#we come from the land of the ice and snow

[aceofspades-11b]

Ah-ah, ah! Ah-ah, ah!

My new fav tp is breaking into the immigrant song every now and then and jumpscare @ozziesdisco

#her expression🤌 #we come from the land of the ice and snow #from the midnight sun where the hot springs flow #ah-ah #ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #AH!

[rexonalapis]

jokes aside, of course childe's master's master is supposedly the creator and destroyer of the world.

#genshin impact #live love laugh #surtalogi #tartaglia #skirk #genshin spoiler #we come from the land of the ice and snow from the midnight sun when the hot spring flows indeed

[buzzerdome]

Its been six years since Avengers: Infinity War came out, and I dont think I'll ever get over the missed opportunity of using Immigrant Song when Thor portals in with Rocket and Groot.

The Avengers theme will NEVER hit as hard as Led Zeppelin and I was frankly kinda underwhelmed in the theatres because that's what I was expecting when they lit up the screen :')

#LIKE IMAGINE THOR ROCKET AND GROOT SHOWING UP #AND IT'S QUIET FOR HALF A SECOND WHILE WE REALIZE WHOS SHOWED UP #AND THOR THROWS OUT STORMBREAKER AS THE AAAHHHHHHHH AAHHHHHH STARTS #THEN THEY BREAK APART SHOOTING AND FIGHTING JUST AS THE LYRICS START #COME FROM THE LAND OF THE ICE AND SNOW FROM THE MIDNIGHT SUN AND THE HOT SPRINGS FLOW #the avengers #thor ragnarok #thor odinson #led zeppelin #immigrant song #infinity war

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.

Word count: 8.3k.

Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.

It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.

He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.

And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.

This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.

There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.

Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.

“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”

You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.

He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.

Not with me, the realisation follows.

And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.

But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.

All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.

He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.

“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”

Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”

“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”

“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”

“We didn’t—”

“Did you think of me?”

“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”

You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.

“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”

You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.

For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”

You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.

Now you’re laughing.

It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.

“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”

He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”

“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”

“No—”

“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”

“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”

No.

You will not.

You can’t.

You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.

You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.

“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”

“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”

“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”

“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”

You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”

“Y/N—”

“Go!”

Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.

He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.

But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.

“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”

You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.

His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.

“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.

The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”

“Send Cassian next time.”

He doesn’t deign to reply.

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Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.

He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.

Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.

A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.

He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.

He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.

But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.

“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”

Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”

“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”

Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.

This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.

And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.

But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.

Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.

“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”

“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”

A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.

But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.

Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”

Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.

And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.

But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.

“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”

“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.

Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.

“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”

Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.

“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.

“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”

Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.

“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”

“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”

“I’ve never known any different.”

Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”

No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.

But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.

“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”

Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”

Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”

“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”

Bold, bold words.

Azriel finds himself stunned silent.

“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”

This is…bizarre, Az thinks.

He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.

Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.

Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.

And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.

“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.

Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.

“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”

Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”

“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”

And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.

Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.

Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.

It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.

He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.

“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”

Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”

“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”

Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.

But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.

Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.

“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.

A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”

“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”

“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”

In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.

He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.

And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.

Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.

But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?

“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”

Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”

“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”

Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”

Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.

He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.

“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”

Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”

Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.

When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.

But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.

And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.

Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.

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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.

She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.

He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.

It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.

“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”

Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.

Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”

“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”

It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.

But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.

“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.

“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”

“I have.”

“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”

Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”

Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.

But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.

“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”

“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”

“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”

“You—”

“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”

Azriel studies her.

Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.

So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”

“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”

“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”

“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”

“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”

Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”

“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”

The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.

But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”

“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”

Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.

But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”

There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.

Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.

“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”

His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.

Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.

And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.

This one feels like…like a ploy.

“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.

He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.

At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.

Fuck. Him.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.

And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.

You’re sick of caring.

Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?

And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.

And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—

You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.

How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—

The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.

He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”

“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”

“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”

“Shove them up your ass.”

“I’d really rather not.” He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”

Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.

“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”

Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.

“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”

“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.

Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”

“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”

“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”

“Cass—”

“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”

You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.

“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”

In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.

His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.

“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.

“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”

You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”

He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”

Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.

You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.

He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.

“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”

You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”

In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.

You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.

His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier.  Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.

Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”

With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.

Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”

Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”

So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.

“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”

“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”

“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”

His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.

He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.

And then he dives right in.

His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.

“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”

“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”

“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”

A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”

And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.

You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.

“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”

You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.

And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.

“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”

“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”

“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”

It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.

You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.

But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.

Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”

Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.

“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.

Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.

“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #acotar fic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #reader insert #illyrians #rhysand #cassian

[azsazz]

A Snowy Starfall

Daddy!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Batbabies waging their OWN snowball fight imitating their dad & uncles. Some take it too seriously, others don't take it seriously at all, it's pure chaos that ends in cocoa.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,003

Notes: Happy Holidays my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Come on, you three,” you tut towards your mate and his friends. They’re standing before the large glass windows overlooking your backyard. The sun casts deep oranges and reds across the snow-ridden land, your children shrieking as they play in the snow. A valiant snowball fight is running its course, and Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stand, faces pressed to the windows as they watch, quietly cheering their children on. “They’re going to notice you staring.”

“Maybe they already have,” Feyre adds from her spot at your kitchen counter. She’s concentrating intently on decorating a cookie, adding swirls of black icing to the gingerbread woman’s hand, creeping up her extended arm. The cookie’s dress is provocative, bare dough legs showing between slats of laced icing. She hardly glances up as she continues, “They’re probably imitating them as we speak.”

Curious, you peek out the window, too. Indeed, Wren and Baz have built a fortress in the snow to protect themselves from the onslaught of snowballs being thrown their way. Gideon and Nyx have joined forces against the two brothers, the latter packing the fluffy snow into tight, white balls, while Gideon launches their ammo towards your sons.

Your eldest daughter, Zuzu, and Nyx’s younger sister, Asteria, had joined the competition early on. They’d been a formidable team too, but grew bored of their brothers and cousin who were taking the snowball fight a little too seriously. Now, they are in the snow with little Castor, who had cried until she’d been let outside by her protective father, bundled up in so many clothes her wings nearly disappeared into the fabric. The girls are making snow angels, though Castor’s looks very much like a circle on the lawn.

Dark streaks dart behind the wall your sons have built and you frown, watching as Baz’s shadows help roll clumps of snow closer, creating perfectly circular snowballs. From what you’d heard from your husband’s friends, using shadows was against any and all snowball fight rules.

You cut Azriel a glance but he’s conveniently occupied, watching the game outside.

“Well, at least they’re both on the same team,” you comment to your mate, who refuses to let his gaze stray from the little boys. Good, he can watch them while he does the dishes then, since there’s a window above the sink. You pat him on the ass, nodding towards the mess of dishes in the sink. He nods in response, loping quickly over to peer out the window again. “So they’ll either both lose or both win.”

“They’ll both win,” Az responds immediately, a quick but pointed look your way. “They do take after me.”

Cassian scoffs behind you and you turn to see a scowling Nesta shooting him a look as he tries to steal a cookie. Jax giggles in her lap at his uncle's antics, but when Cassian hands him part of the cookie and its head falls off, Jax’s smile wobbles. He’s not outside due to the nature of his powers. As an empath, sensing the competitive nature of his siblings and the sting of a snowball to the face, it had been in his best interest to be inside around the luscious scents of cookies and warmth, instead of out in the bitter snow.

Nesta coos, bouncing him, and Cassian is thankful for the distraction, slipping further down the counter to where the High Lord sits, trying—and failing—to gain his mate's attention. The commander slips an arm around Rhys’ shoulders and glares at the back of Azriel’s head, continuing his complaining. “The only reason you’ve won so many is because of those damn shadows, Az.”

Azriel throws over his shoulder, wincing as Baz takes a snowball to the face, his face going red with fury. “How was I supposed to know they were unaffected by the magic restrictions?” he claims, sending said shadows out into the yard once he sees Baz’s slipping through the snow, headed for the icicles hanging off the railings of the porch. His intercept his sons in a display of authority, spearing them into blackened mist. Baz glances up to the window, locking eyes with his father, who wears a look of warning on his face, brow raised. Azriel watches his son visibly huff and take his anger out on the snow, building a ball and launching it across the playing field in frustration.

His gaze cuts across the yard, narrowing his eyes. Gideon and Nyx are crouched low behind their own pile of snow, looking like they’re scheming. He wants to trail his shadows in their direction, listen in on their conversation, but he’s alerted to Malos’ whines from the other room. If one of his youngest is awake, they either both are, or will be soon.

“Malos is up,” Az tells you softly, shutting off the water to the sink. He wipes his hands on a towel and kisses you gently on the cheek. You’re mixing color into icing for the cookies, getting ready for when it’s too dark out for the children to play. They’ll get all cleaned up and have some hot chocolate to warm their bellies, and you, Feyre, and Nesta have baked cookies for all of the children to decorate. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll join,” Cassian answers, stealing another cookie off of a platter. He dunks it into your icing to the neck, the cookie dripping with sugary goodness as he lifts it to his mouth, shoving it inside. He ducks under your glare. “Gotta go get my baby.”

Cassian and Nesta’s youngest daughter, Sif, had been put down for a nap with both Knox and Malos. She’s still a little too young to be outside without supervision, and the eldest children of the Inner Circle demanded time outside without their parents, probably because they knew their fathers would try and take over their snowball fight had they been outside. They didn’t want any tips or tricks, not even your children, even with Azriel’s hundred of wins beneath his belt.

Jax climbs from Nesta’s lap over Rhys who lets out a harsh exhale when his knee lands a little too close to his private area, and then over to Feyre, who finally sets her cookie down to scoop your middle son in her arms.

“Pretty,” Jax comments, pointing at her decorative cookie. It looks just like her, and there’s one next to it that looks a little like Rhysand. Purple dots for eyes stare up at him. “Uncle Rhysie?”

“Good job, Jax,” Feyre coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks. They pink with a blush and he settles into her arms, looking utterly at bliss. He revels in the warmth of her emotions, the pride surging through her. It feels like warm bubbles in his chest, and he noses at her collar.

“Look who’s ready to party,” Azriel announces, entering the room, arms full with your two youngest children, Malos and Knox. Knox still looks a little sleepy, head resting against Azriel’s shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. His tiny wings are droopy with sleep, and his twin sister, Malos, is already reaching for the cookies. 

Nesta is quick to scoop her away from Azriel. She claims not to have a favorite niece, but Malos and her have an understanding. You see more of Nesta in Malos’ personality than any of the children of the Inner Circle, and you’re extremely happy that they have such a close connection. 

“Hi baby,” you greet Knox, who is signing mommy to you. You ease him out of Azriel’s arms, who promptly returns to his position in front of the window, pressing exaggerated kisses to his chubby cheeks. It makes him smile wide, flaring those wings that he hasn’t quite figured out how to control. “Are you ready for some yummy cookies?”

His dark eyes light with excitement. Of course your children are ready for sweets, they always are. They picked that up from Azriel, who has the biggest sweet tooth you’ve ever seen.

Cassian reenters the room with his daughter in his arms and Rhys pouts. Almost everyone in the room is preoccupied with a child in their arms, except for him. Maybe he can convince Feyre to have one more. The youngest children in the family are two now and he misses having a tiny babe around.

By the heated look in her eyes, his mate seems to be considering the same, sneaking past those shadowy walls in his mind to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. The High Lord smirks. He sends her over some imagery to go with his thoughts, and her cheeks go red. That hot look turns into one of warning, and she’s speaking out loud now, “Why don’t you call the children inside so they can get warmed up and decorate some cookies?”

“Of course, darling,” Rhys sweeps from his seat in a wisp of darkness. 

Breaking a cookie in half, you give part of it to Knox, who signs thank you, munching on the sweet. The other half is passed to Malos as you head towards where your mate is finishing up the dishes, leaning against him for a moment, reveling in all of your family happily together.

“I love you,” Azriel murmurs into your hair, leaning over to sneak a bite of Knox’s cookie. Your son stares up at his father with wide eyes, and like this, he looks just like Az. It makes your heart warm, and Jax squeals in happiness in response, your happiness radiating to him. It makes your grin wider, peeking over your shoulder to see him so content in his aunt's arms. 

“I love you too, Az,” you whisper back to him, resting your forehead against his. 

It’s a nice moment, until the children from outside are wrangled through the door by Rhys. The boys are arguing about who has won their snowball fight, while the girls are peeling away their winter gear, excited to decorate cookies with icing and sprinkles and the edible petals Elain had given you before her trip to the Summer Court with Lucien. 

“Now, now, boys,” Rhys starts, but the diplomatic tone he’s using does nothing to deter the cousins from arguing. “I’m sure we can come to a consensus without yelling and acquiescing.”

“But Baz used his shadows,” Nyx complains, wringing his gloves between his hands in frustration. “We all saw it.”

“Nyxie, don’t be mean to Baz,” Wren counters, brows furrowed. He doesn’t like it when his family argues, especially over trivial things. His heart is so kind. “You can win the snowball fight if you want, but Baz and I are gonna win the cookie decorating contest, right Bazzy?”

“No,” Baz says flatly, dropping his gear onto the floor. You give him a look but he almost seems un-bothered by it, done with the debate his cousins are currently having. “We won the snowball fight and we’re going to win the cookie decorating contest.” 

You share a look with your mate, watching the scene unfold. Baz is quite the Stubborn Suriel, no matter what it comes to.

“Dad,” Nyx groans, “Can’t you do something?”

Cassian is the one who comes to the rescue, Castor reaching up at him for her sister. He helps the little one down and the older one with her undressing, peeling her thermals off layer by layer. “It’s not about who won, right boys? It’s about spending time and having fun with the ones you love.”

Feyre, Nesta, and yourself awe at his words, but Azriel and Rhysand are rolling their eyes and muttering under their breath at Cassian’s cheesy words. 

“What a kiss ass.”

“Smug fucker.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, turning your body away from him, like that will hide Knox from his vulgar words. “Language.” 

He winces, “Sorry love.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, bouncing Knox in your arms a little as you turn fully from your mate. You poke Knox’s belly playfully before addressing the rest of the room. “How about those cookies, then? They won’t decorate themselves!”

#daddy!az #daddy!azriel #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel/reader

[hearts4hughes]

I HATE IT HERE | JACK HUGHES

summary: in which her relationship with jack seems too good to be real. (0.7k words)

authors note: taylor really called out us delusional girlies and daydreamers with this song! it’s my favorite on the album and it deserves something so enjoy this very short writing!

"come on, don't be scared," jack chuckles as he slowly guides you. you look down, a suspiciously nice pair of skates clad to your feet.

"i'm going to fall!" you squeal, attempting to mimic the way he skates.

his giggle fills the cold air surrounding you. after a day of cozying up together in jack’s lake house, he gets the bright idea that he wants to teach you how to skate. after going to the store and buying you a pair of skates— that he won’t specify the price of— he leads you outside onto the ice. it takes you about ten minutes to even step foot onto the frozen death trap. but with your boyfriend’s persuasive smile and adorable face, you land yourself on the ice, anxiously moving your feet side to side.

"you're fine," he says, his hand moving to your waist. in the cold michigan evening, his hand on your waist sends warmth up your spine.

it all feels too surreal. from the dusting of snow around you to the romantic atmosphere, you feel like you're in one of your favorite romance novels. it all feels too familiar, and at the same time, your eyes scan around you, trying to treasure the moment.

jack stares up at you with a toothy grin. he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world; like you hung the stars in the sky.

“what are you looking at, rowdy?” you say with a smug expression. his face flushes a deep maroon and his eyes fall to the ground. “going shy on me now, are we?”

“i feel like you’re forgetting who’s teaching you how to skate right now.” his hand falls down your waist, giving your butt a squeeze. your bottom lip juts out as he lets out a boyish grin.

“shut up and show me how to move faster.” you retort, though a pink blush still lingers on your cheeks.

jack takes one hand off of your waist, turning his body and slowly demonstrating how he pushes his leg out at an angle. he swiftly picks up speed as you hold onto him. it looks so simple. all it is, is the movement of his legs and feet, but as you try it, you slip, clinging to jack’s body and pulling him down with you.

somehow, his body hits the ice first and you land on top of him. your eyes are wide as you both look at each other. as the realization of what happens sets in, you both bark out in laughter. you snuggle your face into the crook of his neck, an attempt to silence your laughter.

“i love you so damn much.” he says in pure awe.

“i love you so damn much!” you mock him, lifting your head from his chest and staring at him below you.

his cheeks are pink from the cold and his hair a wavy mess that not even the winter hat on his head can hide. your eyes flick down to his lips. they look so plump and kissable.

you lower face, stopping just an inch above his lips. he smirks, “what are you waiting for?” his words are barely above a whisper, eliciting butterflies in your stomach.

but just as your lips press against his, you hear a distant voice.

“y/n?” mr. samson, your ap history teacher, calls out. “are you paying attention?”

you blink, looking around the classroom. you’re in high school, not michigan, and the boy nearest to you is not jack hughes. the realization sets in, causing a pit in your stomach. you suddenly feel nauseous.

had you daydreamed about a relationship with jack hughes once again? no, you couldn’t have. it seemed so real; it felt so real. it was almost like you could feel jack’s hands on your waist, leaving a permanent stain of warmth around your hips.

you swallowed harshly as everyone’s eyes followed you awaiting an answer. “y-yes.” your voice was shaky. people in the back of the classroom snickered at you as others furrowed their brows. your skin felt hot with embarrassment. it was nothing like the flush you felt when jack complimented you.

“ok then.” mr. samson said as he continued his lesson.

you sighed, grabbing your pencil and copying down the notes on the board. you pushed back the recollections of your daydream, putting them into one of the many secret gardens in your mind. they would stay there patiently awaiting until you unlocked and relived them again.

if only.

#nora’s writings 💐 #jack hughes #new jersey devils #nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ christmas in michigan ] l. hughes

day four of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Luke Hughes x jack bsf!reader

summary : (Y/N) is forced to get along with Luke when Jack invites her to the Hughes lake house for Christmas

warning(s) : heavy makeout, some sexual content, some angst

author’s note : i have been wracking my brain to write something for luke and i have been waning to write something angsty for the fic marathon so this is how this came to be. enjoy :)

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The last thing (Y/N) wanted to do was spend Christmas at the lake house because she knew he was going to be there too. Then Jack said that he wanted her there and she can never say no to her best friend.

That's how she ended up sitting on a plane from Newark to Detroit after the Devils game between Jack and Luke. It isn't a very long plane ride but she doesn't like how close Luke is sitting to her. She tries to keep all her attention on Jack and tries to ignore Luke, but sometimes the youngest Hughes makes a comment or two because he can't seem to keep his mouth shut when (Y/N) is around.

It's not that she has something against Luke, but it seems like he does.

When he came to Newark after his Michigan season ended last season, he made his presence very known. Luke would interrupt her and Jack's hangouts or invite himself to things that they were doing. He always had a snarky comment when she was around.

(Y/N) has no idea what she did for Luke to act like this when she's around. She's just his brother's best friend. That's all she's been since Jack was drafted in 2019.

When Luke gets up to use the bathroom, she is relieved that she gets a few moments of peace. Jack decides to disrupt that peace though.

"Can you do me a favor for the next few days?" Jack asks. She knows what's coming but she looks over at her best friend. "Can you try to get along with Luke while we're at the house? I don't like when my best friend and brother fight. Makes me feel like I'm caught in the middle."

"Because you are," she replies. Jack raises his eyebrows with an 'are you kidding me' look on his face. "Fine. You owe me big time. Maybe get your little brother on the same page too. He's the one that has an issue with me. I have nothing against Luke but he has some vendetta against me when I did nothing wrong."

Before Jack can say anything else, Luke sits back down in his aisle seat. "What are we talking about?" he questions as he looks between his older brother and (Y/N).

"Nothing that concerns you," she retorts.

Luke smiles and asks, "Then why did I hear my name come out of your mouth? Miss me that much when I went to pee?"

"In your dreams, Baby Hughes," she replies. (Y/N) knows he hates being called 'Baby Hughes'.

He rolls his eyes and looks at something on his phone. He puts in his AirPods and she feels a sense of peace.

It doesn’t last very long because as soon as the plane lands at a little past one in the morning, Luke practically pushes (Y/N) off the plane.

She can’t wait to go back home to Newark.

Jack slowly drives them to the lake house because of the layer of snow and ice on the ground. (Y/N) fights Luke for the passenger seat and loses. She has to squeeze in the back seat with a bunch of bags and she is not happy at all.

Maybe she does have something against Luke Hughes. It isn’t just because he’s Jack’s annoying younger brother either. Who lets a guest sit in the backseat with three heavily packed bags because the trunk is filled with hockey gear?

Luke. That’s who.

The lake house is dark when Jack, Luke, and (Y/N) pull up. She knows that Jim and Ellen will be getting in later with Quinn since his game just ended a little bit ago. Tonight, it’s just the three of them in this house.

Jack better get his referee shirt out because it’s going to be a long few hours until Quinn, Ellen, and Jim get in.

As predicted, Luke just grabs his things and goes to his room. (Y/N) is stuck with Jack outside in the snow. She sighs and looks at the middle Hughes.

“What is his fucking problem?” (Y/N) mutters under her breath. “He’s ridiculous.”

She pulls her bag out of the car and Jack says, “He does this every time. He grabs his own stuff and leaves us out to dry. Quinn and I don’t like it either but we deal with it.”

With a light sigh, (Y/N) follows Jack into the house. The door closes behind them and the long few days begins.

“So, the guest bedroom is upstairs across from Luke’s room,” Jack tells her. She opens her mouth to object but Jack keeps talking before she gets the chance to. “I’m aware that sucks for you and I’m sorry. I know being here is the last thing you want to do because Luke is here with his stupid vendetta against you but I want my best friend here. If he causes such a problem for you, can you try to ignore him? I don’t want the two of you to fight.”

A frown forms on her face because she can tell how frustrated Jack is getting with the two of them. The last thing she wants is to upset Jack or make him pick sides between his younger brother and best friend.

“I’ll go talk to him when I’m settled, okay?” (Y/N) tells him. “Maybe you can go get food and drinks while I do that just in case a fight breaks out. I don’t want you to get in the middle.”

Jack nods and the frown on her lips is replaced with a smile. (Y/N) walks up the stairs and down the hallway to her temporary bedroom.

A door closes down the hall so she assumes Jack is in his room. Before she can close her door to unpack, she hears Luke’s voice coming from his room. A very curious (Y/N) presses her ear to Luke’s door.

“… what I’m going to do, Rut,” he’s saying when she begins listening in. He probably on the phone and Rutger McGroarty is most likely on the other side of the line. “What am I supposed to do? She has something against me when I want to pin her against something, dude. It's killing me that she's right across the hallway right now and I can't go over there and just fuck her into that mattress.”

Her eyes widen when she realizes that he’s talking about her. Quickly, she retreats across the hall and shuts her door as quietly as she can so she doesn’t alarm Luke to the fact that she heard what he said. She leans against the door with a sigh.

Confusion floods her body. If Luke wants to fuck her then why does he constantly act like she’s this a person when he can just … fuck her? He constantly pushes her away or says something that annoys her.

She isn’t blind. He’s atttactive and she wouldn’t be totally against it. It just never occurred to her that he would want to sleep with her considering the way he acts when she’s around. The way he’d completely cover her since he is so big and she’s so tiny. How he could probably get her to come with just-

A door shutting downstairs brings her out of her head before that thought could get away from her. She blinks a few times when she realizes what she was about to think about. She hears a car pull out of the driveway and watches the lights disappear down the street.

Frustration floods her entire body when she can't understand why Luke keeps acting like this when he feels completely different. She charges across the hallway to get answers.

(Y/N) pounds on Luke’s bedroom door. “Luke Hughes!” she shouts. “Open the door.” She doesn’t care if he’s still on the phone with Rutger.

"I'm on the phone," he calls back.

She pushes open the door and her eyes fall on Luke, who lays on his bed. "You are the most confusing and irritating person I think I have ever met," she spits at him. He looks at her with wide eyes when she bursts into the room. "I mean, why can't you just man up and tell me exactly how you feel instead of treating me like shit whenever you're around me? It's exhausting."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're not quiet when you talk on the phone," she tells him. "I heard you on the phone with Rutger when I came upstairs to unpack." She watches his jaw drop and eyes practically pop out of his head. "Yeah. I heard what you said to him. Something about how you think I have something against you, when I don't by the way. What else did I hear you say? About how you wish you could've come across the hallway and fucked me into the mattress. Yeah. I think that's what I heard."

Luke quickly hangs up the phone and sits up. "Who said I was talking about you?" he questions.

"I'm the only one across the hallway from you, dumbass," she retorts. She runs her fingers through her hair with a deep sigh as soon begins to get out of bed. "If you want to fuck me, then tell me. Be a big boy and put on your big boy pants and-"

As she talks, Luke stomps over and cuts her off by crashing his lips to her in a rough kiss. His hand is on the back of her neck and his fingers curl into her hair so she doesn't go anywhere.

It's a wet and filthy kiss from the beginning, but it catches her off guard so she has to push herself away from him so she can wrap her head around what just happened. She doesn’t get very far because of his hand on the back of her neck.

Fear flashes in Luke's eyes for a split second, but she is so close that she was able to see it. She feels guilty that she pushed him away like that. “If you didn’t want me to do that, I’m sor-”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she snaps. She takes a sharp breath. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nods and loosens his grip in her hair so she can back away if she wants. She doesn’t move though.

She stares up at him and thinks about how bad of an idea this would be. Sleeping with her best friend’s younger brother is a terrible idea, especially when Luke has been nothing but rude and annoying toward her.

That just means that no one will probably know what has happened between them.

(Y/N) licks her bottom lip before she gets on her toes to bring their lips together in another hot kiss. Luke seems surprised by this kiss but he does hesitate in returning it.

Her heart races in her chest. This was the last thing she thought would ever happen between them.

The two of them have been at each other’s throats for years. Now they’re kissing like it’s what they’ve wanted to do the entire time.

Maybe it has been the entire time for Luke. She can’t say that she hasn’t had a thought here or there about getting with the youngest Hughes brother. If anything to break the obvious tension between them.

Before she realizes what she’s doing, (Y/N) grasps at the t-shirt Luke is wearing. She pulls him flush against her body and she feels something poke her upper thigh. A small smile forms on her lips.

“You got a hot dog in your pocket or something?” she asks between kisses.

“Shut up,” Luke snaps. “I don’t carry food in my pocket, you asshole.”

“Then you really must’ve wanted me.”

“You have no idea.”

Those words cause her heart to jump in her chest while Luke leans down and picks her up. He’s nearly a foot taller than her so it can’t be very comfortable for him to kiss her. She wraps her legs around his waist.

She attaches her lips to his jaw and carefully kisses the sensitive skin. “You better not leave a mark,” Luke warns her. “I don’t want to explain to my brothers that you turned into a vampire or something.”

To spite him, (Y/N) softly nips at his jaw. Luke turns and drops her on the mattress. She stares up and finds that his swollen lips and wide does just does something for her.

“Get down here, Hughes,” she tells him. “Need you.”

Almost like he was waiting for her to say that, Luke crawls into the bed and hovers over her. Their lips reattach in a filthy kiss that almost causes her to plead for more.

He pulls away and looks down at her. She finds herself chasing his lips. “You’re okay with this?” Luke asks. “I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or anything.”

“Luke, if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, I’m going to get out of your bed and go across the hall to do it myself,” she tells him. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

A sly smirk forms on his face and she knows she’s in for it until Jack gets back.

༺═──────────────═༻

Three orgasms in less than two hours had to be some kind of record. Her body still shakes as Luke cleans her up. She’s completely spent.

He definitely fucked her like he hated her. She’s worried that she might not be able to walk in the morning. The only reason there wasn’t a fourth orgasm was because she heard Jack pull into the driveway.

“If you need to stay for a few minutes, you can,” Luke tells her. “I can go distract Jack until you leave.”

She nods and Luke begins to get dressed. He throws on the clothes he wore when he got here. Her eyes stay on him for a second before she says, “We need to talk about this, Luke. I don’t want this to turn into a fight that we can’t get past.”

Luke looks over as she sits up and secures the blankets under her arms. The tension has broken between them and she doesn’t want something to form after this.

He comes over to her side of the bed that she’s occupying. It catches her very off guard when he leans down and presses a soft yet chaste kiss to her already swollen lips. She raises her eyebrows and looks up at him. She probably looks very confused.

“Hope that explains how I feel,” he tells her as he stands back up. “We’ll talk about it, but right now you need to get across the hall before Jack catches you naked in my bed. I’m not sure I’m ready to explain this to him. I’m sure you aren’t either.”

She shakes her head. “Come across the hall tonight,” she suggests. “We can talk then, yeah?”

Luke smiles and nods before he leaves her alone. There are footsteps on the stairs and voices coming from the living room. (Y/N) sighs and falls back against the pillow that’s under her head.

It would be a lie if she thought that Luke didn’t rock her entire world for the last two hours. He absolutely did, and she wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again. Maybe not as rough next time.

Very slowly, (Y/N) begins to get dressed. She’s shaky on her legs but she manages to get her clothes in without falling over.

Much to her luck, Jack and Luke are walking down the hallway when she leaves Luke’s room. Jack freezes when he sees her. She forces a smile as she looks between the two Hughes boys. “Hi.”

Jack looks up at his brother. “You hurt her and I will send Nico after you,” he tells Luke. “I swear to God, Luke.”

Her eyes widen and a smile forms on Luke’s lips. Jack definitely put two and two together because of how red Luke’s lips are and the fact that she is walking out of Luke’s room.

Walking is a stretch though. Limping is more like it.

“I’ll never hurt her,” Luke replies. “Again.” He looks at a nervous (Y/N) standing in front of Luke’s room. “I’d kick myself if I ever hurt her.”

The nervousness she was feeling melts away and she smiles.

Christmas in Michigan no longer sounds like the worst thing in the world.

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #luke hughes #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x reader #malia’s christmas marathon

[softpascalito]

Snowy Surprise - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel takes advantage of your lunch break on patrol for ... other activities. Afterwards, a promise he made about christmas decorations comes back to haunt him.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader WC: 2200 Tags/Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Jackson!Era, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Established Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Female Reader, Neck Kissing, Dirty Talk, Semi-Public Sex, Christmas Tree, Snow Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: hello loves! i really wanted to do something special for christmas time this year and i had so much fun with kinktober that i decided to make a little pedro pascal advent calender! this also doubles as a piece for stephs (@toomanystoriessolittletime) winter writing challenge for this week! check it out here ♥

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“God, I hope they're serving some warm food tonight,” you mutter, your body slowly moving up and down as you steer your horse up the hill and through a small trickle, the water glistening with the thin sheet of ice that is decorating its top. It crunches under the hooves of the animal as you make your way past the abandoned houses, the caved in roofs and trees heavy with fresh snow.

The ice crunches again, this time behind you, and it's the only indication that you're not alone. He stays quiet.

“The soup we had last week- what was it? Pumpkin?” You ask absent-mindedly. “That was delicious. And hot. Burned my tongue. But it was worth it.”

He still doesn't say anything. Not that it's unusual. It's why you're such a good fit. You’re complementary in that way. You talk, he listens. He pretends to be annoyed, you know he secretly likes the way your thoughts fly out of your mouth, practically unfiltered in his presence.

You let your horse fall back slightly until he catches up with you, the two of you riding side by side. “Joel?”

He turns his head at that, soft brown eyes landing on yours as he seems to be snapped out of thought, “Hm?”

“Were you listening to what I said?”

A small grumble escapes his throat, a dark eyebrow moving up ever so slightly. You roll your eyes at him, deciding to just drop it, “Forget it, it doesn't matter anyway.”

He lets a few moments of silence pass until you reach the small lookout and demount your horses, tying them to a small fence post in front of the building. When he passes you on his way inside, there's a small smirk on his face.

“It wasn't pumpkin. It was carrot.”

He does listen.

Joel signs the patrol book while you busy yourself with the binoculars. The snow is almost blinding, the past week having brought more of it than you're used to, even in Jackson.

It's the favorite topic at night in the tipsy bison, with people complaining about the cold, about pipes bursting and about paths needing to be cleared every few hours. But above all the complaints is the knowledge that the vast amount of snow also has its upsides, keeping infected unable to move as fast and raiders from entering the valley at all.

That, and the children have taken to sledding down the small slopes in the town center, filling the air of the community with genuine laughter and happiness that more than makes up for the hardships the winter brings.

“Coast looks clear,” you mumble into his direction and Joel gives a small nod of approval as he finishes scribbling what is no doubt another joke at Tommys expense into the large book.

As you place the lens caps back onto the worn-out binoculars, two strong hands are placed on each side of your hips, Joel's body gently pressing into yours as he hums into your ear.

“Are we on time?” 

You sigh dramatically but do check the small watch you carry in your backpack, finding that you've made good time on your way to the outlook, “We've got time for a small lunch break.”

But Joel doesn't let go, his arms only tightening their grip as he brings his lips to your cheek and you feel his teeth graze over your skin.

“Lunch break. For lunch,” you try weakly but he's having none of it. Joel's gloves come off with a swift motion and he drops them to the ground, his arms sneaking around you and pressing you into him with a little more force. His fingers don't quite extend to your most intimate areas yet, instead just teasing around them, his touch a little more forceful than usual to make sure you can feel it through your thick winter jacket.

“I think I have a better idea,” he mutters into your ear and you nod, pressing your body back against his as you give in.

It's not fair. The way that your brain practically goes silent the moment you're in his arms. It's like a storm raging outside and falling quiet the moment you shut the door. You wonder if he knows a secret pressure point on your body that noone else has ever found, one that eases your worries, that slows down the thoughts in your head that usually rush past at what feels like lightspeed. There's always something to worry about, something to consider, something to feel.

When you're with Joel, you only feel him.

He knows this. And he recognizes every time, without failure, the moment when your brain falls quiet, just by the way you push back into him, a soft gasp on your lips.

“Joel- it's too cold- '' you mumble. There's no heating around you, making the logistics of what he undoubtedly has in mind more than difficult.

“It's okay. I got you,” Joel whispers back. His hand is still warm from the thick gloves he always wears on patrol and he doesnt open a single button of your clothing, instead opting to flatten his hand and slide it into your pants.

His fingers barely fit into the front of your jeans and it causes them to press down on your skin immediately, drawing a whimper from your lips. He shushes you gently, curling his hand to reach further and a moment later, his index finger is inside of you, the calloused skin brushing against your inner walls.

“Fuck, Joel, please-” You practically beg, a familiar heat already burning in your core as you push yourself into the palm of his hand, squirming with the way his hand aligns so perfectly with your front.

Maybe it's because of the cold or because he knows that you're still on a schedule but he doesn't make you wait as long as he usually does, slowly beginning to move his finger in and out of you. You can feel your own wetness staining the inside of your panties as it runs down his fingers and your own hands begin to wander, one clutching onto his arm while you sneak the other around yourself, brushing over the outline of Joel's hard cock behind you.

He hisses under his breath, feeling the touch even through the thick fabric of his jeans and a second finger enters you almost automatically.

“This is about you, darlin’,” he mutters, pressing himself against you a little harder and using his unoccupied hand to grab your wrist, “You just be good for me and stay still.” 

So he doesn't want to go all the way, probably a smart choice in the current weather. Any disappointment you feel is quickly washed away however as you feel Joel's fingers curl inside of you, brushing over the spot that makes your knees weak.

You have no idea how he's able to finger you this well in the current position, restricted by the cold and all the layers of clothing between you. The small room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and you can feel the warmth of Joel's breath in your neck as he uses his nose to push aside the scarf that's wrapped around your throat and nips at your skin.

His other hand, still wrapped around your wrist, comes to your front, still restricting your arm while also holding you up.

“Come on, let me hear you, baby,” he mutters under his breath. “Noone around to tell us off. Just you and me.”

And again, your brain doesn't protest. You don't think about the dangers of being too loud, of humans or infected being attracted by the sound, of anything really. Your body and your brain seem to agree. You're safe with him.

So you let the noises flow from your lips, whimpering and moaning, mixing Joels name with a string of curse words when his thumb begins rubbing over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel, please, please, please let me come, Joel-” You break off into another fit of unintelligible words and Joel hums behind you, rubbing his nose against your ear. You can practically hear the grin on his face, “Go on, darlin’.”

It only takes a few more thrusts of his fingers inside of you until you're falling apart in his arms, your body jerking as the pleasure of your orgasm shoots through you.

Joel's arms stay tightly wrapped around you and he gives a few more gentle, shallow curls of his fingers, letting you fully ride out your orgasm, before he withdraws his hands from your jeans, leaving your underwear a mess.

“There we go. That's my girl,” he mumbles into your ear as he turns you around carefully and tugs on your jacket a bit, making sure that you're properly protected against the cold. It's endearing how much attention he pays to your shirt being tucked in correctly and your zipper being drawn. He holds you for a while longer, placing gentle kisses on the skin that he still can reach until he's sure you're good to go. You catch a glimpse of him licking the taste of you off his fingers before putting his gloves back on.

Your legs are still wobbly when you head back to your horses a few minutes later and you nod towards the woods, “I'm gonna go pee real quick.”

You're not sure why you blush now when you've literally just had Joel's hand knuckle-deep inside of you but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he almost enjoys it, a small smirk playing around his lips, “You do that.”

Ever the gentleman, Joel waits with Old Beardy and Japan while you stalk through the snow for a few more meters until you find a spot that looks like it'll work well-enough as a makeshift toilet. It takes a moment to undress with all the layers you're wearing and you curse as you pull your panties down to find them stained with your own juices, the sticky liquid smeared throughout the cotton fabric.

Meanwhile Joel's hand is scratching the soft neck of his horse when he hears a small yell. In an instant, he has his revolver drawn and is hurrying into the direction you disappeared into mere minutes ago.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest as his boots sink into the snow with every step, his muscles ready to strike out at whatever danger is lurking behind the trees.

And then, suddenly, there you are. Standing in front of a pine tree that's only a little taller than him, your hand caressing the needles wet with snow.

Joel takes a breath, his gaze flying over the surroundings once more before he lets out a small sigh and lowers his gun, “What's going on?”

Your eyes, round and gentle, wander between the tree and him, lips pursed, like you know his reply to a question you haven't even asked yet.

“I know it's not the most practical option but-” You mumble and you can see the gears turning in Joel's head before he pinches his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

It's been a few weeks since you sprung the idea on him while cuddling one night, mentioning that you hadn't had a Christmas tree for years and that with the woods around Jackson so full of pines, it would be a waste to not get one. Joel didn't care much for it but he was so content in that moment with you in his arms that he gave in, agreeing that a little bit of decorating wouldn't hurt. And it seems like precisely that promise is now back to haunt him.

Your hand leaves the pine and instead you reach for Joel, tugging on his jacket a little, “Come on. We have some rope, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do have some rope,” he almost grunts, still keeping his eyes closed. When he opens them again, the brown in his eyes matches the trees around you and you're close enough to see the snow reflected in them.

“How bad do you want this?” He asks, honestly. He's straightforward, as always, so you decide to be as well.

“I really want it. It's perfect, it has the right size and we can keep it outside until I have finished the decorations and-”

Joel raises his hand a little, effectively cutting you off. He's heard enough.

“Okay.”

It's late when you get back to Jackson, riding through the wooden gate on your horses, the freshly cut pine tree tied to a makeshift sled behind you.

“I can't believe you talked me into this.”

Joel had offered a few more grunts and complaints about picking a tree so far away from Jackson when there were more than enough close to the perimeter. But then you had leaned over to him, just as he finished tying the tree down with a few sturdy knots.

“Maybe I can make it up to you by using this for something else, later.”

He smirked on the ride back, only stopping when you reached the small road that led down to the town and putting on his usual, gruff demeanor.

It barely lasts until you reach your doorstep.

notes: i hope you liked it! if you did, feel free to let me know if you want to be added to my twitter/tumblr tag list so you get a lil notification every time your advent calender is ready to be opened. wishing everyone a very lovely december ♥

#softpascalito #advent calendar #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel / reader #joel x reader #joel miller / reader #joel miller / you #smut #christmas tree #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedropascaladventcalender #stephswinterwritingchallenge #day one

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Good Girls Get Rewarded ~Sub!Alcina Dimitrescu xFem Dom!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Summary— Reader takes Alcina sledding for the first time. Alcina is not impressed by the idea, but the Reader manages to convince her. By the end, turns out Alcina loved it, along with some other things…

Previous Day <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Prompt— Sledding

Warnings: light NSFW, light smut, mainly fluff, kissing, grinding, light implied temperature play, teasing, light taunting, flustering, cold weather, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

Alcina pouted the entire way up the hill. She groaned and dramatized, trying to get you to relent and turn back around to the warmth of the mansion.

“Dragaaaaa, please it is too cold… It’s snowing too much, my love…! This is too dangerous, what if we hit ice, Draga Mea…” Alcina whined.

But you kept encouraging the tall woman to persevere. You knew she was going to love it.

“Just a little more, Mia Amore… You got this.” You cooed.

Alone huffed at your persistence. She grumbled in submission, continuing to follow your lead. You both carried the sled up the snow covered hill, which was a couple paces away from her mansion.

Finally, you made it to the top of the hill, and you positioned the sled there.

“Sit down here, Mia Amore.” You gently told the tall raven haired woman, indicating to the back end of the sled.

She looked at your and cocked a brow. When you didn’t waver, she relented and did as you said. You smiled and squeezed her shoulder in praise.

“Good girl…” you muttered, as you then sat yourself down on the front end of the sled, scorching in in between Alcina’s legs.

You couldn’t see the woman’s blush from your praise, but you knew it was there.

Then before Alcina could protest anymore, you kicked the sled down the hill with the two of you on it. Your lover immediately grabbed a hold of you, her grip tight and unrelenting.

She practically shrieked as the sled began to pick up speed. But as the sled went more smoothly down the hill, her shrieks of terror turned into cries and giggles of fun. Her grip loosened the tiniest bit, and her eyes gleamed against the white background.

The sled was really picking up speed, and you yelped as you hit a little ramp of snow, propelling you, and Alcina, and the sled into the air.

You all flew through the air and then tumbled into the snow, the sled getting thrown further ahead, and Alcina landing right on top of you.

She immediately lifted herself up from on top of you, not wanting to crush you, but you pulled the woman back down, crashing your lips into hers.

Alcina was shocked at first by your sudden advance, but she quickly melted into the kiss. You two kissed in the snowy, freezing environment, the only thing keeping you warm being one another’s bodies.

Alcina pulled you impossibly close, her kissing getting more ravenous and passionate. Before she got to the point of taking you right there in the snow, you pulled away with a smirk.

Your lover pouted and looked at you with her best puppy dog eyes.

“See… I told you that you’d enjoy it…” you teased the woman, rubbing your nose against hers.

“Shut up…” Alcina grumbled, attempting to purchase your lips with her own, but you cleverly weaved your head out of the way.

“Nuh uh… Not until you admit I was right…” you taunted.

You then pushed the woman around and against the ground with all your might, getting on top of her in turn with a greedy little smirk.

You began grinding your hips against her core, making the woman jerk her hands to hold your hips and help your grinding.

“F-fuck Dragaaa…!” Alcina groaned.

But you then stopped and stood up. Alcina began to whimper and cry out in protest again.

“If you keep whining, you won’t get anything. Only good girls get what they want…” you purred warily.

You held out your hand to her. Alcina quickly shut her mouth and took your hand to stand up.

“Come on, let’s go back inside, don’t want my baby freezing to death out here…” you teased lightly.

Alcina nodded and pursed her lips. You went to grab the sled, before taking your lovers hand and walking back toward the mansion.

She wanted to cum, so she was going to be good. For now..

~~~

That’s the end of my Holiday Bingo 2023 Fics!! Check it out from the beginning if you haven’t yet &lt;—Here!!

Alcina Dimitrescu Masterlist

Holiday Bingo 2023 Masterlist

Tag List: @storiesofsvu @willowshadenox @tryingmybest233333 @principal-weems09 @lunala-rose23 @aemilia19 @vexed-jade @schemmentiswife @athenodora-sulpicia-writer

#storiesofsvuholidaybingo2023 #holiday bingo #holiday bingo 2023 #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #Alcina dimitrescu smut #Alcina Dimitrescu fluff #lady alcina dimitrescu #alcina demitriscu #lady alcina x reader #lady Alcina #resident evil #resident evil alcina #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fandom #resident evil fluff #resident evil fic #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #maggie robertson #maggie Robertson character

[esther-dot]

The poor thing in the road, it's eyes still glistening 17k by @eruherdiriel

Hooves are not what wake Jon in the middle of the night, pulse racing and hands clammy with sweat. It’s fire. Orange and angry, eating away at houses and shops and shacks in his dream. Even now that he is awake, Jon can still taste burnt flesh on the back of his tongue. The wounds from his brother’s mutiny and Drogon’s gouge, frozen only hours ago, burn white. War leaves everyone broken, Jon perhaps most of all. Sansa finds even peacetime requires letting go.

the sky is big enough 15k @hopetorun

The war is over, except all the ways it isn't, and Sansa isn't alone, except for all the ways she is.

O Voyagers 28k WIP

Jon’s eyes are fixed on the floor at her feet. To a stranger it might look like respect, the proper deference shown to a queen, but Sansa knows better. If he wished to look at her, he would. He has not forgiven me, she thinks, her heart a stone in her chest. He likely never will.

daughters and queens bleed alone 4k

They crown Sansa with a rope of twisted steel, two wolves arching across her brow in a delicate embrace. No stags upon this crown—no branching antlers, no gleaming manes, no blooming hearts of southern roses. No fire, no blood, no graceful sweep of scales and wings, or the silver bite of dragon’s teeth. The Queen in the North stands before them, and Winter has come.

old wounds 2k by @jonsaslove

Jon left King's Landing and never returned. Sansa became Queen in the North and weathered the storm. When they see each other again, there is not much left to say.

stories to tell our children 1k by @jonsaslove

“You said that Old Nan used to tell you stories so scary you couldn’t sleep for a fortnight! That was a baby story!” Duncan nods, agreeing with his sister. Her father interrupts. “Well, Old Nan was a very good story teller. She could tell you a story about fairies and princesses and make it seem terrifying with just her voice and a menacing stare.” Or; Jon and Sansa tell their children bedtime stories.

Where the Shadow Ends 245k (I'm sure y'all have read this one, but it is THE post canon fic, so it must be mentioned!)

For years Sansa has ruled the North, wisely, justly, capably--and utterly alone. Everyone tells her she needs an heir; all she wants is a family. But after everything she’s suffered, there’s only one man she trusts won’t use her for her claim. Only one she trusts with her body. Unfortunately, she trusts him in no other way--especially not with her heart. For years Jon’s hidden in the far north, choosing solitude over the people he loves, choosing self-exile as punishment rather than atoning. But then Tormund tires of his moping and drags Jon back to Winterfell where guilt and consequences and a tempting offer await him. accompanying gifset by @thewindsofwolves

We Set Fire in the Snow 7k by @framboise-fics

Three days was long enough for moments of tenderness, for soft touches and gentle murmurs alongside the violence of their passions, but it was not long enough to burn this fire between them down to ashes, to put out the flames, he thinks ruefully, bitterly, achingly, as he rides out and looks back at her standing on the ramparts as he remembered her, her hair a curtain of fire, her body rigid like she has been sculpted from ice. He will take that fire back North, to warm him through frigid nights, he thinks; to burn inside of him so that he shall never find any peace; and let her feel the same, he thinks, let him not be alone in his agony. If he loved her he should surely wish her peace, so does he love her? Or is this how a wicked man loves, painfully, cruelly, selfishly? Is he her punishment just as she is his?

An Affair in Stages 13k by @justadram (not tagged post canon but works as one which is interesting as the first chapter was posted way back in 2013!)

It begins with a proposition, but where it will end neither of them knows.

Please Speak Well of Me 17k

A queen isn’t supposed to cry. So she’s learned to turn her tears to frost before they ever reach her cheeks. “Sansa,” Jon says to her, and the ice within shifts, weakens. Brackish water begins to leak through the cracks. She can barely remember how to speak, and it doesn’t come as much of a comfort that he seems to be fumbling as well. Over the foolish moons, Sansa had imagined that, if the time came that Jon ever returned, the mere sight of him would unwind the tangles of conflict inside of her. There would be something in his eyes, something she had forgotten about his face, something that would remind her what was real and what was not between the two of them.

breathe me in, taste my words 2k

Much to her surprise, marriage has only made Sansa less of a lady, not more. She doesn’t mind terribly, but maybe that’s because Jon doesn’t either.

Stone by Stone 8k

Finally, her words came in a rush. “But I seem to have built my own wall. Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me. And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”

fire in exile 2k by @princemills

The thoughts of the others he’d lost were too unpleasant, and the thoughts of those who survived made him want to keel over like a babe, knowing he’d left them behind. It wasn’t really a choice, but it didn’t stop him from pondering his choices. From King in the North to bending the knee to Daenerys to stabbing her with a dagger beneath white ash borne from burning flesh, he’s never made the correct choice, and now he’ll burn in hell for it. Or, as Westeros deems hell: he’ll freeze his balls off at the wall, or Tormund will cut them off. Whichever comes first. - a quick study of jon and the choices he makes in exile.

watch me run right back to you 16k

Three times Jon and Sansa almost kiss…and three times they actually do.

come out of hiding (i'm right here beside you) 36k @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

AU after 8.05. After the death of Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow chooses to live beyond the Wall, while Sansa Stark, the newly-crowned Queen in the North, marries a Dornish prince. Three years later, when Jon finally gathers the courage to return to Winterfell, he finds that while many things have changed, one hasn't: he's still in love with Sansa. (Featuring widow!Sansa, contrite!Jon, and a cute baby.)

Homecoming 31k @theoriginalsuki

Halfway to him, she broke composure; she flew at him, an arrow from a bow, and he opened to receive her, lifting her, clutching her to the soft, neglected animal of his body. Sansa has one request of Jon, and then he can leave her forever: help her to find a husband.

Gifsets: Jonsa and Their Three Children by @kingbuckley , Together We Build Our Empire by @aureliacamargo, Future Jonsa with Children by @amandapeetshusband, In Which They Live a Long and Happy Life Together by @baelerion, To See Him Once Again by @theirwinterfell, Maybe We'll Meet Again by @thatmansplayinggalaga

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

#jonsa #jonsa fic #post canon #dot fic list

[bakugotrashpanda]

Touya x Reader Word Count: 1.4k

!!: angst

A/N: this started out when I realized I didn’t write anything for Dabi’s birthday and then saw /tartaufraiz’s art on twitter and my brain took off with it. It wasn’t supposed to be this much angst, but I started listening to Logical (Olivia Rodrigo) and uh. Here we are. Just kind of wrote with this one, hopefully everything's in order and makes sense.

Your ex shows up the day after his birthday.

Punching in the code to your apartment, the front door to the building swings open with a creak. You pull your scarf down from your cheeks and let the semi-warm air heat them up. Giving your boots a good couple stomps to get rid of the snow and ice built up underneath, you head over to the elevator. 

You shuffle your grocery bags around and hit the button, sighing as you regain feeling in your face and fingers from the cold.

“You’re late,” a voice you had hoped to never hear again rings out to your right. Closing your eyes you pray that when you turn no one will be there. Deep breath in. Hold. And out.

Ding.

Metal doors in front of you slide open. You should get on – spam the door close button. Ignore what should be a voice in your head. Ignore the way your heart beat a little faster. 

But you can’t.

The elevator closes.

You turn to the stairs. Slow down. The little voice in your head warns you that you’re not ready to see him; you need to prepare yourself – put your walls up again. Turn faster, idiot. An even louder voice in your head screams at you. Consequences be damned, you need to see him.

When your eyes land on him, built up exhilaration clashes with years of pent up and pushed down sadness. White hair partially covers eyes that stole your heart and years of your life. His dark blue windbreaker won’t do much to keep the cold out, but then again, he always ran warm when you dated. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette before standing.

Your words are automatic. How many times had the two of you fought about lost security deposits because of smoke damage? “You can’t smoke in here.”

He arches an eyebrow but stubs the cigarette out on the stairs. “That’s the first thing you say to me?”

You sigh. “Touya, what’re you doing here?”

He shrugs and meanders over to you. Standing side by side he hits the elevator call button. “You didn’t wish me a happy birthday.”

“And?”

“Wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or something.”

“Could’ve been a text.”

He scoffs. “You’d’ve answered?”

Ding.

You get in the elevator and Touya follows. He pushes your floor before you can. It takes off with a slight jolt. Mechanical whirring fills an ever-growing tense silence. Questions and arguments you’ve wanted to have with him swirl around your mind.

In a desperate attempt to break the unbearable tension, you blurt the first thing that comes to your mind. “I thought you’d be busy in some other woman’s bed right now.”

Smooth. 

So fucking smooth.

He lets out a short bark of a laugh. “That was yesterday. Ya know, on my actual birthday.”

The elevator shudders to a stop and you leave first. Touya trails behind you silently like a shadow.

You finally ask what he’s doing here when your keys are in the door.

“Guess I missed hearing from you,” he says and leans against the wall.

“We broke up years ago.” The tang of bitterness in your voice betrays the calm demeanor you hope you’ve been projecting.

“And?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He nods at your almost unlocked door. “Are you going to invite me in? Or do your neighbors get a front row seat to whatever you got to say to me?”

You bite your tongue but turn the key, opening the door for him. With a grand sweep of your arm, you wave him in. The subtle scent of his cologne washes over you as he passes. 

Still the same scent he wore when we were together.

You plop the grocery bags on the counter and shuck your winter coat and scarf. When you return from hanging them up near the front door, you see him quietly unpacking your bags.

It’s a domesticity you rarely got from him before. When you were together you would’ve asked him for help unloading the groceries and gotten into an argument about it which would lead to another fight about splitting chores evenly as well as how money was spent. 

But here he is, your ex, in your kitchen putting food he’s not going to eat away without being asked and without complaint.

Folding the bags neatly, he opens the fridge and stops. From the entrance to the kitchen you can see something in his eyes. A myriad of emotions pass over his face – his brows pushing together. A question on the tip of his tongue. Lids lowering as he thinks. A slight frown. An unhappy sigh.

You know what he saw. And you have no excuse for it.

Should’ve kicked him out when I had the chance. 

Touya pulls out a small cake. It could fit in the palm of his hand. Pearly white frosting adorned with a single glazed strawberry. 

A habit you never cared to break. 

An accidental annual purchase.

A birthday cake. 

A secret now out in the open. 

“It’s-

“A habit,” you interrupt. “A bad one.”

“So you do think of me.”

The Touya you dated your first year of college would’ve been pleased — strutted around like a peacock and teased you a little. Not enough for you to get mad, but enough to start riling you up. But this one, the man in front of you now… you can’t quite put your finger on it. Is it a spark of hope in his eye? Maybe a quiet determination as he figures out where you stand? Or is it sorrow as he reminisces about the past?

Regardless, you can’t lie. Not to him. “Of course I do.”

“You miss me.” It’s not a question but rather a statement, and it pierces through the shoddy walls you surround yourself with. “Say it.”

You jerk your head up to find his eyes locked on you. “What?”

“You heard me. Say it. That you miss me.” His voice is rough, and the cake… that stupid little cake still sits in the palm of his hand. 

“I do. I miss you.” If he looked closely, he’d find traces of himself hidden in plain sight. A coat in your closet. A book on your nightstand. A lighter next to your candles. “And what about you?”

It’s the first time all night you’ve seen him hesitate. “We could try again.”

“We didn’t work Touya,” you smile sadly. “Maybe in another life we could’ve been happy, but not this one. It’s too late.”

Too much was said and we can’t take it back.

He sets the cake on the counter amidst your forgotten groceries and opens cupboards until he finds what he’s looking for. Taking a single candle, he gently places it next to the strawberry and lights it. 

“Make a wish,” you murmur.

A smirk ghosts across his lips. “I always wish for the same thing.” He bends so he’s level with the candle. The warm flame illuminates the contours of his face and reflects off the piercings he’s accumulated over the years. With a quick gust, the candle goes out leaving a wispy trail of smoke behind. You both stare at it. 

In the past, you would’ve hugged him and peppered him with kisses – asked him what he wished for and then told him not to tell you or it wouldn’t come true. He would’ve kissed your forehead and told you that superstition was stupid. But that was then and this is now.  

Uncomfortable familiarity settles around you like a wet blanket. You cross your arms over your chest. 

“You should go,” you whisper. Or else one of us will do something we both regret. You take a risk and flick your eyes up to his. Your pain is reflected in his gaze.

“Answer your damn texts next time.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. That would require unblocking his number.

He mimics your shrug. “Then maybe I’ll be around again.”

“Goodbye, Touya,” you roll your eyes and let out a little laugh.

He approaches you like you would a wounded animal. Carefully. Tenderly. Reaching out slowly so that it can run away if it wants to. But you stay there and let his hand find your waist, a familiar warmth spreading under his contact. His other hand cups your cheek, and ever so slowly, he leans in. 

You meet him halfway for a chaste kiss. He doesn’t push for more, knowing he’s pressing his luck as it is.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. His thumb brushes your cheek one last time before he pulls away.

“Until next time.”

“Goodbye, Touya.” 

Picture in banner by takuya_n on unsplash

#dabi #dabi x reader #touya #touya x reader #angst

[artiststarme]

Baby, it's cold outside

@nburkhardt, you asked for a cute introspective fic, I hope this fits! I hope everyone likes it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Eddie Munson had always hated winter. He hated snow, sleet, frost, and hail. Unfortunately for him, that's all there was in Indiana between late November to early March. The nights grew darker, the trailer was always slightly too cold, and his loneliness seemed exacerbated. Unlike the peacefulness and solitude that he felt in autumn, empty nights in the trailer’s living room while Wayne was at work only served to make him feel alone… burdensome. 

It wasn’t like he could cry to his uncle about feeling lonely when he’d been pulling double shifts at the plant practically since Eddie had moved in with him. He couldn’t complain to his bandmates that hardly put up with him enough to call them friends. And it wasn’t like he had anyone else in the town that cared about him even remotely. 

Most of all though, Eddie hated how the winter reflected the frigidity of the town. He knew they hated him year-round but it seemed so much more prominent in the cold. Their malicious laughter when he slipped on ice, the hardly-visible sneers from underneath scarves, and cruel words seemed harsher. 

One winter day though, everything changed for Eddie. He’d chosen that day to avoid the stifling isolation at his trailer. Winter had only just begun but its effects were already visible. Eddie’s pale skin looked paler, the bags under his eyes were heavier, and the tip of his nose was almost permanently red. The weather was dreadful, softly snowing with the flakes sticking to the ground. Still, he had to leave the trailer park to keep his sanity, weather be damned. He sat on a low hanging swing at the elementary school playground, snowflakes stuck to his hair and a blunt between his lips. He was still alone but it wasn’t so unbearable out in the open. 

“Hey, uh. Mind if I join you?”

A sudden voice took away Eddie’s peace and he flailed like a cat electrocuted before he was able to regain his bearings and grip the swing chains with a vice grip. He choked on the smoke of his blunt and looked through leaking eyes up at the cause of his shock. 

“The fuck?” He hacked while trying to determine who’d bothered him.

“I’m sorry man, I really didn’t mean to scare you. I just… you looked lonely and I’m kinda lonely too so I thought we might as well be less lonely together,” the stranger’s voice seemed genuinely apologetic and it pulled the strings in Eddie’s heart. As soon as his vision cleared though, his system was flushed with ice.

“Harrington? What the fuck are you even doing here? You come all the way over here to pick on little ole me? Pathetic. Where are your cronies, hiding behind the bushes waiting for your signal so you all can jump me? Fuck you,” Eddie snarled before trying to get up from his place. He stopped only once Harrington’s hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him back down. 

Harrington looked gutted, “no man, I’m alone. I was just… trying to get out of the house when I saw you here. I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll uh. I’ll see you around, Munson.”

Despite his words, he stayed still for a moment longer, eyes focused directly on Eddie’s. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t appear to be the King Steve he always was at school. He wasn’t confident here. His posture was slumped, his mouth was twisted in a grimace, and his perfect hair looked like he’d tried to pull it out himself. Most notably though were the angry bruises on his cheekbone and along his jaw. Eddie had seen more than enough abuse in his life and the aftermath left it like a scar. Hell, he saw it every day in the mirror. 

He couldn’t let Steve leave with this revelation. It seemed that the King and the Freak had more in common than they’d ever known. With a sigh, he pulled a fresh blunt out of his leather jacket pocket and handed it to Steve. 

“Here man, I could use the company. And I’m not sure I could finish this one alone.”

Steve’s grimace fell to reveal the most breathtaking smile Eddie had ever seen. “I’m sure you could Munson, but I’ll stick around. Thanks!”

They sat on the swings in the snow for what seemed like hours. They talked, they laughed, they sat in comfortable silence at times. When their hands got too frozen and their faces flushed, they stood awkwardly as if neither one wanted the night to end. 

“So uh, you want to come back to my place? It’s closer and I have hot chocolate,” Eddie muttered, his fingers twisting his rings in anxiety. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening here but he knew he didn’t want it to end. 

Steve ducked his head to hide a grin, but accepted nonetheless. “Lead the way, Munson.”

They spent the remainder of the night drinking hot cocoa, cuddling in Eddie’s small twin bed, and sleeping off what was a great night for them both. When they woke up, things weren’t awkward or stilted, it felt like they were just as they should be. Thus in the winter of 1983, King Steve and Eddie “the Freak” Munson became friends in the public eye. It caused quite the stir around both the school and the town alike but it didn’t bother them. And in the safety and privacy of their homes, they became more. They became more than strangers or friends and instead evolved directly into boyfriends that held hands, space heaters for each other in the cold of the trailer, and partners that they could each depend on. 

After what started off as a dreary night alone in an empty playground, Eddie’s life changed for the better. From that day forward, his hatred of the winter faded into a feeling of gratitude. The cold weather had guided two lost and lonely souls toward each other. After that, seeing snow or frost, or sleet always reminded Eddie of the day that he and Steve became each other’s person. They would never be alone again as long as they had each other. 

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24 @pukner

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#Eddie gets involved with the Upside Down much sooner and Spring Break never happens #Imagine if Eddie also gets a job at Scoops Ahoy to work with Steve #Robin Eddie and Steve could be chaotic together so much sooner! #Especially if she walks in on them macking in the back room when they refuse to come back from their break #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson

[signed-loni]

hi!! do you think you could to sal, larry, ash, and todds reaction to you having a broken bone? (rib, leg, arm, etc) thank you ! :)

Mwa ha ha ha ha….

I HAVENT POSTED A STORY AT ALL FOR LIKE 2 MONTHS SO HERE YOU GO

anyhoo any shoe, here you gooooo

warnings: cussing, broken bones (idk man could b a trigger)

🎭Sal🎮

So, you were just like…playing stupid games, and how did that end? You getting stupid prizes.

you were known against not only your family, but to your entire school for being a klutz.

you didn’t know what was wrong with you, you kinda just attracted accidents

so, it was no surprise that when you chose to climb a tree just for gits and shiggles, you fell down and broke your leg.

at first, all you could feel was shock. But then, it settled in.

you were screaming, crying, it was low key kinda sad..💀

JK you took that shi like a boss

not really

but sal and Larry heard you from larrysroom due to you being right in the back, climbing a tree close to the treehouse.

they rushed out, immediately going to your aid, Sal being the first to come up to you and tell Larry to call an ambulance.

he cradled you in his arms as you cried, you gripping onto his jacket, screaming his name

“fuck sal!! Please sally, please it hurts, it hurts it hurts! Fuck!”

all sal could do was run a hand through your hair and try and comfort you

“its gonna be okay my love, its gonna be okay”

waited in the waiting room the entire time you guys were at the ER

refused to leave without you

you walked out of the ER about an hour later with a cast on your leg and crutches

sally said you looked like slenderman with the crutches

made you feel a bit better.

🎸Larry🍃

what had happend was, you and larry were cruising around nockfell, doing stupid shit like ding dong ditch, getting a bunch of snacks and going behind the 7/11 you guys got them from to smoke, cute, rebellious highschool couple shit

until you guys went to the lake.

you and larry decided to try and walk on the ice at the lake, and when you got there, you didnt know how thick it was, so parry bet you 50 dollars to jump off the dock and on the ice

mind you, the dock is pretty high up from the water

so, you booked it to the dock, running up and and falling on the ice with FULL FORCE

you slipped back and landed on your arm, twisting it back and breaking it

you looked up from where you were to larry, and as he was laughing his ass off and walking toawrds you to help you, you look up at him and say “larry, i think I just broke my fucking arm”

larry looks dumbfounded

he stays like that until you rip a scream from your throat, not being able to contain the immense pain you felt in your arm

“Fuck!!”

larry shouts as he fumbles for his phone to call and ambulance and sal as quickly as he could

when the ambulance gets there, sal and larry are both panicking, they dont know wtf to do

you crying, shouting, and screaming, and theyve never seen you like this

when you get to the ER, larrys panicking, but like over things that arent even related to a broken arm

“dude what if her leg hurts!!” “larry, her arm is BROKEN.”

its was kinda funny

when you walk out, larry immediately runs up to you and hugs you as toght as he can. He was worried as FUCKKKKK

Sal runs up to you to, and also hugs you, hut not as tight

“next time larry, lets check how slippery the ice is before we test how hard it is”

💜Ash🥀

Decided to take you on a sledding date

yeah, NOT FUCKING FUN FOR U

Ash, bless her heart, had no idea what was going to happen. Poor girl just thought “hey its winter, how bout I take them on a snow related date!”

turns out the slop was too high, and TOO DANGEROUS

Because u guys didnt go to some a place that provided an area for sledding, you just found a tall slope and slid down it

turns out, you suck at sledding!

because not even a couple minutes after you went down, you lost control and fell out of your sled, rolling and tumbling down the hill, a lot of your weight going to your side and on top of your arm, and all you could hear was *CRACK* and also the very loud scream that erupted from your throat

Ash freaks the FUCK OUT when she hears you scream from behind her, you getting on your knees and just fuckin SOBBING

Couldnt stop, so she sled as fast as she could down the hill and ran like the fucking flash to tour side to ask what happend

“I f-fell-l off m-my sle-ed and fell a-nd i th-i-ink i b-broke my ar-r-rm” you said between sniffs and crys and quick breaths

Ash immediately calls 911 and is almost YELLING at the paramedics to get there already because shes fuckin WORRIED

paces around the waiting room cus shes nervous and feels like shit for being the reason of your pain (shes not but she cant help but feel like she is since shes the one who made u sled with her)

A while after the incident, she’s constantly trying to pay you back for being the “reason of your pain” when she was the exact opposite since she literally called the hospital and stuck with you the entire time?? Her logic is funny

🧡Todd🔍

(okay im gonna be 100 percent honest, Todd is just not my favorite to write for, for multiple reasons, so im gonna put him in a situation where he WASNT with u, and was just called up by sal or larry frantic on the phone like “uhhh, y/n broke a rib” or smth😭 )

Todd was minding his business, working mindlessly away on an essay and trying his hardest to ignore the STANK of weed in his apartment.

was almost done with his essay, when he gets a call from Larry saying “Dude! Y/n totally broke theyre fuckin leg!! Its in like a gnarly ass bent shape!! Like a fuckin triangle or some shit!” And then gets cut off by sal,-“Todd, you shouod probably come right now. Y/n had a totally freak accident and broke their leg. They probably want to see you”

Todds on the other end like “wtf just happend”

Regardless, speeds over to the hospital as auick as he can to see what happend and what Sal and Larry did to hurt his beloved partner

doesnt help sal or larry with homework for the next 3 months, or until you heal

A/N: OMFG IM SOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST!! I feel bad cus i have so many things in my drafts🥲🥲 anyhoo hoped you enjoyed this!! Remember your not aline in your journey, and theres always someone u can talj to :)) Xoxo, loni

#sally face #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sally face hcs #todd morrison hcs #todd morrison x reader #todd morrison #ashley campbell hcs #ashley campbell x reader

[best-overplayed-song]

fun facts

"Immigrant Song" was inspired by the band's trip to Iceland: "We did come from the land of the ice and snow. We were guests of the Icelandic Government on a cultural mission. We were invited to play a concert in Reykjavik and the day before we arrived all the civil servants went on strike and the gig was going to be cancelled. The university prepared a concert hall for us and it was phenomenal. The response from the kids was remarkable and we had a great time. ‘Immigrant Song’ was about that trip and it was the opening track on the album that was intended to be incredibly different"

"Seven Nation Army" was originally a placeholder name for the riff Jack White composed, but the name stuck so he wrote lyrics around it. It's what he called the salvation army when he was a kid

#best overplayed song bracket #tumblr bracket #tournament poll #led zeppelin #the white stripes

[the-fiction-witch]

The Snow

Media House Of The Dragon

Character Jacaerys Velaryon

Couple Jacaerys x Reader (Bastard Stark Girl)

Rating Sweet

Jacaerys did his best not to make a show of his arrival but such was hard to do, he circled over Winterfell on Vermax and landed in some cleared snow. He climbed down and adjusted himself slightly before entering the courtyard of Winterfell where the Stark family and their staff met him to welcome him as their guest. Cregan Stark welcomed him in thick clothes and furs with Ice in hand,

“My Lord Jacaerys Velaryon,” He bowed,

“My Lord Cregan Stark,” Jacaerys returned even if he felt the need to wrap his cloak around him to protect himself from the fluttering snow,

“We had expected you somewhat earlier?”

“Yes, forgive me. The flight from the eyrie was longer than I expected, and Vermax is not used to flight through snow-ladened clouds,”

“Understandable, but the hour is far late for business. We will meet tomorrow at first light to discuss matters,”

“Yes of course my lord,”

“If I may, introduce my sister, Y/n,”

Jacaerys attention turned to the woman beside Lord Cregan Stark,

Y/n giggled to herself slightly seeming to be rather fascinated by the man before her, she wore a gown of a deep grey with silver threat embroidery across the fabric, and she stood without furs, jackets and cloak to mention. Her hair allowed to flutter down with silver beads woven into her braided hair,

“My Lord Velaryon,” she curtsied almost low enough for her knees to reach the snow,

Jacaerys was taken back a moment, he found her beyond beautiful. Surprised such a beauty would be locked away so far north, he did his best to be gentlemanly even if his eyes were drawn to her bosom as her dress had a low neckline that exposed the top of her icy pale skin to the snow and of course his eyes. He tried not to think of her cleavage but he did his best not to gawk even if he wanted to see what lay beneath the silver-threaded gown.

“My lady Y/n, I must admit… your beauty is quite impressive, I have not known ladies in Westeros that can match your beauty I assure you,” He said with confidence,

“Why thank you My lord Velaryon, you are very sweet. I had heard tales of your handsomeness but I admit not of your kindness,” She smiled,

“Take care of our guest sweet sister,” Lord Cregan Stark told her before he and his men headed inside to avoid the snow, leaving the two alone in the courtyard,

“I imagine you must be weary after your long flight, would you like me to take you to the chambers you shall be staying in for your visit with us?”

“Indeed, it was a long trip.” I nodded, “I admit It was tiring, and I would love nothing more than for you to be my guide through this ancient place,”

“Of course,” she smiled offering her arm,

He happily took it and walked with her through the courtyard, “I think I’d be quite lost without you my lady Stark,”

“Snow actually,”

“Oh? Forgive me I-”

“It’s alright,” she smiled, “Cregan thinks of me as full kin even if it isn’t true,”

“I see, that’s very kind of him,”

“It is, Have you ever been so far north my lord Velaryon?”

“No, I have not ever been this far north my lady, but I have heard the tales, of the endless snow storms, the fierce winds, and the people being made of steel and ice. I am curious to see it with my own eyes in my time here,”

“I think it is true what they say,” She chuckled, “That northern men are built of ice and snow with a centre of steel. Often when Southern men come they tend to shiver,” she explained,

“Then when northmen come south do they melt?” He joked,

She laughed, “I do hope you enjoy your stay with us in Winterfell my lord Velaryon, I rather love it here, the cold stone, the harsh winds, the gentle snow. It sort of chills me in a way that… makes me feel alive,” She explained her eyes on the grey clouds that fluttered the snow upon them, “Forgive me-”

“No need my lady, I understand. The cold makes you feel at home,”

“Very much so,” she nodded,

“I admit it is not familiar to me,”

“I imagine not, I know Kings Landing is a place of sunshine, and I know Dragonstone has its deep volcanic warmth,” She explained as they headed inside the dark grey halls,

He nodded, “I barely recall days the sun didn’t shine in Kings Landing, but I was a child then.” he said, “But Dragonstone, the heat feels like home. The dark stone and volcanic tunnels warm the castle even if the sea winds can send chills across the narrow sea, and storms are abundant on Dragonstone sometimes they last for days.”

“I see,” she nodded, “You must learn to like the rain?”

“You have to learn to live in its mercy,” he nodded, “Have you ever been south my lady?”

“Once, My mother took me to Kings Landing once.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I found it… awfully warm, dirty, foul smelling, full of madness.” she said, “Forgive me, I should not speak of the capital as such. I know it is your birthplace, my lord, so… I suppose it must have some good if someone so sweet can call it their birthplace,”

“My lady, there is nothing to forgive. The city is as you described. I may have been born there, but Dragonstone has long felt like my home. And I admit those reasons are part of my distaste towards the capital.”

“I understand,” she nodded, “Here you are Lord Velaryon,” She opened up a door to a sweet chamber.

The chamber had grey walls and stone floors, a wooden bed to the side with many covers and furs, and a window to the other side with iron metal across the glass, the window looked out to the Winterfell god's words and the heart tree covered in snow, the window had a seat built into the stone to look out the window on, the floor had a fur rug by the bed, a large fireplace was central to the room with a pile of logs beside it, with a iron chandelier of candles above the room even if the place still seemed dark.

“This shall be your chamber while you visit us, I hope it is to your liking,”

“I must say, my lady, it is lovely.” He nodded, “It is nice to see the Starks have such pride in all rooms of their house and take such care of visitors,”

“Guests are seldom this far north, we must do our best to take care of them. I did make sure to fetch you some more furs and blankets myself, I imagine the cold will be striking to you these forest few days,”

“You are too kind Lady Y/n,” He nodded,

“I shall let you rest Lord Jacaerys,” she nodded back curtsying as low as before which one again took his attention to her chest, she went to the door but he felt compelled to speak,

“If- you do not mind lady Y/n, may I ask something of you?”

“Yes Lord Jacaerys?” she turned back to see him,

“... I uhh it is a bold question,”

She chuckled, “You’d be surprised how bold North men are. I’m sure your question shall not be too bold for me, ask away,”

“My lady, forgive me but… when you curtsy for me, in this dress you wear, tell me to my eyes deceive me?”

“Well, that depends on what you think your eyes have seen?”

“Your dress… it uhh it tends to reveal, much of you.” He explained, “Is this… deliberate?”

“Deliberate?” she chuckled,

“I can’t help but think perhaps you are being, deliberate. For my arrival?” he raised an eyebrow,

“Not exactly, one may call it a happy accident. I am merely used to spending time alone, and thus my gowns are made to accommodate my body and my preferences.” she explained, “Forgive me if I had offended you or upset you, I apologise I didn’t mean to,”

“I will admit my eyes were caught by such a beautiful sight, but I was not offended by it, my Lady Y/n. You are free to dress the way you wish this is your home, forgive me I meant no disrespect by calling your actions deliberate. I shall refrain from such thoughts and looks.”

“I'm glad you are not upset my lord. You need not refrain yourself I do not mind. Have a pleasant rest my lord Jacaerys,” She smiled before she left shutting the door as she went,

He can’t help but let her linger in his mind for longer than he should but he cleans himself up and takes to bed exhausted from his travels. 

Part Two

#jacaerys smut #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #house targaryen #housetargaryen #house velaryon #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd x y/n #jacaerysxreader #house of the dragon #houseofthedragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon jacaerys

[lives-in-midgard]

🎄Christmas With The Maximoff Family 🎄

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: After celebrating Easter and Halloween with Wanda and her kids it's time to celebrate the Christmas season.

Word Count: 945

A/N: Hey everyone! Here is another fic with the Maximoff Family. I think I should really make a Masterlist with the fics I wrote for them as a family now. Hope you enjoy! 💗

Divider made by @saradika.

Prompt 19: Family time AU

(prompt from @buckys-wintersoldier)

Masterlist | Fluffcember Masterlist

It was just a few days after Wanda and you took down the Halloween decorations around the house, and when you asked her to help you move the Christmas decorations from the garage into the house. You had the idea to surprise Billy and Tommy with it when they got home later. So, you and Wanda went to the garage right after breakfast. You looked around and immediately found the boxes with Christmas things you put there when you moved in. You were so excited to celebrate your first Christmas with them. You can’t wait to experience all the activities and traditions that lie ahead.

“Wow, detka, you really love Christmas.” Wanda said when she saw how much it was.

“Yeah, I really do.” Wanda laughed and then helped you carry everything into the house. With the help of her magic, you finished very quickly. You looked around for a while and didn’t really know where to start because now you not only have your things, but also Wanda’s Christmas decorations. Wanda decided to put on some music and then the two of you started decorating. While decorating, you would sometimes look at her and smile. If you had to stand on a ladder to hang something up, Wanda could use her magic.

“Let me help you detka.” Wanda said when she saw you. She quickly walked towards you until she was standing next to you. You didn’t know what Wanda was planning until you suddenly flew through the air and landed perfectly in her arms. You looked at her and started blushing and hiding your face in her neck. Wanda started giggling and gently dropped you back to the floor. You both smiled at each other. Then Wanda leaned in, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you. As you broke the kiss you said.

“But now we have to move on before Agnes comes home with the boys.” Wanda looked at the clock and then nodded.

“Oh yeah, we really have to.” After half an hour you were finished and went into the kitchen with Wanda to start cooking. You were putting the food in the oven and were about to kiss her again when suddenly the door opened, and you heard Billy and Tommy come in. Wanda looked at you a little annoyed.

“They always come at the right moment.” You chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then took her hand and walked into the living room.

“Wow, that looks so cool.” Billy said and both kids looked around smiling.

“It was your moms’ idea.” Wanda said, looking over at you. You blushed and nodded. It still felt new to be called their mom by Wanda and other people, but you were so happy with them.

“I also wanted to decorate but Ralph said it was too early.”

“Oh, Agnes, don’t listen to him. Do what you want to do!” Wanda advised her. They talked for a while, but you couldn’t hear about what, because Billy and Tommy were now asking you about some Christmas traditions, they would like to do this year.

“Let’s talk to your mama about it later, okay.” You suggested. And that’s exactly what you did later that day. Wanda made a list of all the activities you would like to do.

Time passed and you did many things that you wanted to do. You went ice skating, built a gingerbread house, and watched movies together. When it started snowing, you had a snowball fight and had a really nice time together. You and Wanda made a homemade Advent calendar for Billy and Tommy. They were very excited and happy to open it every day. One day you suggested going to a Christmas market and the boys went there to meet Santa. On a snowy afternoon you wanted to decorate the Christmas tree together. It was such a beautiful and special memory for all of you.

You and Wanda also had some special moments just for the two of you. One time when you were baking cookies together it ended in a fight and the two of you ended up full of all sorts of things. Then you had to take a shower and then snuggled up in bed to watch a movie.

You had such a wonderful Christmas time together and now it was finally Christmas morning. When you woke up, Wanda placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You cuddled for a while and talked about whatever came to mind.

“I love you so much, Wands.” You said after a while.

“I love you too, detka.”

“I can’t wait to see Billy and Tommy’s reaction to their gifts and yours to my gift.”

“Me too and I can’t wait to see what you’ll say to mine.” You stayed in bed for a few more minutes until you heard Billy and Tommy knock on the door.

“Mama, mom!” They shouted and you both chuckled.

“Come in, boys.” Wanda yelled back and the door opened as quickly as possible. They ran to the bed and jumped in.

“Slow down boys.” You said but also had to laugh because they were so excited.

“Can we see what Santa put under the tree?” Billy and Tommy looked between the two of you. You looked over at Wanda and nodded at her.

“Sure, let’s go.” She said, jumped off the bed but waited for you and Wanda to get up and go downstairs with you. As the boys ran to the tree, you took Wanda’s hand and kissed her on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, detka.”

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @yelenasdiary | @youralphawolf72 | @severelyuniquereview | @mrs-bucky-barnes-73

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fluff #the scarlet witch #scarlet widow #scarlet witch x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #elizabeth olsen #billy and tommy #fluffcember 2023