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netherfeildren · 5 months

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At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him.

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it.

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself.

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine.

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good.

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you.

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other.

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway.

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him.

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention.

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here.

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be.

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it.

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him.

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it.

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu.

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please.

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge?

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely.

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point.

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.”

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you.

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one.

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore.

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore.

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there.

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence.

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up.

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long.

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of.

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return.

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger.

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side.

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing.

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt.

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough.

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom.

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.”

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about.

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his.

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm.

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him.

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this.

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him.

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others.

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here.

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth.

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart.

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him.

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can.

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had.

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary.

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins.

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake.

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him.

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice.

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside.

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence.

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time.

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain.

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart.

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing.

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless.

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#vic fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin AU #din djarin modern AU #the mandalorian AU #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #pedro pascal characters #din djarin angst

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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

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Adventure Arc: A Song on a Silent Night

Before we begin I’d like to get personal for a moment. About a year ago I decided I was going to step away from this blog as a daily format and only post when I was really inspired to. It was a drastic step, but one I had to make because I was so burnt out and so deep in seasonal depression that I was on the edge of having a breakdown. Ironically, it was this specific adventure arc that did it for me, as I felt pressured to make something for the holiday season but literally couldn't get words on the page. Taking a break turned out to be the best thing for me. This past year has been great and I’ve actually had enough energy to not only do the projects that are important to me, but to also improve my writing. My partner and I have written a narrative podcast and we’re shopping it around to producers at the moment, I couldn’t be more excited. (BTW if you happen to be in the business, give me a shout) In many ways it’s very cathartic to come back and finish this adventure. I’d even say it was easy, since I didn’t have the pressure I self imposed because I thought I needed it to write. I just wanted to say: Take care of yourselves friends. Nurture yourself and good art will follow. I am so thankful to have you all as my audience and I hope you know that no matter how bleak the season gets it’s an absolute joy to write for you.

It’s the coldest night of the year, and despite all the lights on in town no one is home. They have been snatched from their beds and their hearthsides by a sinister song that carries on the wind and has spirited them off to another world. Our heroes must follow, and in order to get their friends and family back they must lay siege to the sorrowful heart of winter itself.

Find out what led to these events, and their outcome, below the cut.

Into: Some weeks before the disappearances begin, the party are sent into the cold to check on a missing mail shipment, only to end up clashing against a group of hobgoblins intent on ruining the holiday season. From there, acts that might be construed as harmless planks escalate into outright malice as it becomes clear the hobs are disappearing townsfolk, working off some sort of list given to them by an unknown villain.

Adventure Hooks:

If you’re running this adventure arc as part of a longer campaign, consider previewing the hob’s lair long before the villains every arrive, an old ruin where fey and witches are said to revel during the new moon. Having a low level party venture out to the ruins for a test of bravery only to return months later as veteran heroes will show them just how far they’ve grown.

From deadly pranks to highway robbery, each act of malicious mischief committed by the goblins is accompanied by a list of names and seemingly innocuous offenses, evidently ripped off a far larger list in possession of their leader. The party are likely to collect more than a few scraps of these over the course of their journeys, and will be surprised when they begin to form together, laying out a series of disappearances that stretches back some years.

The goblins’ leader Klatterbell was having such a nice time in the mortal realm before the party got involved. As a hob-knight in service to an archfey of sorrow and frost, the material plane was practically a balmy vacation destination compared to his patron’s foreboding frozen realm. This led to Klatterbell slacking off on his task of collecting mortals and develop aspirations of becoming a sort of yuletide bandit lord. Aspirations the party can’t help but thwart when they riad Klatterbell’s fortress and set the captives free. The fight can end either two ways, either the party is defeated, captured, and banished through the portal to the frozen realm of the bleakfather, or the party is victorious, and as his last act Klatterbell rips a horn from his belt and plays a haunting and mounrful note that will be picked up by the wind and transformed into a haunting tune.

Returning home from defeating the goblins and rescuing the captives, the party find the town deserted, the strange music unleashed by Klatterbell’s horn echoing in the roar of an approaching winter storm. With their rescued townsfolk in toe, the party will begin to explore the eerily empty town, discovering that the inhabitants seemingly got up from what they were doing and walked into the cold, proceeding enmass to the edge of the settlement where the snow erases their footprints. It’s at that point that the frost giants attack, walking out of the enroaching storm like it was a curtain between worlds. They’re here to mop up any townsfolk where were not swept up by the enchanting song and whisked away to the feywild, and maybe do some looting while they’re at it.

Regardless of how it shakes out, the party will have to assail the realm of the Bleakfather, battling their way through a boreal wind that will seek to rip all warmth and joy from their bodies. The only way of getting through this storm is to think back on the moments of joy and light they’ve experienced through their adventures: the festivals, the little kindnesses, the gifts, the pranks, the games, the songs, their friends: These things will lend them strength when the cold and the dark creep in to swallow them… battling their way up the mountain, to rescue the townsfolk and perhaps defeat the archefey himself.

Future Adventures:

It wasn’t only the party’s neighbors that were taken captive by the bleakfather, scores of innocents from across the realms were taken by the frostgiants as thralls, all living out their indenture over the feywild’s timeless years. Hospitality will hold for the winter, but come spring the heroes will need to set off to find these people a place to live.

With their slaves stolen and their fortress breached, the ice giants will scatter, some returning in months or years later at the head of raiding parties as they too seek a new home. While some may be hesitant to give up their supremacy and seek to subdue the locals wherever they go, others may wish to live only in peace.

#wintertide #Adventure Compendium #winter #giant

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melonbear51 · 6 months

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VTM Character Concepts I am Compelled to Share: Malkavian Edition

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Sorry I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth (work has been wild because tis the season I guess), but a bouquet of Mlakavian ideas have bloomed from my brain and I am eager to share them with you all. As always, feel free to use any of these ideas in your campaigns, art, etc. and please do message me about what your characters are up to! Also, PLEASE be mindful that VTM is a dark game so I'd advise against engaging with some of the concepts if you are aren't in a good headspace. VTM is a game, but your mental health isn't. Please take care of yourselves ❤️ With that said, let's get into some concepts for a clan I hold very near and dear to my heart! 1. A Malkavian with severe agoraphobia, but not for the reasons you might think. You see, they are keeping themselves isolated and sticking to one place because every time they go outside, it seems like disaster strikes. Others may say its a coincidence, but this Malkavian is convinced they are a walking herald of disaster, and wants to protect those they love. 2. A Malkavian computer scientist and programmer who scoffs at those who believe in a higher power. Why? Because they are building a God via AI who will shepherd humanity and kindred into a new era . 3. A Malkavian who wakes up every night with no memory of the previous one. To combat this, they obsessively journal, take notes and photographs, and record audio diaries. So far the rest of the coterie hasn't caught on yet, but with every night things become more difficult. 4. A Malkavian who developed an incredibly intense fear of silence after encountering a complete absence of sound during their embrace. To avoid it, they always have headphones to play music on their person, and tend to do things like drum their fingers against tables to produce noise. Though this helps, it can be irritating to other kindred, and a big hindrance during espionage and infiltration missions. 5. A Malkavian who, desperate to cure their derangement, has begun hunting down and diablerizing Salubri, believing the clan of healers’s blood is the solution to all their problems.

6. A Malkavian who is nonverbal due to a fear that some of their Dominate abilities, which have been erratic and uncontrollable in the past, act up. In life they felt helpless over the fact that many things were out of their control and wished they could have things their way, but now they regret their wish with all their heart.

7. A photographer Malkavian who strongly believes in the idea that when you take someone’s picture, you capture a piece of their soul. Fascinated by the fact that the Lasombra don’t show up on cameras correctly, they are obsessed with the idea of getting a proper snapshot of one and analyzing it.

Hope you all enjoy!

#vampire the masquerade #ttrpgs #world of darkness #vtm #character concept #vtm v5 #ny by night #vampire the masquerade v20 #vampire chronicles #vampires #fang formulas #malkavian #interesting npcs #la by night

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kanonavi · 5 months

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2023 XVX Fic Recs!

Hi, all, I hope you're having a lovely holiday season! Around the beginning of this year, just for fun, I decided that I would record all of the fanfics that I read this year, and during the summer I had the idea to take some of the best fics I read in 2023 and compile them at the end of the year into a rec list. Since xiaoven was the ship I read the most fics for, I've decided to just do a rec list for them this year, but maybe in the future I'll branch out more!

As with any rec list, please take note of the ratings and the tags for any given fic! Just because something suited my taste doesn't necessarily mean it will suit yours, please take care of yourselves. Now, here are 10* fics that I read this year and think that other xiaoven fans should read too! (Also uh. Sorry for how much I'm about to talk in the reviews lol)

*Keep an eye out for a few bonuses that I've peppered in ;)

We Creatures of Fate, by Wackachu

[Ongoing, Teen, 57.9k, 7/?]

Xiao is a weapon forged from red, carved from the hearts of weeping souls and etched into the memories of grieving mothers. While free under the care of a new God, he finds salvation, yet feels as trapped as the day the chains first clamped down onto his wrists. Venti is a God, one born from the wishes of others as opposed to his own. After losing his loved ones, he can't help but feel lost, high on a throne all alone, built upon all things he despised. The two find each other by chance, yet the rest can only be described as fate. ---------- A telling of Xiao and Venti's story with a hefty load of lore

If there is any fic on this list that should be read, it’s this one. I am an absolute sucker for speculative lore when it comes to Genshin, and the picture that the author has assembled of Archon War-era Liyue is absolutely masterful. Within the threads of that beautiful tapestry, they’ve also been interweaving Xiao and Venti’s developing relationship all the way from when they were a newly-freed Adeptus and young Archon respectively. They have a long journey ahead of them (the burn is slow, folks), and I think that said journey is an absolute must-read.

Extra Recs: Wackachu has also written two other xiaoven one-shots, which I highly recommend for more bite-size pieces of their excellent taste!

the holy light of your single lantern, by boxofcrows (@miralia)

[Complete, Teen, 34k, 6/6]

“Long divided by river and sea, For years we two have failed to meet – And suddenly to find you seems like a dream.” Thousands of years of silence, broken by a single visit.

This fic wrapped up recently, so it’s a great time to go and show it some love! One of my biggest sorrows is that xiaoven is rather lacking in really good canon universe fics compared to other Genshin ships, but this fic managed to fill that hole in my heart. The author does a fantastic job of capturing the way that Xiao and Venti’s conflicting natures and ideals can cause friction between them, all while maintaining the undeniable magnetism that they feel towards each other.

Relax In My Arms, by alphaparrot (@aparrotandaqrow)

[Queerplatonic XiaoVen, General Audiences, 5.9k, One-Shot]

As Lantern Rite arrives, Xiao is found exhausted and spent by Qiqi of Bubu Pharmacy, who brings him back to Liyue. Upon awaking, Xiao quickly makes his exit and returns to Wangshu Inn, where Venti is waiting for him on the balcony. Xiao isn't in the mood to party, but maybe a chill hang-out would help him relax. Venti knows just the thing to help Xiao relax and recuperate, and as they both get comfortable, they begin to reflect....

Author's Original Promo Post!

Queerplatonic xiaoven was a flavor of their relationship that I hadn’t tried before this fic, but it really sold me on it. What I’ve always loved about xiaoven so much is the inherent intimacy that can be achieved between them once all of the emotional barriers between them have been stripped away, and I think that those ideas are explored very beautifully here. Xiao and Venti trust and love each other so deeply here, and it shows in every word and touch that they exchange, and I think that it’s a must-read for anyone whose brain chemistry was altered by the ‘Endless Suffering’ trailer (so basically, every xiaoven fan ever lol)

i can not save us (but you can), by anemowisp (@sillygirl19)

[Teen, 19.4k, One-Shot]

two boys figure out what the hell they're doing

In the midst of one of the most turbulent times in my life, one particular line in this fic really hit me where it hurt, and it’s one of the few times that I’ve actually cried reading a fic. In my xiaoven-enjoying friend groups, we sometimes call Xiao and Venti old men with teenager problems, which means they don't always work when turned into actual teenagers/young adults with those problems, but I think this fic pulls it off really well.

what queer sins stain thy soul, by Anonymous (@sincerelyandyourstruly)

[Mature, 3.2k, One-Shot]

In which Xiao, long-established asexual, learns that identity is not as stable as he’d like to believe.

As an ace person myself, I feel it’s so rare to find a really good asexual character study where the asexuality is actually one of the central focuses of the intimacy taking place (if anyone has any recs of that variety please hit me up!), but I think that this fic pulled that off really well. It also delves into that particular vibe of when one’s identity might be shifting, which can be a really scary thing, but Xiao in this fic is lucky enough to have someone he loves and trusts to support him as he explores his new desires, which was really comforting to read about.

Where Words Fail, by kavvueh (@kavvueh)

[Complete, Teen, 34k, 12/12]

Author's Original Promo Post!

"You're Barbatos," Xiao repeats breathlessly. The young man in front of him nods. "Yep." "But..." Xiao cuts himself off and tries again. "You're the God of songs and poetry." The Anemo Archon nods his head sagely. "More or less." Xiao fixes Lord Barbatos with the most incredulous look he can manage. "... You're failing Music Theory."

As someone who was also suffering through music theory alongside Venti as this fic was publishing, all of the attention to detail in the musical aspects of this fic absolutely tickled me. But all of that was merely a foundation for a lovely story about a pair of souls finding their partner in a new life. The musical connection that xiaoven have is one of the essential tenets of the ship, and this fic did a beautiful job of using that idea to its fullest potential.

Extra Rec: kavvueh has recently started publishing a new xiaoven fic with a similar setting, so if you enjoy these kinds of fluffy modern aus, give that one some love as well!

The Stars in Teyvat are a Lie, and So Is the Sky, by yueyunn

[Complete, Teen, 148.2k, 13/13]

There were several issues that Xiao immediately took with Ningguang’s proposition for him to produce for Barbatos: his other artists had upcoming comebacks and year-end stages that required his attention, he was overworked enough as it were already, and Ningguang was not exactly someone he was looking to do any favors for. While her persistence to overlook all this was one matter, nothing aggravated him more than Ningguang completely ignoring the obstinate fact that he. doesn’t. work. with. idols.

Perhaps I was a bit like Xiao in this fic at the beginning of this year, because I approached the two idol/celebrity aus on my to-read list with open skepticism, and then ended up absolutely adoring them both. What I loved about this fic the most was how much care was put into actually translating the character’s canon backstories into the modern idol au setting. The author clearly has so much love for the characters, and it really shows through in the way that everyone has their chance to shine, even the side characters. This fic also updated recently with 15k words of extras, so it’s a great time to visit or revisit it!

Extra Rec: gold rush, by underthethousandstars was the other idol/celebrity au I read this year and really enjoyed, so if those aus are up your alley, I highly recommend it!

low-key (no pressure!), by windrise (Twitter - @/wyndrise)

[Ongoing, Teen, 75.7k, 11/?]

Following his friend’s questionable suggestion, Venti partners with Xiao—the resident grouch of his early morning stats class—for his music project.

If you want to sit down with a fic that will give you the warm fuzzies, this is definitely the one to pick. As alluded to previously, I don’t really go for modern aus as much, but this fic absolutely blew my expectations out of the water. I was getting the ‘squee’s as I read about Xiao and Venti growing closer over the course of working on Venti’s project, as the author has an excellent grasp of the deep inner kindness that the two of them hold, and how that kindness would naturally draw them together.

bouquet of lies, by underthethousandstars (Twitter - @/zhongliorder)

[Complete, Mature, 85.9k, 12/12]

In a world where humans can use elemental magic, Xiao uses his to move through the shadows becoming Liyue’s phantom killer. Known to the public as Alatus, he is their most notorious assassin. One day Xiao secures his biggest job yet: kill the Crown Prince of Mondstadt, Venti. Harbouring no love towards any royal family Xiao pulls off his mission with success. Or so he thought.

This fic falls solidly on the darker end of xiaoven stories (the ‘Dark Fantasy’ tag is there for a reason!), so if you happen to like your ships with an enemies to lovers flare, this is definitely one to check out. This is one of those stories that really managed to pull me into the world of assassins and political intrigue that the author has crafted, and on top of that it puts a fun spin on exploring Xiao and Venti’s individual guilt and the way that it affects them as people. The first fic in the series is finished, but the second installment is currently in progress, so I highly recommend checking that one out as well!

every morning in the dark, by magicites (Twitter - @/bribird_wings)

[Complete, Mature, 77.1k, 34/34]

Stuck in a time loop where he succumbs to his karmic debt, Xiao struggles to see the point in moving forward. Venti struggles to save him.

While by far the heaviest of any of the fics I’ve recommended so far (mind the warnings and the tags!!), if you can stomach the subject matter, this is one of those fics that I would refer to as XiaoVen Essential Reading. The author has a pitch-perfect grasp of what makes xiaoven, qualities which are pushed to their limits as the two of them struggle to break free of the loop that they’re trapped in. I took severe emotional damage while reading it, but my only regret was that I hadn’t read it sooner. It’s definitely A Lot, but it’s so, so worth it for anyone who really enjoys this pairing.

And with that, we reach the end of the list! If you've made it this far, thank you so much, and I hope I've given you some fics to add to your to-read list for the coming year! I tried to incorporate some newer fics with some classics, so hopefully there's something here you haven't heard from before.

With that said, I'll hopefully be back next year with some more xiaoven or other Genshin fic recs! <3

#genshin impact #xiaoven #venti #xiao #venti genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #fic recs #fic rec list #the ficshelf #Maybe I should make my own rec tag so I stop losing fics I reblog but uhhhh tired :)#I technically cheated with bouquet of lies because I only read the sequel this year #But I feel like it made more sense to rec the first fic in the series instead of the second #Also if anyone I tagged in this doesn't want to be please just let me know and I'll remove you #I don't want to offend anyone's privacy

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powerful-niya · 5 months

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Merry Christmas (2023) 💋

Sending heartfelt wishes for a Merry Christmas to everyone, regardless of whether you're celebrating or not. I sincerely hope that in this cherished moment, you find comfort in the warm embrace of your loved ones.

Beyond the festivities, my wish extends to your heart being filled with happiness and contentment, no matter where you find yourself.

In the perpetual hustle of our daily lives, this time of the year offers a reprieve—a chance to break free from the unending cycle of work and stress. Life often slips through our fingers amid the constant rush and endless to-do lists.

Yet, during this season, worry should fade away, granting you the chance to reconnect with yourself, bond with family, and simply unwind.

Whether you choose to relish any food you want, indulge in a well-deserved nap, watch movies, or rediscover neglected hobbies, this time is exclusively yours.

Seize the moment and make the most of it. ✨

Personally, I find myself in a state of profound contentment. Life has graciously slowed down for me, allowing me to savor moments with my family and the Naruhina Tumblr community–my second family.

Since 2021, joining the Naruhina community on Tumblr has been a blessing. It has introduced me to wonderful people, new friends, deep conversations, laughter-filled nights, and memorable events like Nhmonth22 and Nhmonth23.

This camaraderie between Naruhina creators and even readers truly makes our fandom uniquely special. 🫂

I extend my heartfelt thanks for this experience, for welcoming me with open arms, offering fun times amidst all the chaos of my life, providing opportunities for growth as a writer, and encouraging me to share my love for Naruhina.

A sincere thank you, 1000 times. 💯

Thanks for tolerating my crazy self, enduring my intense writing, and navigating through my posts filled with aesthetic dividers and symbols.

Thank you for inspiring me to make moodboards, to get out of my comfort zone, and to just be the best that I can be. 💗🫶🏽

Thank you for allowing me the privilege of getting to know you all and sharing my passion for Naruhina and writing.

As this year concludes and a new one awaits, I eagerly anticipate continuing our shared journey, spreading joy and love for the Naruhina couple.

With gratitude from the depths of my heart, I cherish the moments we've shared. I love each and every one of you.

Take good care of yourselves, and may the coming years be adorned with happiness and success.

To all, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! 🎄🫶🏽

#christmas 2023 #naruhina community #merry christmas 🎄#happy holidays ❄️#💭 - niya's thoughts ✨#powerful_niya #christmas

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daisynik7 · 5 months

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hi!

Just popping in to wish everyone a happy holidays and a wonderful new years! ♥️ hope you're all doing well and taking good care of yourselves. sending all of you so much love and only the very best vibes during this holiday season.

Here's a little update on me if anyone cares:

Recently discovered the musical joys of Laufey (she's incredible), watched Godzilla Minus One last night (amazing movie, highly recommend), caught up with JJK (I'm only back bc of Todo and Choso), and I got some writing done! Very excited to show you all what I've been working on soon :)

✨See you in 2024! ✨

#update

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ask-october-fox · 2 years

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Hey October, this year's holidays are going to be really tough for me emotionally. Do you have any words of advice for those who are having a hard time getting into the spirit of the season?

Ah, my deepest condolences to you during these very rough times. It is sad to hear, but I do hope that you are still taking care of yourselves even if very troubled. Hm, as for words of advice, that is rather difficult, it can be hard to feel festive if.. well, youre not feeling festive! Please know that it is alright if you are having a hard time not feeling the spirit of the season. I, too, can understand how difficult it can be, and I think the best advice is.. not to force it. If you arent feeling it, remind yourself that it is ok, and to also know that in this spooky season it can be enjoyed in various ways. Sure going all out is fun, but October can also just be enjoyed in a quiet silence of the autumn air. Not all spirits are into big parties, after all! Do take care, dear spirit. 🤍🧡🖤

#quick reply #penningtoninkwell

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let-them-read-fics · 1 year

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hi author, how have you been? are you working currently on something? hope you’re staying healthy and happy during this december🎈

Hi anon, thank you for checking in :) Things have honestly been a bit chaotic in my life lately and have kept me preoccupied, but I've been alright overall. Just busy and stressed out.

I have a bunch of things in the works, though, which I'll hopefully be able to post soon for all of you to enjoy 💖

But enough about me; how have you guys been? I hope you're taking care of yourselves and enjoying the holiday season (if you celebrate). I'm so grateful for each and every one of you :)

Love you guys, stay safe and healthy ♡

#anon #happy holidays #ily #mwah #thank you for the support #let-them-read-fics

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iamsailorshadow · 5 months

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December 2023 - We All Deserve A Pizza Party After This Year

Hello everyone. 2023 has been: A Year. I certainly hope it's been better for all of you. Time has gone by in the blink of an eye and I can't believe it's nearly 2024 already.

Boy, I don't know where to start… Well, actually, here's a good first note: I lost access to my Twitter back when it… "changed hands". I couldn't log in anymore and eventually, all my cached logins just stopped working, so I was left just kinda… in the air. Still can't access my account, and frankly, I just don't want to. I was never really on there much, I only had the account because everyone else had one. I actually had a personal Twitter and a site Twitter.

Back in July was the first big event. Our beloved cat of 15 years, Ichigo, passed away. It was difficult, and it was also my partner, Loki's, first real loss of a companion animal, so it hit him particularly hard.

I was just beginning to feel like I was recovering from that at the end of August. Then, at the beginning of September, my mother passed away quite suddenly. I had to go across the country to handle that for nearly a month.I'm extremely grateful for all the help our friends and his family gave us during that time. Thank you all so very much. ❤ At the same time; in FFXIV; my Main Static dissolved, and my Alt Static went on hiatus, so I had little to come back to after all that. It was difficult to deal with, and still is; the holidays are proving to be very rough. Though, some good news: We have inherited two lovely girl kitties from my late mother, who are now part of our family. ♪

This all impacts the site a bit, as the PayPal I have been using for over 20 years was my mother's due to circumstances. With her recent passing, I have had to close that account and make a new one. It unfortunately locked the username "RobynMarkius", so my new PayPal.me link is now "ShadowSenshi". I've updated the link in the site's navigation. Oh! And I finally got the "display most recent video from YouTube" to actually automatically pull the most recent upload rather than making me have to update it manually. So happy for that.

☾ Have a wonderful Holiday Season and please take care of yourselves. ❤ --Robyn

Starlight Eclipse Spring Store

Aph and Popo / "Pride Cats" Merch

Chibi-Angel Merch

#status update #website update #irl stuff #merch links #tw: death

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dirtyriver · 2 years

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From George to his fans, friends and extended family, please read below. This page will serve as a place to connect with George as well as receive updates. Please, respect the privacy of George and his family at this difficult time and reach out ONLY through this avenue. Thank you and please see below:

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It's rather hard to believe that it's been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that "the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box."

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I've opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They've given me peace.

There will be some business matters to take care of before I go. I am already arranging with my art agent to refund the money paid for sketches that I can no longer finish. And, since, despite only having one working eye, I can still sign my name, I hope to coordinate one last mass book signing to help make my passing a bit easier. I also hope that I will be able to make one last public appearance wherein I can be photographed with as many of my fans as possible, with the proviso that I get to hug each and every one of them. I just want to be able to say goodbye with smiles as well as tears.

I know that many of you will have questions to ask or comments to make, and rather than fueling the fires of speculation and well-meaning but potentially harmful miscommunication, I will be returning to the arena of social media by starting a new Facebook account where fans and friends can communicate with me or my designated rep directly for updates and clarification.

For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

I may not be able to respond as quickly as I would like since I will be endeavoring to get as much outside pleasure as I can in the time allotted me, but I will do my best. Kind words would also be greatly appreciated. More details to follow once it's up and running.

Well, that's it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I'm feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it's because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It's quite uplifting to be told that you've led a good life, that you've brought joy to so many lives and that you'll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: "Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth."

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

#Comics #George Perez

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dd-the-man-without-fear · 2 years

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From George Pérez posted his announcement on his Facebook page:

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It’s rather hard to believe that it’s been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that “the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box.”

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I’ve opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They’ve given me peace.

Please search for @TheGeorgePerez on Facebook if you’d like to join the page to receive updates. For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

Well, that’s it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I’m feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it’s because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It’s quite uplifting to be told that you’ve led a good life, that you’ve brought joy to so many lives and that you’ll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: “Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

UPDATE: George wanted to say thank everyone for supported him and wish him well.

#George Pérez #George Perez #Comic Books #Comics #Artist #Legend #Comic Book Legend #Comic Book Legends #Wonder Woman #Teen Titans #The Avengers #JLA Avengers #Crisis on Infinite Earths #Fantastic Four #Justice League

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donnatroyprincessofthemyscira · 2 years

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE :

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I’ve opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They’ve given me peace.

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

#George Perez #Wonder Woman #donna troy #wondergirl #wonder girl #teen titans #titans #princess donna troy #Avengers #Justice League #Wanda Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff the Scarlet Witch #Scarlet Witch #Batman #Thor #Superman #She Hulk #Hawkeye

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generallybarzy · 3 years

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If You'll Have Me Forever.

an: this is the little fic i decided to write based on a dream i had. I wrote it all in one day while I was at my grandparent's house with no internet or computer, so i wrote it all in my notebook and then typed it up on here haha.

warnings: unedited, mentions of past emotional trauma and unhealthy families

word count: 1.7k

You always loved spending time with Mat's family. Whenever there was a break in the season, you two quickly found yourselves on a plane out to Vancouver, holding hands in the airplane and in the car on the way to his parent's house.

It had been like this since your first summer with them. Mat had invited you home with him for part of the offseason, and although you'd only been dating almost a year and were still nervous to meet his family, you couldn't say no. His family had welcomed you warmly, in fact, warm may not even be good enough to describe it. His parents smiled as soon as they saw you- saw you holding their son's hand, saw him smile proudly as he finally introduced you to them as his girlfriend.

Then, they hugged you.

You hadn't come from a loving family, not one where you openly told each other "I love you" or "I'm proud of you", and certainly not one that hugged and had family game nights. After much discussion with Mat and with your therapist, you came to the conclusion that your family had been borderline emotionally neglectful, and you saw how your childhood had scarred you. Mat's family was so openly affectionate and loving towards you right off the bat that it overwhelmed you, to the point of you going upstairs and refusing to come down until Mat had a talk with you. He was understanding, gently told them to be a little more reserved, and helped to slowly ease you into their love. And that just made you love him even more.

Now, it was your first holiday season with them. After spending a good chunk of last summer in Vancouver, you were certainly excited to spend a few days of your winter here with them rather than in your empty little apartment. You and Mat had flown out the night before, and arrived early in the morning, grateful that the team had managed a few extra days off this season- just enough days to make a trip worth it. The whole day had been spent talking and laughing and just catching up with his family about the past year- how things were going with your studies, with your job, how Mat’s season was going, and how your relationship was going. Later in the evening, after a long round of some board game they’d pulled from the closet, the jet lag and overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling of familial love caught up to you. So, in the middle of preparing some snacks to munch on during the next round of the game, you faked a phone call and quickly excused yourself to the snowy back patio, slipping into your coat and snow boots on the way and disappearing out the door.

Mat had been keeping a close eye on you all night.

He knew how you got about affection, you were even still a little shy receiving love from him, and the last thing he wanted to do was let him or his family overwhelm you again. He had gone to talk with his dad for five minutes- about a topic that had him immediately searching for you to go hide away and get some much needed alone time- and when he came back to the living room, you weren’t where he left you with his mom and sister.

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” his mom looked up from preparing the food. “She stepped out back to take a phone call.”

“Yeah?” Mat snuck over to the backdoor, squinting out into the snow and spotting your figure, no phone in sight. He slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed his jacket from next to the door. “I think the jetlag might be stting in. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out onto the back patio, the snow crunching beneath his fluffy slippers. You didn’t even turn when you heard the door close behind him, and that’s how he knew something was wrong.

“Baby… what are you doing out in the cold?” He came up next to you, curling an arm over your shoulders. “Were they too much? Should I tell them to back off a bit?” Finally, you turned to face him. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a soft little smile on your face. “Aw, baby.”

“I love them so much, Mat.”

“C’mere.” He pulled you against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your cold arms. You curled your arms around his waist, snuggling in under his winter jacket. “Babe, you should be wearing something heavier out here. I don’t want you getting sick.” Still, you stayed where you were, tucked into his jacket with him and hiding away from the snow and the world. “I’m glad you love my family so much. I hope you can tell they love you too. And if they’re too much, I’ll tell them, okay?”

“I know.”

“Just let me know. I know how you get uncomfortable when you receive this much love, but I hope you know you deserve it, okay? You’re absolutely amazing.” At his words, you lifted your face from the comfort of his chest, eyes red and face hot, streaked with tears. Snowflakes melted on impact, and Mat’s thumb brushed away the wetness. “Please don’t cry, baby.”

“I’m just… so overwhelmed. In the best way possible, I promise.”

“That’s good.”

“And I’m getting sleepy.”

“Jetlag finally catching up to you?” You nodded, burrowing back into the warmth of his jacket. He smiled, squeezing you against him. “Let’s go to bed, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Nooooo, I just wanna stay like this.”

“Okay, okay.” He smiled and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stay out here for a little, but we gotta go in when you get cold.” Mat knew the reason you didn’t want to go back inside yet. One, because you didn’t want to cry in front of his family, but also because after spending the whole day with them, you were starved of sweet, gentle moments like this, alone with Mat. He knew you loved his family, but God, how you loved him. You’d been holding back all your hugs and kisses today, keeping low on the PDA in front of his family, and you’d gotten needy. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his parents, saying the two of you were gonna be done for the night and wanted a little alone time, and he knew they’d understand and head to bed. The snow was picking up now, so Mat put his phone back in his pocket and pulled you with him against the wall of the house, your arms tucked under his fuzzy coat and holding tight around his waist, watching the snow fall and enjoying the comforting silence of the world.

“Do you know how much people love you?”

“Mat…” You smiled and hid your face shyly.

“No, do you know? Everyone who meets you falls a little bit in love with you. Everyone. You just have this… this loveable nature to you/ You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing person I know.” You didn’t respond, but Mat saw the smile on your face and felt the way your arms squeezed around his torso. “Remember how earlier, I was talking to my dad? You know what he was saying? He said ‘the way you look at (Y/N), that’s how I looked at your mom’. And how he still does.” That got your attention, and you lifted your face to look at him, at the pretty, genuine love in his dark eyes. “Hey, there’s that pretty face!” Your hands slid further up his back, and you perched up on your tiptoes, reaching up for a soft kiss that Mat gladly met you halfway for. “I’m serious when I say I love you, okay?”

“I know.”

“I get that you didn’t have the best relationship with your family, and they weren’t the healthiest, especially when it came to showing these types of emotions, but I’m gonna make sure you get used to it. Cause you’re gonna be in my life for a long, long time.”

“Forever?”

“If you’ll have me forever.”

Everything went silent, save for the soft falling of snow, at that whispered promise. The tears filled your eyes again, just so, so happy that you had someone like Mat in your life, and that he was so understanding and patient with you.

“If you’ll have me forever, my family would be more than happy to call you one of us. You could spend all your birthdays, holidays, and celebrations here, and they’d love you. I’d love you. I do. You’d never feel unloved again, if you’ll have me forever.”

“Mat are... Are you proposing?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet, not officially. Just take this as a… warning.”

You laughed a little bit. “A warning, Mat?”

“No, ugh… um, how about a promise. Yeah, a promise. A promise that if you’ll have me forever, I’ll do nothing but show you how damn loveable you are. I know I can’t erase the years of pain… God, or the trauma that your family put you through, but I promise you I’m gonna try my hardest. You deserve so much better than what they’d given to you, and I’ll give that to you.” Mat saw the tears in your eyes and swooped down to kiss your cheeks repeatedly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry, baby.” He could say so, so much more, but he wanted to take care of you first. “Enough of my sappy rambling, yeah? My toes are freezing. Can we go in?” He saw you glance down at his feet and immediately started giggling.

“Nice slippers, grandpa.”

“They’re cozy.” He grinned, happy to see you smiling again. He had grabbed his dad’s shoes to come out, knowing you found his silly dad-fashion funny. “Now, let’s get to bed, sleepyhead.” He pulled you back into the warm, quiet house and led the way up to his bedroom, happy to finally have some time to just cuddle up under the blankets along with you. But as you fell asleep, tucked safely in his arms with a content, peaceful smile, he could fall asleep along with you. Instead, he lay there, watching you for hours, his thoughts filled with his dad’s words from earlier and quietly, secretly, he was writing long lines of phrases he wanted to say to you, phrases that would one day become part of his proposal.

I promise I’ll keep you safe, I promise I’ll keep you smiling and loved... if you’ll have me forever.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal fic #op #fic

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