S0larst0rm555 - Z

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: dad!steve, mom!reader, husband!steve, fem!reader, no use of y/n, established marriage, domestic fluff, mentions of parenting and child behavior, playful family banter, holiday traditions, mild chaos caused by kids, Steve being the ultimate dad, tender family moments, sweet kisses, references to Home Alone, soft nostalgia, and an abundance of Christmas warmth.

★ Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, 1995, and the Harrington family is in full holiday mode. Between their six-year-old son Ethan’s endless questions, their four-year-old daughter Sadie’s knack for causing adorable mischief, and Steve’s playful dad jokes, the night is full of warmth and laughter. 3k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra (again)

★ Dividers: thank you to @bernardsbendystraws for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author’s Note: husband and dad steve harrington. goodness. anyways this should be the last Christmas and overall fic of the year (be on the look out for new year’s day) unless i get inspiration again. this is horribly messy and terribly written but nonetheless enjoy!

Snow fell steadily outside the Harrington home, muffling the usual sounds of Hawkins under a thick, sparkling blanket.

The rooftops were capped in white, the snowdrifts shimmering under the glow of streetlamps. Icicles hung from the edges of the roof, catching the twinkle of the colorful Christmas lights that Steve had painstakingly strung up a week ago, with the help of 6 year old Ethan’s enthusiastic, yet, chaotic help.

Each light blinked in perfect rhythm, painting the snow below in shifting hues of red, green, and gold. Through the fogged-up windows, the warm golden light of the Christmas tree spilled onto the lawn, offering a glimpse of the cozy world within.

Inside, the kitchen was a war zone of holiday cheer. Flour clung to nearly every surface—the countertops, the floor, and even the stool where little 4 year old Sadie stood, perched like a determined little artist. It dusted the tip of her nose and her wild curls, making her look like a miniature mad scientist as she meticulously squeezed green frosting onto a gingerbread man.

Her tongue poked out in focused concentration, her small hands gripping the frosting tube as if her life depended on it. Beside her, an array of cookies lay half-finished on the counter, buried under uneven layers of sprinkles and frosting swirls. Each one was a testament to her boundless creativity, if not her precision.

“Santa loves sprinkles,” Sadie declared with absolute certainty, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scooped a generous handful of the colorful confetti-like decorations from the nearest bowl.

The sprinkles scattered across the gingerbread man with wild abandon, tumbling off the edges and onto the counter, onto the floor, and even into the air, as if they were little bursts of festive confetti.

“Santa doesn’t want to eat cookies that are all sprinkles,” Ethan countered from across the counter, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation only a six-year-old with a perfectionist streak could muster.

He was working on a star-shaped cookie, his movements precise, deliberate. The tiny silver balls he was placing on the edges of the cookie were perfectly symmetrical, each one spaced exactly the same distance apart, as though he were an engineer and this cookie was his blueprint.

Sadie, undeterred, shot her brother a sideways glance, her lips twisting into a defiant pout. “Santa loves all cookies!” she shot back, her voice high and firm, as if daring him to challenge her further. She grabbed another handful of sprinkles, her tiny fingers clumsily but lovingly adding them to her gingerbread creation with a look of pure determination in her eyes.

Steve, who had been quietly observing the sibling exchange from his spot leaning against the fridge, let out a low chuckle, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his children, clearly entertained by the growing battle of wills between his two little ones. “You know, Sadie,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “I think Ethan might have a point. That gingerbread guy looks like he just survived an explosion at a sprinkle factory.”

Sadie gasped dramatically, clutching the cookie to her chest as if Steve had just insulted her entire artistic vision. “He’s festive, Daddy!” she protested, her eyes wide with faux horror. “Santa will think he’s beautiful!”

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. Festive, got it. You win, kiddo,” he said, backing off, but his smile never faded.

You glanced up from where you were carefully transferring a fresh batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. You’d been absorbed in your task, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling the room, but the sounds of your kids’ banter had been too amusing to ignore. You shot a smirk over at Steve, catching the tail end of his playful exchange with Sadie. “Don’t encourage them, Steve,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and mock exasperation. “This kitchen already looks like a bomb went off in a bakery.”

Steve turned to you with that familiar, mischievous grin that always seemed to pull at your heartstrings. He pushed off the counter and sauntered over, his presence a comforting warmth that seemed to fill the space between you. As he reached you, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he kissed the side of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.

“Oh, come on," he said, his voice a playful murmur, "It's Christmas. A little chaos is good for the soul."

The warmth of his touch and the affection in his kiss made your heart flutter, but before you could respond, you heard a chorus of groans from behind you.

"Eww, Daddy, gross!" Ethan wrinkled his nose, his six-year-old voice full of dramatic disapproval. Sadie was standing beside him, her eyes wide as she tugged at his sleeve, mimicking his disgust.

"Yeah, gross!" she added, her voice just as playful, though her face was scrunched in exaggerated annoyance. "Get a room!"

Steve pulled back slightly, his smile widening as he laughed. "Hey, you two can't appreciate true love yet," he teased, raising an eyebrow at them. "When you're older, you'll understand."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you met Ethan’s wide-eyed gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and genuine concern.

"They're right, Daddy," you teased. "We'll have to save the romance for later."

"Yeah, later!" Sadie agreed with a dramatic sigh, making a show of fanning herself with one hand, as if the display of affection had been too much to handle.

Steve gave a mock sigh of defeat, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer for another kiss, this time to the top of your head. "Guess we'll have to keep it PG for a little while, huh?" he murmured with a playful grin, his voice soft but full of affection.

As you hold onto his arms that wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, you couldn't help but smile at the chaotic love that surrounded you. The kids' teasing, the laughter, and the warmth in the room-all of it felt like exactly what you needed. It was chaotic, but it was perfect.

The kitchen was, indeed, a disaster—sprinkles everywhere, frosting streaked across the table, and flour footprints leading from the counter to the floor. And yet, in the midst of the mess, there was something so perfectly Christmas about it all. You couldn’t help but shake your head fondly at the sight of your two children, Sadie with her chaotic artistic flair and Ethan with his precision, both creating their own little pieces of holiday magic in their own ways.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart swelling with a mix of warmth and contentment. This was your life now—messy, loud, and filled to the brim with joy. The kind of joy that came from every moment spent together, it was imperfect, but it was yours. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

“I suppose a little chaos is good for the soul,” you muttered, leaning into Steve’s embrace, your back resting against his torso. “But we’ll have to clean it all up before Santa comes.”

Steve’s grin widened as he kissed the top of your head. “Deal,” he said softly, his voice warm, full of affection. “But for now, let’s just enjoy it.”

And in that moment, amidst the mess, the laughter of your kids, and the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, you truly did. You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

By the time the last batch of cookies had cooled, the kids had moved on to decorating with gusto. Sadie was a whirlwind of frosting and sprinkles, her hands sticky but her smile wide. Ethan’s creations, on the other hand, could have been featured in a magazine—each one neat, symmetrical, and perfect in its own way.

“Do you think Santa will like mine better?” Ethan asked as he placed a gingerbread snowman carefully on the plate.

“Santa loves everything,” you replied diplomatically, shooting Steve a look that warned him not to stir the pot.

“He’ll love Sadie’s too,” Steve added, crouching down to examine one of her creations. “Especially this one. It’s, uh… very colorful.”

Sadie beamed, clearly taking this as the highest of compliments.

Once the cookies were arranged on a plate, along with a glass of milk, the four of you moved into the living room. Ethan darted ahead to claim the best spot on the couch, while Sadie grabbed her stuffed reindeer and curled up in Steve’s lap.

Steve held up a VHS tape like it was a trophy. “Tonight’s pick: Home Alone.”

Ethan pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!”

Sadie giggled, clutching her reindeer tightly. “Kevin’s so funny!”

You settled onto the couch next to Ethan, draping a blanket over your lap as Steve popped the tape into the VCR. The kids quieted as the familiar opening music began, their eyes glued to the screen.

The living room was warm and cozy, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The Christmas tree lights cast colorful patterns across the walls, and the faint scent of pine mingled with the sugary sweetness lingering from the kitchen.

As Kevin McCallister navigated his hijinks, Sadie giggled uncontrollably at the Wet Bandits’ antics, her laughter ringing through the room. Ethan, meanwhile, provided a running commentary.

“They’re so silly,” he said, shaking his head as Harry slipped on the icy stairs for the third time. “Why don’t they just give up?”

“That’s not the point, buddy,” Steve replied, chuckling. “They’re supposed to be silly. It’s funny.”

“Kevin’s really brave,” Sadie whispered, clutching her reindeer as Kevin faced off against the burglars. “He’s all alone, but he’s not scared.”

You smoothed her curls with a gentle hand. “He’s smart too, just like you.”

Steve caught your eye, his expression softening as he smiled at you. These moments—the quiet, ordinary ones—were the ones he cherished most.

By the time the credits rolled, Sadie was fast asleep in Steve’s lap, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his sweater. Ethan was valiantly trying to stay awake, but his head kept nodding forward, his stubbornness no match for his exhaustion.

Steve glanced down at Sadie, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Looks like it’s bedtime for these two.”

You nodded, sharing a glance with Steve as you both made your way toward the kids. Without a word, you reached down to gently lift Ethan into your arms. He squirmed slightly, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t protest as you settled him against your chest, his head resting on your shoulder. Steve, in turn, scooped up Sadie with ease, her small body curling instinctively into his hold. She mumbled something incoherent, her voice muffled by sleep, but didn’t wake as he cradled her against him.

The two of you made your way upstairs in comfortable silence, each step echoing softly through the house. It felt like a peaceful rhythm, this simple act of carrying your kids to bed, a reminder of how much you both cherished these little moments.

You reached Ethan’s room first, carefully lowering him into his bed. He groggily shifted under the covers, his sleepy eyes flicking up at you with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. You helped him into his pajamas, smoothing out the fabric with a practiced hand before tucking him under the covers.

“Do you think Santa’s gonna like the cookies?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep but still filled with that unmistakable childlike wonder.

Steve, who had followed you into the room, chuckled softly as he leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna love them. Especially that one with all the sprinkles,” he said, grinning.

Ethan let out a small giggle, his eyes already fluttering closed. “Good,” he mumbled, his face relaxing into sleep as he drifted off, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.

Meanwhile, Steve took Sadie to her room. As soon as he placed her on her bed, she curled up into her blankets, her little reindeer toy tucked under her arm. She sighed contentedly as he adjusted the covers around her, kissing her forehead gently.

“Goodnight, lovebug,” you whispered from the doorway, watching the tender moment unfold.

Sadie mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight,” she whispered back, her voice already soft with sleep.

As you and Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, watching your kids drift off into peaceful slumber, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over you both. The house was still, the Christmas lights outside casting a gentle glow through the windows. Everything felt right. You turned to Steve, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “They’re going to be so excited when they wake up tomorrow.”

He nodded, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist as you both quietly left the room. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll be up before the sun is,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and fondness.

You smiled up at him, leaning into his side as the two of you headed back downstairs, the soft hum of Christmas music filling the air around you. It was a quiet night, just the two of you, in the calm after the chaos. And as the two of you settled back into the warmth of the living room, the love and laughter of the night still lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Christmas was here, and your family was exactly where they belonged.

“Think they’ll notice if we eat one?” Steve asked, breaking off a corner of a gingerbread man with a playful grin. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as if savoring the moment.

You looked at him over the top of the cookie jar, raising an eyebrow. “Not unless you want to explain why there are bites taken out of the cookies they spent hours decorating.”

Steve shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for another cookie. “Eh, they’ll never know. Besides, Santa can always come up with his own cookies.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away as you grabbed one for yourself. “I’m pretty sure Santa’s going to have a sugar high with how much we’ve put out for him.”

He laughed, popping a piece of cookie into his mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I mean, we’ve done all the hard work, haven’t we?”

You took a bite of your own cookie, sighing in contentment. “True. These are way better than store-bought.”

Steve’s grin widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I think we’ve officially earned it. We’re doing all the Christmas magic around here.”

You laughed as Steve pulled you into his arms as the fire crackled softly behind you. The glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warmth, and Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played faintly in the background.

As you leaned against him, the quiet of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

"This is it, you know," Steve said suddenly, his voice low and serious. His eyes were soft, distant in a way, as if he were taking in the entire scene-the glowing lights, the quiet of the house, the warmth of it all.

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What is?" you asked, curious but not entirely sure what he meant.

"This," he said again, his gaze sweeping across the room, lingering for a moment on the kids' cookies on the counter, the half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, the soft Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the space. Then, his gaze landed back on you, his expression tender.

“The kids, the house, you. Everything I ever wanted. It's right here."

The way he said it-so genuine, so full of admiration-caught you off guard. Your chest tightened with emotion, and for a moment, you couldn't find the right words.

You reached up instinctively, cupping his cheek, feeling the stubble there beneath your palm, the warmth of him as you held him close.

"You deserve it, Steve," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "Every bit of it." You didn't need to elaborate. You knew what he meant.

Steve's gaze softened even further, a look in his eyes you could only describe as reverent.

Slowly, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the feeling of being with you in this quiet, perfect moment. When he pulled back, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something deeper, something that made your heart swell.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this. For us." His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you gently against him. He didn't rush it, just held you there, his lips grazing against yours in a kiss that was soft, slow-like he was trying to memorize the feeling of being close to you.

You smiled, your chest tight with affection. "I love you.”

There was a quiet stillness between you both, a peacefulness that wrapped around you like the softest blanket. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of Christmas music drifting from the speakers and the distant sound of snow falling outside. But in this moment, nothing else mattered.

You were together. The life you had, the love you shared-it was everything, and it was yours.

Steve's hand gently brushed the back of your neck, and he kissed you again, his lips soft, lingering. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could-more than any ‘thank you' or 'I love you' could ever express.

You had everything. And you wouldn't change a single thing.

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day and a happy holidays!!

Viktor just went from being some guy to my all time favourite Arcane character. Funniest possible direction they could’ve gone with him. Every fuck in his mind body soul was spent and gone when he emerged from that goop. Woke up purple from a near death experience and immediately dumped his situationship, quit his job, fucked off to the undercity wearing nothing but a blanket and then became the second coming of Christ on accident. King of protecting his peace. Imagine being that guy who tried to shank him. Some Czech twink with dick and balls hanging out starts glowing and then magically cleanses the poison from your body. I’d be on my knees worshipping him too man what a fucked up situation. Someone please get him some trousers

and i know now that, because of books, this world will never be enough for me

Calm In The Storm ➳ Loki Laufeyson

➳ a/n: this is for the cuddling prompts! if there are any typos, i apologize! fast-typer over here 😂. if you want to request some, send me an ask! 😘

➳ pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

➳ summary: After a fight with your loved ones, you're out on the streets during a storm, searching for someone to run to. Thankfully, you know just who to go to.

➳ warnings: mentions of anxiety/panic attacks

➳ cuddle prompts: Person A shows up at person B's door, having been in a bad fight with a loved one, hoping to spend the night in person B's bed for some extra comfort -> requested by: @/midnight-ramblings

➳ || Loki Laufeyson masterlist || main masterlist || who I write for || cuddle prompts masterlist ||

Wiping away the tears that managed to spill down your cheeks, the sniffles not having subsided just yet.

You couldn’t stand confrontation, especially when it came to one of your loved ones. Voicing your opinion only pushed the matter to become worse, and the envelope ripped open to reveal anger, hurt, and demise. Words were exchanged and as someone who experienced bouts of anxiety; it was detrimental.

Having no real destination planned in mind, you found your way down the streets of New York, aimlessly searching. The rain was in a light drizzle, thunderstorm clouds gathering overhead for an enraged downpour. You just hoped you made it to wherever you were going without getting completely soaked.

Grasping the fabric of your t-shirt, you could feel your heart pounding violently in your chest. Squeezing your eyes shut, your hands shook as you tried to work your way through breathing.

If you could just steady yourself long enough, you’d be okay. But when a loud crash of thunder sounded overhead, it made you yelp and begin racing faster down the length of the sidewalk.

Gazing to your left, the solid black front door caught your attention, the familiar home seeming too inviting.

Loki.

Cutting over the lawn and pressing your sneaker-covered feet on the steps to the small wrap-around porch, your eyes were met with the gold-embellished doorbell. Inhaling sharply, a streak of lightning illuminated the sky and pushed you onward to ringing the bell.

“Please wake up, please wake up…” You trailed softly under your breath, tears still bubbling in your eyes. You glanced up to the second floor to the flicker of light break through the curtains of the bedroom. Breathing out a small sigh of relief, it wasn’t long before the door was being pulled open.

“Darling?” Loki’s sultry voice called out to you. He saw the ends of your hair dripping with water and without hesitation, he reached forward and pulled you inside.

Closing the door, his blue orbs cast into yours and he quickly saw the look of fear present in your eyes. He was able to pick up on your moods with ease.

“What happened?” Loki questioned, already taking your hand and leading you up the staircase toward his bedroom. You remained quiet, unsure of what to say.

“It’s nothing…. It’s stupid, really. I got into a fight with one of my family members. It’s okay, we just exchanged words, but… You know how I am.” You said sheepishly, a few tears streaming down your face. Loki had led you into the comfort of his bedroom where he soon was helping you change out of your dampened clothes. As he pulled one of his larger shirts over your frame, a loud crash of thunder sounded, causing you to jump closer to his chest.

Loki wrapped his arms protectively around you. “It’s okay,” He said, planting his lips to your forehead. “But why were you out there tonight, Darling?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “I couldn’t bear to go home and be alone… I was hoping maybe I could stay here for the night.” You breathed out uneasily.

Loki’s eyes pooled into yours. “Love, my home is yours. Of course, you can stay here. I just want you to be okay and feel safe.” He whispered. He could feel your body shaking against his, seeing as your breaths came in labored pants. Quickly, he took your hands into his.

“Hey, look at me,” Loki softly spoke. Your eyes lifted to meet his and Loki held your gaze intensely. “Deep breaths, okay? You’re going to run yourself into another panic attack if you aren’t careful… Focus on me, Love. I’m right here.” He encouraged you to take big breaths. Soon, you were following his breathing pattern and a wave of calm slowly began to flood over you.

Loki led you beneath the blankets. He removed his shirt for the second time tonight and tossed it over the chair by his reading nook. Wrapping his arm around you, he kissed your temple and felt as you curled into him.

His grip on you relaxed as you rolled onto his chest. Burying your nose into the crook of his neck, Loki began to draw circles into your back. You smiled gently, your lover nuzzling closer into you.

Pretty soon, you had drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Loki’s arms were secured around you as he planted one more gentle kiss to the top of your head, whispering a sweet ‘goodnight’ into your ear before turning off the light and giving in to his own rest.

➳ tagging:

@joyful-enchantress @immersed-in-mischief @high-functioning-lokipath

@annoyingsweetsstranger

@eclecticlokibytomhiddleston @spidyyparker @deanaddicted2

@ethanshide @lokistoriesblog @l0st-in-reality

@shae-annelore

@realandloud

@favthiddles

@marvelgirl0515

@tiredmamamac

@cherii--bomb

@stuckybarton

@peachsteven

@vampire7595

@moonshooter

@knopewyattworld @holdmytesseract

@wander-lustbabe

@captain-asguard @mm2305

@1marvelnerd3000

@xfirespritex @lokilover64 @augusta-imperatrix

@inas-thing

@harrietbarnesblog

@a-laufeyson

@BakaTsuki-Hime

@lokiswildheartcantbebroken @marvelgirl0515

@a-laufeyson

@warriorqueenofthesea @develin13

@clockblobber

@blackberryblossom

@stephv213

@asgardianprincess1050 @badgereatingmice

@abaristasbabble

@pandaxnienke

@dryyoursaltyoceantears

@itscale

@xsweetdellzx

@salempoe

@el-zef

POV: Being in a relationship with Loki

1. Always calls you ‘darling’ or ‘my love’ or ‘my queen/king’ mostly pretty old fashioned nicknames, but he always adds the word ‘my’ with it.

2. Always smiles at you even at the most random times.

3. Would kiss you all the time.

4. Lots of hugs.

5. Would always be there to comfort you. Any kind of nightmare or when you have an anxiety attack he’s always there to help you calm down and relax.

6. Would teach you magic.

7. Lots of times it can get very kinky.

8. Would mostly wake up with him tracing his fingers over your skin.

9. He’s not the best with words but when he says the words ‘i love you’ you know it’s real, as he’s eyes says the most.

10. Would slow dance with you under the moonlight.

11. Training with each other daily.

12. Always loves snuggling with you. Now this is what he would hate to do with anyone else but cuddling with you always makes him feel warm and at home.

13. Teaming up together to prank others especially Thor a lot.

14. Always reads to you.

15. Would worry about your safety constantly and make sure your ok.

16. Would let you play with his hair. (secretly enjoys it)

17. Will get overly jealous if someone even glances at you.

18. Would always find a way to make you laugh.

19. Would only open up to you about his actual feelings, sometimes cries while burying his head at the crook of your neck. He would never share the things with anyone that he shared with you.

20. Tells you that he loves you at least once a day.

21. Fighting by each other’s sides.

22. Tear apart all the nine realms if you ever get lost.

23. Would sometimes sing to you in Asgardian.

24. If you ever have an argument he’s the one to always come and apologise first, saying how much he loves you and would do anything to prove it.

25. Would always try to back you up no matter how serious the situation.

26. Only kneels for you.

attention all writers! tumblr is rolling out a new feature that allows our work to be used in ai training processes!

be sure to opt out of this in your visibility settings immediately! and remember, you have to opt out for each blog, not just your main!

go to your blogs’ settings (again, you have to do these steps for each blog, not just your main blog)

scroll until you see “visibility” and choose that

in your visibility settings, choose “prevent third-party sharing for (blog name)”

you may opted out already but we don’t take chances with ai around these parts *insert angry cowboy*

tagging some mutuals to get the word out — @multifandomsimagine @pegxcarter @moremaybank @gladerscake @goldenroutledge @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @tangledinlove @rafeandonlyrafe @mvybanks

The Art of Pretension

summary: You strike a deal with Nikolai to save yourself from a disastrous arranged marriage.

note: fake dating nikolai lol english is not my first language u might see some errors and also you can find this on ao3 

word count: 5.8k

When my tutor asked me where I saw myself in ten years, my twelve-year-old self answered something along the lines of pursuing higher education in Ketterdam University and occasionally taking trips to The Grand Palace to annoy Nikolai, a prince of my age whom I was often forced to study with to promote ‘friendly competition’— whatever that meant, about being forever his older brother, Vassily’s shadow.

Ten years later and I don’t think I’ll be fulfilling the latter any time soon for very unfortunate reasons, including Vassily’s untimely death.

Instead, I’m sitting on a velvet blue chair on the other end of the King’s newly-polished marble table, which felt comically long, by the way. Instead, I abandon my shame and face the boy who I was now obligated to call the Tsar. Instead, I was here in Os Alta to make a proposal. Literally. Because in the next few seconds, I would be asking Nikolai Lantsov, the Tsar of Ravka and the reason for the many wrinkles in my forehead, to…

“Marry me." 

I say it with my whole chest as if I was simply barking out orders at a palace servant, "Or, at the very least, pretend like you want to marry me.”

Keep reading

ya'll ever see a fanfic synopsis so fucked up you experience the five stages of grief simultaneously and briefly lose the ability to see colour

i was so scared for him