#blip festival

[bettyfrommars]

headlessHorseman!eddie x Reader

Welcome back to The Nightmare Factory

masterlist

18+ONLY

I had a request from @thiswaytoinfinity for a Headless Horseman version of Eddie, and this is what happened. Reader is AFAB and this chapter includes a surprise guest. Much love. wc: 3.3k

This is part of a collection of blurbs and short fics about Eddie only being able to communicate with you through your nightmares. It can be enjoyed as a standalone, but there is a story being woven through each chapter. Chapters with smut will be marked nsfw, but most of these are just pure silliness and yearning.

"None shall escape the horseman's sight! On your guard, the time is nigh! The Headless Horseman darkens the sky! No matter the realm, it's all the same; I will sear you all with burning flame!"

---------

You’d been marked by the Headless Horseman.

That much was obvious by the carved jack-o-lantern with a lit candle inside that appeared on your doorstep on that morning, the first of October.

A group of kids from town snickered and pointed at you, knowing that your demise was near, but you held your head high.

You didn’t believe in the Headless Horseman.

It was a fairytale woven by firelight to frighten gullible fools and babies—and you were neither.

You were a teacher now, and a good one at that.  Your students did not hate you like they had the schoolmaster before.  They didn’t hate you to your face, anyway.

You attended the fall festival behind the church that Saturday night, and Jesiah Smith would not leave you alone.  He kept refilling your apple cider, which was nice, but you had no interest in him outside of friendship, and he didn’t seem able to take the hint.  

The guy was standing way too close to you, Eddie observed from the shadows.  

Eddie was patiently awaiting his scene in the dream as if he were an actor waiting for curtain call, but now the extras in your nightmare were getting on his nerves.  It was impossible for Eddie to get to be in all of your nightmares, but he took the opportunities when they came.  

Thank god he could tell you were already getting bored with the people around you; even in dreams you preferred to avoid mundane chitchat.  He slipped back through the dark thicket of forest and mounted the black steed with ease—almost as if he’d paid attention in class this time. The horse with a long silky mane and red eyes exhaled hot air from its nostrils, and in the cold darkness, it looked like it was breathing smoke.

The wind picked up, scattering dead leaves, and you rubbed your arms to warm them up.  Above, the moon was so round and big, and it glowed a pale yellow—in the distance, a wolf howled.  You swore you heard noises from the forest over the sound of the fiddle that people were dancing to.  Horse hooves trotting, a crow cawing, and the low moan of the wind through tight fissures in the trees, singing like a warning.

Jesiah offered you his jacket, but you told him it was time to grab your shawl and go.  

He said he could walk you home, but you said no thank you.

He took hold of  your arm to pull you back, to keep you from moving away, and a horse neighed loudly from somewhere deep in the woods, making everyone’s heads whip around to look in that direction.

“I’m fine,” you assured, snaking your arm away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jesiah.”

There was a blip in time then, and suddenly you were in the middle of the forest, and all of the villagers from the festival were gone. 

 You were all alone.

The air felt cold and damp all at once.  Above you, the tops of the trees made a canopy way over your head like intertwined fingers that carved out a perfect slot for the mood between their knuckles.

You shivered again, but not from the cold this time.

You had no idea which direction to walk in order to get home.

An owl flew off of a branch near you and screeched as its big wings caught the air.

You turned on your heel, noticing a thin path that led into a denser part of the forest.  “That must be it,” you whispered to yourself, taking a few cautious steps in that direction.

Your legs felt like you were walking in quicksand; you kept moving, but were still in the same spot. 

There was a long silence filled with nothing but the chitter of crickets, the type of silence that pounded in your ears, and then you heard a branch snap nearby.  You tried to jump from the spot you were in, but your legs felt like jello.

It was then that you felt the hot, wet snorts of breath on the back of your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the huge body of a horse with a man sitting atop it.

You went to step and tripped, falling to the ground as you actively scurried back and a scream caught in your throat, choking you, making you gasp for air.  

The man was dressed all in black with pale skin and long, curly dark hair.  A long coat, and riding boots that came almost to his knees.  The black horse he rode was one of the biggest you’d ever seen—-and there appeared to be actual fire flickering in its eyes.

You noticed a thick, jagged line like a railroad track around the man’s neck.

“Are…are you the Headless Horseman?” You stammered, feeling like your voice was coming from somewhere outside of your body.  

He cocked the head in question, his voice was deep.  “Do I look headless to you?”

“No,” you managed to whisper, licking your dry lips.  

Eddie’s heart was racing.

He felt like in every dream, the two of you had to start all over, but this time—-your eyes were soft as you gazed up at him.  Almost as if  you found him…familiar.

You watched from a tuft of dead leaves on the ground with your knees pulled to your chest as Eddie dismounted.  

He dropped the reins and took a few steps toward you.  “Listen,” the man cleared his throat.  “I’m supposed to chase you out to the meadow and scare you, but I don’t really want to.”

 “Why don’t you want to?” You stared at him blankly.

Eddie kicked something invisible with his boot, rolling his tongue between his lips. After a beat, he squinted and dipped his head, crossing his arms over his chest.  “You don’t remember me?”

This was starting to feel surreal.  Did you live in the town nearby, or was this a dream? This couldn’t be a dream—-he was standing right in front of you.  You could feel the air moving in your chest.  

You furrowed your brow and tried to think, but then shook your head, disappointed that you could not place him.

With dramatic flourish, the man threw his hands to his chest as if he’d been shot and fell to the ground, catching himself in a push-up position before rolling onto his back in front of you and flopping there.  Orange leaves fluttered against him like lifeless butterflies.

You snorted a confused laugh and looked on, amused, searching his dark eyes as he got on his side and propped his head up on his hand.

“Wait,” you bit your lip.  The memory of him was like a pinprick of light at the end of a long tunnel, but you reached out through your brain as hard as you could for it while Eddie held his breath.

You lowered your gaze to the ground for a second and then returned your attention to him, about to let something out of your mouth that didn’t make any sense.  “Something to do with a ferris wheel?”

Eddie sat up and clapped, giving a fist pump of excitement.  “Yes! Ferris wheel!” He got to his knees and craned his neck to get his head closer to you.  

He was so close to you now, it wouldn’t take much effort to lean forward and kiss him; you had this deep swell of confidence that the two of you had kissed before. 

His rich chocolate eyes were in quite a bit of contrast to his chalk white skin, and his plump lips were pale too; a tiny blush of pink against flesh that refused to warm.  His dark hair was almost black and it matched the thick stitches that clamped down over the gash that seemed to go all around his neck.  

Eddie released a heavy breath and took your hand.

“I want to tell you everything,” he said.

You squeezed his hand back, silently asking him to continue.

There, on a blanket of leaves, under the unblinking, watchful eye of the moon, Eddie told you that he was from another dimension, a place where they created nightmares for dreams.  After a moment of hesitation, while he broke a dry leaf apart with his fingers, he raised his gaze to yours tentatively and admitted that he’d developed a crush on you the first night he saw you.

Nothing about this seemed strange to you, in fact, he might as well have been telling you that he worked for Foot Locker at the mall and was asking you out for a soda.  All perfectly normal stuff.  

A gust of wind brushed back his hair, and a murder of crows took flight.

“It wasn’t just the way you looked; you know.  Even though you are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.  Very, very beautiful, but it was…” he drifted off, a smile breaking his laugh.  “...the little people you made out of potatoes that sat on your desk, and the heavily worn paperbacks by your bed, and the way you slept with every body part under the covers except for your feet.”

You dipped your head shyly, self-conscious that he’d seen you in such a vulnerable state—but you were not at all horrified like you would be if a guy in your world told you he’d been standing over your bed while you slept.  Your reaction was that of someone who was familiar with Eddie and not at all bothered by the information he was admitting.  

Things feel so different in dreams.

He hesitated, trying to get a read on your expression. “Is this too much? Am I saying too much?”

“I..” your thought trailed off as you looked around at the dark shadows that loomed in the clearing.  “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?”

Eddie brought his knee up and circled his elbow around it. He had picked the leaf in his hand clean, down to the vein, and turned the delicate piece over in his fingers.  “This is all we have, for now,” he said softly.

In the distance, a dark rumble of laughter—a menacing cackle—broke the cricket song of nature’s silence and all the birds scattered.

You turned to Eddie with wide eyes.  “W-what was that?”

“Crap,” Eddie lowered his lids for a long breath.  “I can’t believe it’s time already.”

“Time? Time for what?” You mimicked his movements as he stood and dusted himself off.  

The evil laughter continued to bellow as horse hooves pounded in the distance.  Through a break in the trees, you could see something or someone thundering along on horseback.

“Quick, take my hand!” Eddie shouted to get your attention.  He was already up high on the horse, but the ice grip of fear made you freeze.  You caught his hand and stepped into the stirrup, swinging your leg over the saddle behind him at his instruction.  

“Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight,” he shouted over his shoulder as the horse took a few steps, bobbing its head, eager to get a move on.

You did as you were told, pinning your cheek to the tight back muscles that were flexing under his coat.  

Delilah, the horse, was fast and strong and she took off like a shot at Eddie’s command.  “Just don’t look back!” Eddie told you as the wind blew his hair back into your face; it smelled like honeysuckle and campfire.  

Eddie crouched down a bit as he spurred her on, and you kept your body glued to his, your tailbone hitting the back of the saddle.

Faster…faster….

Delilah bounded into the air to avoid a huge tree that had fallen, and you squeezed your eyes shut for what felt like forever until her hooves met the ground again and you were bouncing behind Eddie to the beat of her strides.  

That was when you made the mistake of looking behind you.

Not too far back and gaining at paranormal speed, was an actual headless man atop a mean-looking horse that was even bigger than Delilah.  He wore a long, dark cape that flew out behind him, and he was barreling down on the three of you with a knife in his hand; the blade was long and curved and the steel glinted in the moonlight.

You gulped, knowing instinctively that it was your head he wanted.

“He’s gaining on us!” You screamed into the wind.

“I told you not to look back!” Eddie responded just as Deliah caught air over a fence and landed in a wide open meadow.

“Who is it? What do they want?”

“It’s another headless horseman,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, squinting into the velocity of the escape.  "And he wants you."

“There’s more than one??”  you took the chance to peek over your shoulder again, only to see that the headless man in question was gaining on you.  “Why do you have a head and he doesn’t?” you yelled as Eddie kicked his heels and urged Delilah on.

“I sewed my head back on just for you, baby.”

Eddie coaxed Delilah in a sharp right, bolting across the other side of the field.  Straight ahead in the distance was an old, covered bridge, and Eddie was telling Delilah to beeline right for it.

“Once we get you across that bridge, he can’t touch you,” Eddie said.

“But what about you?” Your voice cracked as the words left your mouth.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find you again.”

The other Headless Horseman was right behind you now.  He cackled loud and brandished the knife high in the air to let you see that he was serious, and it glinted in the moonlight.

You never doubted for a second that he would use it.

“How is he laughing without a head?” You chanced to ask.

“Oh, he has a head,” Eddie shouted.  “It’s just not on him right now.”

Perfect sense, all of it.  

You were so close to the bridge…so close

But then the other horseman was coming up beside you—

He sliced his blade through the air, missing you both by a hair.

Eddie threw him a dirty look.  “What the hell, man?”

More evil laughter.

The blade came down again, this time, it would’ve clipped your arm if Eddie hadn’t made Delilah swerve in the other direction.

Now, you were headed away from the bridge.

“New plan!” Eddie yelled. 

“Yeah what’s that?” The last word that came out of your mouth was a scream as you saw that the other Headless Horseman was suddenly blocking your path, swinging his arm back, ready to chop Eddie’s head off.

Eddie cursed and Delilah reared up on her back legs as if to protect the both of you with her hooves.

You let out a high pitched wail that pierced the night as you and Eddie toppled from the horse.

You landed in your bed.

Eddie landed in the alfalfa meadow.

Your mouth was dry when your eyes flew open to reveal the calm, familiar bedroom setting, while your hands made tight fists in the sheets.  

It had only been a dream…but how could you still smell the campfire wood of his hair?

You’d never bolted from bed as fast as you did in that moment, scrambling for your pen and journal on the nightstand as you propped yourself up against the headboard.  The tip of your tongue darted over your top lip as you concentrated, writing down everything you could remember from the dream…things he said…the way it felt…

That morning, you drew your very first sketch of him, too.  It was rough, but you got the shape of his mouth correct and his hair, you even put in the details of the thick stitching around his neck that held his head on.

A couple nights went by before you saw him again, and when you did, it would be groundbreaking, because you would remember him for the first time.  

Back in the dream, Delilah resumed a small trot before pausing to snack on some of the grasses.  There was no more tension in the air, no more work to be done, now she could take a break.

On the ground, Eddie rolled onto his back with his arms out and groaned. The clouds gathered in the shape of a hand and cupped the moon in the dark blue sky.  

The other headless horseman was snickering as he dismounted and sheathed his weapon at his side, slapping his leg with the flat of his hand for emphasis on how hilarious it had been.

“Smooth moves, Munson,” Headless Horseman Steve chuckled, his shoulders bouncing.  “I only meant to scare you back in the forest, not start a hot pursuit.”

Still on his back, unwilling to move, Eddie grumbled,  “I should’ve never vouched for you when you came looking for a job, Harrington.”

When Steve finally found the willpower to swallow his amusement, Eddie sat up, patting his arms to release puffs of dirt from the fall.  “What the hell is wrong with you? Did you space out during safety training or what?”

Headless Steve stepped over to offer Eddie his gloved hand to help him up, but Eddie knocked his arm away and stood on his own.  

“Why are you so salty?” Steve's head had been tucked under his cape this whole time, but he procured it now, cradling it in the crook of his arm. “You used to get a kick out of fucking with them.”

“Yeah, well, not anymore,” Eddie mumbled as he picked a piece of grass out of his hair. He turned his back on Steve and strode over to Delilah.

“You want to go back to the factory together?” Steve called out to him.  “Maybe get a drink after?”

Eddie just shook his head before he got up into the saddle and kicked his leg over.  “I’ll catch you later, Harrington.  I need a minute,” and then he clicked his tongue and Delilah moved toward the bridge, to the portal that would take him back to the dream simulator.  

“Sure, man, okay,” Steve said weakly, his mouth moving on the head he had under his arm.  “Good talk.”

Eddie released a heavy sigh as he bobbed up and down to the sway of Delilah’s stride.  He felt like he really got through to you this time, and he wasn’t about to give up.  Even if he had used up all of his chances to appear as himself to you, he’d find a way.  

A big Sasquatch named Saul had ventured out of the woods to see what was going on, and now he stood next to Steve, watching Eddie go.  

“What’s the matter with him?” Saul asked, his enormous body towering above his coworker.  He was covered head to toe with brownish-red hair or fur, so much so that the only way you knew he had eyes was due to the fact that the hair on his face moved when he blinked.   

“Beats me,” Steve scoffed. He was a little hurt that Eddie hadn’t responded the way he’d expected.  It’s almost as if he…cared about the person who was having the dream? But that was silly.  Nightmare workers weren’t allowed to have any connection with their clients.

Steve collected his horse’s reins in his free hand.  “You feel like a beer?” He asked Saul.

“I am thirsty,” Saul responded, twisting to crack his back.  “Just need to let a few more people get a glimpse at me through the trees, and then I can’t meet you back at the lockers.”

-----

Thank you for reading 🧡

[grechsblog]

Hey, @orange-artist, my brain is still rotting over your au. Im writing snippets because of it. This one is about that one first post about skypeia that doesnt want to leave me alone

The thing is, Luffy's speciality isn't lighting. It never was, and it never will be.

Not like he wants it, anyway.

He is the sun, and lightning is of the clouds. Clouds are what obscures the sun, dwarfs it oftentimes, makes days dark and moody and choking around the neck like a sturdy noose. They bring rain and dampness, and force people make funny faces at the weather, oftentimes diminish the festivities, put everything to sleep, in Order.

The clouds are his enemy, some might think, but the thing is, the sun is still above the clouds. The clouds might crowd it, hide it, but they will never dare swallow it.

"What's with that face?" Luffy coos, taunting, at the Little Spark, — not even full Lightning, still growing and learning and living under His rays, — holding the poor thing, the one that thought it could overshadow something that the ones governing it never thought to touch, by the chin. He's dripping blood all over it, gold, like marks along his feet and arms and chest, ichor, towering above its lying form like a predator that caught the delicious prey. His Voice reverberates strangely, otherworldly, echoing with laughter with every word He utters, the Little Spark looking paler than the very sea it was supposed to rule. "Something got your tongue?"

(The thing is, the lightning's of the clouds. It's powerful and destructive, addictive with its might, but it only ever falls down on the ground.)

Luffy stretches His smile farther, making it horrific and weird and unnatural, and shines with delight when the Little Spark whimpers in pure fear under His feet. The spear He put near its head warms from his touch, melts a little under his fingers, as He pushes it deeper into the ground. Mist swarms like an omen around them both, writhing like snakes, and Luffy's too-wide too-feral grin shows gums as He forces the Little Spark to hold His gaze.

He leers in, nose to nose with nothing but a blip of light that no thunder would ever follow, and says, with no lips moving and no muscle twitching and no gaze falling off of that terrified face He so enjoys after it dared to take away what's His,

"This is the closest you'll ever be be to a God."

(It will never dare strike up.)

And Enel screams.

[angie-words]

A Good Omens fanfic: Write A Way - Chapter 1

CW: self-doubt/esteem issues, past trauma due to being neurodivergent in a neurotypical world, light angst, smut, explicit sex (eventually)

Summary: 

Azira Fell and AJ Crowley are both successful authors in their own right, invited to speak at the same national book festival. Despite a falling out a couple of years ago, they've never actually met in person - so this event is going to be excruciatingly awkward for both of them.

Right?

As it happens, and unbeknownst to them, it seems they share a love of a certain TV show... and being very active parts of its fandom (yep, it's Fanfic Writer Crowley and Fanfic Reader Aziraphale time!)

Excerpt:

The hotel desk staff was saying something else, but a blip had appeared in Crowley’s peripheral vision, drawing his attention from instructions about meal times and room service options. There, a few feet away, his eyes rested upon a familiar figure, most notably upon the shock of white, almost dandelion-fluff curls. Crowley groaned and, in reflex, he turned his head fully to see his arch nemesis standing a little way further along the desk, a bright smile on his face as he discussed Continental Breakfast availability.

Crowley sighed. Best get this over with, he thought. 

“Hello, Fell.”

The man paused in his ramblings about the virtues of apricot jam and slowly turned to face him. Crowley set his lips in a thin line as Azira Fell stared, fog-blue eyes wide in some unreadable emotion that he hoped was simply surprise and not loathing.

“Oh,” came an uncertain, clipped response, “it’s you.”

Crowley waited for a follow-up and, when it became clear nothing else was forthcoming, he snorted, feeling that familiar stab of rejection. “Yeah, great to see you too. Good talk.” 

He took the key card from the bemused staff member’s hand, nodded a thanks and charged off past the only other author to ever get under his skin.

Continue reading on AO3!

On a side note, this is my first multi-chapter fic, and also my first Human AU for Good Omens. Comments and feedback are always welcome 💜

Thank you to @sakascal @playdohangel @rofell @azeutreciathewicked and @ines2925 for being my wonderful beta readers over this and forthcoming chapters!

@whickberstreetwriters

@goodomensafterdark

[bvtbxtch]

Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana. The sleepy city that can bring with you the sweetest dreams, or the most terrorizing nightmares.

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Content might not be suitable for all readers (more updates coming)

If you would like to be notified of updates to this series, please add yourself to the taglist!

In collaboration with my love @darknesseddiem

"The quaint mundanity leaves Hawkins, Indiana a forgettable blip on the map. However, it casts a spell on you. Everyone in town has their jobs - go to work, take care of the kids, run their shops or prepare a new pot of coffee for the before-work rush. The neat and tidy form that lies in this sleepy city can make you fall in love, find yourself, or run into much more sinister happenings beneath the surface of the manicured lawns. It's your choice to figure out how to survive."

Jack O'Lantern Kiss - Carving pumpkins with bestfriend!Eddie leads to confessions you may or may not have always wanted to hear. Bestfriend!Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, slight smut

Firestarter - Eddie has just told you he was bi, when the opportunity to explore appears at a bonfire at the Harrington house. Sub!Eddie x Dom!Reader x Switch!Steve. Smut

I Can Make You Scream - Your first collaboration with one of the most popular cam boys, Eddie, leaves you breathless and waiting for the next shoot with him. Camboy!Eddie x Camgirl!Reader. Smut

When It's Cold I'd Like to Die - The only way that Eddie feels he can get you out of the Upside Down safely is to sacrifice himself; but he forgot how stubborn you are. Boyfriend!Eddie x Fem! Reader. Angst, fluff

Paranoid - You watched Eddie make it out of the battle for Hawkins clinging to his life by a thread. Even though he has been acquitted for the crimes he was accused of, and life has gone back to normal, there is something not quite right with your boyfriend. Vecna'd!Eddie x Fem!Reader. Angst, fluff, slight smut

Dead by Daylight - You and Eddie have to stay together to survive your captors, a famous killing family situated on the outskirts of Indianapolis. Victim!Eddie x Victim!Reader. Angst, fluff

On the Line - Pumpkin Pie is back on the menu at Hank's Diner. What happens when the new waitress needs to stay with the Jaded line cook to prepare for fall festivities? Linecook!Eddie x Waitress!Reader. Fluff, smut

Let Me Love You - Eddie comes over to nurse you back to health after catching a cold. Bestfriend!Eddie x Sick!Reader. fluff

Jealous Guy - Steve Harrington is persistent with his advances towards you during the Hideout's Halloween party. Your co-bartender, Eddie, doesn't like the fact that you don't shoot him down right away. Bartender!Eddie x Bartender!Reader. Smut

Live From the Upside Down - There is a special Corroded Coffin show in Hawkins to celebrate Halloween. You've been a devoted fan since your brother, Dustin talked about Eddie and his band back in high school. Seeing the metalhead again stirs up feelings you forgot you had. Rockstar!Eddie x Henderson!Reader. Smut, fluff

Obsession - Eddie's obsession with you has been fun and games - late night drives, hookups and even a couple of dates. He has seemed to cross a line as of late... Ghostface!Eddie x Cheerleader!Reader. Smut

Children of the Corn - A group date in the new Hawkins corn maze sounded amazing to you: Hanging out with Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan sounded like just your night, until your worst enemy is included in the plans. Eddie x Fem!Reader. Smut

Movie Marathon - Years after the Ghost face killer has ended his reign of terror on Hawkins, the local movie theatre has decided to put on a movie marathon of the movies inspired by the killer. You and Eddie decide to go and revel in his glory. Ghostface!Eddie x Fem! Reader. Smut

You Don't Scare Me - Eddie is used to scaring most of the people who walk through the Hawkins Haunted House in the old Starcourt mall. He's determined to make you scream after you walk through and show no signs of being scared by him. Scareactor!Eddie x Grumpy!Reader. Smut

Kiss Me Through the Phone - You nor Eddie could contain your excitement for your homecoming from college for thanksgiving... so much so that you needed a reminder of what you would be getting yourself into when you're back. A phone call would suffice, wouldn't it? Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, Smut

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @tony-starks-ego @ohmeg

tagging some friends just for fun: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @hellfiremunsonn @ali-r3n @andvys @eddie-munsons-mullet @changemunson

[beingsuneone]

PART TWO!!

Tragedy: Pt. 2

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: mourning the ‘loss’ of your husband is difficult, especially when you aren’t entirely sure what happened to him. PART TWO

FANDOM: ACOTAR

PAIRING(S): Rhysand x Fem!reader

RATING: G

MEMBERS MENTIONED:

GENRE/AU: I don’t even know y’all. It’s not fluff. It kinda of more angst but not entirely that either.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

WARNINGS: hhggggg uhm, mentions of death, mentions of drinking,

A/N: JUNE DONT LOOK. ITS SPOILERS.

DEDICATIONS: jjjbdbhshdhshsjskksjsjsjsjjs

CREDITS: n/a

Fourty-nine years, for a Fae, isn't significant, just a blip in their immortal lives.

Fourty-nine years with a missing Mate and a bond that’s indiscernibly dead, is a much different story. 49 years of mourning a lover you don’t know is dead, of missing a man that you could still one day have again.

In Velaris, you and the others have only the most basic of knowledge, obtained previous to being locked within the city.

You know that a fearsome general named Amarantha had infiltrated Prythian and demanded that all the high lords come live under the mountain. You know that Rhysand must have given himself up to protect Velaris.

You know that the whole of Prythian had begun to be razed just before Rhysand locked you all away.

The other knowledge you have is based only on assumptions.

Rhysand’s under the mountain, Rhysand locked you in. Rhysand is stuck. Or dead.

You don’t know why the mating bond has gone dead without actually going dead, or why there is no line to tug anymore, no mental wall to caress, no voice to respond to.

Silence. Terrifying, heartbreaking silence.

For you, 49 years had felt longer than the lifetimes you have already lived, and longer than the centuries that will come.

“Y/N?” Mor slips through the door, pulling you from your thoughts.

You smile at her, though only half-heartedly. “Good Morning, Mor; to what do I owe this visit?”

She grins back at you. “I know that you still fret over Rhysand– we all do– but I heard that some of the citizen’s have been organizing a festival to celebrate him.” her face drops only a little as she sighs. “I thought it might be a nice change of pace for us.”

You take a shuddering breath as the reason for the festival dawns on you. “It’s almost the anniversary of the day he disappeared.”

It’s a statement. Mor nods. “The people still have hope that he’ll return.” she pulls you up out of your bed, leading you towards your dresser. She retrieves a dress that she knows is one of your favourites and shoves it into your arms. “So should we.”

You know she’s right– Rhysand could very well still come home– but something in your mind tells you that something is not right.

His emotions are not there for you to read anymore, like his mind had been blocked off.

It almost felt like there was no bond anymore.

Even so, Mor was right; you needed a distraction— something to take your mind off of your position as High Lady, and the details of your husband’s disappearance.

Mor slips out the door as you slip into your dress. It’s peak Night Court style— covered in shimmering stars and made of beautiful midnight fabric. It had been your first anniversary present from Rhys.

Still your favourite after all this time.

You huff at your reflection and shake yourself free from your thoughts.

Your people are waiting.

They need reassurance just as much as you do.

……

The square is decorated in purple and silver finery, the classic colours of the night court splashed in each eyeful.

The stones beneath your feet glimmer with a sort of dust that catches the sun like a gemstone and the plant life is strung with a thin string of glimmering sliver.

There’s a wall painted with a chalk portrait, a night sky, deep and dark with an insightful moon looking down on the land.

And, finally, in the middle of the square, is a beautifully painted portrait of your dear Rhysand; the likeness is sickening, but only in the way that it makes you miss him even more fiercely than before— it's an otherwise incredible painting.

The faces of your citizens reflect much more hope than you yourself hold. You see the few children of velaris, running and playing with chalk just a few paces from the festivities.

Most of the adults are already drunk off of whatever alcohol they could first find and Amren is standing bitterly in a corner, nursing a cup with— what you assume is— some sort of blood in it.

Cassian is very loudly drunk, his arm slung over Azriel’s shoulder while Azriel tries to pretend he’s annoyed.

Mor smiles sincerely at you and shoves a cup of something into your hand. “It was made by one of the citizens, they say it took them a month to perfect the brew.”

You peer into the cup; even the drinks at this event replicate the night sky. It has the same shimmering silver, swirling within a midnight blue base. It smells divine.

There is a small platform with two chairs at the edge of the square, blocked off by a navy rope. It would be yours and Rhysand’s seats, but today, it is just yours.

Although you're sure that your friends will all take their turns bothering you if you are sitting up there. Rhysand’s chair will not remain empty.

“Come on,’ Mor says, walking beside you up to the platform.

Once you're up there, you catch nearly everyone’s attention. Cassian and Azriel immediately move to stand near the platform and Amren settles into Rhysand’s chair like a cat would settle right where you don’t need them to.

However, you suppose it’s not the time in the evening because everyone resumes their previous activities not long after.

Cassian walks up and locks you in a headlock. “Hey! How are you doing?”

You sigh and smile once he lets you go. “I’m… Alright. This festival is stunning.”

“It is.” Mor chimes in, still staring out at the crowd.

There’s even a string of vendors lining the square, some with food and some with other wares and frivolities.

“How are you Cassian? Azriel?” You ask, looking past Cassian.

Azriel shrugs slightly. “Good.”

Cassian holds up his cup of whatever it is and grins. “I can’t complain.”

“I’m glad.” You respond absent-mindedly, finally taking the first sip of your beverage. You hum in delight. “That’s lovely. Mor, you must show me who made this.”

“We’ll do our rounds, and I’ll introduce you when you cross her path.”

Cassian leaves to mingle once more but Azriel sticks close-by, Amren stays in her spot with a book in her hand and Mor chats idly with someone near.

You wipe your palms on your dress, even though they aren’t sweaty and begin your rounds.

You talk to several people, conversations that involve idle chatter, Rhysand and even some problems you have to consider as High Lady; but those are far and few in between.

Finally you make it to a small booth, lined with cups and a few tea cakes, all fitting in the night court theme.

It’s the same swirling drink you hold in your hand.

“Hello, My lady.” The old woman behind the counter greets you. She is an older fae, much older than you.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling graciously at her. “The wine is amazing, were you the one who made it?”

She grins a toothy grin at you and nods. “I’ve been trying to make it for years and finally perfected it in honour of our High Lord.”

Your sweet smile drops just a fraction and you know she sees it by the way she begins to study you.

“I’m sure our High Lord is alive and well, my dear, that boy was always resilient.”

You breathe, a sort of laugh.

Rhysand may very well be alive, but if he were well, you were sour he would have returned already. Still, you must ease their minds. “I’m sure he is. Rhysand is…” you trail off, not having enough to describe how you see your husband.

She nods knowingly. “I know, My lady, you truly love him and his absence is very painful.” She passes you one of the small cakes. “Here, take this.” you start to each for a few coins but she shakes her head. “Please, my treat. I know well how you must feel.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you gently take the cake from her hands. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you mean?”

There’s a forlorn look behind her wise eyes as she sighs. “I do not mind your asking, My Lady.” She continues as you take a small bite of the cake. The woman is talented when it comes to cake too, you find. “Many years ago, I had a mate, he was everything to me; we were together for thousands of years before he suddenly disappeared. I had no knowledge of where he might be, just a faint bond that I would try to tug on.

“I had hope that he would come home but… eventually I discovered that he had been murdered by a human after they had tortured him for months.”

Your swallow thickly. “I am so sorry.”

She shakes her head once more. “It was a long time ago, dear. What I'm trying to say is, you need to hold onto your hope, no matter how much time has passed.”

You purse your lips introspectively and nod slowly. “I’m trying to. I want him to come home.”

She gives you one last comforting smile. “He will. Our High Lord will come home.”

Your eyes burn and you have to choke back the urge to cry. “Thank you— for the cake, and the insight.”

“Anytime, My Lady.”

……

the day progressed into the night, teh children long in bed in their home by the time it hits midnight. You’re dancing slowly with Mor, a comforting waltz that you probably would have danced with Rhysand.

You can just imagine him here, pulling you in by your waist, gently kissing your cheek before telling you that you look beautiful and how much he loves you. The way his deep purple eyes would have shone with his love for you.

He would have loved this.

You would have loved watching him love this.

“I think it’s time for a speech.” Mor says, halting your dance and pulling you up to. the platform.

You settle into the chair while Mor grabs Azriel and Cassian.

Cassian whistles loudly to catch the crowd's attention.

when everyone is watching you stand, taking a deep breath. “I just want to begin by saying that this festival is breath-taking and every person who put effort into this festival is wonderful and talented.” You pause. “I just know Rhysand would have loved this.”

The crowd murmurs a bit and you see a few worried expressions. You know you must calm their fears even though you cannot calm your own.

“A wise woman told me tonight that I cannot let go of my hope— I have to believe that our High Lord will return to us, and so must all of you.” You pause. “Rhysand is out there somewhere and he is fighting to come back to us. He’s strong, smart and resilient; so please, do not worry for his safety, continue to celebrate him. Celebrate your past with him and your future, just as I will.”

The worried expressions seem to have softened which make you loosen up a bit. Mor looks at you encouragingly, expecting you to continue.

“In the meantime, while we wait for him to return, I am here to help you with whatever problems you may have. I am here to protect Velaris from any threat that may arrive.” You pause one last time and take a deep breath. “And lastly, thank you all so much for putting so much thought and care into this celebration of Rhysand.”

It’s silent for a second before a few fae clap and then everyone claps for you and shouts reassurances to you and everyone else in the crowds. You dismiss everyone and the party starts in full swing once more; expect now, it’s more uproarious, more joyful– your speech must have had the attended affect.

When you look at the portrait of Rhysand, you don’t feel so sad anymore.

……

You startle as the front door opens loudly, you wonder who it is but decide it’s probably just one of your friends. It’s been a few months since that wonderful festival, and you managed to maintain that unrelenting hope that your husband would some day walk through that front just as you’re sure one of your friends is doing now.

“Mor?” You call, assuming she was the most likely to come. “Is that you?”

Your feet patter softly, slowly as you walk out of your bedroom; you’re dressed in your Pajama’s but it really doesn’t matter.

It’s nothing that they haven’t seen before.

The silence unnerves you as you walk down the hall, Mor would always respond back. Maybe it’s Azriel? But, why would he come here alone?

Unless something bad has happened.

Your heartbeat quickens and you’re rushing to turn the corner into the living area.

The sight before you is worse than anything you imagined.

“Rhysand?” You squeak, feeling equally happy that he’s alive and upset at his silence.

He looks up at you; you see the trauma in eyes, the suffering and torture that you know he must’ve had to endure.

Rhysand doesn’t even get a word out before he drops to his knees; the sound permeates through the wooden floor as you join him down there.

You sit down and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair and listening as he sobs silently.

Your heart breaks for him, all over again and in a completely different, more angry way than before; you desperately wish you could hurt Amarantha for what she did to him. Whatever it might have been. It must have been her that kept him away for so long.

You’ll learn when he’s ready to tell you, you’re sure.

“Rhysand, My Love?” You whisper, still holding him close to you.

He pulls back and looks up at you, his mouth seems stuck, like there aren’t any words he could say to describe what he’s feeling or what happened; maybe there isn’t.

You gently pull him to his feet and lead him to your bedroom where you sit him down on the bed; he stares at the wall as you grab some new clothes for him.

You set the clean clothes down besides him and nudge his arms apart so you can take off his old clothes.

He complies; let's you unbutton his shirt and pull it off, pulls off his pants when he needs to, and then he slips the new clothes on.

“We have much to talk about, y/n.” He says, even his words sound broken.

You shake your head. “Save it for another time, My Dear Rhys. For now, let’s sleep. Okay?”

He nods.

….

Rhysand’s tale is long and winded; he tells of a human woman who fell in love with your brother, saved all of Prythian and ultimately died to save all of you.

The high lords had all used their powers to bring her back to life, turning her Fae and allowing her to live out her life with the man she quite literally died for.

He tells you how Amarantha had had an infatuation with Tamlin and had apparently cursed all of the spring court to wear masks for fifty years or as soon as he was able to get a human to genuinely say that she loved him. He had, evidently, been successful. She had also intended to keep the citizens of Prythian, high lords included, trapped under that mountain and under her power foever. He also tells you that he had tried to cut off your bond as best he could to avoid any detection of it and, once his magic was dampened, he couldn’t access it himself.

“I made a deal with her,” Rhysand says, “I told her I would help her make it out of there alive if she promised me a week of every month.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Why did you do that? Take weeks of her time, I mean?”

“I’m not sure. I think maybe I wanted to save her from Tamlin before he could hurt her.” He pauses, “She seems convinced that she loves him.”

You ask her name and Rhysand complies.

Feyre Archeron. An interesting and fitting name for the woman who saved you all from an eternity of suffering. Especially the people under the mountain.

Especially Rhysand.

“It’s weird.” Rhysand, tugs at your sleeve and pulls you down into his lap. “Our deal made me able to hear into her mind, much like our mating bond. But still quite different.”

You nod absent-mindedly and run your hand through his hair. “I couldn’t tell if you were dead all these years. The bond was broken but it wasn't gone. I was so scared you were dead.”

“I’m sorry, My Love. I wish I could’ve talked to you. Maybe I wouldn’t be as hurt as I am now.” He buries his face into your neck, breathing deeply.

You stroke his back gently, not responding, letting him speak his mind.

How do you console someone after all that?

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[stomach-bugg09]

hihi! first time requesting ever but I just love your blog its too good xD maybe a fluffy imagine of when the tulkuns return and y/n and fali meeting his spirit brother and its just super cute and fluffy <333 I love this whole thing so much ahhhh

summary: in honor of the tulkuns and their return, [y/n] is introduced into the beautiful world of these creatures—as well as the festivities that follow!

a/n: i finally got this done !! it took forever to write this because i kept rewriting and rewriting — it’s still not my favorite piece of work , but i really wanted to get something published. hope you guys enjoy. feedback + reblogs are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass

warnings: underage ( ? ) drinking , drunk [y/n] and fali , pda , parents making fun of their children , that’s kind of it i think

words: 1.5k

welcome, brother

it was a time for stories after a season apart.

[y/n] watched in complete awe from where she waded above fali and his spirit brother. the scene was bustling with joy, with beauty. nearly every metkayina had a spirit sister or spirit brother of their own, their na’vi hands moving with grace through the thick waters to communicate with the gorgeous tulkuns. the sounds of the creatures reverberated through the water, a beautiful song ringing in [y/n]’s ears.

deaths.

some looked somber. [y/n]’s eyes caught sight of a na’vi that rested his forehead against the side of his spirit brother, a low hum vibrating through the duo. as if, even in the darkest times, there was still comfort in the relationship that they held between them.

births.

some were exuberant. a smile burst onto her lips at the image of an infant taking her first sights at her mother’s spirit sister, bobbing up and down in the water as she took deep breaths of the surface’s oxygen.

old friends.

her eyes traveled to where tsireya swam with her spirit sister, choking back a laugh at the backflip she did when retelling a very exciting story.

new loves.

but, of course, even when there was so much to watch, [y/n]’s sight would always return to the na’vi that floated beneath her.

fali spoke to his spirit brother, epayno, with an exhilarated smile that did not leave his face once. oh, how his childlike wonder made [y/n] melt.

what she did not expect, however, was when he suddenly looked upwards and caught her eyes. his arm raised, gesturing to her to swim down to him. he must have seen the way that her eyes widened for a blip of bubbles left his mouth.

“please, you must meet my spirit brother,” he told her, once again beckoning her to come to them.

she gave him a look before shakily signing, “i do not want to embarrass myself in front of your brother.” she winced as a laugh-like sound echoed from epayno’s body.

fali only sent the tulkun a look before turning back to her. “he wants to meet you. i promise, he will love you. i cannot say that same vice versa.” he smiled at epayno’s offended noise. “i only tease.”

with a nervous shake of her hands, [y/n] pointed her face downward. she began to kick her feet, arms wading their way through the water as she swam towards epayno and fali. once she finally reached the side of her love, a blush errupted onto her face as he grabbed her hand.

with his free hand, he signed, “i introduce you to epayno, and epayno meet ma [y/n]. my yawne.” and there she went again—melting at his mere words!

the creature rumbled, although he sounded very amused. after he was clearly finished speaking, fali turned to [y/n] and translated for her. “he says that you’re very beautiful. and that we look happy together. that is all.”

another wave of sound, this time with an undertone of disagreement.

“yes, that is all he said. nothing more than that!” he side eyed epayno. “because he would never dare say anything inappropriate or violating at all.”

[y/n] suppressed a laugh, although it was difficult. “something tells me that he is more than willing to expose and embarrass you.” she turned to epayno, a smile on her face. “i must learn to understand you soon. i must learn of all embarrassing fali moments!”

a click-like sound vibrated through her ears, although she understood it as more of a chuckle. she sent a teasing wink towards the tulkun at that.

“i told you! of course he would like you.” fali rolled his eyes. “and of course you would make it the bane of my existence.”

“what else would i do but make your life more difficult?”

he smiled, biting his bottom lip to fight back a grin. “maybe give me a kiss?”

she swam closer, grabbing his wrist to pull him onto the flipper that epayno was offering. once they were seated, hands running over the textured skin of the tulkun, he swam upwards and lifted them above the surface.

she grabbed his neck, pulling him into her. “i suppose that can be arranged.”

never did [y/n] expect the night to hold even more pleasantries than the day they just had.

music vibrated through the ground, drums and a melodious tune flowing freely in the veins of every na’vi that danced to the rhythm. a smile overtook [y/n]’s face, her eyes squinted because of the lower half of her face scrunching up into a joyous expression. her jaw was dropped open as she inhaled and exhaled, deeply taking in oxygen to try and regain composure within her lungs as her body moved with each beat of the drum.

beside her danced fali. his face was lit with joy, eyes stuck on [y/n]’s beautiful figure that swayed to and fro. paint swirled over her body, each color highlighting a different one of her features.

the na’vi danced on the beach, waves crashing onto their ankles as they swerved gracefully. their toes sunk into the wet sand, the salty water constantly returning to wash them off.

in the distance, the tulkun sang with the music, their own dance moves causing young children to gasp in astonishment.

“oh, this is wonderful!” [y/n] cried, feet stomping as the shells that were tied around her feet shook against the impact. “almost as good as parties back home.”

“almost?” fali raised his eyebrow muscles at that, his hand grabbing her as he pulled her into a twirl.

she only smirked. “well, i mean, there could be more drinks. less children. you know, that kind of stuff.”

“oh, just wait until the sun goes down!” he teased, hands wrapping around the middle part of her waist to lift her in the air.

she screamed a laugh, hands going straight to his forearms as if she was in imminent danger. “put me down,” [y/n] cried joyfully, tears pricking her eyes due to her uncontrollable laughter.

for once in their time together, the other na’vi paid no attention to the couple. their loud exclamations of happiness were drowned out by the combination of wind, water, dancing, and music. finally, after months of adapting to the metkayina ways, [y/n] and fali were able to dance the night away. together. and not one na’vi bat an eye.

hours passed, but they didn’t stop. soon, they were dancing into the next morning. sure, their feet were sore, their throats hurt, their heads were clouded by alcohol, but they did not care. they could not care.

around them flashed other young na’vi who still raged the dance floor. children were fast asleep back in their maruis, young parents having the burden to care for them, and the older warriors were far too aged to continue dancing for as long as fali, [y/n], and the others had.

occasionally, [y/n] would catch a glimpse of her siblings, although once they spilled into the next morning, kiri and tuk seemed to have disappeared. soon enough, neteyam followed after them, lo’ak eventually being forced to leave tsireya when neytiri ordered him to go home.

the sully parents sat to the side with toniwari, ronal, and both of fali’s parents. they were chatting up a storm, the omaticayans learning everything they could. neytiri was utterly infatuated with the beauty of this cultural aspect. she couldn’t help but try and learn from it.

jake was all too amused with the young adults that stumbled in front of them, their movements drunk and sloppy after a night full of dancing, singing, and drinking.

the amusement faltered the slightest bit when he caught sights of his daughter tripping over her own feet, fali attempting to keep her upright although it was doing more harm than help because he, too, had quite a bit to drink.

jake bit back a laugh when neytiri grabbed his arm, her free hand going to cover her mouth in astonishment. “oh, dear.”

neytiri slammed her forehead into her mate’s bicep when her daughter fell straight into the sand. “oh my eywa.”

the parents of fali were losing their minds as they watched their son attempt to help his love up onto her feet, unfortunately causing him to fall into his knees beside her.

simply put? the adults were howling with laughter.

it took quite a bit of time, but eventually the pair was back on their feet, continuing to try and make progress so they could leave the area that was determined as the “dance floor.” they didn’t even notice their parents.

instead, they were too wrapped up with every other bright flashing color that surrounded them.

while [y/n] was quick to make the smallest, most straight-forward comments to every na’vi that they passed, fali could not get enough of the sully girl. he kept grabbing her hands, pressing kisses against her temples and trying to tempt her to dance with him again. she was far too busy complimenting some metkayina on her jewelry to even fall for it.

and yet, somehow, even when shitfaced and quite out of it, they still managed to be an adorable and compatible couple, something that all the passerbyers idealized, even if some of them judged fali for even going for an outsider.

outsider or not, she was made for him, and he was made for her. and it was beautiful.

[sparvverius]

Weren't the state trying to push the Cult of the Supreme Being (and criticise things like atheism) with the festival though? Obviously Robespierre wasn't trying to make himself a god or anything I just feel like it wasn't the best thing to do

yeah that is true but contextually i find it understandable since it was the religious tensions that the cult of the supreme being was invented to try to ameliorate that were one of the biggest problems in the whole history of the revolution. as an atheist myself i don't agree with the moral arguments against atheism and i don't think the attempted suppression of it was a good thing, but under the circumstances (violent dechristianization that was alienating large amounts of the population of france) and esp for the time period i think it was a rational step for the government to take. i think of it as a spinozist form of religious liberty--after accepting the imposition of a very loose state religion that makes one agree to a very few tenets (such as the existence of god and immortality of the soul) one can believe what one wishes. imo not the ideal form of religious liberty bc again i am an atheist but for the time i think it was genuinely progressive.

in fact for me it's this lack of recognition of the cult of the supreme being as a fundamentally political move, whether mistaken or not, that is really annoying. i wish the discussion of it could be just about if it was a good political move or not instead of "robespierre went off the deep end and tried to be a cult leader!!!1!!" but i think if people weren't able to make a big deal out of this myth for reactionary reasons it would be a blip on the historical radar

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Tíu ⸸

The Creature behind her eyes squirmed, the familiar rake hissing deep within the darkest parts of her mind as it often was. A voice and murmurs she had learned to block out over time until there was reason not to.

While Creature had proven a reliable weapon, it was often a game of words to him, especially about how he would lead Vahalia upon a course based on riddles and nearly nefarious natures. One she had come to appreciate for what it was, simply an entity that stirred the pot of thought all the more, the itch of necessity when it came to remaining the course.

“Lady Cress?” The voice sounded from the pearl nestled to her ear.

Within the cabin still in Tural, Vahalia’s hands absent mindedly smoothed over the papers before her, a tidy mess is what she often called it, “I’m here.” Vahalia replied, “The envelope I sent you with, open it.” she lead Miss. Bancroft on the other end of the transmission, “Within is a detailed report of everything that happened here in Tural, you may share that with Miss. Slater when you arrive. Within is also the blueprints for the Keep, be sure to give that to Greyson. You can find him in the market in three days time, I have it setup for you to meet with him on my behalf regarding the construction of the Keep, hand him the blueprints and gil I sent you with, he will have a white orchid pinned to his jacket.”

“Anything else?”

Vahalia paused, her brows knit and her gaze swept over the scrolls splayed out before her, “Yes, actually.” she continued, “Check on the advancement of the water way. Let Greyson know you will need his men in the coming weeks to construct two additional wells near the farms. The harvest is upon us, we’ll need to prepare for shipment and check the stores to ensure there is enough for the colder months. Put kale, radish, broccoli and chard on the list for this coming season’s bounty. I need trade for additional salt for the piers.”

A small hum of affirmation came from the line and Castien spoke again, “And the ruins?”

“A project for another day. I’ll be in Black Water in a few weeks time, perhaps sooner. I’ll see to the Laeves when I arrive, I have yet to fully take in the damage to the old structure.”

“Very well.” the response came.

The line fell quiet and the static in her ear began to blip out as Vahalia removed the linkpearl from her attention and placed it to the table.

Harvests.

Additional grain would have certainly been a boon to the market itself for colder months ahead, which was all the more reason to take the proposal from Hingashi seriously. While Ishgard supped easily upon winter-born vegetables and produce that were well rooted, that wasn’t to say that other places had the luxury. Wheat and rice would become a demand in a short time. It was simply time to meet the need with supply.

Spiced pumpkin filled the air with sweet apples. The festivities were in effect and the four children ran through the glade, the three girls with long dark hair squealing with delight as the older of the four, Willem, chased them with a blindfold over his eyes. Hands splayed as he reached for the voices he had been chasing. The laughter echoed out from the girls, wisps of bright ribbons afloat in long seas of ebon and sable, skirts absorbing the muck of the earth at their hems.

The Equinox was upon them as the greens of the trees gave way to vibrant pops of speckled oranges and reds that aimed to take their place. The air hung cooler these days and a fog settled in the mornings as the clime came to a slow crawl with each passing day.

Music and the chatter of the families beyond were nearly drowned out by the children playing and not too far off sat Odessa and Adelle at the woods edge, sister’s of old Mhachi blood, ever vigilant. Sigils of House Cress and House Blackheart in fabulous brocade respective to the two houses were woven neatly into their robes, their sashes simply homage to the families and their corresponding colors.

Odessa watched her youngest drift from the game, small body worn from the festivities as Vahalia made her way over to the two women and curled up towards her mother where she had rested her head along her warm lap.

“Finished already my dear?” Odessa smiled, hand lowering to comb through the child’s hair.

“I need a break.” the small child huffed out, she looked no older than eight summer’s at most.

The silken voice of Adelle seated next to Odessa chimed out, “Sister, when do you plan on having her meet the Whitlock son?” her voice was low as she looked between Odessa and Vahalia, who was more than happy resting within her mother’s lap, eyes closed and her attention elsewhere beyond simple chatter and the music in the distance.

“That depends on Adrian. I do not like the idea. I would not be faced with such heartbreak had I of had sons. Perhaps that is simply the pain we mother’s of daughters must endure.” she placed a slow stroke along Vahalia’s head before shaking her shoulder and soon ushering the child off towards her sister and cousins once more.

“It’s your turn Valeria!” Willem called out as he removed the blindfold from his face, hair wild, and he handed it towards his cousin, “Fair and square.”

“Awww you cheated!”

“I did not! You’re just slow!”

“It’s okay Valeria, prove him wrong.” Carrera piped up, excited to string the chaos along, “You’ll have to make sure he’s caught first. Revenge!”

The children laughed as Valeria groaned and Vahalia walked up to take the blindfold that was extended out, “I’ll do it.” she invited herself in as the predator, the other three simply prey in this game of catch.

The back of Odessa’s fingers smoothed over her lips, lost in thought as she watched Vahalia place the cloth over her eyes and the game once again began for the children. Once more scurrying and running about in the small glade that was soon to be kissed by the first year’s frost in mere weeks.

“Why not Valeria?” Adelle asked, “She is the oldest.”

“When you have twins, people tend to see them as one in the same when it comes to who is youngest or oldest. Valeria is…meek, timid. I fear she might not make out well in a forced situation.” Odessa peeled her eyes back to her kin.

“Yet you are entirely convinced Vahalia would be a better fit for such a burden?” Adelle loosed a huff, “An odd way of thinking.”

Odessa lifted her hand as she motioned to the children, “Look at her. She is a child who isn’t scared easily nor waves from anything new or difficult. Something within me feels she can handle the labors of expectation. With Valeria?....” she paused briefly before continuing, “ – It would consume her.”

A stern sigh escaped Adelle as she shook her head, “So what you are telling me in such subtle terms is, you have no other choice to bridge the Whitlock and Cress household and so you’ve picked and chose between your two daughters as to which one can carry the burden without crumbling?” Delicate and slender fingers found Odessa’s as Adelle gave her hand a small squeeze, “Sister, you cannot make a choice based off of the lesser of two evils. Tell Adrian you will not do it. Tell him the Whitlock’s must find another means of peace that does not result in you giving away your daughter.”

“I cannot.” Odessa stood firmly, her golden eyes lifting to meet that of her sister, “There is little I can do. There is ruin otherwise as Adrian has placed us in a hole we cannot climb out from unless we have assistance.” There was a stint of silence before Adelle spoke again, “I can speak with Hakurou and his clansmen, I’m sure there is som –” A shriek filled the mist of the glade as the children had stopped playing and Willem ran over to Adelle, frantically trying to slap the ambers of fire that cling to the hem of his tunic. The smell of burnt linen followed him as he approached, Valeria and Carrera in tow as the fun and games seemed to cease. Adelle rose to meet him as she looked at the scorched linen, “What happened?”

“Vahalia cheated! She threw a fire spell at me.” he glared over his shoulder to his cousin who had been tailing behind the trio of kin.

“I did not mean to! I was playing by the rules, it just HAPPENED!” she hollered.

“No harm no foul.” Adelle muttered down to Willem and her knuckles propped his chin gently, “Well find you a new tunic, come.” she ushered to the boy and waved Carrera along, a small pointed gaze was afforded to Odessa as she too rose to meet her girls.

Adelle led her children back towards the festivities with Valeria following in a close gait.

“Fire Vahalia? That’s dangerous for a silly game with your cousins. You should apologize.” Odessa reached for the child as she and Vahalia walked hand in hand several paces back from the others.

“I will not.” Vahalia proclaimed, “I did not mean it.”

“Even if we do not mean to harm someone, sometimes it is in our best interest to apologize all the same, child. Where did you learn to cast such a thing?”

Vahalia held loosely to Odessa’s hand as they made their way along the slick ground, “Your books, modir.” she admitted and she remained stonefaced to the area before them as Odessa walked and with some measure of surprise gazed down to her daughter.

The walk felt long and cold as they meandered to meet with the others, the joyous music of the Equinox hadn’t quite reached Odessa to spark some jubilant sensation within, she simply focused on the possibilities now laying before her as her daughter had demonstrated something quite extraordinary for someone her age.

Perhaps she could bargain with Adrian over this, now that Vahalia had proven some affinity for magikca that ran deep within her Blackheart roots, roots that would need to be carefully nurtured and fed.

One for sorrow,  Two for joy Three for a girl Four for a boy Five for silver Six for gold Seven for a secret never to be told. Eight for a tale that the stars have spun Nine for a gate that can’t be undone Ten for a river of forgotten lore Eleven for a key to the spectral door Twelve for a mirror that reflects the night Thirteen for a beast that lives in spite Fourteen for a realm beyond our reach Fifteen for a speech no tongue can teach Sixteen for a dream trapped in stoneSeventeen for the old gods’ hollow moan Eighteen for the abyss that gazes back Nineteen for the cosmic formless wrack

Twenty for a Magpie’s final verse in a universe where shadows converse the end of the rhyme the start of the dread where naught a single word is said.

Creature's words coiled through her head as he sang the slow rhyme, through the echo of darkness behind her eyes. Her attention was brought to the blackbirds that sat under the balcony’s edge to avoid the rain that had started to fall within Tural.

Without thinking, her mind washed over their forms, counting each from where she sat with her papers. Ten. She had counted ten as once more Creature continued the rhyme though this time opting to hum in through breaks of sickened chuckles.

Ten.

[bnha-imagines-only]

Could you do Headcanons for

Sero

Midoriya

Bakugou

When they get into an argument with their s/o? (+ apologizing)?

A/N: Thank you for requesting! :)

CW: General Light Angst, Arguments, Cursing (Bakugou); spoilers for the sports festival arc and slight spoilers for an interaction Izuku has with Mei.

Characters x GN!Reader: Hanta Sero, Izuku Midoriya, and Katsuki Bakugou

• The argument takes place after Sero’s—what he would call “embarrassingly fast”—loss against Todoroki in the school sports festival.

• He practically rushes past you as he exits the locker room, face in a deep scowl, his cheeks red and his eyes downcast to the floor.

• You call his name, jogging to catch up, and as you do he whirls on you. “Can’t you see I want to be left alone?” Sero snips, angrily shoving his hands in his pockets.

• You falter, knowing he’s in a bad spot right now, considering his match. “I just came to check on you,” you say, tone still soft. Sero scrunches his face, “I’ll get over it myself, I don’t need you always underfoot.”

• “Always underfoot?” That starts it. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Soon you’re snapping at each other in the fortunately deserted hallway, about how he doesn’t always need your help and he’s not some helpless baby—and about how he’s being a giant jerk when you’d only tried to come comfort him like any significant other would do. Things are said, accusations made: you’re suffocating him, he never gets any space.

• It doesn’t get much more heated than that before the pair of you mutually storm off, angry and frustrated.

• You watch the rest of the sports festival, tears brimming in your eyes, angry with your boyfriend. He wants space? Fine, you’ll give him space.

…

• Sero has tried to catch you after classes let out twice already before he finally manages to catch you leaving, shooting tape across one of the doors to slow you down (to several protests of annoyance from other students, who then had to pivot and use a different doorway).

• You stay put, narrowing your eyes at Sero in a petulant glare. “Now look who’s underfoot.”

• Sero winces, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I didn’t mean it. I was so mad at myself for looking stupid in front of everyone—in front of you—that I said really nasty stuff that I don’t even believe. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you to apologize, but you keep dodging me and avoiding my calls.”

• You weren’t letting him off that easy. “You said you wanted space, so I gave you space!”

• “I don’t,” Sero moves forward to take your hand. “I was too caught up in my hurt ego. I wanted you to be proud of me and I was a huge buffoon out there. I didn’t want you to see me like that and I lashed out. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

• You two go on a park date and have a heartfelt talk about his insecurities and how as his partner, you want to be there for him when he’s having a hard time. If he needs time or some space to think about things and process on his own that’s fine, but he can’t lash out at you.

• All in all, arguments with Sero are uncommon. He is still sometimes insecure about his quirk and capabilities in comparison to his peers, but he grows to lean on your support more, and it’s a blip in an otherwise well balanced relationship.

• “You can’t seriously think that as your partner, I’m fine with all these girls fawning all over you!” Midoriya might not have started this argument on purpose, but it’s been a long while coming.

• Your boyfriend has a keen eye for detail—the keenest—so at some point, his denial that all these girls are into him becomes infuriating. And it’s not that he can help the fact that other girls find him cute or charming, it’s the way he makes you think you’re overreacting or imagining things.

• Maybe it’s the whole reasonable, doting boyfriend way he goes about it that makes you more mad than anything he actually did—like you’re out of control angry and he’s so put together and polite.

• “I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Midoriya says. “She fell on me. It wasn’t on purpose. And you know I only have eyes for you anyway.”

• Referencing Mei Hatsume, your face goes red, “Her hands were all over you when fitting you for attachments! Even if you don’t think she was flirting, can’t you tell someone else shouldn’t so casually be all over you! It should bother you when people are overly familiar and touchy-feely, and I’m not blowing things out of proportion just because it bothers me!”

• Frustrated, you depart, your flustered and upset boyfriend left behind in your wake.

…

• Izuku seeks you out to apologize. When you open your door to see him, you let out a gruff sigh, still annoyed.

• He comes bearing gifts. He conferred with a panel of the people in his life—not the girls, because in part he’s afraid of hurting your feelings any further. He has a small bouquet of flowers and a gift bag intended to make you feel better.

• He’s looking particularly disheveled, because he has been worrying over this apology since the moment you’d left.

• “I’ll do a better job of setting boundaries with people, of making sure they know that I’m in a relationship and off the market, of validating your feelings if someone crosses the line,” he blurts as soon as you open the door. “I’m so, so sorry!”

• You’re a little stunned, but he seems genuine, so you let him in to further discuss the problem. You reiterate that while he can’t help if people develop crushes on him, it hurts your feelings when he is nonchalant about people touching all over him, and it hurts your feelings further when you’re treated like you’re overreacting about it when you get mad.

• He keeps apologizing to the point you have to have mercy on the poor boy and tell him you forgive him, and then you settle in to watch a movie and cuddle. It’s a marvel movie, his favorite.

• He does get better at the boundaries thing with practice! Especially as he goes on to become a pro, making you feel valued and secure in your relationship goes a long way.

• You aren’t so much arguing with Bakugou as you are caught in the crossfire of his temper. While he had never been mean to you, even prior to him asking you out, you had heard about his infamous temperament.

• You’re spending time together in his home—His parents love you, the only person that their son seems to more or less censor himself around.

• Secretly, your classmates wonder what you see in him as a partner. Everyone finds him difficult to work with (especially in his early time in UA) but he’s absolutely in control of himself when he wants to be, and he doesn’t see you as a threat for the number one hero spot. He likes that you tolerate his reputation, and he can stand your company, so aside from being boisterous and a bit of a brat, you wouldn’t consider him mean.

• It’s early in the relationship, and you ask what you thought was an innocent enough question. “How come we never, like, hold hands in the hallway?”

• You meant it innocently enough; some people are just funny about PDA. Unfortunately, you stumbled onto a large insecurity of his, and on top of that he’d already had a stressful/irritating week.

• He blows up at you literally. Shouting about you and your damn stupid, embarrassing questions and don’t you know he’s too busy for this shit. His hands set off small explosions balled in fists at his side, he flares his nostrils, red eyes glaring—the whole shebang.

• For a second, you stand there in shock, and then the tears start and you’re racing out of his room and headed home.

…

• While the other boys hunt you down at their next reasonable opportunity, Bakugou is literally sprinting after you down the street afterward. It’s borderline comical, and were he not in his own neighborhood where people know and fear him, it lowkey looks like an attempted kidnapping.

• “Wait!” Bakugou calls out after you, sneakers thudding swiftly along the pavement as your pace quickens, angry and hurt by his behavior. “Wait, fuck, fuck!” So you were angrily speed-walking home and all of a sudden he’s got you by the waist, spinning you around and holding you by the hips.

• “I didn’t mean it like that!” He is the worst at apologizing. One day he’ll get the hang of it, but early on he is so terrible at saying the actual word sorry. “Come back, let’s talk, let me try again.”

• It’s convincing enough that you go back, sitting on his bed while he admits that he was having a bad day and popped off on something that generally concerned him—whether you would like holding his hand, because he thinks that you’ll think he’s too sweaty or that he won’t do it well.

• Meanwhile you, still teary-eyed, try to address his obvious insecurities: you think his quirk is amazing, everyone is nervous to try new couple stuff in the beginning, you can practice in private first where the pressure is off if he’d like. But most importantly, you know sometimes he expresses himself by yelling and cursing, but he doesn’t get to yell and curse at you.

• He agrees. He thanks you for letting him try again.

• Throughout your relationship, he definitely still yells and curses at other things—classmates, traffic, this damn video game level he can’t beat—but he’s good on his word. ‘Trying again’ becomes a pretty good system for you, if his temper flares—before he can say something stupid or shout about it—he’ll ask for a minute to redirect that impulse and try again.

…

Thank you so much for the request! 🥰

[pedgito]

oh man i love that modern au with bestfriend!eddie but i need more re: his best dickpic ever! like how much heat is he packing in said dickpic? and what makes it so good? angle? lighting? is the dick in question perhaps adorned with a festive lil hat? more plz!

author’s note: a part two to this, doesn’t have to be read as a pair but you can if you want! i crack myself up every time i write stuff like this because it’s so eddie.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) lots of dick talk, modern!eddie, mentions of drunk sex, bestfriend!eddie, platonic soulmates (small mention to them being like siblings metaphorically) if i missed anything lmk.

word count: 1k

“I swear I’m not judging or anything, but like,” Eddie peers up at you from where his head is resting in your lap, body stretched out along the rest of the bed as the movie played on amidst his sudden need for conversation, “why don’t you stop using the apps if it keeps happening?”

“Do you hear yourself, Eddie?” You ask, eyes narrowing at him from above, your own hair curtaining his face as you glance down. “I have to stop because it’s me being assaulted with dick pics, not the other way around—you are…such a guy that it pains me to even think about.”

And it’s a bigger shot to his ego than he’s expecting, gasping dramatically through his very obviously hurt gaze.

“I need better content,” You tell him, “and considering this standing relationship I have with your dick, I’d really appreciate it if you'd step up your game.”

“Okay, that really hurts.” Eddie says dejectedly, “My dick is pretty, you can’t deny that.”

You shrug, “It’s up there, but I’ve seen several—it could easily get lost in the bunch.”

“See this,” Eddie flicks between you and him, “is why we’d never work.”

“Say that to two weeks ago when you crawled into my bed drunk and naked,” You retort, forcing Eddie to relive that embarrassing memory, “seemed to work pretty well then.”

“We were both drunk,” Eddie states as a matter of fact, “and if I remember correctly, you were just as eager.”

It was a small blip in your friendship and nothing that could ruin it, neither of you remembered much anyways—but it was definitely enjoyable.

“We gotta get festive, it’s the holidays,” You tell him, “spruce the pics up a bit, it’s getting boring.”

“I told you that you couldn’t use this stuff as blackmail.” Eddie tells you vehemently, “So whatever is going on in that head of yours, it stays between us.”

“Eddie, I love you,” You tell him seriously, “I would never do that to you—but as my best friend, you’re sorta obligated.”

Eddie snorts, shoving your amused smile out of view with his fingers as they push at your cheek, forcing you away so he could sit up fully, movie forgotten.

“Hit me with it.” Eddie says, your smile growing wider.

If only he knew.

“I feel like there’s a kink for this somewhere on the internet.” Eddie notes, holding up the small Christmas hat between his fingers—the perfect size for, well, his dick.

You snickered evilly, “Don’t forget these,” You mentioned, holding up the battery powered Christmas light necklace, “—oh shit, I almost forgot.”

Eddie reers back slightly, eyeing you carefully as you dipped into the bag on your bed.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Eddie says sternly, noting the fluffy reindeer ears and red nose squeezed in your palm, holding his hands up defensively as you approached, “not just no—but fuck no, sweetheart.”

“You’re no fun.” You pout, tossing the items on the bed.

“Tell me the deal again?” Eddie asks, gathering the items in his hand, phone clutched to his chest in the other.

“Dinner on me for a week and I’ll do the dishes,” You tell him, “don’t try to meddle your way into more.”

Eddie smirks fondly, “Had me at dinner, babe.”

Eddie disappears briefly to his own room—to, as he would say, take care of business. You’re not sure what he does, keeping your mind from straying too far. After the drunk escapades a couple weeks prior, there was always something there—nothing serious or tangible, but it was blatantly obvious that you found each other attractive.

It was a shame that you two butt heads like siblings and hate each other in every other sense of the idea of an actual relationship.

Eddie leaves his room about twenty minutes later looking a little more flush in the face, shirtless and his sweats hanging low on his waist. You laughed through your nose, sizing him up. He attempts to hand the decoration back to you.

“Burn it,” You grimace, “you know I only needed pics, right?”

Eddie’s still surprised at how easily you can read him.

“I was trying to sweeten the pot a little,” He shrugs, “got you a video, free of charge.”

“Oh, you spoil me.” You tell him with a forced smile, glancing at your phone as it dinged a few times.

“Quality over quantity, sweetheart.” He grins darkly, nodding toward your phone. “That should keep the creeps at bay.”

It’s terrible how well you’d memorized his dick, smiling with amusement as you scrolled through the pictures after he’d finally left you alone. As annoying as Eddie could be, he was an expert at angles, lighting, the whole thing—they were tasteful, but so outrageous that they would surely scare off the desperate men in your messages.

“Thoughts?” He asks, peeking around the frame of your bedroom door when he hears you giggling to yourself.

“I’m not giving you another ego boost.” You tell him, a grin spreading over his face.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says confidently, “I can see it on your face.” Because despite how well you knew Eddie, he knew you even better.

Now, if only he had the same luck with people as you—not that he was asking for any unsolicited dick pics but his luck with dating had been nothing short of abysmal.

“I’ll send the cute ones your way,” You smile warmly, “long as they’re willing.”

Eddie presses his hand over his heart tenderly, crossing the small distance to your bed to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, mumbling a soft, “Love you.”

Not that you needed to hear it, you already knew.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[lies-unfurl]

Once again thinking about how canonically the Blip happened in October and TFaTWS began in March of the following year, meaning that there was a Christmas that took place between the two... how did Sam and Bucky spend it???

I'm certain Sam would have been in Delacroix, but talk about emotional whiplash: from his perspective, he's three months out from being on the run from the US government, and now he has to cope with the fact that he was gone for five years, and suddenly he's alive and free and supposed to be merry on top of all that?

And he's celebrating with two nephews he barely knows, who would've been babies or toddlers when he saw them last. Plus a sister who lost her husband -- we don't know exactly when, but it's reasonable to assume it was while Sam was on the run or snapped out of existence; she and Sam have their childhood in common, but Sam has been out of her life for years, and no matter how glad she is to have him back, there's got to be something fraught in their dynamic.

Does Sam wake up on Christmas morning and see the shield, and think about the Steve-shaped hole in his life? Does he spend the whole day celebrating and smiling and laughing and genuinely having a good time, even though part of him still feels like he's going to just disappear?

And does Sam text Bucky? Maybe he even tries calling him, because it's Christmas and even if Bucky has been ignoring him, he still feels bad that Bucky is alone?

(And Bucky is alone; he told Dr. Raynor that he was planning to get Chinese food and walk around the city, but when he hears his neighbors playing carols and laughing with their family, he decides to just stay in. Going out would mean being faced with all the celebrating, happy people, and that feels so inaccessible to him that he'd rather just avoid it altogether.)

(And he ignores Sam's call for the same reason: because he knows Sam will be able to hear how happy he isn't, and it wouldn't be fair for him to ruin Sam's Christmas like that.)

So Sam just hangs up and slips back in to rejoin the festivities, and he doesn't let anyone know that even though he wasn't expecting Bucky to answer, he's still kind of upset that he didn't get to talk to the one person who might understand the complicated shape of all the joy and the grief that he's feeling that day.

[blackbat05]

A shared bond

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: The festive season is around the corner and you’re determined to give your best customer an unforgettable Christmas.

Genre: PG-13 / Trope: Baking, Alone on the holidays

A/N: Another piece for @the-slumberparty🫶🏽 I hope I did this right but it was another challenge that pushed my writing cells and create a piece that is close to home. Thank you for letting me share my work and hope readers enjoy! Reblogs and comments are appreciated!💜

The alarm beeps, signaling the newest batch of baked goods. Satisfied with the smell of blueberry pie wafting through the kitchen, you leave the delicacy to cool down. You go back out to the counter, pleasantly surprised to see your usual customer already waiting at the door.

“Hello Joaquin! You’re early today.” You let him in. “The usual?”

“Yes please.” He takes a seat at the counter, nose wrinkling to detect the source of smell. “I see you have been cooking up a new recipe. Any chance I could get a taste?”

You sliced a blueberry pie onto a plate and serve it to him with a cup of coffee. “Lucky you, I was trying out something for the Christmas menu and you just happened to be my first customer!”

Joaquin takes a fork and sinks his teeth into the pie, groaning at the impeccable fruity taste that blended nicely with the crumbs. “This shouldn’t be just a seasonal menu.”

“Glad to know. Guess I had enough foresight to make a whole batch of them. Would you like one more?” You carried the tray out and for a moment you thought you saw Joaquin salivating.

“Does it mean I have to pay?”

“Well, this one’s on the house. I insist. In the spirit of Christmas.” You give a second serving to Joaquin before preparing for the morning crowd.

It was like a routine that the both of you were used to. While you attended to customers, Joaquin would busy himself with a book at the side along with his drink and your baked treats. As you helped a father and his young son with their purchase, you can’t help but to sneak a glance at Joaquin who had an unreadable expression. The bell chimes, signaling the pair’s exit.

“What’s on your mind?”

Joaquin sighs. “When I see families, I think about the ones that I’ve lost.” You pause what you were doing, giving him your full attention. “It’s hard when I think about them but it especially hurts during festive seasons. I guess that’s what happens when you’re alone.” Joaquin smiles wanly. “I’m sorry for being such a dampener.”

You frown and shake your head. From your many conversations with Joaquin, you knew he was from military and he had a story that was beyond reality. You don’t know how he does it but he comes to your cafe with a smile every single time. “Don’t say that. You’re the strongest person I know, Joaquin.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods, but you sense that he’s going further down the hole.

“What if I told you that you don’t have to be alone during Christmas?”

Joaquin stares at you curiously and you’re more than positive that this would work out perfectly.

***

“Goodbye Mrs Lelia!” You moved towards the door, the elderly women trailing behind you.

“Thank you for visiting my dear.” She kisses you on the cheek and does the same for Joaquin. “Come back again soon with those lovely goodies!”

“Will do Mrs Lelia. Happy holidays!” You carefully descend the snow covered steps, checking one more house off the list. Joaquin decides to break the silence first.

“I didn’t know you do this during Christmas.”

“I started not too long ago. Two years back.” You helpfully corrected him. “I wasn’t in a good place.” Joaquin stares at you intently.

“You know how you told me once that when you came back from your tour? There was always people around you and yet you still felt lonely?”

Joaquin nods at the memory. You purse your lips.

“I felt that too. In a different way of course.” You explained. “Being blipped right back and having to see constant doom scrolling and watching others flaunt their extravagant lifestyles while holding to the knowledge that I could be someone better… it ate me up inside. So I decided to kickstart this food drive. I can’t reach everybody but I can do enough.”

Joaquin falls silent at your simple but impactful admission. “We’re all fighting our own battles huh?”

“That’s all we can do.” You respond. “What better way than to help others in the name of Christmas?” You grin, holding up the bag of baked treats. “Come on, we can do this! Dinner’s on me.”

***

An hour later, you sit beside Joaquin at a Thai restaurant savoring on the much needed spicy Tom Yum soup.

“I can’t express how much it means to have you help me this year. It seems to me like the ladies love you.” You teased.

“If that means having this feast after every food drive, count me in.” Joaquin laughs, taking a bite of the lemon chicken. “But really, I should be the one that’s thanking you. You’ve helped me a lot.”

You suddenly have a warm rush of affection for the man who was a mere stranger eight months ago. Joaquin seems to have noticed the change in temperature as he’s unusually focused at the half eaten chicken on his plate.

“After the blip, it was hard to even talk to someone. And I mean, genuinely have a conversation. That is until I met you.” Joaquin looks at you under his curls. “You didn’t push me and you allowed me to take my time.”

Your heart beats faster and you can feel yourself attempting to control your breathing. A determined glint crosses Joaquin’s eyes and he steadily moves forward.

“I really like you, Y/N. Not because you took pity on me but you saw me as a person. I don’t know if you feel the same way but I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you launch yourself onto Joaquin, giving him the biggest bear hug that you could. He freezes for a moment at the contact, but he doesn’t hesitate to lean into your embrace.

“I really like you too, Joaquin.” You whispered, slowly detaching yourself to look at him. “And trust me when I say this but you came into my life when I needed someone. So I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself. Not anymore. Not when I’m with you.”

Joaquin pauses, processing what you have just said and breaks out into a big grin.

“I don’t know if this is appropriate but I really want o kiss you right now.”

You giggle at his honesty and take out the last blueberry pie that you saved for desert. Carefully taking a bite, you purposely stained your lips with blueberry coating.

“There. Now you can wipe it off me.” You cheekily point at the creation on your lips. It’s Joaquin’s turn to laugh at your absurdity as he looks at you lovingly.

The snow starts to fall harder and the Christmas decorations shine brighter. Reunions bring along joy and happiness across the city and for today, people forget what the world has thrown at them as they laugh with their loved ones. You and Joaquin Torres were not an exception as the bond between the two of you only strengthened with the help of a Christmas miracle.

He is gentle, leaving your lips wanting more. Joaquin gazes at you and how you wished you drank a little less of the wine. The crowd thickens but it is only the two of you in the small and tiny space that you envision. You see his lips moving and you tilt your head in confusion. Joaquin moves closer and you hear it.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

He leans in again, and this time he is sure to leave you breathless.

[sqarletsworldlesswandering]

I caved

More ophan trivia, perhaps? Specifically cultural stuff because I think those are interesting-

Alrighty, *rubs hands*

Language:

I mentioned briefly that the angelic orders have their own language, and Ophanim have their own dialect in said language. Theirs is probably the hardest for other angels to understand - sort of like the average English speaker has a very hard time understanding a thick Irish dialect, even though they're still technically speaking English.

However, the purpose of this language is pretty specific - it's very much a sub-cultural language. It can be used for private communication between Ophanim, especially among other Starfolk, but it also functions as a cultural bond point. It's considered formal and respectful to greet fellow Ophanim in this language, especially if they're your elders, regardless of which language the remaining conversation happens in. It's also a core language for their arts - prose and poetry are usually spoken, memorized, and/or written in this language.

It is also considered disrespectful to address an angel from another order in one's own dialect if the address is meant to be formal. If you don't know theirs, you use the common tongue, not your own. There's a set of basic greetings across the dialects that most angels make sure they know, just because it's polite.

Incidentally, because of how the language works, Ophanim are responsible for all of the writing involved - they don't exactly have Inkwells to do it for them, at least not very many. A couple sentient ones have learned the language, but transcribing the Ophan dialect is tricky at best, and the writing system is wildly different from standard speak. Rather than orbital structuring, the angelic language is written in glyph loops, and the word order is... much more flexible, because a lot of parts of speech are denoted by prefixes.

While most sonar speak is a single blip containing the entirety or a large part of what the Starfolk is saying, this is more spread out. An eavesdropper would hear and musical chain of sonar pings, each containing a small phrase or idea, with the sonar break separating out sentences and ideas at a smaller scale that the average Starfolk. Some observers have likened it to listening to birds sing and chirp.

I should also note that Ophanim have their own very small set of non-sonar vocalizations/sounds that they use in broader, vague communication. Namely, electricity humming - meaning is informed by the harshness, pitch, and duration of the hum. They also communicate through little electric shocks that they can send jumping from themselves to each other. It's a useful silent communication method, all things considered.

Robes:

I said before that Ophanim's robes (really all angel robes) have high personal value - heavily personalized, revolve around significant events, and very labor intensive.

Ophanim have a few different categories of robes:

Their primary robes, which are the ones they wear the majority of the time. These are the "coming of age" robes that they so often make themselves, either on their own or with the help of a mentor. In fact, younger Ophan frequently have a mentor teaching them in a number of things, and one of those things - towards their "graduation" so to speak - is making their robes.

Gifted robes - gifting robes is a massive sentimental tradition, and is considered a very high honor to receive, especially since they're usually handmade by the gifter. Such robes may be worn to general events, and are often designed for specific events.

Festival robes - Ophanim, and the angelic orders as a whole, have a number of festivals across the year. Some of these festivals have specific garments associated with them, some don't. Festival robes are often less ornate and more free-flowing, but with plenty of brighter colors, and more bits and pieces.

Pajamas - because ain't nobody sleeping in any of the above, and they do value comfort. Said pajamas are usually nightgown-ish, very soft, and low-backed in the event that the wings decide to make an appearance. They also look a little bit dorky because again, these guys are built like sticks. It's kinda reminiscent of a bedsheet ghost.

The weaving process:

Materials include primarily Weaver silk, usually charmed or imbued with protective spells - Ophan spellwork specifically, since the different angelic orders have different spell-work and specialties. It's a fair bit more potent than regular magic, and longer lasting too.

There's often at least some material that's made of their own feathers that they shed. "Bundling feathers" is an idiom in their culture meaning to gather something up in large quantity, or to hoard something/gather it in somewhat ludicrous quantities, and stems from the practice of meticulously collecting and storing your fallen feathers for use in a robe. Most angels actually collect their feathers when they come out, whether for robes or not, but the specific act of carefully storing all your lost feathers for robe making is a bit of an inside joke by now. The feathers can make two different materials: The web of the feather, mixed with a few other things, produces filmy sheets that work wonderfully as inner lining, and can be stitched over other fabric to create a shiny, glossy finish. The stalk of the feather - depending on how sturdy it is, can be used to add stiffness to areas that need it. Stalks from larger feathers work as boning in the abdominal area (makes for some great back support tbh), and the more flexible stalks from smaller feathers can be sewn into the lower hems of skirts to give them more structure and flare. Sometimes they also use the whole feather for decoration, but that's less common.

As for the process itself - basically every Ophan knows how to operate a very large loom, a skill that comes in handy for some other things too - tapestries, blankets, pillows, etc. A lot of their home furnishing involving fabric is handwoven.

It's an incredibly lengthy process, but a worthwhile one, and they come out of it with their very own personalized, well tailored robes.

Festivals and Holidays:

The angelic orders have an assortment of festivals and holidays, some of which are shared laterally across the orders.

Most of the time, any and all Starfolk are welcome and invited to celebrate with them and partake in the festivities. There's a very small handful of... not so much holidays as... "observations" that have a fair bit more gravitas and weight to them, and others are discouraged from participating without full understanding of the holiday or festival. I... haven't really worked out what festivals they have, so here's some general ideas that may be subject to change (suggestions are very welcome-)

Typically, holidays are just the one day, the festivals are multiple days (usually a week or so), and then "observances" vary.

Holidays:

Edrorin - this one is hardly an Ophanim holiday specifically, but rather an all-starfolk holiday celebrating the end of the Conflict. However, the Ophanim do in fact bring a great deal of life to the party.

Dayglory - a summer holiday occurring on the longest day of the year, and that lasts from sunrise to sunset.

Nightglory - a winter holiday lasting from sunset to sunrise on the shortest day of the year.

Days of Balance - a pair of twin holidays celebrating equal day and night, which employ many activities and decorative themes centering on balance.

Gladirif - this one is less a designated holiday, and more of a flock celebration for whenever an Ophan becomes Gladiran. Because that doesn't really... happen very often, flocks usually celebrate the anniversary of it. This is usually a celebration between the flock in question and the wielding cherubim.

Festivals:

Nesting Festival - This is a funny one, because all the angelic orders celebrate it, but they each do it very differently, so there's effectively up to four different festivals going on in different places and different times, because "nesting season" varies. Angels celebrate it every year, as do the Ophanim, the Cherubim every four years, and Seraphim every other year. The basic gist of it is "teach any newbies how to nest properly" and then a bunch of market stalls where you can buy and trade nesting materials, because those tend to wear out after a bit, and the nest sometimes needs shoring up. This is totally unrelated to the slight uptick in Angel starlets shortly after.

Festival Hashemeim - Elsewise known as the Skygazing festival. During the day, there's some market stalls and games, but mostly sleeping. During the night? Good food, warmth in blanket bundles, and very little ambient light, because they're going to staying up all night watching the sky do its thing with the assorted light phenomena that act up long about the beginning of spring.

Festival of Veils - this one is new, and developed in New Eden, and celebrated by all the angelic orders. This one they often invite others to join them for the third day, but the first two you really should only attend if you know the history, or plan on learning it. It's a three-day long festival characterized (rather obviously) by the wearing of veils and masks, or anything else that covers the star. The festival remembers the casting down of the Seraphim, as well as their eventual restoration. The first day of the festival, you wear dark clothing, thick veils, and fairly minimal ornament. The main events include the Dance of Fire (a dance form reenactment of their falling) - and the Chant of The Depths (a lamenting chorus resembling the tones of Leviathan and Daemonae sonar). The second day is much the same attire wise, though often with more... militant tones. It's a silent day - no one speaks, and most of the festival is attending visual acts commemorating the trials of the conflict, including the strife between Seraphim and Leviathan. Then, at last, the third day, and the best part of the whole festival - the color comes back, you throw back the veils, there's dancing and feasting and lots of singing. This one the Seraphim themselves show up and parade for a bit, and often join in some of the festivities themselves. Of particular note are the Seraphim who were themselves cast down and are now restored.

Perahsil - a week-long festival celebrating the blooming of all things foliage. Flowers and fruits are budding, plants are growing, the world is bursting into color, and the festival reflects that every bit

Zaiytot - Another week-long festival, this time in celebration of the harvest specifically. This one was actually started by the Angels, since they're usually the first to be helping with the harvest itself, but the Ophanim are also very involved. The Cherubim and Seraphim usually have other matters demanding their attention, but will often attend the last day or two.

Going back to nesting...

Nesting and Flocking:

Because boy howdy, these guys have some strong nesting instincts.

If you are a friend of someone in the flock, you're nearly part of the flock, more so the closer you are with the Ophan. So in, say, Aven's case, he is outright considered part of Throne's flock. (By the way, what do we think of Tephira as an alternate name for her?)

If you are part of the flock, they will fret over you, and if you don't come nest with the flock once in a while they start to get worried.

Sharing a nest for them is a show not only of familial love, but also of significant trust.

They also get... antsy around late fall and start sprucing up the nest and packing in a whole bunch of new bedding and blankets in preparation for the winter, because most of them reside in the Silver Peaks and winters there are harsh. Will they 100% fuss over each other like they're all starlets? Yes, yes they will. The number of times Throne's flock gets fidgety and broody when Aven gets soaked in a lake is... rather ridiculously high. At least once an unsuspecting Aven got scooped up by an Ophan with a big fluffy towel and subjected to a very thorough (but gentle) drying. He was confused, but not bothered.

Flocks often have some very deep-rooted care routines for each other as well, including grooming/cleaning and back rubs, plus wing maintenance, which is a whole (exceedingly delicate) thing.

Speaking of, with wings? Especially in the angelic orders, especially with thinner wings like the Ophanim? You do NOT touch the wings without permission. Those are sensitive and touchy and while they are very aware of how to treat them, you are not. Uninvited touch is a massive no-no, and is liable to get you smacked or zapped.

I mentioned this in the other post as well, but angels get claustrophobic. Ophanim are no exception, and arguably are the most so. They need elbow room, and they like to have a pretty consistent view of the sky.

[afniel]

[blip] Omega unit requesting suitable festive "trick" or alternative suitable festive "treat". [beep]

Oh my god it's a cool robot. Hang on, I'm sure I've got something that would work here...

GET EQUIPPED WITH:

A very normal type of playlist (?)

[buckrecs]

hi! i am desperately searching for christmas bucky barnes fanfics because it does NOT feel like the holidays and i'm in need of some holiday spirit :) if you don't celebrate christmas though no worries at all, i don't want to be a bother!

Christmas

masterlist | req masterlist

In my country we don’t celebrate Christmas like America, so I’ve always wanted to do christmas activities. (I live in Korea) It was so much fun reading these holiday fics🎄✨

btw i’m visiting New York for the first time soon!! I hope some of the christmassy stuff is still there till February…

Secret Santa by @buckybarnesandmarvel

the team decides to do a secret santa... of course you get the one person you’re in love with

White Christmas by @writerlyhabits

The Holiday season catches Bucky by surprise, but after a less-than-ideal morning, a friendly invitation from his new neighbor is more tempting than he would have anticipated. 

Christmas Bucky by @softlybarnes

bucky realizes you aren't in your usual festive mood.

An Unusual Christmas by @petersshirts

You plan on flying home for Christmas but when the flight gets cancelled, you need to seek shelter at the one Avenger you can’t stand

Operation Mistletoe by @wkemeup

With dozens of mistletoe appearing in archways across the compound, you start to notice a pattern when you begin to encounter Bucky Barnes beneath each one

The Worst Time of the Year by @delaber (series)

According to Bucky, Christmas is the worst time of the year. He hates everything about it - well everything apart from one thing: you.

won’t ask for much this christmas by @bonky-n-steeb

You get stuck in Christmas lights and Bucky fucks you.

The Quest for Love by @sgtjbuccky (series)

Work has always been a priority for Bucky, leaving things like love long forgotten, and for him it’s no problem, but for Sam and Steve it is the biggest problem to grace this earth. Fed up with Bucky and his constants protest and avoidance of love, they set him up on a series of dates to find the girl of his dreams with the help of the magical spirit of December. Only for Bucky to realize that love isn’t always found where one goes looking for it, but may be close by.  

christmas eve by @buckybleu

It's the night before Christmas and an ex-assassin is up wrapping Christmas presents for his family.

Christmas Shenanigans by @buckybarnesstar

mega fluffy bucky x reader where they go Christmas shopping

12 Days of Christmas by @sweetbuckybarnes (series)

12 days running up to Christmas, Bucky and Y/N come closer together.

‘Tis the Season by @moonbeambucky

With Christmas around the corner not everyone is excited to celebrate. Will your surprise bring back Bucky’s spirit or turn him into a Grinch?

Little Christmas Gifts by @iwillbeinmynest

The Holliday Hack by @gogolucky13

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

Not-So-Secret Santa by @navybrat817

Bucky wants to give you the perfect gift.

The Perfect Tree by @andreafmn

After all is said and done, Christmas is (Y/N)'s favorite time of the year. She is known for going all out, from decorations to food, from silly traditions to happy memories. But one thing can never go wrong. She needs the perfect Christmas tree.

Merry Fuckin’ Christmas by @rookthorne (series)

No one ever, ever, turned down the opportunity to celebrate and party through the festive season over the years, but with your help, the 107th Motorcycle Club was going to learn that tradition was just as important as a loaded gun.

All Wrapped Up by @jobean12-blog

Bucky likes you...he’s shy...but he finally has a way to show it with a special gift. 

Tis the damn season by @starrysebastians

On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other.

Merry Christmas! <3

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Story of Us [P.P]

A/n: I don't know how I wrote this but I actually managed to before I went back to Uni and I'm so proud of myself! This is very angsty and lets just say I'm sorry. Yes it's based off of one of my favourite Taylor Swift songs.

Peter and reader are older but nwh didn't happen.

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, mentions of grief, implied mental health issues, (brief) detail and mention of SA (drunk guy tries to hook up with reader who doesn’t want to), breakup, some violence (punching), implied sexual themes, underage drinking - if there's anything I've forgotten let me know!

“You and Peter are so lucky.”

“Imagine finding your soulmate so early on.” 

“You two will have beautiful kids.” 

The words that others had spoken about you over the past year echoed in your ear. Compliments about you and Peter being the best couple, that you were going to save the universe together one day. Yet here you were alone, travelling to the annual Avengers New Years party. 

And it was all your fault. 

You had almost chickened out of going at all, wanting to spend another day in your sweatpants eating through leftover Christmas food. The Avengers and Peter’s aunt May hadn’t wanted you to spend Christmas alone so they had invited you over, sent food and facetimed you trying to encourage you to participate in the holiday spirit. Usually Peter was enough to bring you joy even when you were just friends but even he wasn’t there anymore. 

How could you enjoy any festivities without the one man who had been there through everything, supported you and protected you? Tony was gone and now Peter was too. You were fed up with losing everyone so you’d stayed well out of everyone’s way. If you weren’t close to anyone, you couldn’t lose them. 

May had scheduled sessions for you with a therapist in the New Year, the same one she had seen after the blip and after her husband had passed. She had offered to drive you herself too. Most people might find it awkward to stay in contact with your ex’s family but May had always treated you like her own especially after Tony died and you had always been grateful to her as she had been to you for looking after Peter. 

The driver of your taxi announced you had arrived and you were pulled out of your trance, your eyes drawn to the Avengers compound that was decorated in bright lights and Christmas decorations. At least they had still continued with tradition. 

You took a deep breath as you exited the car, ironing down your dress once more with your hands and putting a smile on your face, however fake it may be. The music was playing loudly as you came closer to the building joined with the chorus of laughter and cheer. 

Your heart sank as you spotted the statute of Tony and Natasha they had built. Engraved below read “The real heroes, forever remembered”. You fought back your tears and shook your head, walking in and putting your smile back on. 

All you had to do was stay until midnight and then you could make a swift exit. That had been the plan anyway and then you had seen him. 

Peter Parker. Your ex boyfriend and love of your life, laughing away with Sam and Bucky and smiling wide. His brown curls looked messy as if his hair had been ruffled several times and no doubt by the duo that was standing in front of him. He was wearing his usual party shirt, the same one you had drunkenly cried on many times and the one he had kissed you in when the clock struck midnight this time last year. 

The room was crowded and yet his eyes still managed to find yours across the sea of drunken people. His smile fell ever so slightly but there was a kindness in his eyes as he looked at you and you could tell he was as nervous as you. 

You quickly looked away and went to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. Even though you were underage, no thanks to the blip, a little alcohol wouldn’t hurt. Dutch courage, as your Dad would say. 

The first shot of alcohol had just gone down when someone was pulling the empty shot glass away from you. “Hey! Hey!” 

You sighed and turned around to see no one other than Doctor Strange himself chastising you for underage drinking. 

“This is reserved for the adults.” Strange sighed and vanished the bottle of alcohol through a portal to another room. 

“Do you ever stop being a killjoy?” You crossed your arms and glared at him in true Stark fashion, noticing Peter walking over from the corner of your eye and getting nervous again. 

“With you and Peter drinking underage, I might just celebrate the new year in another universe. Less stressful when you’re made of paint.” Strange gave an amused smile at his own joke and started to walk away, leaving Peter headed straight for you. 

Your heart picked up its pace, threatening to explode as Peter’s eyes met yours. His honey brown eyes almost drew you in but you couldn’t give in. You quickly pretended that someone else had caught your attention and darted out of the kitchen, heading for your old room. 

“Hey pretty girl.” 

A stranger, a little bit older than you, stopped you in your path and grabbed your arm. He was tall with dark hair, eyes the same colour as Peter’s but nowhere near as intoxicating or warm. You recognised him from when he would sometimes work with the Avengers. His jacket had the classic SHIELD logo and you scoffed. 

“Either you’re in fancy dress or you’re really bad at being a covert agent.” You pushed him off of you and laughed but the agent guy wasn’t having any of it. He cornered you near the bathroom and placed his hand on the wall by the side of your face, trapping you as he inched closer. You smelt alcohol on his breath and the way he was looking at you sickened you to your stomach. 

“The famous Y/n Stark, complete with the wit to match the name.” He smirked and went to touch your face but you moved your head away, ready to put your fighting skills to the test. Natasha had taught you some things during your initial training to become an Avenger before the world went to shit and half the population disappeared. 

“Yeah well I better get back-” You tried to push past him but he kept you trapped, cutting you off from speaking. You froze as his free hand wrapped around your waist, trying to pull you into him. You knew you should have fought back but you couldn’t. 

You told him to stop, pushing him away and threatening him but nothing seemed to deter him. That was until someone ran and tackled him to the floor, punching him with fast reflexes and super strength. You recognised that head of curls from anywhere. 

Peter got up after making sure the other guy wasn’t getting up anytime soon and quickly came over to you. A worried expression on his face as he reached out to held you before hesitating and withdrawing back. 

“A-are you okay?” 

You nodded and took a deep breath, noticing that some of the partygoers had now noticed what was going on. Sam and Bucky made sure the guy was thrown out and reported whilst insisting you go with Peter to get a drink and sit down. 

Peter made you a hot cocoa and sat down with you in a room on the other end of the compound, wrapping a blanket around you which you soon realised looked familiar. On the wall were Star Wars and Sci-Fi posters along with some selfies taken by Peter. This was his old room when he had first joined the Avengers. Tony kept it for him even when he declined his offer so that Peter would always have a place to stay if he needed it. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until Peter handed you a tissue and rested a hand on your arm. You appreciated the gesture and wiped your eyes, not even caring if it smeared your makeup. You knew what Peter must have been thinking and honestly it was still what you were questioning yourself. 

“I couldn’t fight back.”

Peter looked at you and raised a brow but he didn’t say anything he just listened. You told him what had happened and how terrified you had been. You felt like you had let Tony down, he always told you to fight back and you couldn’t even do that when you needed to. 

“Hey. You didn’t let anyone down. It’s okay to be scared.” Peter tried to reassure you, taking your hand into his and squeezing. A technique he had learnt over time that made you feel safe and calm. 

You sighed and swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. The moment you had been dreading since you had arrived had dawned on you without any warning. You were unprepared and scared again but you knew Peter, he would never hurt you. 

Silence filled the room, the only sound was the music from the party and the laughter from people who were having fun. You sighed and looked down at your hands, remembering that cold September night when everything finally caught up to you, the loss and the heartbreak,  and Peter had been the one to suffer. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words that had been on your tongue for so long, threatening to spill every time you saw him or May and yet never being able to speak them into existence. It was only two words but the meaning held so much more. 

Peter didn’t reply for a moment and instead wrapped his arms around you, just holding you as you let yourself cry onto his shoulder. He rubbed your back and played with your hair, humming the song you and him shared a love for. You could smell his cologne and feel the softness of his shirt, noticing that he had a cut by his shoulder that he had evidently tried to heal himself. It was almost as if nothing had changed. 

“I’m sorry too.” 

His words caused you to look up at him in surprise, your heart once again racing as you met his gaze. His eyes were watering and he looked sad, more broken than you had ever seen him. 

“I shouldn’t have let go. I should have held onto you and helped you even when you pushed me away but I-I couldn’t do it. I was hurting too.” Peter’s words were full of pain and sorrow, your heart breaking as you heard them. You had spent so much time wrapped up in your own pain and pity that you hadn’t even seen Peter’s. 

You realised you didn’t have to go through it alone after all and that Peter was just as afraid of losing you as you were of losing him. 

Your lips met Peter’s before he could ramble anymore, the small bit of dutch courage you had that pushed you to make an impulsive decision. His lips tasted just as you remembered them, sweet and like home but with a tint of alcohol mixed onto them. 

Peter hummed in surprise, his eyes widening before kissing you back. Both of you settled into a familiar rhythm of lips moving against each other as the rest of the world faded away. You were reminded of the times you had spent sneaking in here as a teenager after Peter had come back from a mission and healing him with your touch. You had thought you had been smart but your Dad had always known even the things you didn’t want him to know, thanks to Peter being loud in the bedroom. 

“Y/n,” Peter pulled back and cupped your face in his hands, worry still evident on his face. “You just went through an ordeal, we don’t have to-” 

“Peter.” You smiled kindly at him, the first real smile you had felt in a while as you held him close and nuzzled your nose against his. “I want to because I love you and I wasted all this time trying to push you away when all I needed was to have you here, with me.” 

The smile that lit up Peter’s face was enough to make your heart race from pure joy as he held you close and kissed you one more time. In the background the sound of a countdown had begun, counting down the seconds till the new year would begin. 

“I love you too by the way.” Peter interrupted, his cheeks burning scarlet as you kissed over his face and neck. You giggled and shook your head at how dorky Peter could be. 

“I never stopped.” Your eyes met his again as he spoke and the sincerity in his gaze made you pause. You had never met anybody quite like Peter and you were sure you never would. 

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6!” 

“Neither did I.” 

Both of you smiled as you cuddled close, enjoying every moment that you had and determined not to waste another. You remembered fondly all the times that the Avengers team and your friends had tried to set you and Peter up, placing you together on missions and being the only two left when the study group or team briefing got cancelled. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” 

“Happy new year!” You chimed in with the rest of the party but only as a shared whisper between you and Peter. He returned the sentiment with a new years kiss just like the year before but this time there was more love and passion behind it, behind the closed doors of Peter’s old room. 

The polaroid picture that May had snapped of you both asleep in each other's arms that night soon took pride and place in Peter’s room. That was until you moved in together and had a whole canvas filled with photos of the both of you including your wedding photos.

Taglist (join here): @farfrombarnes @marvel-lock @parkerpeter24

Moots: @the-girl-in-the-chair @glowunderthemoon @spideyspeaches @seolaseoul