#ill always take an excuse to draw these two <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[rhiangalaxy]

Danmei doodle request for FISH!

Can we get Li Yu and Mu Tianchi please!

The Husbands <3 Thanks for the request!!

[ID: A DTBPF Doodle. Mu Tianchi holds Li Yu in his arms, looking at him with a soft look and smile. LY is very flustered looking away from MT with his hands raised up to cup his own face. End ID]

[ashenquill]

IT'S SCAR TIME BABAEYYYY HERE COME THE (head)CANONS

He's my favorite which means he suffers the most so this post is a little bit of a downer, not gonna lie. But there's silly stuff in there too I promise!!11!

Scar's full name is Scar Conn Goodtimes. You may be asking yourself: what kind of name is that? How is his middle name con? What kind of parent would do that to their child? WELL, the answer is BECAUSE I SAID SO. Idk I just thought it would be goofy if convex had the middle names "con" and "vex". Soooo yeah lol

As far as origins and backstory are concerned, Scar is half vex and half elf. His mother was a vex hybrid, and had two kids, Cub and Scar (I'll post about Cub tomorrow probably). They're technically half-brothers, but they don't really care enough to talk about the logistics of it. As far as they (and everyone else, atp) are concerned, they're just brothers. Plain and simple.

Scar and Cub grew up without their parents, and were primarily raised by their maternal grandmother, the only human in their family. She taught them anything she knew about their mother, their fathers, and their magic. Thus, Scar and Cub practiced with their vex magic until they were finally able to properly wield it. (Vex magic has many capabilities, especially among family members, but the primary way it manifests is by having a particular trait that it can amplify. Scar, for example, can amplify someone or something's strength.) Scar had a tougher time with it, and it often backfired on him. That, combined with him being incredibly accident-prone, is how he ended up suiting his name so well.

In his late teens, Scar sustained an injury that caused major nerve damage and hindered his ability to walk, but with his magic he was still able to walk with the help of mobility aids (such as canes and crutches, and after a few years, a wheelchair). He refused to believe that it was irreversible, and when Cub made him a set of magic-powered walking braces, he thought his problems were solved. But that is not how chronic pain/illness works, even in a world with magic. So, he still uses a variation of aids, but the braces have to be used sparingly, as they draw from his magic and tire him out more quickly. That's why he mostly uses them when he's HOTGUY YEAH THAT'S RIGHT THIS IS A SUPERHERO AU.

Hotguy was hired by King Ren to head the Royal Guard and protect the city (and the king) from "nefarious evildoers". Of course, he mostly uses it as an excuse to play superhero, to which Cub is unwittingly dragged into. He's Scar's "guy in the chair", and even though he mostly just complains about Scar taking unnecessary risks, they both know he loves it.

More fun facts:

Smells earthy, like grass & pine trees

Hybrid: elf & vex (mixed) ((I’m not projecting you are))

Street smart - Special knowledge of city layout, people-pleasing, manipulation tactics

Likes: coffee (only drinks black coffee on bad days, usually gets something sweet and fun, he's totally a pumpkin spice latte girly), bird-watching, movies, theme parks, cooking/baking

Dislikes: golf (he goes with Cub anyway), reading

Passions: justice/fairness, nature (landscaping, birds), Scarland 

Habits/other details: skin-picks, eats water (with a spoon)

Active in his environment - takes advantage of being overlooked, sort of dejected/resigned to ableism against himself (but never others), not usually aggressive but might try to control situations in other ways, good at finding out information but doesn’t always think to do so

Special, plot-relevant skills: archery, charisma 500, magic = strength

Terrible sleep schedule, somehow a morning person

I love him dearly so I sometimes make bad things happen to him this is just the basic law of author projection <3

[hkthatgffan]

As someone dying of lupus (it's hard to draw atm due to shakey hands), and is slow with comissions, I never ask for money first, rather than after i finish. And if I don't get it done in 3 months, I apologize and try to give them a free doodle of their choice, no money given to me at all.

Even if I moved slow, I'd always keep them up to speed with what was happening, if I can/cannot do the drawing or give them something small and free to compensate for the months gone by so at least someone gets a little something for waiting.

And if I get it done, then I get my payment (since my health is unpredictable, I like to get paid after. Makes me feel better, to not be paid upfront because it makes me feel better on touching up, asking if changes needed to the art, anything added, etc. Or if my health simply won't allow, at least they'll get something in the end.)

Idk. I just find it rather cruel to leave people in the dark like that. I deal with abuse, awful illnesses litterally tearing me apart, i've lost half if not most my family and had to do artwork or refund/explain if artwork couldn't be completed regardless.

There's no excuse to leave people behind, block, ignore,ghost, and run off with cash.

I've met really rude people in this fandom, and I really wish people would just take five seconds to go "ok here's what's happening, do you want your cash back?" Like it's not hard.

The day of the last few gf episodes, I was in the hospital because my organs weren't working properly and almost exploded my digestive track due to nerve damage,

Yet I still managed to

Let my friends know the art trades will be unfinished and you won't need to give me anything in return (because i always prefer to do them first incase something happens)

Let those who did used to pay me first get their 15 bucks back

All while my insides almost ruptured from gastroparesis 🎉🥳 and my friend died all in the same day i went and stayed two weeks in the hospital desperately trying to apologize for the delay and doing whatever I could to explain my situation and if they needed anything in return/makeup for it.

That's straight up MEAN to ignore and block someone and run off with the cash. There's no excuse.

Even when I was screaming in agony in my hospital bed, I still managed to give a refund or something or talk to the person and not leave them in the dust. :/

I am so sorry you were left in the dark.

OMG, I'm so, so sorry about all you've been through. That is honestly a truly painful and horrible thing to endure I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemies and people who like with you, made me endure some of the worst that I've seen from people in this fandom.

But also you're right. No matter the reason and no matter how long it may be, a person who has accepted a job...be it an art commission or something else, should at the bare minimum, communicate with the person they are being paid to do that for.

The sad thing is that me and everyone I mentioned in my post had been doing things the right way for ages. We gave Kiki-Kit time (more than we should've), communicated to her through the proper channels she had set up, were nice and patient and yet she never responded to any of us. It literally left us with no choice but to call her out...something none of us wanted to do!

That's what really disappoints me about it all. IDC if she was to take another year to finish my commission. It was a non time sensitive comm I just got from her cause it was a chance to support an artist I respected and admired who was going through a rough time and get a personalized art piece from them. But her lack of communicating really has been upsetting. No matter what she was going through, she could have at least made a post or update to us saying things would take time or even just not say an arbitrary completion date and then miss it with months without another update. No one would be mad at her if she just communicated with us better. That's all that this boils down to; lack of communication!

I get upset and apologize if I miss messaging someone back even for a few hours. And I feel even worse if I miss a DM or message sent my way and then see it maybe days later. None of us are after Kiki-Kit or want her to be remembered for this by the fandom. It pained me greatly to make that post. But with all that has come out, it was overdue.

I still believe she can rectify this all if she just responds and agrees to refund or complete comms from everyone still waiting, that's all it'll take. I doubt anyone will wanna buy a comm from her again who are aware of all this, but at least it's better than not responding to people who fucking paid her and are waiting!

At this point personally, I'm getting my money back from her if she does offer it and so are probably everyone else who I've spoken to. It's not something I want to do given the whole reason behind why she did those comms in the first place...but this whole situation has just left a bad taste in us all and quite frankly, we've had enough.

I just hope if or when Kiki-Kit does address this all, she does better moving forward.

[hazyskyline]

poukie | n. kamden

desc. | kamden and (y/n) have been in a long distance relationship for 2 years, and (y/n) plans a little surprise for kamden.

pairing | boyfriend!kamden x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

word count | 659

genre | fluff

warnings | none

bold text - (y/n)’s messages | italicized text - kamden’s messages

——————————————————————————

kam, i miss u ����😕

i miss you too 😔😢

it had been 1 year since kamden went back to korea, 2 years since you got together, and 3 years since you first met him. you met him in a dance class back in the states and the two of you hit it off immediately. the day ended with both of you getting each other’s number.

if i go to korea.. can we binge watch boys planet and ur fancams?

if u come, ill make sure to block all the videos on every device when u walk into the airport

wow, youre just the master of sarcasm arent u

guilty as charged 🫡

you have to say, he was good at making you happy. he was even better at making you miss him. if only you could actually go to korea.. wait.

“why don’t i go to korea?!” you said, having an eureka moment.

you quickly opened your browser and looked up flights to korea. a flight to korea in two days. you booked the flight and the countdown started.

always found guilty of that charge mr. na

sry kamden but i have to go now, i love u poukie 😍😍)

not that nickname again.. i love u too (y/n) 🫶

you shut off your phone and grabbed your luggage. though it was two days away, a little early packing never hurt anyone..

—————————————————————���————

it was the day. the day! you grabbed the luggage you packed when you pulled an allnighter, too excited to fall asleep that night. you literally, LITERALLY, ran out your door. you rushed to put your luggage and get into you uber.

you sat down and pulled out your phone, instantly pulling up your texts with “poukie ❤️”

ill see u in 12 hours 😘😘

hm? what do you mean? do you want to facetime? im free right now if you want

you’ll see, oh btw are u free in 12 hours?

yes… why?

no particular reason! ☺️

im slightly concerned babe..

your uber arrived at the airport. you grabbed your luggage from the trunk and walked into the airport. you slowly went through the process. security, walking to your gate, and waiting. pulling up kamden’s texts again, you messaged him.

i do wanna facetime but ill be busy for like 12 hours, so ill text u when im done!!

awh, i wanted to see u :c, have a nice 12 hours :p

your boarding group was called and you quickly went onto the plane. you practically sprinted to your seat, stowed away your carry-on, and sat in your seat. you eagerly awaited for the plane to take off and for you to finally see your boyfriend again.

——————————————————————————

“- please fasten your seatbelt, put your tray up, and prepare for landing”

you rubbed your eyes before a flight attendant came to tell you to buckle up. you groggily obliged before remembering where you were.

kamden!

you got a burst of energy, your brain now bouncing off the walls of your skull with excitement.

the plane landed and you and the other passengers slowly siphoned out of the plane.

as soon as you got to the waiting area where the next group was waiting to board, you pulled out your phone.

kamden

no response.

kamden!

no new messages.

poukie!

hm? yeah whats up?

can you pick me up?

what? i mean unless i can drive across an ocean, im afraid i cant

check my location 🤭🤭

…what are you doing in korea?

you laughed, drawing attention from the people getting on the plane. you excused yourself and walked to the exits of incheon airport.

well.. remember when i said i missed you. i got an amazing idea, to go to korea!

why would you do that! it’s so.. impulsive! 🫠🫠

well theres no avoiding it now so.. can you pick me up from the airport :D

… of course i can love.

you were extremely happy and excited to spend the next two weeks with your lovely poukie.

——————————————————————————

a.n | please tell me y’all get the pun with poukie 🙏🙏 (pou as in the character he looks like and pookie as in the silly little nickname) i love kamden. also you cannot convince me otherwise that kamden wouldn’t use emoticons in his texts, ESPECIALLY “:p”

feel free to leave criticism in the comments!!

[demigod-shenanigans]

That particular anxiety situation had indeed passed thankfully, however I’m in the middle of my university exam phase and constantly stressed so these are extremely appreciated regardless <3

also please never worry about long lists of headcanons I eat stuff like this up it literally physically cannot be too long for my liking

-Leo’s body heat being naturally higher has been a hc of mine for a while so yes definitely agree there. -Also Jason is just. An immensely fussy friend and partner he’s so worried Leo will end up sick and Leo just grins at him and puts a warm hand on his cheek all “chill out Superman I’m going to be fine”

-Despite his jacket and being all packaged up in winter clothes somehow Jason is the one who ends up sick. Leo ends up playing hot water bottle boyfriend for like. A week

-I’m going to start weeping over Thalia teaching Annabeth how to braid her hair. Now I also can’t help but think about her trying to do it all by herself for the first time after Thalia is gone and I just feel so so ill about it all my poor babies.

-Ooooh yeah it’d make sense that she’d probably at least be able to catch snippets from other languages. She’d also definitely get some stuff mixed up tho (English is not my first language and it was… very funny learning some of the words that sound similar to German words but actually mean something completely different lmao)

-Agreed on the crushes thing lmao. In my head whenever I think of the Cupid scene Jason just looks at Nico confused all “is that not a normal reaction to have to Percy Jackson”. I think the one exception might be Leo because he was too busy definitely not crushing on Jason to pay much attention to Percy or Annabeth lol

-I feel like Leo fell out of a tree at least once

-This is the second farsighted Jason take I’ve seen in two days and yeah the more I think about it the more I agree actually

-Let! Nico! Doodle! I also wonder if he’s ever tried to draw mythomagic fanart/custom cards before.

-I found out recently that the wiki has Nico listed as one of Frank’s fears which is really funny to me because now I’m just imagining a mildly terrified Frank being pulled aside by Nico having no idea what this is going to be all about and then Nico just starts absolutely rambling away about mythomagic and suddenly they’re bonding!! This is fine actually and yes he will absolutely help Hazel’s slightly terrifying brother get her into his favorite card game (Frank also knows Hazel’s always looking for excuses to spend more time with Nico since they didn’t get to grow up together and so she’s immediately down)

-I need more Leo Reyna friendship content always. They’re so fun to me.

-Rick knew Reyna and Annabeth would be terrifying if they properly got to join forces and therefore had to separate them again immediately lmao

-Addition to that: Leo also does this (gesturing at that bit in ToA where he’s casually all “one time I slept under a bridge for a month” mid-conversation). Leo and Nico will just drop random traumatic shit in the middle of the sentence and then go “oops I forgot I only told specific people about this”. In my head Nico just moves on and refuses to elaborate most of the time lmao. Leo defaults to making stupid jokes about it while everyone looks at him very concerned

-Jason does it too but that’s because he just straight-up doesn’t recognize some of the stuff he went through isn’t generally considered normal. He casually talks about his time with Lupa when he was like two and is so confused when Frank and Hazel and Percy look at him like WTF because “you all went through Lupa training too why are you looking at me weird” “We were teenagers. You were a toddler whose mom ditched him in the woods”

-Now I want to pull my copy of MoA out to check but I’m pretty sure Leo would have been more freaked out by the whole underwater centaur situation (and just in general the whole boat situation) if he couldn’t swim. However, if for one reason or another Esperanza didn’t get around to teaching him to swim when he was little, I wonder if Jason and Piper took the time to teach him over their six months at camp (considering they knew they’d spend a bunch of time in a boat that would be a very reasonable thing to do). That’s a fun thought.

-Please feel free to elaborate on deaf Will hcs if you want to I’m 👀

-Thinking about tiny Nico and Bianca with their mom is always so devastating to me I’m glad he got a bit of closure but ughhh this poor kid.

Thank you for all the lovely headcanons!! As you can maybe tell I really enjoyed them haha

Trying not to make the same mistake as last week and be a bit more well-prepared this time, so asking in advance: tomorrow will be horribly stressful and I would really appreciate getting some kind of fluffy headcanons or asks or something that I can distract myself with :)

[writersblockedx]

Protector of the Party: Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Scapegoat

PAIRING - Steve Harrington X Reader BASED OFF - 1x04 WARNINGS - Mentions of death, drug use, mental illness and violence WORDS - 3.1K

Read on AO3 / Wattpad 

Series Masterlist Masterlist

It was late. Y/n was lurking outside her younger cousins room. The echo of police sirens still rung in her head. She could tell Dustin was still awake by the yellow night light which seeped under the small cap between the floor and the door. However, Y/n couldn't tell if he wanted to talk or not. All the girl really knew was that his best friend had just been confirmed dead and she had no idea what to do.

She took a sharp inhale and knocked at the wood of the door. She waited a moment or two, when no yell of protest came, she gently opened the door. Dustin was sat up in his bed, blankets hovered over his shoulders as his eyes gazed upon a couple of scrap papers that Y/n was too far away to be able to make out. The girl leant against the doorway and sent the most sympathetic smile she was able to conjure up. "You alright?"

The curly haired boy shrugged, "Yeah." He told her as if he himself wasn't even sure.

Y/n could tell he certainly wasn't; she didn't expect him to be. She wondered across to the room, gently shutting the door behind her and taking a seat at the end of the bed. "This is not meant to be easy for you, Dustin." She started, watching as his gaze fell from her and back to the paper in his lap. "But I'm here for you, always. If you ever want to talk, or not to talk." She offered.

Dustin didn't say anything at first, instead, he passed the sheets of papers over to Y/n. He glanced across them, lined paper but with pencil drawings written all over them. Y/n didn't have to ask to know they were of the party and that Will had been the one to draw them.

"Mike doesn't think it's actually Will." He started and Y/n felt her heart sting. Childish imagination was something she daren't break - even more so when it was covering up a death of a loved one. "You see, that girl, the one with the shaved head, she's eleven, she's got super powers. Said she knows Will's still alive." He went on.

"And this eleven? How do you really know her - because I know she's not Mike's cousins?" She questioned, concern weaved through her words.

Dustin was hesitant to answer, "We erm- bumped into her." Y/n waited for him to continue. "In the woods, when we were out searching for Will." Exactly what they had been told not to do.

"I'm surprised your mom didn't kill you for that." She laughed a little as she glanced at Dustin.

"Same night Hopper had to bring you home." Ah.

"Well then, you're welcome." While she hadn't done it on purpose, Dustin still was thankful his oddly late return home had been overlooked by the police car that had been parked outside.

There came a pause after that. They both felt the tone of the atmosphere turn sorrow as the lingering thoughts of Will infected their minds. After around a minute, Dustin looked back at his older cousin, now lacking his toothless grin. "Y/n?" He began and the girl met his pupils. "What happens if Mike's wrong? If that really is Will?" Suppose childish imagination only spread so far.

Y/n thought for a moment how she was meant to answer that. "There'll be a funeral and then-"

"No no," Dustin cut in, "I mean, what will happen to the party?"

"I suppose that's up the three of you." The girl replied. "But it's always best if you're to stick together. This isn't something any of you should go through alone."

Another pause. This time broken by Dustin crashing into Y/n, seeking comfort in his older cousin as a few tears fell. Y/n felt almost shocked by the force but still wrapped her arms around him as he cried and wept. She didn't let go until he did.

That next morning, Y/n had been excused from first period as she joined Johnathan and Joyce in visiting the morgue. As she wasn't family, she wasn't allowed in the room with them. Honestly, she didn't want to. Knowing Will was dead was enough for her. But Joyce was still on her trip of flickering lights and phone calls from the young boy. Maybe seeing his lifeless body on the cold table would change that, or maybe she was slowly being devoured by grief.

It was times like this, as the girl leant her head back against the wall behind her, she found that she yearned for the childish imagination Dustin had. To actually believe that perhaps that body meters away from her wasn't really Will and that Hawkins Lab was pulling strings on this like the young boy was a puppet. She'd rather that than Will not be around at all. But the likely hood of that, it was unbelievable.

The door to the morgue swung open, the bell ringing as Hopper's heavy cop boots thudded against the floor. He flicked his hat off, smiled to the receptionist and took the seat next to Y/n. "How have they been?" He asked as they both stared off into the distance, their eyes trained on the door Joyce and Johnathan had since walked through.

"Joyce is still demanding that Will is-" Y/n could barely get the words out. Joyce had taken care of her when she was little. And to see her falling down this mental spiral the same way her mother had, it lit the same dull pain in her gut. So just to even speak of it, it wasn't so eas. "That Will is in the lights. And- And Johnathan, well, he hasn't really said much."

"Maybe this will give them both some closure." Or make the riff between the mother and son worse.

Y/n shifted in her seat as her next words came out in whisper. "What about the Lab?" She questioned, reminding the cop of the lead that they had started chasing up the day prior.

Hopper took a moment before even thinking of answering, "It's just a theory." He told her.

She glanced over, him feeling her eyes, he looked back. "A theory that might expose the murders of a young boy." It seemed so simple, but if it even had a slim chance of finding out the truth from whatever grip this Lab might have on the strings of it all, that it'd be worth it - for Joyce.

Hopper had no time to reply as the door they had both been yearning to open, finally did. Only Johnathan walked out. He was obviously in distress as his hands caught in his hair and his eyes jolted around the room until they settled on Y/n. She jumped from the chair she had been sitting on and guided herself to Johnathan. "Are you okay?" She asked in slow voice.

It took him a moment, but he nodded. "Yeah, yeah."

Hopper soon dragged himself from his seat and joined the side of Y/n. "Can I ask you something?" Johnathan nodded as he shuffled closer to Y/n, unsure of Hopper and his intentions when it came to Will. "How long has still stuff been going on? With the lights and Will and the things in the wall?"

The younger boy shrugged as he thought back on the days that had passed. "Since the first phone call, I guess." When the phone itself had blown up.

Y/n's eyes jumped between the two as she pondered over Hopper's reasoning for the question - wondering whether it happened to be linked to Hawkins Lab's kidnapping of children and other suspicious activity they hid from the police. "You know she's had anxiety problems in the past." Johnathan continued. "But this? I don't know...I'm worried it could be-" He stopped himself as he thought about what Joyce might be leading herself into. In the end, he shook his head at the idea and muttered, "I don't know."

"Something like what my mother has." Y/n added herself. The women had never spoke of lights or things in the walls, but she conjured up ideals of having the ability to travel into minds and to tap into people's consciousness. Pure nonsense.

"Yeah, something like that." Johnathan said as tears started to prick at his eyes just at the thought of where his family might end up after all this. "She's okay. We'll be okay." He assured. "My mom, she's tough." He laughed to himself but it was true.

As did Hopper agree, "Yeah, she is."

Ironic timing followed as the door the morgue slammed opened and Joyce stormed out. Each of them all turned. "Ma'am! Ma'am I need you to sign-" The examiner demanded as his voice rose.

Joyce spun around and threw her hands in his face. "No! I don't know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son." She told him.

Hopper attempted to step in, "Joyce wait a second-"

"No." And with that she left without signing any papers.

The three of them all stood there, taking in the words she had said. The thoughts that ran through her mind of which she was convinced of. And no matter how she was getting mocked for her belief, Joyce never backed down.

Johnathan shuffled on his feet, already shoving his fingers into his jean pockets, searching for his car keys. "I should go get her." He uttered, already wondering towards the exit.

"I'll see you at school?" Y/n asked, unsure as to whether he would make it with how Joyce was dealing today.

He shrugged as his back pushed the door open. "Maybe." Like that, he vanished into town.

Y/n sighed as she faced back with Hopper and the desperate examiner who still held the blank document. She glanced up to the chief, "What'd you say about closure again?" It was a nice idea from Hopper, but one of which hadn't come to fruition.

"Haven't you got class or something?" Hopper reminded the girl.

"Something like that yeah." She responded. "See you soon, chief." She spoke as she made her way to the exit, leaving Hopper to deal with the examiner as she caught the bus to school.

Y/n wasn't quite sure what she was meant to do. Johnathan was probably running after Joyce, making sure she stayed in check. And now she was sat in her history class learning about the British Empire as the people around her were falling apart. Not to mention, the chief of police had gathered enough evidence and leads to suggest somethings most would class as a conspiracy theory. So attention was proving to be a little difficult recently.

Mrs Click was in the midst of her exaggerated description of the battle of Saratoga, when the door to the classroom opened. The overly nosey receptionist stood in the doorway, her glasses sat at the very edge of her nose. "Y/n Henderson, please." She requested and Y/n felt all eyes fall to her.

Her brows became knitted but she gathered her books and bag, grateful that at least she was excused to miss a part of the lesson. The receptionist led the girl through school, passing Nancy Wheeler and her mother, Karen, as they wondered out of the cafeteria. Whatever this was, Y/n was certain she didn't like the look of it. What was she involved in that was too connected to the Princess of Hawkins High?

"You can make you're own way back after you're done." The receptionist informed. Y/n was about to question after she was done with what, but the women was already walking away, so going it alone seemed like her only option.

The girl entered the cafeteria. At first, it was completely empty. Then her gaze fell to the two police officers she was far to familiar with. Callahan and Powell sat next to one another at one of the lunch tables, papers and files in front of them. They both looked up when the noise of the door swinging open was sounded. "Y/n," Said Powell. "Come take a seat."

Y/n longed to be sat back in Click's class with her minds away with her theories and thoughts. Not here where police were breathing down her neck. For a moment, she pondered over the idea if Nancy had snitched. Maybe Steve had mentioned about the deal he had organised a few days ago and that little Princess couldn't handle little Stevie being in danger. "Shit." She swore under her breath before finally making her way to the lunch table and sitting across from them both.

She didn't speak first. "We're just wanting to have a chat about a party, happened on Tuesday?" Powell started as he made direct eye contact with the girl.

"And what you may have brought to said party." Callahan added quieter, earning him a glare from Powell who had been trying to keep this interview some-what professional.

Y/n shook her head lightly as she thought back on her week, "The last party I went to was my little Cousin's birthday party. I've got no idea what you're talking about."

The two officers shared an expression which bubbled fear in Y/n's gut. She wished Hopper had been here. "From what we've been told, there was a party at Steve Harrington's house. We have confirmed that Nancy Wheeler attended, Steve Harrington, Carol Perkins, Tommy Hagan and Barbra Holland." Powell listed and Y/n felt her brows furrow in confusion as she attempted to follow this story she certainly hadn't been a part of. "Barbara hasn't been seen since. We're just trying to get the full picture here."

"There was one report which suggested you showing up at some point during the night," Callahan started. "Apparently you heard about this party, thought it would be a good shot to sell."

Y/n scoffed as she listened. "You mean, that's what Steve Harrington told you?" She wanted to point out that he was simply using the local outcast as a way to cover up his own unlawful actions. She guessed he got scared with cops sniffing around this party where there was most likely drinks and smoking and used her as his way out.

The two didn't dare reply to that; only confirming Y/n's suspicions. "Okay then, where were you that Tuesday night if you weren't at this party?" Powell interrogated.

"I was at home, with my Aunty, looking after my little cousin, Dustin, who had just found out his best friend was missing." Y/n informed.

Callahan noted something down on the paper in front of him before glancing back up at the girl, "And this was two nights after me and Hopper caught you down at Lover's Lake?" He asked.

Y/n held in her scoff this time and forced out a smile that only showed how irritated she really was. "Yes, it was." She confirmed. She looked to Powell as her smile disintegrated, "Can I go now?"

The officer seemed unsure but nodded, "We might need to speak to you again." He said, but Y/n had stopped listening, already throwing her bag back over her shoulder and making her escape.

Y/n never made it back to Click's class. Instead, she made her way to the outside the the school, lurking by the rugby filed as she leant against the brick wall. Her leg fidgeted as she attempted to fight against the urge to start pacing. Her minds was running wild with angered thoughts - all directed at Steve Harrington. She wasn't sure what his plan was by throwing her under the bus like that and lying, but the girl certainly wasn't happy about it.

Steve was sure to walk out here at some point during lunch, Tommy and Carol at his side. And she waited for him. At that moment, the girl wasn't sure how she was going to approach him or what she was going to say, only that she couldn't stand the fact he was using her as a scapegoat.

Around ten minutes into lunch, Y/n heard the echo's of Carol's cackle as the trio wondered towards their car. She watched them for a while. Steve's smug smirk seeming to taunt her - even if he had yet to realise she was standing there. Huffing, she dragged herself from the wall and heading straight for the boy.

"Ooo, someone doesn't look happy." Tommy tormented as Y/n came into their sights; Steve's smirk instantly fading as he faced her.

Once he was in distance, Y/n pressed her hands to his chest, pushing back. "The hell do you think you are?" She snapped as she kept pushing and pushing. "Do you even know what you've done?"

Steve grasped both her hands, forcing her to a slow. Tommy and Carol watched in entertainment, trying (and failing) to hide their laughs. "You don't want to do this here." Steve said in a harsh whisper, so low that not even Tommy or Carol could hear it. Her stern glared stuck as she waited for Steve's next move. "Come on."

And so Steve dragged Y/n away from the car, between two of the school buildings where no students passed through. He didn't let go of her wrist until there was no sign of anyone else around. Y/n thought it was because he didn't want her to hit him again in front of everybody. As soon as they entered the smaller area, Steve stood at one side, Y/n at the other.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" He began but all Y/n was hearing was lies. "I had to give the police the story they wanted to hear. That way we all get off scot free." He attempted to convince.

She scoffed, "Scot free? They could have searched me from what you told them, could have gotten me arrested, Steve. And I wasn't even at your stupid party!" She ranted.

"Oh come on, Hopper never would have let that happen."

"There is only so much he can keep me out of." Y/n knew that, that's why she was smart. Guess selling to Steve Harrington wasn't a smart move. "I should have known selling to you was a mistake. The first opportunity you get and you grass me up. For something I didn't even do!"

Steve suddenly turned sheepish, struggling to meet the glare of the girl. "I'm sorry." He repeated.

"No you're not." She stated out of the blue. "You never mean it, Harrington." She said that if referring to something else. And that's what stung guilt at Steve's gut. Y/n scoffed as she gathered herself, "Hope mummy and daddy still view you as their perfect son." She commented before giving him one last stare and leaving.

Steve stood utterly still as she walked away. Her words echoed in his mind as he kept replying the last ten minutes in his head. He quickly came to the realisation of that what he had done was wrong and that, yeah, he deserved what he had just got.

--

Chapter Four (Breaking and Entering) to be published on Sunday 8pm (BST) Taglist - @fanficfanatic204 @neverylee (let me know if you would like to be added or removed)

[sanosimp]

hi!! can i request wherein reader and wakasa was on a vacay and tried skinny dipping in a jacuzzi. i don’t know it that makes sense, but thank u if u consider it!!

hiiii ~

yes of course i am at your service once again anon. it's officially summer for me, so it is convenient for me to fill this request. please enjoy and when you're done come scream at me in my inbox ill be waiting <3

~ nsfw under the cut you've been warned ~

now it's not very often you get alone time with your significant other. being a busy man and all that, it's rare to have some peace, free of distractions or whatever it is that typically forces you two to part. 

so imagine your surprise when you walk through the door, pull off your shoes, and your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. his absence isn't the surprising part, typically away and only returns home after hours. no, the surprising part is the state of distress that the small apartment has fallen into. 

on the couch is a pile of clothes, your clothes, accompanied by an arrangement of shoes on the floor in a line by the coffee table. there's music playing somewhere in the place, a low whistling following the tune. a new bouquet of carnations in the center of the table a sign that your boyfriend was indeed home, just nowhere in your current view. 

throwing your keys in the bowl by the door, you adventure off in hopes to find the cause behind the disastrous mess in the place. Friday's are reserved for relaxation in your household, strictly takeout and couch cuddles, so the sight is enough to spike your anxiety thinking about how much time it'll take to reorganize. the whistling gets louder the closer you get to the bedroom, the guilty party probably making even more mess in there compared to the living room. rounding the corner by the door frame, you prop an arm up to watch him scramble on his side of the room, pulling open draws and causing chaos amongst his clothes for reasons you don't know. 

wakasa imaushi is a sight to behold. despite being with him for a while now, he always seems to be able to steal your breath away, no one holding a candle to his charm in your eyes. you take a moment to eye every little detail of his on full display for you as he stands back to you, shirtless to combat the humidity despite the sun slowly disappearing. You allow your eyes to roam from the sharp jawline in full view with his hair up to the bead of sweat that travels from his neck down his broad shoulders from the summer heat that consumes the apartment. you could feel the want to jump him right then and there but become easily sidetracked the moment he pulls a hoodie out of a draw and haphazardly tosses it over his shoulder, still very unaware of your presence. 

"okay what have you done and why are we fleeing the country?" he turns around, startled by the voice that calls to him other than his own. "who said were fleeing the country? i didn't do anything... that the feds know at least." he pauses his endeavor and easily finds his way to you across the room. you laugh at his remark as he finds your waist and consumes your personal space, drawing you into him so hard you have to stand on your toes to reach his neck with your arms. "so then i wanna hear the excuse for the disaster i've come home to after a long day.” 

he huffs and pulls back to see your face, hands spreading on your hips to keep you within his reach, fingertips teasing under your shirt. you feel the hitch in your throat as his eyes bore into yours, lilac swimming to the depths of your soul in a trance. no matter how many times you have been near him he always blows you out the water in disbelief that he's really yours to hold. " the only escape we're making is to the Airbnb i rented for the weekend. you have three days free, i have three days free, and we need to get the fuck out of here or i'm gonna go crazy." you know he's serious by the tone he uses, urgent and forward. 

it's been obvious how much stress he's been under recently, his mood cloudier than usual, eye bags from lack of sleep, and the drowsy way he carries himself around are physical proof of the burdens. you feel a pang of sympathy strike your heart knowing he does so much for so many, putting anyone of importance in his life before him in the rank of priorities. you kiss him slowly hoping it portrays every ounce of emotion you feel for him at the moment as he meets you with the same intensity.

he draws back causing you to pout, saddened by the distance which is quickly chased away as he picks you up and flawlessly tosses you over his shoulder. a squeal and a series of giggles, you're kicking your legs in any form of resistance that you can at this angle. "put me down this instant you savage." he easily captures your calves in his left hand to keep you from loosening his grip, smacking his right hand on your thigh before tossing you on the couch. "pack a bag. i've already picked out some of my favorite things to make your packing easier. we leave in 30.”

you scoff in disbelief at his antics as he walks back into the bedroom, narrowing your eyes at the 'favorite things' part and glancing at the pile that waits for you. "oh please we both know if you had it your way, i'd be naked all weekend." his laugh is hearty and melodic as it echos down the hall and into the living room. "who said that's not happening?" shaking your head you begin as he asked, packing in excitement for your weekend getaway.

~~~~~

what he didn't tell you, over an hour later, was how luxurious the Airbnb was. 

he hopped out of the driver's seat of your car and jogged around to the passenger seat to escort you out, grinning at the wide-eyed look on your face. he holds a hand out towards you to lift you up and out of the car before closing the door behind you and walking towards the trunk.

the house was small, obviously only meant to host one party at a time. the one-bedroom house had a full porch out front with a charming white bench swing on the right of the entrance. flicking on the lights you saw that the single-floor house proved to be quite the space, the kitchen and living room combined but not cramped boasted an open concept, giving the house an airy vibe. the door to the bedroom was on the left of the tv accompanied by another door to match on the opposite side which you guessed was the bathroom. 

you stood in the center of the area looking up to the skylight which you were excited to see in the daytime, just imagining the room bathed in sunlight come morning. "so you like it or what?" you flew towards the boy who had just settled the bags into the room as he caught you in both arms, lifting you off your feet. "baby what in the world did you do to get this? you know what don't tell me i don't want to be liable." he laughs and kisses your cheek before planting you back on your feet. "i didn't do anything. had some money tucked to the side, exchanged some favors, nothing illegal i swear." you playfully smack him on the shoulder in response and turn away from him, allowing him to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. 

your eyes scan the place again before noticing the glass door towards the back. "what's back there?" he places a soft kiss behind your ear in response and pushes you forward to go look. what sold the place was the back. flinging open the back door leading to a private yard which was decorated in string bulbs of light hung over the wood deck. beyond the fence, you could hear the waves of the tide meeting the sand on the shore, having direct access to the beach through the gate. another highlight was the jacuzzi that was lit up in the corner of the yard. you turned back inside towards the bedroom where Waka was diligently unpacking things into draws and replacing the pillowcases. 

"there's a fucking jacuzzi?! can we go in it?!" he chuckles zipping up his bag and tossing it onto the dresser. "yes baby as soon as we're settled in." so settling in is what you did, putting things away to your liking and changing your clothes into swimwear. the second you were done you were scrambling towards the back again, closing the door behind you. it was well past eleven pm with no sounds other than the occasional crash of the waves and the quiet hum from the tub.

the sky was clear and the stars were brighter on the shore during the summer, humidity more manageable now with the sun on the other side of the planet. you teased the water with your toes, allowing your body to acknowledge the heat before taking the steps into the water. you heard the door open and close again, your boyfriend was once again shirtless accompanied by the complimentary bottle of champagne and two glasses that the host left on the table with the binder of information (which neither of you had decided to glance at but that's beside the point). 

he puts the items down to the side of the deck and follows you in, going straight into the water with no care in the world over the change of temperature. he easily settles in on the bench and opens his arms towards you, water rising almost halfway up his torso, and sighs as you follow his silent request. he just holds you there for a minute before scooping your legs over his lap, now straddling him, face to face. 

your foreheads meet as you cup both his cheeks, his eyes still closed as you settle in and get comfortable. when he decides he's ready he begins to open up to you about his stresses. "i needed this so bad. i got into a fight with Shinichiro. i didn't even apologize i just left and said nothing. i didn't want to make it worse but im sure he hates me now."

at this revelation, you scoff and bring his attention to you, tilting his head up so he's looking you in the eyes like earlier. "you too are as thick as thieves. there's no way a silly little argument is gonna come between that. he loves you to death as you love him." he's pouting now and you almost want to laugh but you know it takes a lot to get him to open up, not typically wanting to burden those around him with his issues. "lets talk about it later okay? you can tell me all about it and whatever you want later. right now it's just you and me and this tiny house to ourselves so let's unwind.”

you run your hands from his face to his neck towards his shoulders, allowing him to pull you closer by the grip he has on your thighs before he captures your lips in a kiss. there's nothing romantic about the slight taste of chlorine that lingers in the air and on your skin, but there's so much romance that radiates off the man in front of you. it starts slow and tender, like it always does, taking a moment to appreciate the other. it's when his teeth meet your bottom lip as he sighs into your mouth when things get hotter and your body instinctively grinds into his. your hips are flush to his as he's pulling you impossibly closer, hands now gripping your sides to bruise as he leads your motions.

his slow descent starts from your lips to your cheek, to your neck, biting and sucking his way to your collarbones. at one particular harsh nip, you sigh and pull at the stands of his head, a low groan emitting from the back of his throat. you can feel his fingertips playfully pull at the top you're wearing, entertaining the thought but not quite doing enough to take it off. "you think there's a rule about being naked in the jacuzzi in that binder?" 

at this you yank him up, face so serious it sends you into a fit of giggles, him laughing with you as well. "they won't know right? i'm sure someone has done it before." you drag him back into a kiss while he takes off your top this time with intent, only separating to pull it completely off. he's teasing you with the kiss, his tongue meeting yours for the briefest of seconds before pulling away, alternating between grinding and kissing. 

your own hands begin to explore as well, running down from his shoulders, gently scraping your nails down his body the way you know he likes as your own form of teasing. it's too easy the way your hand slips past the waistband of his shorts, wrapping your fingers around him effortlessly stroking him to complete hardness. he groans heavily into your mouth and shimmies out of his shorts the best he can with you on top of him. "you're so fucking perfect for me. i can't take it anymore." you simply hum in response, too focused on tightening your grip around the base to keep him on edge.

he doesn't even try to take off your bottoms, using his fingers to slip the fabric to the side, thumbing your clit in hasty circles to pay attention to you as well. it's a little harsher than to your liking, the water not acting as much of a lubricant as you would've liked. your foreheads meet again as you're breathing heavily now, cheeks flushed red due to the intimacy and the heat radiating from the water. “i want you. i want you so bad please.” if you weren't on top of him, you could imagine him on his knees, begging you to advance and the thought makes you bite your lip and nod your head without a second thought.

he lifts your hips out of the water as he lowers his shorts to give himself room to breathe. the cool air sends a shiver down your spine, a drastic temperature change now out of the hot water that kept you away from the night chill. his raised thighs keep you above the water as his tip runs up and down your slit, coaxing your natural fluids to take place of the chlorinated water now running down your thighs chasing the water you rose from. 

he lifts your hand to your mouth with his free hand. “spit.” you comply instantly and his eyes brighten slightly in bewilderment, grinning at the easy obedience as he guides your hand back to his length, prompting you to stroke him. when he is satisfied with the glide of your hand, he smacks your wrist away and aligns the tip with your entrance, panting into his ear as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. he buries himself into you until bottoming out, letting out twin moans as a release from the tension. it had been some time since the last time you two were joined this way making the increase in friction slightly unbearable. he allows you a second to breathe, before lowering you both back into the water. 

he sighs as both of you are lowered into the water, steam increasing since cool skin has met the water again. both of his hands are on your hips now slightly tightening his grip every few seconds as the two of you are rediscovering each other through tongue and teeth. the drag of your hips over his is led by him, slow and steady as he grinds you into him impossibly deeper. “you doing okay sweetheart?” you merely groan in response, unable to concentrate on anything other than him filling you to the brim and the increased friction that comes from the surrounding water. your elbows rest on his shoulders as a base, one arm dangling straight back towards the wall, the other running a hand through his hair, pulling on the ends. one particular sharp tug draws a sharp breath from him as he grinds you down harder.

your breathing is sharp and unsteady, coming in quick before drawing out again while his last straw of patience is drawn. he is sharp in his thrusts, practically feeling the tip of him for every detail as his breath hits your neck, hot and damp as he buries his face into your neck. everything is hot and damp heightening your senses as your lower body grows accustomed to the heat and your upper body cools down with the slight breeze of the night. the difference in temperature drives you crazy as you become hyperaware of every sensation you're experiencing. 

the sink down is slower than the rise up with the increased friction that comes from the water but it adds a new level of sensation to your body that you had never experienced. his pace is steady but considerate and his touch sets fire to your skin, hands roaming from your waist slowly rising with every inhale of breath he takes. its torture, every slight movement setting fire to your nerve endings, bringing you both closer. you're leaving open-mouthed kisses on the soft skin of his neck catching the hitch of his breath every so often up close to your ear, biting his ear which draws out a long moan from him. 

he's getting closer and it's obvious in the way his movements become harsher, more frantic, and in need rather than passionate and sensual. his breathing spikes and it sends a shiver through your whole body every time a groan slips past his lips. everything is too much and too little at the same time, his hands are close to their destination now as he slightly pushes you back to initiate eye contact. his hand wraps around your neck and your eyes widen in response, pushing further into his grasp and encouraging the behavior. he is beyond emotions right now, with no usual smug look or any feature in his eyes other than comfortable lust, focused solely on your pleasure. 

it takes one more particular squeeze on your airway that sends you straight off the cliff, a long-drawn-out whine in response to a powerful orgasm you didn't even notice coming, hitting you like a freight train. he's stopped his thrusts and is weakly grinding into you, meeting his end shortly after yours, eyes closed and head resting back on the concrete that surrounds the tub. his face is flushed and his eyebrows are drawn apart in complete bliss and you allow your body to slump into his as his body draws closer to yours in response. he's still attempting to catch his breath but his unsteady breathing does not prevent him from leaving a few scattered kisses on your neck as a silent claim of affection or a thank you for just being.

there are a few minutes of recuperation shared between you focused solely on breathing and coming to when a low hum of a chuckle is heard from the man below you. you're tracing the patterns of the cement with your eyes when he draws your attention with the barely-there noise. “what's so funny huh? wanna share it with the class?” his grip on your waist tightens quickly before releasing and stroking your skin. 

“did you notice the cameras before when you were out here?” your mind goes straight into panic mode, all the bliss leaving your limbs at once as you draw back to find him not looking at you but directly over your shoulder. your eyes widen as you slowly turn your head to follow the direction of his eyes and to your horror, your met with the little red light blinking back at you confirming the recording in progress. 

“son of a bit-”

~ please share ~

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: eren x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol. side aruani and yumihisu. honestly just a feel-good fic, with humour and fluff <3

♡   —   a/n:  honestly, this is the most “romantic comedy” fic i’ve ever written and i love it <3 shout out to @ofoceansandtombstones​ that beta read this one mwah thank u

♡   —   masterlist

There was an ill taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many drinks you had. And you already had more than a few. From your spot on the table, you could see your friends dancing and having the time of their lives. You really wished you could join them. Nevertheless, you had wasted all your energy forcing a smile and clapping along during the ceremony. Once you had arrived at the hotel reception with the rest of the guests, you had slid a bill to a kind waitress and told her to keep the drinks coming. 

Ymir and Historia were dancing in front of you. Stoic, sour-faced Ymir couldn’t help but smile as her sweet girlfriend twirled and giggled, her cheeks red and eyes just the tiniest bit unfocused. Next to them, Sasha, Jean and Connie were owning the dance floor, moving in sync to the happy music. A grin formed on your face as you saw Connie lifting Sasha up and her almost falling to the floor. Jean was holding his stomach as he laughed loudly.

On a nearby table, Mikasa looked over at them, a small smile on his lips. She was sitting next to her girlfriend, who was holding her hand as they watched their friends dance. You saw her girlfriend leaning over to her and whispering something in her ear, to which she chuckled. It was so strange -and so beautiful- to see Mikasa laugh that it took you aback. And apparently, also the girl she was with, because her lips slightly parted as she watched her in awe.

“How’s the party animal doing?”

You looked up and saw Eren staring down at you with a funny expression. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons were undone, and he was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and a beer on his other hand.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for everyone,” you replied with a shrug. Eren scoffed and took the seat next to you on the empty table, leaving his jacket on the nearest chair.

“I mean, I know attending your ex’s wedding isn’t bound to be a good time, but you’d think you would try to put on a happy face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, at least I’m here.”

“After Mikasa tried her best to convince you during a whole week,” he said. You turned your head to Eren, eyes wide open. “What? Of course she told me.”

“That little… That’s it, I’m going to tell her girlfriend about that one time Mikasa got drunk with us,” you muttered angrily, standing up. Eren was quicker and pulled you back to your seat.

“You and Armin broke up a year ago. Why are you so upset he’s moving on?”

Before you could answer, the music stopped and the dance floor erupted in applause. Eren and you watched as Armin and Annie walked in between their guests, greeting everyone as they made their way to the bride and groom table, covered with a pearl cloth and decorated with the finest flowers. Every detail screamed elegance and you knew Armin had been the one to decide most of it. It had his taste written in every napkin and strategically placed flower.

Armin’s smile was almost too big for his face and if you had to guess, those small red marks on the external corner of his eyes meant he had been crying just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes. So sentimental. On the other hand, Annie’s smile was far less noticeable, but for someone who always repressed her public displays of emotions as much, that little smile must have felt heavenly to her new husband.

Husband. You took a big gulp of your drink.

“I’m telling you this because I care for you,” Eren said, redirecting your attention to him. “You’re looking like a petty ex.”

“Rather be petty than a cheater,” you shrugged, finishing your drink. You gestured to the waitress and she immediately walked to you, handing you a full glass. Thanking her, you wasted no time in taking a sip.

Eren’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Armin never told you why we broke up, right?”

Eren scooted his chair closer to you and you bit back a laugh.

“He said you just weren’t good together,” he said, trying to remember his friend’s words. “And you said something similar when I asked you back then. Where does this ‘cheating’ thing come from?”

You let out a long sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Not by definition, at least. But when your boyfriend starts dating someone else a week after you broke up a two-year-long relationship and he gets engaged four months later… you draw your own conclusions,” you explained, taking another sip of your drink and making a grimace. “Fuck, this one’s strong.”

After not getting a response from Eren for a long moment, you finally turned to look for his emerald eyes. You could almost see the numbers flying around his mind, trying to make sense of everything you had just told him. It was endearing.

“Wait, no-- wait,” Eren gestured at you with his hand. He stopped himself again and took a sip of his beer. “The first time Armin told me about Annie was in February. I remember it clearly. We were shopping for Mikasa’s birthday gift and then he went to pick something for Annie. And you guys broke up around Halloween, that’s the time I found you crying-- in Jean's backyard during our costume party.”

“We had a big fight at that party. We hadn’t broken up,” you clarified with a smirk. “He broke up with me after Mikasa’s birthday party. The same party he convinced me not to attend.”

Eren’s face dropped once all the pieces clicked together. He turned his body to look at the bride and groom table, where Armin and Annie were taking a sip of their champagne glasses and talking to each other enthusiastically, while the rest of their guests kept dancing.

“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out. You burst out laughing at his reaction. “No, I mean it! I really thought you had broken up during that Halloween party! You didn’t upload any more photos together, I don’t even remember even seeing you together--”

“I told you, we were fighting and… not in the mood for photos or public dates. Most of those months were spent at his apartment, fighting over really, really stupid things or just not texting each other for days,” you explained. “Honestly, when he broke up with me he made the decision I was too afraid to take. He was right, we weren’t good for each other anymore. But... fuck,” you chuckled icily. “I wish he would have broken up with me before getting with Annie.”

Eren listened in silence, his eyes still on his friend. You gave him time as you kept drinking, your gaze drifting to your friends again. You really wished you could have the energy to join them and forget Armin and Annie. It was true you didn’t love him anymore, yet seeing them together only made you remember how you had been fooled by someone you thought loved you the most.

You had had many dates ever since, but no one ever stuck. It was fun, getting someone’s attention for a couple of weeks, but then you couldn’t help but ghost them, putting up shitty excuses like wanting to focus on yourself and not having enough time to spare with them. You had lost so many amazing opportunities with both boys and girls that a couple of months ago you had decided to stop dating at all. It was lonely for sure, but at least you didn’t find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to open yourself up emotionally for someone else.

“Want to get back at him?”

You turned to Eren so fast you almost hurt your neck.

“What?”

“I have an idea. Just play along,” he explained, standing up.

“Eren, hey, what are you--”

“Everybody! If you could give me a minute please!”

You watched horrified as your friends started turning to you and Eren, confused at the commotion. Eren kept waving his hand, gathering more and more people’s attention, Armin and Annie included. He even gestured to the DJ to lower the music and she complied. In a few seconds, all the guests of the party were looking at you, who was still sitting down with a confused expression, a drink in your hand. Once he deemed enough people were looking at him, you saw him fumbling with his hands nervously.

“Eren,” you called for him again in a whisper, but all he did was take the drink you had in your hands and put it on the table.

“Sorry for interrupting, I know a lot of you were having a lot of fun dancing. But all I’m asking is one minute of your time. I hope that’s okay with you guys,” he grinned back to the bride and groom table, where they were as confused as all the guests around. “I have something really important to say.”

“Eren, no, you can’t tell them about--”

“No, no, give me a moment,” he hushed you again. The DJ walked to both of you and handed an inalambric microphone to Eren.

You didn’t like how devilish his smile turned.

“Great, thanks, this is much better,” he told the DJ, who just kindly smiled at him. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of the bride and groom’s time, so I’ll try to be concise. The thing is…” he said, turning to face you. “I love you.”

Your mouth flew open as you heard multiple gasps coming from the guests. Yet, you couldn’t bother with looking anywhere but Eren’s eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have feelings for you? If he wanted to say something, he could have easily said something a few minutes ago, when--

Just play along.

Oh.

Your questioning glare turned into a big smile and you noticed Eren softly nodding at you.

“You already know how much I love you. Honestly, I never get tired of telling you so. And hiding our love from our friends has probably been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sorry about that, Mikasa,” he said, gesturing to the woman.

You could imagine your friend’s dumbfounded face, but you knew better than to turn and check for yourself. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter.

“So I’m here in front of all our friends and some other guests I don’t know to ask a simple question.”

In a swift movement, Eren got down on one knee. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, trying your best to hide any trace of laughing on your face. The flash of the cameras startled you for a moment, but that only meant Eren’s plan was working. The excited murmurs and squeals only fueled Eren, as he pulled up a ring and showed it to you. You immediately recognized it as one of the rings he had been wearing a few moments ago. 

“Would you marry me?”

A huge, honest grin made its way to your face and you nodded quickly. You grabbed the microphone Eren was holding and spoke right into it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

You hadn’t listened to a crowd erupting in applause and cheers as loud as the guests at Armin’s wedding when Eren slid his ring on your finger. Once again, the flash of the cameras were right into the both of you as you leaped into his arms. He stood up while holding your body close to him, even giving you a small spin and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally put you down, the music resumed and all your friends began running to the both of you.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered to Eren, holding his face between your hands. He laughed.

“Kinda ruined the reception, huh?”

“When the fuck did this happen?” Jean inquired as soon as he reached you.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” Sasha whined, with a small pout. “But congratulations!” she quickly followed, hugging you tightly. As you hugged her back, you felt someone taking the hand that was now wearing Eren’s ring.

“This is one of your rings,” she noted, shooting Eren a dirty glance. He lifted his hands in surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this! But I will get her a prettier one soon,” he said, winking at you. You laughed and shook your head.

“Nah, I like this one,” you replied. You shared a knowing grin and soon it was Connie’s turn to hug you.

While you were hugging your friend back, you saw in the corner of your eye Armin getting up from the table and starting to walk to both of you. Your smile immediately vanished from your face and once Eren caught it and followed your eye trail, he understood the reason why. You heard him mutter a curse before he pulled you from Connie’s embrace.

“Well, we’d love to stay, but my fiancée and I want some time alone.”

“C’mon, you haven’t told us yet how you got together!” Sasha complained.

“Next time, we promise,” you hurriedly assured her.

Eren picked his suit jacket from the table and before Armin could reach your group, you quickly walked away, exiting the hotel. Eren whistled to a taxi and you jumped inside, telling the man behind the wheel to drive. Loud laughter filled the vehicle as soon as it began moving.

“How-- how did you even have this idea?” you asked him, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Dude, Armin looked so upset, we totally stole his thunder.”

“That was the plan,” Eren shrugged, a winning smirk on his lips. “Knowing the gang, everybody’s going to be talking about us and the engagement for the rest of the party.”

“Remind me to never have you as an enemy,” you chuckled, leaning back on the car seat. Letting out a long sigh, you took off Eren’s ring and handed it to him.

He shook his head. “Nah, keep it. As a souvenir of today,” he winked.

“Thank you,” you smiled. You put the ring on your thumb this time, since it was too big for your ring finger anyway. “You didn’t have to do this at all, and yet--”

“It’s okay,” he assured you.

“No, really. It’s just-- I’ve been having a tough time since the breakup,” you admitted. “To have you doing this for me means a lot. Makes me feel someone really cares for me. I never said anything to anyone back then because Annie is also a part of the group and I thought…”

Eren leaned his head towards you.

“You thought…?”

“I thought you would pick her too. It’s stupid, I know,” you shrugged, turning your head to Eren. “But Armin had just broken up with me and a week later he was already in public with Annie. Back then, I thought everyone knew we had just broken up and if no one had said anything was because they didn’t care. So I just… stopped hanging out with all of you as much as I did before.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he muttered.

“You did?”

Eren nodded. “That’s why I asked Mikasa to pressure you into coming to the wedding. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“You could have just asked me to hang out, you know,” you teased him. Eren chuckled, pushing some of his loose hairs behind his ear.

“I think we know by now I don’t take the conventional route.”

“Yeah, all of the guests know that too,” you quipped, making both of you laugh.

This time, when the laughter came to an end, you realized how close your faces were. Your noses were almost brushing as you both were lying your heads on the back of the car seat. You looked into Eren’s emerald eyes and noticed he wasn’t looking away from yours either. Was it the alcohol that made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink? If it was, then you could say the warmth crawling up your face was its fault too. It had to be the alcohol, or else, you would have to also ponder about the reason your heart was beating out of your chest at having your friend so close to you. He was handsome, he had always been and you knew this. But why were you losing all your composure just now?

A brief look at Eren's lips gave your thoughts away and, in less than two seconds, he was pressing his lips against yours.

For a spur-of-the-moment kiss, as you thought this one was, it was rather soft. Eren kissed you as if he thought you were the most expensive and fragile thing he had ever seen. But of course, this was just a product of the adrenaline and the fact that -as far as you knew- he hadn’t been dating anyone as well, right?

Your small theory crashed and burnt when you felt his hand softly cradling the side of your face. No. This wasn’t an adrenaline kiss, neither one that you gave without a thought. Maybe it had been unprompted and maybe you hadn’t seen it coming, but it sure as hell seemed he did. Eren’s lips gilded against your with ease, revealing a soft tenderness you didn’t know he possessed. You kissed him back, matching his rhythm as you softly pressed your hand against his chest.

Eren pulled away from you softly, and if his longing eyes were any indicator, a bit reluctantly.

“Hi,” he breathed out, making you grin widely.

“Hi,” you replied. You gently caressed his cheek with the knuckles of the hand that was previously resting on his chest. Eren took it and kissed your palm, making your heart flutter.

“Sorry to interrupt kids, but where are we heading?”

The voice of the taxi driver startled you, making you pull away from Eren. He chuckled at your reaction and then looked back at the man.

“Take us to that pizza place near the central park. Gotta have a celebratory dinner with my fiancée,” he said cheekily, taking your hand into his. You squeezed his hand back, his ring digging a little on your skin.

“So young and engaged already? Congrats!” the driver said, turning left and heading towards the direction Eren had given him.

“Thank you!” you smiled brightly at Eren while he took your joint hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

A part of you knew you weren’t taking that ring off anytime soon.

[justsparklingwords]

Hey Al! Can I get HCs for Two-Bit’s S/O taking care of him when he’s sick, or him taking care of the S/O when they’re sick?

A/N: I chose to do both :)

As weird as it sounds, Twobit likes when you’re sick

It gives him an excuse to always be around you

You on the other hand don’t really like him being around

You’re always worried you might get him sick

And that usually happens, but he doesn’t mind

He doesn’t mind pulling your hair back when you’re throwing up

Or giving you cuddles when you have the chills

He’ll draw you a hot bath for you to relax in

No one likes being sick, it brings the mood down, so he likes to bring you flowers to cheer you up

And because it’s Twobit, he tells you jokes to help take your mind off things

He’ll attempt to make you soup but doesn’t make it often enough to know what’s going on

Usually his sister makes the soup so he’ll ask her to make it

And takes credit for it

Sometimes he’ll convince some of the gang to come over to keep you company when he’s unable to watch over you

He’ll stay up all night if he has to just in case you wake up and need something

He’s always prepared with water and extra blankets

As mentioned earlier, Two usually ends up getting sick so it’s your turn to play nurse

He’s always insisting he’s not actually sick and that it’s just one rough day, but you both know the truth

You have to constantly get him to stay in bed

And drink plenty of water and not beer or cola

He usually gets hot flashes when sick so you’re always prepared to dap his forehead/back of neck with a cold, damp rag

You make him soup and practically spoon feed him

He won’t admit it, but he enjoys being babied while ill

He’ll make jokes about how you taking care of him makes him feel like a rich man with a personal nurse

When he’s drowsy, he’ll give you a bunch of compliments

“Babe, you are soooo good to me, even when I’m not sick. I looooove youuu!”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now lay down and get some rest.”

A/N #2: Thanks for the request, Collie! Much love, my friend <3 I hope you all enjoyed! Feedback is welcomed ✨

[kodzumie-archived]

Komaeda eating out a shy fem reader for her first time? She’s nervous but really wants to do this 😔😔

❝PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE❞

Synopsis; Going down on you had always been a fantasy of Nagito’s, and—if you were being honest—yours as well. But will your anxieties allow you to pursue your mutual desire?

Featuring; Nagito Komaeda x Fem! Reader

Warning(s); (N)SFW and cunnilingus (oral sex).

Kodzumie’s Note; Of course I will! I apologize for the delay of your request! Thank you so much for requesting and your support. Take care! Muah <3

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ Truth be told, going down on you had always been a thought situated at the back of his mind when engaging in such erotic intimacy with you.

⤷ It’s a sexual fantasy of his; to swipe his tongue along your slit, collecting your dew and suffocating his senses in your clenching cunt. He dreams to taste you; to indulge in you.

⤷ Though despite how much he yearns to please you, and even follow your wishes of indulging in his own fantasies and pleasuring himself as well, he understood to respect your hesitancy to that particular act.

⤷ Nagito was one of many things, but he wasn’t going to force you into something he knew full well you weren’t comfortable with just yet.

⤷ He knew such a position was one that brought flourishes of vulnerability, and an uncomfortable exposure that you wished to ease into rather than dive in head-first.

⤷ You wanted time, and Nagito was more than willing to let you take as long as you need. Because honestly, he assumed you’d reject the idea without hesitancy, so he was more than willing to be patient.

⤷ At first, Nagito had assumed that you didn’t want him to go down on you. His mindset spiraling into the oh-so-familiar state of degradation that he put upon himself. He assumed that he was the problem, but thankfully, you relentlessly reassured him of otherwise.

⤷ Truthfully, you wanted to do it and, of all people, you’d prefer Nagito to be the one you’d allow to see you so vulnerable. You trusted him, you truly did. But there seemingly was always an inkling of fear; insecurity. What if you didn’t live up to the expectations of his fantasy? What if it didn’t feel as good as you assumed? What if something went wrong?

⤷ It was this seed of worry that lead you to avoid such ministrations. Guiding his head back up to press kissed against your neck rather than any lower.

⤷ Months after the first time he’d proposed the idea, and you’ve yet to engage. Postponing further and further as the urge grows suffocatingly tempting. You want to, you truly do, but...to this point, you begin to wonder; what’s holding you back?

⤷ You question this as you find yourself laid atop the blanketed mattress within your shared bedroom, bare and exposed to Nagito’s eyes as he looms above you with a tantalizing hunger in his eyes.

⤷ As his eyes interlock with yours, they soften for a moment before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, capturing a patch of skin between his lips as he licks and suckles. He marks your skin, staking his claim as he continues to travel farther down.

⤷ But once his lips reach between the valley of your breasts, peppering your chest in fleeting kisses before moving to take your right, hardened nipple within his mouth, he doesn’t dare travel further. Even as he loses himself in the curves of your body, he firmly ingrains your comfort with each fervent kiss.

⤷ You notice this. You’ve always noticed this; the way he puts your comfort and wishes as his priority, even when dazed by his craving to ravish you.

⤷ So that’s why, as you reluctantly swallowed back the anxious lump in your throat, you cup his cheeks and direct have a gaze back to you. Confusion sparks within his ghostly green hues as you refer to him with a shaky grin. “I think I’m ready.”

⤷ It took a moment or two before he managed to muster out some sort of reaction. His eyes widened as his mouth gaped open; his visage was composed of pure surprise. Yet there were tracings of ill-disguised happiness as the corners of his lips twitched into a smile.

⤷ “Are you sure?” He questions. His eyes fixated on your expression of bashfulness, attempting to decipher any traces of possible regret. But you nodded with a smile that seemed much less restless, putting forth faith in your decision; faith in your trust within Nagito.

⤷ At your confirmation, his lips begin to explore realms of your frame that he restrained himself from setting upon before. Kissing and sucking on the plush skin that his mouth had yet to discover. The sensation of his moist mouth clasping over your thighs was electrifying.

⤷ Yet even as his tongue drags over your thighs with such zeal, you couldn’t help the anxieties that bubbled within you, tearing your gaze away from him, muffling your whines.

⤷ And after a few moments of teasing bites and particularly harsh sucks, he noticed your lack of audible moans.

⤷ His first thought was that what he was doing wasn’t what you enjoyed, hence your silence. But as he lifted his quizzical gaze to meet yours, he discovered that your hand had been firmly placed over your mouth; stifling all your harmonious cries.

⤷ Not only that, but your eyes were cast to the side, avoiding his countenance. As much as the sight caused Nagito’s heart to flutter—having always been a sucker for your shy nature—he wanted you to gaze upon him as he devoured you; he wanted to hear you as he pushed you to unravel from the sole use of his mouth.

⤷ Thus, he pushes himself up from between your legs and gently wraps his fingers around your wrists. This causes you to momentarily meet his eyes before hurriedly clenching yours shut, attempting to hide your flustered face behind your hands.

⤷ But Nagito pries them away before you could; his grip gentle yet firm, to assure that you don’t try to hide your beloved face from him.

⤷ “Love,” He begins, waiting for you to open your eyes. But you don’t. Chewing on your bottom lip in nervousness as you try your utmost best to not look at him. Everything in that moment felt so overwhelming, and your poor little heart was struggling to handle it.

⤷ “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You know I only want what you’d enjoy most, right?” He reassures you. His hands atop both of yours as he cradles them so gently. And there it is, again.

⤷ Once more, you wonder what you continuously allow to hold you back from fulfilling your mutual desires; you want this just as much as him.

⤷ And even so, he’s respected every denial and even the current temporary false hope you’d provided. He’s been so patient with you, he’s been so good to you. It’s truly ludicrous that someone as considerate as him even exists. Much less that he also degrades himself constantly; degrading the person you truly believed to be the most respectful significant other to ever exist.

⤷ “No, no. I want to, I promise! It’s just...I’m just—“ You stumble over your words in an attempt to piece together why you keep prolonging this. But you couldn’t formulate the words. Even as you stuttered and tries to come forth with a decent explanation, you couldn’t. Did you even know why?

⤷ Upon your silence, Nagito leaned forward to meet his lips with yours, drawing you in for a kiss. Finally, you open your eyes to meet his softened pair as he pulled away. Time seemed to still as you accepted that you didn’t truly have a reason other than the turmoil of emotions within you.

⤷ “I’m just nervous.” The words that fell from your lips were like mist, so subtle you almost assumed he didn’t hear you. But he did, and a breathy chuckle escaped him as he pecked your lips once more.

⤷ “Is that so?” He hums. You nod, tempted to break eye contact as embarrassment seeps into you. Your mind pacing with a flurry of anxieties. What kind of excuse is that? Nervous? Surely he sees you as pathetic now. What did you have to be nervous of? You trust him, don’t you?

⤷ Wallowing in remorse and self-pity as you suffocated within your shame, you tear your gaze away. But a sigh of relief forces your head to whirl back to gaze upon Nagito; the bearer of that sigh of relief.

⤷ “My hope, it’s okay to be nervous. Honestly, I’d be more alarmed if you weren’t nervous.” He admits. You’re thrown into a state of disbelief; confusion.

⤷ Over and over, he reassures you and promises that your feelings are valid and normal. He promises that it’s okay to be nervous, you’re trying something new, after all.

⤷ His delicate words and consideration cause your heart to swell as your worries have relatively eased up. The fears—the anxiety—that seemed to cage you were eased, almost as though they were never there. It’s almost terrifying how easily he could calm you.

⤷ Nagito allowed his words to hang in the air as you processed it all. He respectively awaited your answer, pleased, regardless of what it’d be. Because Nagito’s relief had stemmed from your ability to confide in him, and that means more than any form of sexual pleasure.

⤷ As you exhale, sighing out the last of your contemplation, you meet his eyes with a much more confident visage.

⤷ “I want to do this. I really do.” A voiced affirmation, and one that you felt assured of. You wanted this and, even through your nervousness, you genuinely wanted this.

⤷ Once again, he trails kisses along your body; from your jaw all the way to your thighs. Each kiss brushed over with a swipe of his tongue, teasingly stimulating you.

⤷ With each peck, he lowers. Closer and closer as you begin to anxiously squirm. It’s still so nervewracking, but you’ve culminated a determination to follow through. Despite your bashfulness causing you to tear your gaze away from Nagito.

⤷ This time, he’s not so forgiving as his teeth gently clamp down onto your thigh. You yelp, moaning out in slight pain and surprise as you turn your head back towards him; gazing as his head was tucked between your thighs, breath fanning over your pussy whilst his green orbs pierced into yours.

⤷ “Keep your eyes on me.” He ordered before tentatively rubbing his tongue over the bite mark as an unspoken apology. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as arousal overcomes you at his unnaturally assertive nature.

⤷ You oblige; keeping your eyes trained on his face as he returns to his ministrations. Heart thumping and ringing in your ears, you gasp as a Nagito dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit.

⤷ He hums, a serene chuckle resonating from the back of his throat before he circles his tongue around your clit. Soon enough, his lips curl around the bud, suckling gently as to avoid hurting you, yet stimulating you enough to release a small shriek.

⤷ After the initial slurp—the testing of new water—Nagito found himself encapsulated within a trance; his lips popping off of your bundle of nerves before plunging his tongue into your tight, drooling cunt repeatedly. Over and over, he continuously yearned for more of you; more of your flavor. You tasted heavenly.

⤷ Restlessly circling his tongue from within you, familiarizing himself with your walls as he douses himself in your juices; his senses engulfed with you in your entirety. And he adored every second of it.

⤷ Just like he adored the squeals of euphoria followed by your alluringly baritone moans that eagerly shot blood to his erection, straining against his pants with full intent to be sheathed within you. But he, too, wanted to savor your tastes.

⤷ With each slurp, you found yourself edging towards your release. Your toes curling, spurts of shock stunning your legs as you twitch and squirm, attempting to make some distance between the nearly unbearable waves of pleasure.

⤷ But Nagito kept a firm grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin. His mouth relentless upon his ravishing; he wanted to taste you as you reach your high, and he wants you to ride it out as his tongue swirls within you.

⤷ It only took a mere few seconds before you let out a particularly loud whine, tremors wracking through your body as your cunt squirts your juices; your cum drizzling down Nagito’s chin as he hungrily laps it up.

⤷ “Nagi—Ah!” You attempt to speak—voice hoarse and raspy—but the aftershock of your orgasm causing your pussy to be far more sensitive. Every kitten lick Nagito takes is intensified as you pant.

⤷ And soon enough, everything stills. Your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as Nagito finally arises from between your thighs, his bottom lip and chin drizzled with your cum.

⤷ The sight flusters you as you gaped. His tongue dragged over your nectar, eagerly relishing in the remains of your orgasm as he grinned.

⤷ “So, how was it?” He asks, curious to your perspective; after all, you were very hesitant prior. It warms your heart how, even after everything, your well-being is the main thing on his mind.

⤷ With an exhausted sigh, you wrap your arms around your lover’s neck, tugging him down onto the bed with you. His clothed chest pressed against your bare one as you held him close, the delicate pulsating of your hearts sloppily synchronize. “It was amazing. Thank you, ”

[ghostdrew22]

Can I request a draco x reader where they just stay together all day even tho its a school day so they just like skip school all day and then one of their friends catch them? It probably sounds confusing but I LOVE YOUR WRITING

Where Words Fall Short || Draco Malfoy

So I changed it into a teacher catching them instead, I hope it still suits your fancy. Thank you so much for this request, I had quite a nice time writing it <3

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of mental illness? Idk what I should be warning you against in this one tbh so if you find anything then let me know <3 Summary: Draco is having a hard morning so Y/N keeps him company and they ditch lessons.

WORDS : 2114

~~~

Growing up, Draco continuously watched as a curtain was drawn above the topic of mental health in his household. What should’ve been long, informative discussions about his withstanding family history and hereditary struggles with mental health, was broken down into, “Your father just gets a bit overwhelmed sometimes”, and “Your mother is a woman, and as women do, she often gets erratic until she tires herself out.”

None of it was true, of course, just excuses used to try and avoid the problem. But it wasn’t discussed. Not when Narcissa would sleep for days on end, or when Lucius was hospitalised, and especially not when Draco began to display symptoms similar to his parents. The family healer was called in, Draco was diagnosed and medicated, and it was discussed no further. Because words were just not the Malfoy way.

You’d long become accustomed to his habits when he wasn’t feeling well, he’d told you himself about his struggles, and you’d adjusted quickly enough. Now you know, just by the sight of him, when he’s having a rough day. As hard as Draco tries to follow in his parent’s footsteps and draw a veil on his suffering, he just can’t bring himself to do it when you’re around. You make him feel safe.

You read the watch on your wrist, 8.10am, and sigh when you notice that Draco’s still not in the Great Hall for breakfast. Draco prides himself on being organised and punctual, so when he’s even five minutes late to breakfast you know that he’s having one of those days and he might just not get out of bed.

“He’s just running late this morning, I watched him walk to the showers.” Crabbe says beside you as he notices worry etch its way onto your features. You nod and smile at him.

“Thanks Crabbe.”  You respond before grabbing the empty plate on your other side and filling it up with Draco’s favourites.

It’s another ten minutes before Draco finally walks into the Great Hall, and you feel your heart wrench at the sight of him- hair still wet from showering, faint bags beneath his eyes and a solemn look painting his face- he looks exhausted. You smile at him when he settles into the space beside you and he smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

He interlocks your fingers together as he sits down and you slide the plate of food toward him. He kisses the back of your hand as a thank you and you nod before turning back to your own food. On mornings like this conversation is sparse- it’s like a useless chore that you can both afford to forget- and you both resort to actions as a means of conversation.

Normally, words would be spent on endless declarations of love, confirmations of support, queries of comfort and insurmountable pleas to just sit in silence together. But now, now with this routine and understanding that sits comfortably on the border of your relationship, words no longer need to transpire between you both in order for there to be a mutual understanding of what you both need.

Most kisses are ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you’, but every so often when Draco paints every square inch of your face in adoration with his lips, then he’s telling you that you’re beautiful, that every piece of you is just another reason for him to fall deeper into love with you. Hugs are usually him begging for attention, trying discreetly to drag you away from whatever it is that you’re doing and bring you down to his dorm with him for cuddles.

But Draco’s preferred method of communication on days like this, is squeezing your hand. Information by hand squeeze increases in degree; one is ‘I’m fine, just tired’, two is ‘I’m probably going to disappear halfway through the day for some alone time’, and three is ‘Please spend the day with me’.

So when you feel that familiar pressure against your hand come in waves of three that morning, you know that he’s having a particularly bad day. You turn to him and nod, and this time when he smiles at you, it actually does reach his eyes.

~~~

When the first lesson of the day is underway, Muggle Studies, you and Draco are lying in his bed in his shared dormitory. There’s a risk of one his roommates coming back to collect a forgotten book or leftover homework, but it matters little when the two of you are spaced out in the small world of your own invention. You’re running your hands through his hair as his head sits comfortably on your chest, and his fingers are running up and down your other arm in an effort to keep him occupied.

The two of you spend the next few hours like that, just lying in his bed in silence as Draco thinks himself into oblivion and you try to calm him down. It doesn’t work though, and at some point you grow frustrated at the amount of tension that he’s built up in this shoulders, and demand that he gets up.

“Why?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows as he lifts his head off of your chest.

“Do you trust me?” He nods, and you smile. “Good, then come on.”

You pull him behind you quietly as the two of you roam the castle and head toward the Astronomy Tower- trying desperately not to arouse suspicion and get caught skipping lessons just as the day is ending.

When you reach the top and see that the sun is shining faintly, a satisfied sigh escapes your lips. All that cold and darkness in the dungeons wasn’t good for Draco and you’d lugged him all the way up here for some sunshine. You know that it won’t really fix anything that’s bothering him, but at least the Vitamin D might lift his spirits a little bit or help him to relax a tad more.

You sit on the ground and pull Draco down to sit beside you. He drops his head against your shoulder and pulls the back of your hand up to his lips, Thank you, is what the action says and you smile at the small acknowledgement. You lean your own head against his that’s resting on your shoulder and he shuts his eyes in content as you pull out the book that you’d brought up to read.

“Should I read to you?” You ask and he nods very softly, so you do as he asks and begin to read the novel out loud.

It’s mundane, sure, but Draco thinks that he could spend the rest of his life like this. When words have always failed him, you’ve been there to pick up pieces of his unsaid ministrations. Most people, if not all the people in his life, have always found his failure to conjure up words and describe his feelings, annoying. But not you, never you, you have always loved the way he tries so hard to show you his love instead of tell it to you. Whenever he feels torn apart, like a rag doll being tugged on both arms, you somehow manage to remind him that he’s made of skin and bone, not cloth and plastic. It’s you that reminds him he’s worth something, even when he feels as though he’s worth nothing.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You respond absent-mindedly as you turn your head slowly away from the pages and toward Draco. When you catch a glimpse of his contorted features, concern washes over you. “What’s wrong? Do you want to go back inside?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head softly and smiles at you. “I just want to chat, is that okay?”

“Well… I was enjoying this book…” You tease and laugh when you see that he’s not amused. “I’m kidding, am’ all yours love.” You peck him on the lips quickly before closing your book and putting it aside.

He sighs, “I’ve been thinking-”

“Oh, that’s never good.” You immediately respond and he narrows his eyes at you which makes you laugh, “Okay, I’ll stop now.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” He says with a roll of his eyes, and a small smile, before he takes a deep breath and continues. “I’m going off my meds.”

You take a moment to digest what he’s said before nodding slowly, “Oh…”

“Oh…?” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation, worried that you won’t support his decision. “Are you mad?”

You’re taken aback by his question and turn to face him in confusion. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, mother was furious when I told her.”

“Okay, but your mother is notorious for having the emotional range of a green bean,” Draco, albeit begrudgingly, laughs at your comment with a shake of his head, “What? Am I wrong?” You ask with a laugh as well.

“You’re not wrong but that’s not the point. You’re bloody rude!” He tries to stop laughing but it’s not working and soon enough the two of you are rolling around on the ground, crying your eyes out in laughter.

After a good three minutes has passed the two of you have finally calmed down and the serious atmosphere has returned. “I’m not mad Draco, I could never be mad at you.”

“You were mad that time I tried to force a Ravenclaw to do my Muggle Studies research for me.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone and you shove him lightly.

“That was because you were harassing that innocent child!” You exclaim with another giggle, “I’ve never been mad at you for doing something that involves only you.”

“What about when I dyed all my pubic hair-“

“I told you never to speak of that.” You cut him off sternly before he can continue and a naughty smile appears on his lips at the memory.

“That was funny, admit it.”

“We were on vacation with my parents! Do you understand how awkward the conversation we had, after the swimming pool, was? They were so concerned about the fact that I’d brought home a boy with blue armpit hair!” You exclaim with wide eyes and Draco bursts into laughter again. “You’re such an arsehole.” You grumble out with a pout and he pecks you with a smile.

“You love me though.”

“I do… I really do.” You respond genuinely as you stare at him in admiration. Even on his worst days, when exhaustion wears his face like a mask and words fall short from his lips, he’s still the love of your life and nothing can change that. “I’m really proud of you, for making a decision like that.”

“Thank you.” He sighs and you can tell how much this has been bothering him over the past few days, if not weeks, by the way his shoulders finally relax. “I just don’t think they’re doing what they’re meant to. I don’t feel any better.”

“Mhmm.” You nod at him to continue as you take his hand in your own.

“I don’t feel worse either though, I feel the same. It’s been a year and I feel the absolute bloody same.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

“Whatever else the healer recommends.” He shrugs, “If she’s got nothing else that will work then I don’t know.”

“Well… I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.”

And it’s true, he does know, sure as he knows that he’s a Slytherin. There aren’t many things and people that Draco relies on, the fear of them letting him down always a barrier, but you he puts his absolute faith in. Because when words fall short to describe the amount of love that he has for you, and the amount of love that you have for him, there will always be actions and you two will always have each other.

You take your hands and cup his face in them before peppering kisses all over his face. He giggles under your touch, an effect that you’ve always had on him and he hates, but you make no move to stop until every corner has been graced with feel of your lips. It’s every word that you could possibly say to him, every sentence that could hold the weight of your adoration, because sometimes, words just fall short.

“Y/N-“ He begins when you finally pull away, wanting to tell you that he loves you, but you cut him off with a dopey smile.

“I know.”

The two of you lie down against the cold, hard gravel- fingers intertwined as you both shut your eyes and bask in the soft rays of sunlight. It’s almost perfect.

Until.

“Mr Malfoy, Ms L/N.” A voice drawls.

“Shit.” You mumble when you remember that it’s Wednesday- Astronomy.

<~>

Did I impulsively write this after declaring I’m going on a week’s hiatus to move? Yes. Did I put off packing for this? Yes. Do I have any regrets? Nope.

anyway,

love you all,

jean <3

[wickedpact]

Crim pls do a J/N fic rec post at some point in the future I trust you more than I trust myself looking rouge through AO3

im kinda eh abt the concept of fic recs myself just bc the whole 'Different Strokes For Different Folks' thing (idk how many times someone i liked in a fandom made a fic rec list and i ended up not liking anything they posted). plus i have weirdly specific tastes and i.. .. honestly havent read a ton of joenicky fic! (i have a FAT to-read list) but ive been asked this a couple times now so i will slap together a couple joenicky fics i like (not comprehensive, i only spent like 15 minutes making this. also not in any particular order.)

Kiss Each Other Clean by moodlighting

i like this whole fic, but the last 6 or so paragraphs in particular SEND ME TO SPACE, i love cuddling. also [joe voice] nickel neekee

what you seek is seeking you by bankrobbery

i actually recced this one once before. idk its cute i just Like It. (also nicky pretending not to know english bc a customer is pissing him off is Very Funny and i love it)

with every inch of my heart by smilebackwards

i like this one a lot, i think nickys pov should Always be this tender. i dont like miscommunication trope much, (esp with joenicky) but i do like this fic-- the miscommunication in question is far-fetched but its joenicky so of course it is. just enjoy the Angst™

i love michelangelo seeing nicky all dirty and bloody after a fight and being like 'DAMN this bitch is fine' (same). (AND the fact that nicky only agrees to travel with him in the name of wasting the pope's money lmao). the fact that joe and nicky broke up But They Still Snuggle. nile knowing like 2 things about joe and nicky's breakup & pretty much immediately taking nicky's side. joe looking at the creation of adam and bein like 'EH'.

nicky carrying around his little joe drawing? nicky carrying around a spare toothbrush for booker? nicky telling little children stories about a princess locked in a coffin under the sea? ('perhaps someday, if an iron coffin is caught in a net or washed up onto the shore, they’ll remember the princess, a victim and not a monster' EXCUSE ME)

(also 'I have drawn you a thousand times since we parted. I sculpted your likeness, just so that I could pretend to cup your cheek. You are so much warmer than marble, hayati.' R O M A N C E)

Pas Un Ange by inlovewithnight

there are a lot of fics i love in a way thats like 'this fic is fun but it doesnt feel like something that would happen in the Actual Canon' (which is fine!) but this one Does feel like it could happen in The Actual Canon which is cool

this fic also has probably my favorite depiction of nicky's relationship with god/religion in any fic ive read ('[nicky's] peace had come only after walking away from faith as a competition of intensity in favor of faith as a steady compass that he followed like the beat of his heart in his chest.'). i love the whole Drama played out by the background characters and how they all have their own ideas and motivations & nicky is just kind of resigned to being caught in the middle of it.

(also love how near the beginning joe's like 'the Right thing to do in the situation would be stay at this river and help these people.... ... ....... ... .... ... anyways see ya guys later gotta go find nicky'.)

also joe chatting up a pig and the five minutes later chatting up some goats was so cute. & nicky trying to tell the baby's mother how to save it!!!! </3 AND THEY ARGUE ABOUT CHARITY on the way home (not before joe injects a comment abt nickys ass into regular conversation bc Romance™) its a bit of a sad fic tho, that poor baby 🥺

Intercession by PrincessDesire

can i interest you in some Swamp Man Nicky in this trying time?

someone recced this fic to me and i dont remember who. but note that the major character death tag is not, in fact, for a major character but for a background one. neither joe or nicky perma!die in this. also normally i dont like fics where joe or nicky are bi bc Thats Not Canon Babey but i do like this one, i love joe's relationship with Grace and how nicky's perception of that relationship gets flipped on its head halfway thru the fic. i also love joe's Weariness Of Immortality, like when joe talks about how 'youthful' nicky makes him feel. his pov just kind of Feels like an old man and i like it

theres a smut scene in this fic which im personally not big on smut scenes but theres this bit where joe tries to figure out condoms and its very cute. also 'You have many kinds of magic, Nicky. All your spells have worked.' ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

also i just like how WHIPPED joe is from like the first 3 seconds he sees nicky. theres one bit where nicky's like 'ill come visit you!' and joe's like 'when🥺' and nicky's like 'as soon as you like!' and joes like 'now?????🥺🥺🥺 literally come home with me???' incredible.

also the Magic System was cool. i also love how nicky just Accidentally made himself immortal. what a man. also i like this line 'it would never occur to [nicky] to attend any service that wasn’t going to have a direct outcome. Grace takes comfort from it, so maybe that’s the only outcome needed.' idk its so sweet

edit: also i cant believe i forgot the iconic line 'Yusuf is a man of two minds, one large and underutilized, the other small and underutilized.' absolutely iconic & relatable

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

@theweasleyslut @vivacesole @weasleyclaw @nuttytani-reblogs @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @woakiees @wildfire-whizbangs @gcdric

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! 

[firstofficerwiggles]

Dress Code, Part 1

Part 2, Part 3 (T rated), Part 3 (M rated)

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Some swearing, references to sexuality, mostly just fluff with some longing

Summary: You’re headed out to shop when Din takes issue with your dress

Word Count: ~3000

Author’s Note: This will be at least a two part story, possibly three parts if I can make it all connect well. This takes place at some point between seasons or maybe early on in Season 2. 

P.S. There’s a tiny nod to Ed Sheeran in this.

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

“Is that what you’re wearing?” the Mandalorian’s gruff voice questions as you are getting the child ready for a day of supply shopping. It feels like forever since you’ve been off the ship and you are in dire need of fresh food and other essentials. You swear if you have to eat one more packet of reconstituted soup your taste buds will shrivel and die. You are also desperately looking forward to breathing in fresh air and feeling the sunshine on your skin again. As luck would have it, you’ve landed in a spot that is lush and green with a moderate climate, and as you flew by overhead you spied a bright and colorful village with a bustling marketplace.

Back home you never would have considered food shopping a reason for dressing up, but after many long months on a starship, these brief outings feel like a special event to you. In your eagerness to be outside again, you decided to wear a pretty sundress that you love. It hugs your curves in all the right places but still manages to be flowy and soft, plus you know this color is one of the most flattering for you. Ok, maybe you didn’t need to also do your hair and makeup quite this nicely, but you figured, why not? it made you feel good. Plus there was the added hope that maybe the Mandalorian would look at you for once as more than just a crew member. Not that you should want him to do that, you remind yourself strictly, he is your boss after all.

“I suppose it’s a little dressier than normal for shopping, but I think I look nice,” you respond smoothing your hands over the dress and feeling a small thrill of delight that at least he noticed the dress.

Din makes a hmpf sort of sound as if he wants to disagree with you but can’t bring himself to actually say anything definitive.

“What do you think, sweet baby?” you say with a wink to the child. He grins up at you and makes his happy cooing sounds. “He seems to like it.”

“Let’s get going,” Din says, ignoring your comment and handing you your cloak.

“I don’t need my cloak, Mando, it’s a warm, sunny day out there,” you tell him.

“So, you’re just going to go out, like that, exposed.” He is still holding out the cloak to you.

“Exposed?” you say with a laugh, “This is a perfectly respectable dress.”

“Your arms are naked and so are most of your legs and toes,” he points out. His hands are on his hips and he tilts his helmet as if his eyes are traveling down your body taking in the knee-length sundress and ending at your open-toed sandals. You feel your cheeks flush and the ship seems warmer all of a sudden as he scrutinizes your body.

“Mando, I know this is more skin than you’d ever show, but trust me, non-Mandalorian women dress like this all the time,” you reason with him. “Besides, I wasn’t aware this marketplace had a strict dress code.”

“What if it does?” he retorts.

“Seriously. Is that the best you can do?” You’re getting a little annoyed at him now, and as you think about it you realize he’s made a few off-hand comments recently about the way you dress. Why is he making this an issue?

Din knows he is being a pain in the ass about the dress and it has much more to do with him than he would care to admit. He’s noticed that you wear your prettiest clothes each time you leave the ship, but this is the first time he’s openly questioned you about it. When he hired you to help him out with the child, he thought you were much too beautiful and that it was probably a bad idea. Hell, everyone always has jokes about dads and hot nannies. But he also knew that was a really shitty and misogynistic reason to deny someone a job, so he hired you because you were clearly the best candidate. Din had been absolutely right in that area and he admired the way you had bonded with the child and cared for him as if he were your own. But still, lately everything you do has been driving him crazy with desire and he’s getting more frustrated by the day. Just yesterday he had walked in on you cooking dinner, playing music, and dancing around the ship’s tiny galley. He was transfixed as you swayed your hips to the beat and listened to the singer crooning to you that he was in love with your body. It had made him flee to the fresher for a cold shower just to calm down. Frankly, the sight of you in this dress is making him yearn for another cold dousing. Besides that, he knows that the moment you get to the marketplace, his eyes won’t be the only ones on you, a thought that makes his stomach churn with ill-placed jealousy, but one that does give him an idea for a better counter-argument.

“You’ll attract too much attention.” Din finally tells you soundly.

“Excuse me? Mr. Head-to-Toe Beskar? I attract too much attention.” You sound incredulous.

“I attract the right kind of attention that says, ‘back off’,” he replies, “but you attract horny male attention, that seems to say, ‘hang around and be a pain’.”

“Oh, puh-lease. I’m not the only one who can attract horny male attention, Mando,” you sass back at him with a playful look, “The galaxy takes all kinds, and who can resist a man in shining armor?”

“Well,” Din clears his throat and looks away for a moment, “that may be the case,” he mutters, but then he turns his visor back towards you, and says more confidently, “but the men you attract are much more aggressive and persistent.”

“Maker, Mando, that was like one time, and he took off after you punched him.” You will admit there was a scene a few weeks ago in a particularly rowdy cantina where some creep wouldn’t leave you alone, until the Mandalorian hauled off and hit him square in the nose. You had been mortified at the time that he had needed to do it, but you would also swear that Mando had enjoyed punching the guy.

“I didn’t like your dress that night either,” Din lies to you. He did like it but he didn’t like seeing other men like it too.

You roll your eyes at that comment and sigh, “Since when do you care so much about my clothing choices?”

“I care when they might bring you unwanted attention,” he insists, “I do feel a responsibility for your welfare even if you don’t seem to.”

“Well, listen, is there any chance you are going to let me wander around this marketplace alone?” you ask changing tactics.

“Hell no,” he replies swiftly.

“Ok, then, problem solved.”

“What do you mean ‘problem solved’?”

“I mean no one is going to bother me if you are by my side all day,” you explain. He crosses his arms at this, but he doesn’t have a response. “That creep in the cantina only got so bold because I was by myself at the bar while you were negotiating that bounty. I’m sure he wouldn’t have dared try anything if you had been right there.” You decide to take things a bit further in attempt to end this silly argument, “Would you care to make a wager?”

“A wager?” he’s curious now.

“If a man hits on me while you’re by my side, I’ll let you pick out my clothing for a month. However, if no one hits on me, you say nothing about my clothing for two months.”

“One month,” he counters.

“Alright, fine, one month, either way,” you agree. “But, it only counts if you are by my side, if you walk away from me all bets are off.”

“I won’t be walking away from you, and you better not wander off either,” he warns.

“Do we have a deal?” You hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal,” he says taking your hand.

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

Your little party picks their way through the marketplace with ease stopping by stalls of fresh fruit, vegetables, cheeses, breads, and a delectable selection of pastries that has the child reaching out with both hands from his floating pram. The sneaky rascal had got a particularly large one in his mouth before you even had a chance to make your selection. Thankfully the vendor was entranced by his adorable face and hadn’t been bothered at all by his momentary thievery. This village has been nice and you’re enjoying the day not just due to the lovely weather, but also because of your little competition with the Mandalorian. You’ve noticed men giving you appreciative looks, but you’ve been cozying up to your Mando as much as possible, even going so far as to put your hand in the crook of his arm at times as you walk through the streets. In a few instances you were a little worried you might lose the wager when a particularly enthusiastic vendor was trying to make a sale, but fortunately for you, everyone had stayed polite and focused on helping you make your selections.

Din could see that he was well on his way to losing this wager. Normally, that would irritate him thanks to his competitive nature, but spending time with you like this was worth it. He had the chance to watch your happy face as you strolled through the colorful market and to listen to you cheerfully greet people and negotiate prices to get the best bargains. There was such an easy enthusiasm about you as you took pleasure in something that otherwise would have been mundane. It made him feel more lighthearted too. Yet the best part of this shopping trip was how attentive you were being towards him. Din was thoroughly enjoying the way you checked with him before making final selections of your purchases, the way your hand touched his arm, and the way you kept looking over to him with a smile. You were even letting him place a hand on the small of your back at times as he guided you towards different stalls. He had been right about you drawing attention from other men, but apart from a few appreciative glances, they had stayed away, no doubt because to all outward appearances Din and you looked like a couple.

You’ve been making good progress on your shopping list, and there are just a few more items you want to get before heading back to the Crest. You know you are supposed to be focused on picking up the essentials for the next few weeks, but your eye is drawn to a jeweler’s stall nearby and the pretty pieces he has on display. You let yourself wander over as the Mandalorian follows.

“Good afternoon,” the vendor greets you cheerfully, “please take a look, it’s all my own work, handcrafted right here,” and he gestures to a workshop behind the stall. He has many beautiful items but one necklace in particular catches your eye. It is a pendant shaped like a flower and it looks to be made of some type of silver. The flower has a second shinier metal filigree on top creating a lovely design that is topped off with tiny silver balls that glint in the sunlight.

“Would you like to try it on?” the jeweler asks you.

“Oh, I’d love to,” you reply eagerly. You lift the pendant up and place it around your neck, and then try to clasp it, but with your hair in the way, you can’t seem to get it to latch.

“Allow me,” Din’s fingers replace your own. You lift your hair up for him, and then tell yourself to breathe as his gloves gently brush over your neck. Perhaps it’s your imagination, but it feels as if he lets his hands linger there longer than necessary. When he takes a step back, you whirl around and ask, “How does it look?”

“You look beautiful,” Din replies, more honestly than he planned, your eyes lighting up at his compliment. He watches you turn back around towards a mirror the jeweler has set up to admire the necklace yourself. His eyes are drawn back to the pendant which is now glittering just at the top of your cleavage enticingly. He watches your delighted face in the mirror, enjoying the simple pleasure of wearing something beautiful.

“Your wife has excellent taste,” the jeweler’s words cause Din to turn his head and come back to the rest of the world. “That’s one of my favorite pieces.”

“What it’s made of?” Din asks the jeweler, not bothering to correct him on the word ‘wife’.  

“It’s silver with beskar plating,” the jeweler explains, “I’m not surprised she likes it so much,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper and a slightly cheeky glance at the Mandalorian.

“How much?” Din asks.

You haven’t been paying any attention to Din and the jeweler; you’ve been too busy admiring the pretty necklace and imagining what it would be like to wear it to a special night out with your favorite dress. You’re so caught up in your daydreaming that it isn’t until you hear a merry laugh from the jeweler that you realize how long you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks flush thinking that you must look so vain, and you turn to the jeweler and say, “Thank you so much for letting me try this on, but I suppose I better take it off now.”

“There’s no need, lovely lady, your husband has already purchased it for you,” he says with a grin.

You’re stunned both by the jeweler calling the Mandalorian your husband and with delight that he has bought you such a beautiful gift. Before you realize what you’re doing, you throw your arms around Din in a hug and thank him profusely. He is stiff for a second, not sure how to react to your embrace, but then, his arms come up to encircle you and he pulls you in tighter to his chest. He can’t remember the last time anyone hugged him and he has missed it more than he knew. For a moment, Din allows himself to enjoy the intimacy of holding you like this, and he imagines what it would be like to be able to hug you all the time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Din tells you softly, the term of endearment slipping from his lips before he can stop himself. Your cheeks flush with pleasure at his words and when you pull back away from him your face is shining with the brightest smile he’s ever seen. The bustling marketplace falls away and it’s just the two of you standing in the sunlight with electricity buzzing between you, until the child coos loudly reminding you both of his presence.

“We should, uh, get the rest of the… supplies,” Din says sounding a little flustered. You understand that’s he’s feeling a bit shy right now after that public display of affection. You’re feeling the same way, wondering what all of this could mean. But you know that now is not the time to reflect on those thoughts, and instead you turn back to the child, scooping him up for a quick cuddle so he no longer feels left out. The Mandalorian also reaches out to give the kid’s long ears a stroke and says, “Are you still hungry, buddy? C’mon we’ll get you another snack.”

The rest of your shopping trip passes quickly and you’re back at the Razor Crest shortly thereafter. You are still floating on air after the day you’ve had. You keep sneaking glimpses at your new necklace and smiling to yourself like a besotted school girl. Even the drudgery of unloading and then securing all the supplies in the ship doesn’t put a damper on your spirits. The Mandalorian seems to be sharing in your joyfulness, humming a little as he lifts heavy crates and sneaks a few extra treats to the child. You’re getting ready to depart, when he turns to you and says, “Well, I suppose I should congratulate you on winning our wager.”

“That’s right, I did win,” you say happily almost having forgotten about the whole silly bet, “I knew no one would bother me with you right next to me.”

“Yes, it appears you were right about that,” he says grudgingly, “this time.”

“So that means one whole month with no comments about what I choose to wear,” you remind him.

“This doesn’t mean you should take this as an excuse to wear your most scandalous outfits,” Din tries to tell you.

“Uh-uh, the month starts now, no comments from you, sir,” you reply cheekily to him. You laugh a little to yourself, scandalous outfits, he’s being so dramatic.

“I’m going to get us on our way,” Din concedes his defeat and turns to head to the cockpit, but he can’t help to get in one last word as he tells you, “I’m sure your new necklace will look just as pretty with your more conservative clothes.”

“Maybe,” you reply attempting for a nonchalant tone, but failing spectacularly as your eyes light up at his suggestion.

Din makes his way back up to his pilot’s chair and begins the take-off procedure. He shouldn’t have made that comment about the scandalous outfits, it will just give you ideas filled with your sheerest and most revealing garments. But then, he has an idea of his own. Smirking under his helmet at his own cunning, he punches in the coordinates to the icy world of Hoth and makes the jump to hyperspace.

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

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for Part 2.

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

[hornsandthings]

Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x 

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would. 

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.” 

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.” 

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you. 

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense. 

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing. 

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.” 

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude. 

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?” 

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?” 

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again. 

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on? 

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips. 

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more.  “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.” 

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you. 

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.