before tipping the poly juice potion into the flask before handing the now empty vial back to you.

"It'll last two hours, give or take 10 minutes, Fred and George will need to take slightly more on account of their height, everyone else a big sip will do. Get Harry's hair from the root and sprinkle it in, swirl it around but don't shake it, let the hair dissolve and it won't fail. "

"Excellent, right, best not to keep everyone waiting, Mundungus you're with me."

Madeye marches out and the rest of the group take turns to say goodbye to eachother. You reach out and grab Remus' jacket sleeve as he starts to walk away, gesturing for him to hold back for just a moment.

"Tonks, she, I, should she really be doing this?" You ask delicately, not feeling at all right about sitting about whilst a pregnant woman goes into battle. Remus simply smiles at you and pats the hand that clutches his arm, as if he appreciated the thought.

"I've never once been able to stop her yet, I hardly doubt any being on earth could," he says simply with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. You can tell the weight of the task at hand is laying heavily on him, knowing that both his wife and unborn child would be out there on the front line.

"I can take her place," you say, offering yourself but he shakes his head.

"She knows the risks, as do I, and I greatly appreciate your concern but it's already set."

The waiting has grown to be excruciating as the hours dragged on. Molly whizzed around occupying herself, fluffing and re-fluffing pillows, picking up her knitting then throwing it down in frustration moments later and scrubbing the kitchen counters until the sponge was worn down to a slither. Ginny on the other hand sat frozen at the table, hardly moving as she gazed into nothingness, her worries written clearly all over her face. You tried your hardest not to think of the possibilities and had tried desperately not to think of your boyfriends or friends and companions out there but it was hopeless, all you could think of were Fred and George, desperate to be reunited with them again. You'd checked all your potions, split them into individual vials and had begun brewing more, reading up on healing herbs and anything else you might have missed as you waited. You'd made countless cups of tea for the three of you but none had truly been touched other than a few sips here and there and Molly had created a feast for the members due to return, mostly just to pass the time. You'd actively avoided looking at the infamous clock that featured each member of the Weasley family but as the clock chimed announcing that it was 9pm, you'd accidentally cast a glance at the clock and saw that nearly all of the Weasley family were now pointed at the 'mortal petal' setting on the clock, all except Molly, Ginny and Charlie. Your stomach dropped as you considered what could be happening, knowing that they were due to arrive at Harry's any moment and tried hard to reason with yourself that there was no option on the clock that would fit this exact circumstance, though it was complete denial.

You could tell Molly was trying her hardest to appear strong but considering that four of her sons, her husband and beloved friends were out there, she was clearly distressed. Both of your loves were out there and that was hard enough, you couldn't even fathom how she must be feeling.

"Molly, please let me help," you say, walking into the kitchen where she was scrubbing the sink once again. She stopped and turned to you and you saw the faintest crack in her resilience as she paused her scrubbing, heaving out a large sigh. She gave you a small smile and handed you the dishcloth to dry the plates and you worked in comfortable silence, not quite knowing what to say to each other despite years of a budding parental friendship.

A resounding bang followed by clattering and a splash out in the field immediately made you freeze and look at each-other with an unreadable expression.

They were back. At least, you hoped it was them.

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