#excuse me while i mull this over for a few days

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

You wake up in the comfort of your home, snuggled in thick, fluffy sheets. Despite the cold, birds still chirp outside, advising you to start your day already. You stay in bed a little longer today, staring out the window, trying to get a hold of your thoughts.

It's been a good few days since you left that Orc's house, a few days to think about the experience and mull over what to do now.

You jolt out of your thoughts when you see, out the window, quick anxious scampering behind the snow covered bushes. Jumping out of bed, you hastily get dressed, fumbling with your boots, grabbing your trusty bow hanging by the door and a few arrows. You peek outside, sneaking as quietly as possible on the old wooden floor of the stoop, arrow already notched against the bowstring. You can only see the critters ears, twitching, listening for any trouble. It's either a rabbit or a hare, you hope for the latter.

You wait there for a good fifteen minutes, bow strung, waiting for the thing to move just a little to the left of the bush for a better shot. Your fingers burn on the string, didn't have time to grab your gloves. The second it hops slightly out of the bush, you let go of the arrow and send it flying right into the cotton-tailed critter.

When you step back inside your warm cottage, you make a beeline for the kitchen with the hare in your hand. It's quite a lucky catch, a large jack. You use this as an excuse, you actually come up with plenty excuses while you prepare a hearty stew. "There's so much meat here, it would be wrong not to share." "If I don't repay him, it'll weigh on me for far too long." "I need to bring him his flask back." "I need a good hike anyway."

Stupid rationales for the absurd idea you have conjured up. Nevertheless, you get out your fanciest ceramic pot and cook your best hare stew. You fret, far more than you'd admit, over how little ingredients you have due to the winter.

Come afternoon, you're trekking the woods, past the Human territory and into unwelcomed lands. You clutch the handle of the basket holding your steaming pot of stew and his flask tightly inside, which you filled with your favourite Red bush tea. This is just so you're even, and then you never have to think about this Orc ever again.

Somewhere in your mind you know that's not true, You'll never be able to forget what happened. You were content in your woods, pretending you weren't lonely, why has this Orc changed that? It was easy pushing the cravings down before, why is the hunger suddenly so present, so consuming.

You eventually step into the clearing where his home lies, Your thoughts continue to meander as your feet take you straight to the steps into his home. Now, you can't just leave it out for him but you can't just knock on the door and run away either...

You knock on the door three times, taking a deep breath and then cursing yourself for needing to do that. What if he doesn't want to see you again? Sure, he saved you from dying but that doesn't mean he'd want you in his home ag-

The door opens slowly, it takes you a minute to look up from the stone floor of the small veranda but when you do, it's those same dark brown eyes looking back at you. He looks shocked to see you, you expected as much. After a few awkward moments of staring, you hold the basket up with both hands, opening the top to reveal the red ceramic pot and his flask. He looks down at the parcel with a rather blank expression and it makes your skin crawl with anxiety.

You gesture for him to take the basket and he quickly, with frustratingly gentle hands, takes it from you. He takes a peek inside the pot, letting the built-up steam poor out and his eyes grow even wider, you can't tell if he likes it or not and it's killing you.

Of course he didn't want to see you. The last time you were together he woke up to you, a stranger, on top of him watching him sleep! Your face is hot with shame, you turn to leave but then hear him say something in Orcish, you turn around to face him. You're a little taken back to see the hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the door open for you, waiting for you to accept his invitation.

Timidly, you step inside. Being here again sends a shiver down your spine. The Orc gently rests the basket on his little (in comparison to him) living room table, then heads to the kitchen. He comes back with a tray of two bowls, two mugs and cutlery. It shocks you how easily you take his silent invitation to stay for dinner as you both set the table as if it's a normal thing for basically strangers to do. While he dishes up hearty portions of steamy stew in rather large bowls, you pour the red tinted tea into the two mugs he brought.

You sit down on opposite sides of the wooden table and dig in. The spoon, like the bowl, is rather big and made out of what appears to be a hard dark wood. As you taste your stew, doubts trickle into your mind. Is it not thick enough? Is the meat too tough? Do Orcs prefer tougher meat? Is it too bland for him?

The scrape of his chair on the floor interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him. He's scooping up more stew with the serving spoon and plopping it into his empty bowl. You stare at him bewildered when you realise he's already going for seconds. How did he even swallow all that so fast?

He notices you staring and looks embarrassed, like he's done something wrong. You shake your head lightly and gesture for him to continue. He smiles rather bashfully for an orc and plops another spoonful onto his heaped bowl. You hide the smile that creeps onto your face behind a hot mug of tea.

After the pot has been thoroughly emptied and your stomachs are full, he starts clearing up his side of the table. You go to follow, but he swiftly takes your bowl from you, sets it on the tray with everything else and walks off to the kitchen. For a second you sit rather dumbly at the empty table, the sound of splashing water comes from the kitchen as you look around the orc's abode.

Your eyes are drawn to a packed bookshelf in the corner, you try not to be that impressed that an orc would willingly read so many books. You imagine you would be pretty insulted if someone said that about you, and you know full well that reading is a lovely way to pass the time in such a quiet life as yours and his.

He steps back into the room holding two mugs of what was left of the tea, you suppose that means he likes it. He places them on the small table in front of the couch and takes a seat. He doesn't show any indication that he expects you to sit with him but you find yourself sinking down next to him anyway.

He picks up a little book on the low table and pages through it, it's green with bold Orcish on the front. You try to seem uninterested with what he's doing, staring down at your tea until he shuffles closer to you, pointing to a specific page in the book. You scrunch your eyebrows and lean closer, reading the text he's pointing to.

"Thank you."

Your breath catches and you read further down the page, seeing bold Orcish words followed by Human Common words.

It's a translation book.

You laugh (more like wheeze) in surprise and disbelief. The Orc looks nervous, looking back at the book to make sure he pointed to the right word. You gently take the book from him and page through it, searching.

After quite a while, you finally find it, in what you assume is the "Helpful phrases" section, and you point it out for him.

"You're welcome."

He lets out a hearty laugh and you grin at the sound. You made him laugh. His eyes crinkle, deepening the crows feet just above his cheeks, which seem a darker green than before.

After that, you sit together in quiet comfort, drinking the rest of your tea and peeking at the words in his book as he pages through the translations. The book is new, the spine isn't creased from use and the pages are still firm and fresh. Did he get this book because of you?

The thought stirs something strange in your belly and you can't tell if you should invite it in or reject it. Your eyes shift to the window near the door and you jump when you see the sun is setting. How has it been that long?

You rise from the couch and grab your basket, shoving your now clean ceramic pot into it. The Orc looks at you confused, looks towards the window, and then shoots up himself, quickly heading to the kitchen. You shrug your fur coat on at the door and wait patiently for him to return, basket in hand.

He returns with the same flask he gave you the last time you left in a hurry. He may be even more bashful this time he hands it to you and you don't need to open it to know what's inside. You nod your head again in thanks and he smiles wider than you'd think an Orc capable, if you hadn't met him, that is.

You walk out of his house, flask tucked in your basket. When you reach the end of the clearing, you turn around and there he is, standing on the veranda watching you leave. You hesitate for a moment and then give him a little wave goodbye. He returns it with his own.

As you walk through thick trees, you wonder if the nearby human village has a book vendor. Not for any particular reason.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

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[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — 11:36 AM OR when you’re needy and he’s ready to help you. doesn’t mean he won’t have some of his own fun while doing it. (birthday special)

࿄ ! warnings - major nsfw. squirting. f!reader. kind of dubcon but not really. / note. hey… how y’all doing! i have no excuses this time lol. i also can’t promise i will be back! i couldn’t let this brew in my drafts forever, esp. on his birthday. but enjoy :} minors& blank blogs dni.

you: hey kats i miss you :(

you: katsuki? i need you

you sent those texts at around 11:36 am and it’s now almost an hour later, with katsuki being in a very important heroes’ meeting of some sort. now, katsuki never takes time or leave off of work only on the condition he’s practically spilling his guts onto the floor - and even so, he’d come in with his hands wrapped round his lower abdomen if he wasn’t chastised for showing up half dead.

this wasn’t out of the ordinary for you - you know, to text him all needy and sad. don’t get it all wrong, it makes katsuki’s heart clench to have to leave you to your lonesome when he’s busy and you’re not. he knows how you get when you get off your period and mixed when you’re also feeling poorly comes a combination of you feeling melancholic, sweet and also very needy. by the way, did he mention needy yet?

katsuki: what’s up with you? you ok?

his phone vibrates almost as fast as he tried to stuff it in his pocket and he inconspicuously looks down.

you: no… i need you :((

katsuki sighs looking at your texts, excusing himself from the meeting and giving what he’d consider sympathetic eyes to his friends before dialling up your number.

“you okay, princess?” katsuki frowns, “i know you ‘aven’t been feeling well these past few days but ‘m busy-”

“katsukiii,” you all but whine into the phone, mewling and he straightens up immediately at your voice, ears turning a cute shade of pink. oh. he knows this tone. he knows it all too well amongst the linen sheets of his bed.

“i know i shouldn’t be calling while you’re busy but, fuck, i need you, need you so much,” you gasp on the other side of the line, practically swimming in his bed, wearing only your cotton panties and a barely there tank top.

katsuki bites his fist, standing behind the conference room door, groaning quietly. “yeah?”

“mhmmm, i really do,” you simper, “you looked really good this morning an-and you smelt so good and… ‘m just really, really needy right now.”

katsuki should tell you to get a grip, dash some cold water on your face and put your fingers to good use but the way you’re moaning and whining across the phone is making all his blood cells rush from the rational parts of his body down to the irrational parts of his body.

“where r’you right now?”

“in your bed… just like how you left me,” you sigh, a pathetic and wanton lilt to your words. “all alone in this big and cold bed wishing my big, strong man would come home and give me what i deserve.”

your flushed face boyfriend all but snarls, teeth bared over the phone. “yeah? what d’you deserve, then, for interrupting me at work and and then begging me to come home and fuck you? cos that’s what you want, right? for me t’drop everythin’ and come running to you?”

“yup,” you hum, popping the ‘p’ and some rustling can be heard in the background. “well, ‘s your choice, really. i just… really need you, baby.”

you can hear katsuki’s deep breathing over the phone and you’re so certain you can hear the cogs in his skull turning, clicking as he mulls over this decision. he clears his throat, lamenting with a big sigh as if this is all one big inconvenience for him.

just at that moment, deku comes through the door.

“everything okay, kacch- dynamight? if you’re busy we can discuss this with you another time.”

“…‘m gonna have to head home for a little while… something’s come up. don’ wait up. i’ll be back as quick as i can.”

katsuki wants to bite you when he can make out the smile over your exhale through the receiver but you’re quick to hang up as deku reassures his friend in his naïveté, unknowing to the true purpose of his mid day return home.

when katsuki returns within 10 minutes since your call (usually it’s a 16 minute drive from the agency to home - pedal to the metal), you’re already on the couch, and your tank top does nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples and katsuki can see the shape of your cunt lips through your barely there panties.

no words are passed as you smile sweetly at your boyfriend, who kicks off his shoes and whose hands already at his belt as he stalks over to your seated body.

“how d’ya want it, huh?” you’re already moving back across the couch, legs spread.

“just fuck me please,” you whimper, “wan’ you to stretch me out with your cock.” you paw at his hips, at the waistline of his trousers that situate themselves in front of your face.

“you don’ want me to stretch you out first?” he muses, dropping down to his knees in front of your scantily clad pussy, thick fingers pressing on your covered clit and you hum, shaking your head.

“i can take it right now,” you gasp, and two fingers slip into your pants despite your protests at how you “don’t need to be prepped,” and that you “can take him right now.” alas, you shut up effective immediately when his fingers skim through your panties and straight to rubbing your hardened nub and you can’t find it in yourself to get annoyed when two digits slip inside you, curling up only for a mere second and jolting your body along with it.

katsuki pulls his dampened fingers out, effectively taking off your panties with him. “your decision. don’t get pissy with me later when it’s sore, because ‘m not gonna have it.”

you shake your head defiantly, utterances of “i won’t” and “just please fuck me,” meshing into a slurry of words.

he grabs your face to look at you. “you promise?”

you nod and he frowns, smushing your cheeks slightly. “you better speak up and fast, because i ain’t got all day, princess.”

“i promish! i promishh.” the words come out muffled against the grip of his hand. your boyfriend takes the answer anyhow, because he gets up from off his knees to impatiently throw off his blazer, then down his trousers and pants in one swoop.

there’s a smug look on your face and katsuki can tell you’re trying to hide a triumphant smile. he wants to wipe it off your face so badly.

“face down, ass up, pretty lady.”

you throw yourself around without a second to spare and katsuki stuffs a pillow under your hips, slapping your ass in the process. at any other time, you would’ve scolded him for leaving a print. instead you moan and arch your back, clenching cunt on display for his hungry eyes.

“fucking minx,” katsuki grumbles, settling behind you and letting the weight of his mostly hard cock tap against your pussy, delving between your puffy lips and rubbing against your hardened clit.

you try to be good, try not to say anything that might make him want to punish you but you’re growing restless at what feels like hours of torture (hours being mere seconds that is) and you sniffle out a weak “katsuki, please…”

his heart clenches at your tone and even when he’s trying to tease you, he can’t help but feed out the palm of your hand. he also can’t help that his dick pulsates in his grip at the pathetic tone of your voice.

“don’t rush me or i’ll leave you like this,” he grumbles, and you both know he wouldn’t dare, and you’re about to protest, turn your head to spit defiantly at him but it’s much too late for that. he sinks in, weighty and thick and it knocks the breath out of you. you practically face plant into the armrest of the couch and your teeth bites into the cashmere fabric.

there’s something about not being prepped before that makes this so much more intimate and sexy for the both of you, but the impending realisation that you will be sore tomorrow dawns on you as you feel the heft of his balls press on you. he’s right to the hilt and you’re full to the brim, gasping.

neither of you can get a word out edgeways or sideways - katsuki leans down to wrap a thick arm around your neck and though he can barely see your face, he can feel the salty tears dribbling down his forearm and he can most definitely hear the wordless cries coming from out your agape mouth.

“this is what you wanted,” he hisses, nose in your hair, his wide body trapping you to the couch, “don’t you fuckin’ complain later- fuckin’, shittt,” he groans, pulling back out slightly and getting sucked in by your silken walls. the living room has gotten 100 degrees hotter and he wants to blame you so badly, but you moan out his name wantonly, one hand around his own that’s slightly bruising against your neck and he’s putty.

“hurts so good,” you finally get out, toes curling when the tip of his cock hits against that honeyed spot. “jus’- jus’ like that,” you slur, legs shaking and thrashing when you feel katsuki’s hand slip between your bodies.

all he can focus on is how fast you got sloppy for him, the conjoining of your bodies, if only fleeting, is getting to him, if the clench of his balls has anything to say about it. his hand finds your throbbing pearl and a straying pointer fingers rubs on it firmly in broad, confident circles, and you choke, eyes crossing.

your body stiffens and you’re not even sure you’re speaking a coherent language at this point, but you garble out something along the lines of “i love you,” and “i can’t take it,” and a contradicting “like that, katsuki.”

behind you, he’s thrusting even harder and rubbing faster at your clit, pressing down with ferocity and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, the tension in your bladder rising. even in the midst of a second, impending orgasm do you turn and try to kiss him, which he gladly accepts, tongue delving into your mouth and he inevitably hunches, grunting and huffing, red faced and shooting ropes of thick cum inside of you.

that’s when your second one hits, and it’s even heavier than the last, sprays of liquid hitting your boyfriend’s lower abdomen and you squeal, hips gyrating and katsuki doesn’t slow until you’re basically limp, collapsed against the softness of his sofa.

he kisses your head, pulling out and you gasp at the exit. no words are shared as he brandishes a damp cloth from somewhere - he must’ve gotten up in your daze, you didn’t even know he had left from behind you at all, and it makes you sigh, cheeks resting against the armrest.

katsuki cleans you up in typical, sweetheart fashion, passing you a blanket and your clothes like he always does after a romp, and it’s only when he makes you sit up so you can eat a banana and drink a glass of cold, fresh water do you say something.

“so i take that you’re not going back into work?”

katsuki’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and he looks away from you, pouting. you think he’s not going to say anything till he scoffs a short moment later, “…’s not like i had much to do today anyway… i’ll catch up with those idiots later.”

you don’t bite back your smile this time and he pulls you into his chest. “you better wipe that shit eating grin off ya face.”

“or what? you threatening me with a good time?” you giggle, wiggling your brows and he opens his mouth to bark back until you move your hips slightly and hiss.

“what was that?” he questions and you ignore him. he groans, swiping a hand across his face,“…y/n, i-”

“‘m not complaining!… but i would be lying if i said it’s not a little sore- hey!”

katsuki wraps you up in his arms, blanket strewn.

“what are you-”

“since ‘m taking the rest of the day off, might as well go clean up and have a bath… remind me to never listen to you again.”

“hey! it’s not my fault you’re such a brute,” you laugh as he kisses your face, walking up the stairs.

“not so hard!” you hiss in pain, “‘m sore!”

yeah. remind katsuki to never listen to you when you’re horny.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited

[shy-writer-999]

hey friend! can i request a capital F FILTHY zoro x f!reader where they two of them are rivals/borderline enemies who fight all the time but after they both get a lil tipsy they end up hate fucking in the roughest most desperate way possible…

Ohhhh yes yes yes. YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND, ANON. anything filthy and with zoro i’m down. brace yourself because this is nasty. you told me capital F FILTHY and i gave you FILTHIER. this turned into a ~2.9k word monstrosity. i read it through like twice so plz excuse any overused words or typos...

everyone say it with me, now: "hate sex! hate sex! hate sex!!!!"

---

You and Zoro butted heads since the day you got on the ship. Zoro thought his tiffs with Sanji were super fucking annoying—but Sanji had nothing on you. Not only did you have an annoying quip in response to everything he said, but he heard you actively shit talking him in front of his face multiple times. He despised you—everything about you. He hated how you mocked him, hated how cocky you were around him, hated the way you fought, your morals, the way you spoke to everyone BUT him; he couldn’t stand you.

The pair of you had almost gotten to blows multiple times, but he just couldn’t bring himself to hit you. He’d threaten you with his sword but never use it, even though he thought about it more than he would like to admit.

Your asinine remarks would replay in his head sometimes. “Zoro, the amount of effort you put into working out and being stoic is fucking pathetic. Lighten up for once. You’re fucking draining to be around.” Your tone was vile and pitiful. He saw red any time you said stuff like that.

“Zoro, another bottle of sake? Like you haven’t had enough to drink for a whole year? Fucking alcoholic.” You would smirk and condescend, and he’d try to send it back your way but he felt like the couldn’t twist the dagger the same way that you could.

“Shut up,” he would respond, agitated and cold. “Mind your fucking business and go nag someone else, woman. You’re insufferable.”

What was the most agitating thing about you being an asshole to him was that you did it while looking so good. He hated that. He would actively mull the fact over—you were gorgeous, but you had such a rotten personality, it couldn’t be helped. You fought like shit, treated him like a child, mocked him, derided him… And he did the same to you. But he felt his cock twinge any time you got close and nasty with him.

“Yeah, Zoro? Going to go sneak back to your hideout and drown yourself with sake before swinging your swords around? Fucking weirdo.”

Sometimes he would get really intense about it. He’d seethe with hatred and respond with such loathing that it was a wonder he didn’t do anything about it. “If you don’t leave me alone, I swear I’ll slit your throat.”

“Yeah, jackass? I’m sure you like to dream about that, but you’ll never be able to do it because you’re 1: a pussy and 2: I’m your crewmate, idiot.” Sometimes you’d tease him for having the hots for you (which you thought was false), and he’d get so flushed and angry that you thought he would light on fire.

One night, a group of the crew was drinking on deck. You, Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Robin, and Usopp. Everyone was a few cups (or bottles) deep, and what started in raucous laughter ended with people splitting up into small groups or going inside for some snacks.

You and Zoro were unfortunately sitting next to each other, much to your mutual dislike. An offhand comment from Zoro (he was speaking to Usopp) vaguely alluded to you being bad at wielding a sword. It set you off. Your head whipped in his direction. He must have been sitting a few feet away.

“What the fuck did you just say, Zoro?”

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand. “What’s it to you? Can’t you mind your own damn business?”

You bit your lip and shoved the crude and despicable rebuttal back in your throat—it wasn’t worth fighting with him again. You already had a spat earlier that day, which left you both livid. Sometimes you’d goad him into it for fun and games. The added benefit was that he would get even hotter when he was angry. Sure, his personality was shit, but when he sneered and snarled at you he looked damn good. You were in denial about how much his scowls turned you on, but you ignored it because you couldn’t stand the man. He was just an atrocious person all around, and you let him know that every second that you could.

After you heard the comment, you huffed, snatched your bottle up and stormed inside. You were about to smack the shit out of him. When you stood up, the alcohol hit you—you were definitely tipsy, perhaps that was contributing to how enraged you were.

You went into the galley and you were about to grab another bottle when the door opened. Those familiar, maddeningly heavy, swaggering footsteps padded towards you. Presumably, Zoro was coming to grab another bottle of sake. Like he fucking needs one, you scoffed to yourself.

“Oh, great.” He was scornful and sarcastic. “You gettin’ more? Can’t wait to see how annoying you get after this bottle.”

“Zoro, you’re on my last fucking nerve.” You turned around and he was a couple feet away, arms crossed. Something in his eyes looked different.

“Is that so? When am I not on your last nerve? You’re so fuckin’ sensitive, get a grip.”

You bit your tongue, trying to not say something foul. You failed.

“Zoro, I’m so sick of you. Your presence is literally unbearable. I can’t stand you, seriously, not right now. And oh, by the way, you’re a shit swordsman.”

You knew that last part would infuriate him. You wanted to get him riled up. It was a sick form of entertainment for you. And anytime you told him he was a shit swordsman he went ballistic.

“Do you ever shut your damn mouth!?” He stepped forward, his voice angry. He was uncomfortably close. You were leaning back on the counter, trying to create any distance you could between your face and his, but he had you caged in. He put a hand on the counter behind you.

“Always looking to start a fight, huh?” His tone was contemptuous and belittling. “You’re about to bite off more than you can chew.”

The closer he got, the hotter he looked. You hated him, but fuck, he was a sight for sore eyes. When he was up this close, you felt even more intoxicated than you already were.

“And what would that mean?” You stared into his eyes, deadpan and annoyed. You placed it now, you could see what about his eyes looked different—his eyes were ravenous. He looked like he was starving for something. More liquor? You hoped he was hungry for something else.

“You’ve got such a big mouth and you never stop running it.” He was practically growling.

Your heartbeat grew faster, and heat started to bloom between your legs. He was so hot when he was angry. That was part of the fun. Especially when his voice got like that.

“And what are you going to do about it?” You raised an eyebrow at him, and your eyes were deadly.

“Might have to shut you up somehow. Maybe you’ll shut the fuck up if my cock is shoved down your throat.”

You actually laughed. “Oh, what is it? Like three inches?”

He drew his face closer to yours. The hand that wasn’t bracing himself on the counter came to squeeze one of your hips so hard that it hurt.

“I’m about to fuck you so hard I break you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking slut.” He murmured, his voice deep and hushed.

Your eyes were locked, eye contact blistering. He was staring into you so hard you thought he’d leave a burn mark on your irises.

“You’re an idiot, Zoro. Are you being serious? You’d cum all over yourself before you even got close to fucking me.”

“Mmmm, we’ll see about that.” He purred. You were speechless, your brain trying and failing to come up with something to throw back at him. It was short circuiting because he just said he wanted to fuck you.

In the moment that you were searching for an answer, his lips crashed into yours. His grip on your hip tightened; it was going to leave a bruise. As your bodies pressed together, you noticed his hard on rutting into you slowly.

The kisses were haphazard and sloppy, teeth knocking. He bit your lip so hard you almost yelped. A hand snuck up to grab a fistful of your hair and he pulled it so tight it’s a wonder he didn’t rip out a huge clump of it.

“You’re fucking useless.” He pulled away from you, murmuring in a husky tone centimeters away from your lips. “You talk all that shit but I know you want me to fuck you. Probably wanted it the whole time.”

“Shut up, Zoro.” You would have enjoyed every second of this if he just shut his trap.

He pushed you up so you were sitting on the counter. Sucking harshly on your neck, he bit it so hard you thought it would bleed. You let out a muffled whine in surprise.

“Are you already getting worked up and I’ve barely touched you?” His voice was poisonous.

“Holy shit, shut up, Zoro.”

“Say that one more time and I’ll put my cock in you.”

You doubled down. You hoped he was serious. “I said, shut the fuck up, Zoro.”

He let go of your hair and hips and proceeded to rip your pants and panties off in one go. He almost shredded the seams. He took in the sight for a moment.

Your eyes were bathed in lust, your breaths shallow and quick already. Your shirt rode up and your nipples were hard.

His fingers wandered to your now bare cunt and he let out a chuckle.

“You’re so fucking wet already. I know you’re going to take it all for me because you’re fucking desperate. Is that right?”

Your mouth went dry and you did the most miniscule of nods. You didn’t want him to know how badly you needed him.

He slid two thick fingers into your entrance then started to finger fuck you. Your walls tightened and pulsed around him, getting adjusted. Pushing them apart, his fingers roamed and prodded. It felt so good that you had to bite your lip to keep the moans back. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“You’ve been craving my cock this whole time like a depraved, touch-starved slut, haven’t you?”

His other hand grabbed a painful fist of your ass and then crept up to squeeze your throat. You let out a barely audible whimper and he felt his cock twitch.

You tried to squeak out words and you were barely successful. “You’re—the one—who’s hard—right now, Zoro.”

It was a lame comeback, but it drove him crazy. “Use your fucking mouth one more time and I’m going to stuff you so full you can’t talk.”

His fingers found your g-spot and pressed on it forcefully. You choked out a breathy “fuck you, Zoro,” and he went still.

“What was that?” His hand around your throat tightened. “Did you not hear what I just said, or are you fucking stupid?”

His fingers started to move twice as fast, and you squirmed. When he could tell you were about to orgasm, he pulled them out.  

He freed his cock from his pants and fisted it lazily for a moment before lining it up with your entrance. “You want this, don’t you? You ran your fat mouth too much, now I’m going to fuck the attitude out of you. Say I’m a shit swordsman one more time and I’ll choke the air out of you until you see stars, then I’ll stuff you full of my cock. But you’d probably like that. Fucking slut.”

“You’re—a fucking—shit—swordsman” you tried to get the words out as his fist squeezed your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you were so aroused that it was hard to focus.

He pushed his cock into your folds and through your slit, entering you inches at a time. You started seeing stars, as promised, and you could only focus on his vice grip around your throat and the sensation of his huge girthy cock stretching you out. He let go of your throat for a moment before bottoming out, and when his tip kissed your cervix he groaned.

“Just look at you. Drooling for my cock, you’re worthless.”

He leaned in so your foreheads touched and pulled out of you agonizingly slow.

“You want more? You want me to fuck you?”

You just looked at him, pouting. You didn’t want to admit it. But you wanted it, and you wanted it BAD. You nodded again and he plunged back into you forcefully. A wet squelching noise sounded into the room when he bottomed out again.

Zoro grinded his hips just enough so he could fuck you deep inside.

“What, the back talk stops the second I put my cock in you?”

You hissed air in through your teeth. “Fuck you, Zoro.”

His jaw dropped for a second and he lost composure, but he kept moving his hips all the same. “What was that?”

“I said fuck you.” You were glaring up at him petulantly.

He pulled his cock out completely and you gasped at the feeling of emptiness.

“Okay, if you hate me so much then I’ll just stop. Is that what you want?”

You could only shit talk for so long before the pleasure started to take over your mind in a haze. All that you knew now was that Zoro was saying dirty things to you and he just took his cock out. That was unacceptable, at this point.

“Zoro.” You whined. “Put it back.”

“Awh, you want me to put it back in?” He feigned pity while you nodded eagerly, throwing all dignity out of the window.

“If you want it that bad, then you need to beg for it like the pathetic little slut you are.”

Your cheeks smarted with blush. You couldn’t believe that you were about to beg for his dick, but you needed it so fucking bad you couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck. Please Zoro. Please keep fucking me.”

Now that he was getting carried away, he wanted to be cruel. You did have a habit of running your mouth, and he wanted to punish you for it.

“Hmm. That’s not quite good enough. If you really want it, say my name. Say my name and I’ll fuck you.”

“Zoro.” You pleaded, your voice strained. He snuck a hand back in your hair and pulled your hair so hard it hurt.

“No. I said, say my name.”

“Roronoa Zoro. Please. I need it.”

“Louder.”

“Roronoa Zoro. P-please.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He pressed his cock into you again with a groan. One hand was gripping your hip, and he moved the other down to rub circles over your clit. Your hips bucked.

You started to let out moans with reckless abandon—you needed it harder, faster, deeper, anything that he could possibly do with his cock, you needed it. The noises melted in his ear, but he was worried that someone would hear, so he kissed you. It actually felt tender at times—if you weren’t lost in pleasure, you’d have been able to feel his thumb rubbing a circle on your cheek. What was up with that?

Between his kisses, he said something filthier with each thrust. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Fuck, Zoro. Feels so good. Your cock—feels so fucking good.”

His shaft and tip dragged over your g-spot countless times. Each time your moans got louder and the mess you were making on Zoro’s cock got juicier.

“Zoro, ‘m gonna cum.” You were at your wits end.

“That’s it, baby, cum on my cock. Cum for me. Just for me.”

That was all you needed to hear before you started to squirm and writhe with pleasure. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and your eyes rolled back in your head—it was that good. He fucked you through your orgasm and then pulled out to cum on your stomach. He wanted to cum inside, but he figured he’d save that for next time (if you were nice enough to let him).

Moments later, while he got you cleaned up, he admired how flushed you were and how lidded your eyes were with satisfaction.

“Baby, huh?” You giggled.

“What?” Zoro was puzzled.

“You called me baby.”

He turned crimson. “You heard me wrong, blockhead.”

“Mmmhmmm, sure. Now help me put my pants on. There’s no way I can walk after that, baby.”

He was speechless. He knew you were teasing him, but he liked it. Enemies to lovers, much?

You found out later that no one walked into the kitchen while you were fucking because Sanji almost went inside and got quite the eyeful through the mini window on the door. He almost puked at the sight then promptly told everyone “no one go in the galley because the two boneheads are doing something disgusting.”

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Rainy Days

Secret Garden

Yandere John Wick X Plus Size Reader

Warning: Implied fatphobia, self-loathing, obsessive behaviour, mild dub-con angst and smut

GIF by @scarlettspectra

Unedited.

This is a random drabble. My first plus-size reader fic, kindly excuse the errors or any miscommunication, I do not have the intention to offend anyone.

Even if you love rainy days, sometimes the term is a metaphor for your mood. It's maybe a perfectly sunny day, but you feel awful. You feel awful about yourself, awful about your life, your accomplishments. Every unsavoury aspect of you simply jumps into your face and smears your psyche.

You wish you weren't the way you look, the way you think, the way you speak. You wish, on such gloomy days, that you weren't you. You know better than to let those thoughts get to you. You know that your mind can be mean sometimes. But there are those days when you are squeezing your pudgy stomach and looking down at it with hateful eyes, even if that is the very place John had kissed you so reverently a few nights ago, and a hundred times before that--worshipping every inch of you.

These are the days when you simply drown. Let these thoughts consume you. Despite knowing the truth, you begin to question things, and mull over all the wrong indications and instances. John chose you and you chose John, despite the odds, you both chose each other. And yet you wonder if he is better off without you, if he only 'settled' for you.

These are the days when you end up ignoring all his messages, never being able to pick up his calls. You simply stare at the phone screen with uncertainty that you hate.

But you often forget-

John Wick doesn't like to be ignored.

You see, despite what you think, he has his fears, he has so little to fear but the ones he has are so deep that the oceans can shake. And he fears, losing you above all.

Back from work, the apartment is empty and plunged into darkness, as it is supposed to be. You walk in, the clouds still over your mind, the slumped shoulders and downcast eyes while you remain in your head, not really paying attention to anything. That is why you are startled when he emerges from the darkness of your bedroom, greeting you with silence and a piercing stare that makes you weak on your knees.

“John, you scared me!” 

“You have been avoiding me.” Straight to the point. That only shows how concerned and desperate he is, but you do not see it. 

You see nothing of the storm brewing.

“I haven’t…” The words die in your mouth when you look up at him, really look up.

“You did not pick up my calls or reply to my texts. You are in fact, ignoring me.”

“John, I’m not ignoring you.” 

You sigh out and move past him towards your bedroom, not because you want to, but because you must. 

You feel the tears at the corner of your eyes and it embarrasses you. He is so beautiful, and ethereal, and you do not want him to see you like this and realise that you come with way more baggage than he might have anticipated. The clouds grumble and darken over your mind, ready to weep and all you can do is to curl yourself back in your shell.

“Look at me.” 

Of course, he is right behind you like a stubborn shadow that only grows in the dark. 

“Is something bothering you? Is someone troubling you? That manager—”

“It’s not the manager…It’s no one.” You sigh and try to turn your chin away, but his grasp remains firm. 

He wants you to look at him so he can drown in those pretty eyes. Only if he realises how beautiful his eyes are, especially when the sunlight hits them just right. Even if not under the sun, they are soulful, deep swirls of enigma and melancholy in them. In those eyes, you find a dark abyss somewhere, a fire simply resting before it erupts with volcanic fury, reducing everything in its way into ashes.

You try in vain to turn your head away, to prevent him from reading you and baring your soul as he does so effortlessly. Any other day, you would have let him do that, any other day, you would know better than to fight him on it. But it is not ‘any other day’. It is a rainy day for you. And the storm within you keeps you from seeing the ones swirling in John’s eyes. And each attempt of yours to pull away, and keep a distance only makes the storm brew stronger and deeper and faster until it is ready to erupt.

“Do not look away from me” He is upon you in a blink.

Lips over your lips, hands roaming, squeezing in places you hatefully stare at. As if John can read your thoughts, he picks you up when his mouth leaves yours. 

“Bad thoughts baby?”

You want to look away, the anger and the fear have now come up with claws of guilt gnawing at your chest. But how can you? How can you look away from the eyes that look at you as if you have given him the whole world on a silver platter?

“Just a rainy day, John.” You admit at last. 

It is impossible to lie, it is impossible to look away, you are a willing prisoner of his arms and his haunting eyes. 

“Do you know, every time I look at you, I wonder how I got to be the you love out of billions? Every moment that has led me to you is the moment I would do anything for. My life is wrapped in moments with you. You are all that matters. And you doubt the miracle that has created you and led me to you?”

You are left speechless. Even if it is a thunderstorm ranging within you, you cannot bring yourself to think of anything other than the man who has you raised against the wall with his big hands digging into the meat of your thighs. 

It’s a delicious feeling.

And maybe he likes the feeling too.

.

Oh boy, only if you knew.

John is partly relieved, and partly mad at how little you can decipher the depth and intensity of his love for you. He is mad for you. Utterly, completely mad. He feels empty if he is not touching you and every time he paws at your beautiful soft, plump body, he feels like a sculptor exploring a masterpiece only he gets to touch and experience. John thinks he can spend a lifetime, measuring and experiencing your body, experiencing you—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Only you.

People say that he was born to kill. People are wrong–what do they know of him anyway? John knows that he was born to love you, worship you, fill his every sense to the brim with your essence, and pour himself into you—fusing his soul with yours as your bodies merge.

It is the bedroom where he is the most vulnerable with you. It is the bedroom where he lets out the darkness that has consumed his soul, where he allows you to see how truly sharp his teeth are, and how lethal his claws are. He can tear into you bite you and shred you into pieces—instead, he kisses you softly, like you are the most delicate and the most delicious offering he has ever received—an unexpected gift from the universe that has eternally been cruel to him. 

And yet, here you are letting some silly thoughts and doubts consume you. You? The one he has his eyes twinkling for? You, the woman he ravishes and worships in equal measures of a beast and a devotee?

He ignores your whines and squirms to get away and your attempts to hide from him as he pins you down—big hands, corded muscles and a body made to hunt down. You are his most beloved prey. His lips take yours—it’s not a kiss, not the way he puts his lips on yours and lets his tongue explore your mouth like he has found treasure in a cave. It is like he first claims your lips with his, before moving to your throat, biting into your soft, plump skin, taking your full cheeks into his mouth. 

Oh, he has always wanted to devour you. Bite and gobble you up before burping out like he has had the last meal of his life.

You are just so cute, and so magnetic. With eyes that electrify his soul, lips that form a cloud in his chest, fog his mind and simply send him floating. With a skin so soft, he is torn between biting on it hard and then licking it clean, and kissing it with tenderness only reserved for you, his sweet angel. With a body made to be mapped out and pleasured, kissed, caressed and grabbed.

John is baffled at how oblivious you are to your own power—bringing him to his knees without even moving a finger—are you some ancient demi-goddess? A result of something divine meeting with something earthly? Or is it a cosmic miracle that you saved a monster like him from eternal damnation?

He takes time with your body, each curve, each scar, each spot, every pudgy part and roll is burned in his mind, due to the times he had grabbed and squeezed them to his heart's content like he wanted to the moment he saw you for the first time (no, he just wanted to engulf you in a protective hug and never let go, this was inappropriate afterthought). He knows where to caress, how much to press, where to kiss and where to suck. He relishes devouring you thoroughly—-that is why he is so sow, but firm, tender but so hungry.

John thinks he is always hungry for you—each moment, every day, he longs for you. 

His teeth graze your skin, lips and tongue and trace your body—purple and red blossoms bloom from your neck to your stomach. He cannot bring into words how much he loves to squish, kiss and suck on it. Your attempts to escape his exploring hands and hungry mouth return with a vengeance, but they only earn a dark, throaty chuckle from John. 

“Give it up, doll, you are not going anywhere until you see yourself how I see you. How dare you think anything less of yourself?”

.

Your vision swims at how good it all feels yet how conflicted you are with the storm still raging within you. But for now, all you can do is take what he gives you, he forces it down your throat like a life-saving medicine. You feel his saliva all over you—your lips, chin, cheeks, breasts and stomach. It should feel nasty.

But if anything, it fills you with an odd, toe-curling thrill. Seeing a man like him, one to be always in control, losing it, for you fills you with a sense of power you never thought you could enjoy. Yet here it is-- fusion—a heady cocktail of vulnerability and power getting you drunk on it.

 His fingers can wrap around your neck so easily and squeeze while you lay under him, and you could do nothing but give up. But his fingers simply rest over your throat, sliding sensually, never squeezing, simply holding—holding you down, grounding you, being your anchor in the storm.

His hand slides down to your thigh, and it feels like he has marked your soul with his essence. Maybe he already has, he is simply retracing them, something precious, like a treasure, a code only he can see. It is not surprising yet it startles you when he goes down on his knees, pinning your knees to the edge of the bed, settling snug between your spread thighs like he is home. His thick fingers dig into your skin as he gives your plump thighs appreciative squeezes.

.

John feels like he is home indeed like he is home with his most desirable servings laid out for him. Indeed, you are spread out in front of him, dripping like nectar of beauty and love from a sacred cave—offering him salvation. Who is he to deny it? 

John leans further and takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, slow but deep, making you yelp as you try to squirm around, to get away from the sensation he knows is overwhelming you. But he does not let go, he savours every moment, every drop, every quiver as he keeps his lips wrapped until you are gushing and swollen. Then he licks—one long, firm lick tracing your slit, pushing your swollen nether lips open as the tip of his tongue teases your inner folds. 

John Wick knows your body like the back of his hand, the difference is, that he is much, much more careful, reverent and loving to your body than he ever would be to anything in himself. That is something you, and only you can pull off, protecting him from his demons as he protects you from yours—-even if it means he has to snatch you away from that storm.

Your surrender comes the moment his tongue pushes past your puffy lips. Your hands go straight for his hair, fingers disappearing and rising like dolphins in his mane before gripping the luscious hair when his tongue curls. It is like you have been soared high, and now soaring higher, and higher with each flick and curl of his deft tongue until you fall, crashing. The rawness of your throat tells that you have screamed. All that is left to feel is the breathlessness as the pleasure comes in waves, weakening with each crash, but it lingers.

You are dazed and dizzy, only whining when you feel and hear his thick finger sliding in, slow but firm, curling just right to make you see divinity. Your eyes finally roll back and tears roll from the corner as you let yourself go with the waves, soaked, overwhelmed and feeling the intense heat bursting from your abdomen into every little vein and capillary

John might be a ranging wildfire to the rest, but he is the hearth to you, and you are his home. You come again, in tears, mewling and as his lips find their way back to your clit while he adds another finger into your womanhood. It is a sweet torment, slow, delicious but leading you,  never letting you slip away until you have gulped down all that he has to give you and are full to the brim, glowing, swaying, floating into the highest of clouds.

When he is away, you are left aching for him, wanting more, wanting all of him, no other thought crosses your mind but him and him being inside you.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” 

There is no edge or even aggression, it’s simple, sweet John. The way he is usually to you when he is not feeling any threat of you leaving him. It’s funny to you—how he fears that you will leave him one day (or maybe try to).

It has always been you, who, for the longest time, had thought that once John realised how much better he deserved and could have, he would leave. It was you, who, in the first months of your relationship was convinced that he simply settled for you. Why would he go for someone who does not look like the women posing for the top magazines and fashion brands? Especially when he was often surrounded by such women? They would claw at each other to have a hair of him, and yet he sees none of them, spares no glance anywhere. He simply walked up to you and pulled you into his arms, and he has held you ever since. And you have snuggled into his inviting warmth. 

Eventually, though, you have come to realise that his arms, never loosened—they are just as tight, slowly suffocating you when you as much as try to squirm and pull away. They become much tighter when he feels the threat of you slipping away. But you are not going anywhere. There is no place to go, hide or run to anyway. Where will you go? Why will you go? 

You whimper and moan out his name endlessly as the final wave crashes, with his slow, deliberate and deep thrusts. Your one leg is thrown over his shoulder while his eyes remain locked on you, the tip of his dangling locks tickle your skin, sweat, essence and shared heat blanket both of you. He stays inside you for a while before you feel him pulling out with a squelch that makes you cover your reddened face with your hands.

“Hey, no more hiding, come here.”

.

 John huffs, taking your cute little hands off your face and peppering butterfly kisses all over it—tracing every mark, every bump—everything that is you is beautiful to him. You are beautiful to him, and he hopes that one day, you will see yourself through his eyes. You are his. His moon, his sun, his universe—that’s what you are. You are in his every thought, in his every action. You are the one he sees when he closes his eyes, the first name that comes to him when he wakes up, and the last before he finds sleep. 

Hell would have to freeze before he ever lets you go. The universe can try and tear you away from him like it always has torn away the people he has ever loved, and the universe will have to watch him burn the world and then, himself. 

“No more dark thoughts, hmm?”

John’s voice is sweet so deliciously deep, comforting as it floats into you. You blink slowly, realising that the storm has passed and you did not even realise that until now. Suddenly, being close to him is all that makes sense. You snuggle closer to him, feeling his damp skin rubbing against yours.

You know it is not the end, you know the cycle can begin anytime—maybe tomorrow, maybe a week later, even months later—the rainy days will return. But for now, the clouds have passed, and it’s warm all over again.

For now, you can sleep in peace, because you know that you will heal every time until the clouds can weep no more.

****

Dedicated to all the beautiful girls who at times feel weighted down by expectations, who may feel they are not good enough, or worth it, but the truth is far from that. They will always be worth it, they make the world a better place.

@treedaddymcpuffpuff and @johnwickb1tsch

[mncxbe]

bsd men and what they do for christmas

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊, 𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: sfw/nsfw/ severe brainrot♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

can I just start by saying that this man has never celebrated Christmas properly so he's so excited to spend time with you

Dazai prefers to keep things simple: homemade dinner and then watching a movie

you're supposed to open the presents in the morning but he isn't patient enough. the moment he sees them under the tree you so kindly decorated a few days ago he has the biggest smile on his face

"come on bella you don't seriously want to wait until morning. how could you do this to me? you know how curious I am"

you end up opening the gifts that night. he's gonna loves whatever you get him really but his heart literally melts if you knit him a scarf or write him a letter. dazai's a sucker for self-made gifts

the only appropriate way to show his gratitude is to bend you over and fuck you nice and slow, your face mushed in the cushy pillows on your shared bed as he takes you from behind

"there you go pretty girl. my, my I'm starting to think this pretty pussy of yours is my favourite gift so far"

you can bet he wears a santa hat

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

he'd take you out to the most expensive restaurant in town for a proper meal

after that, if you find a rink that's open on Christmas eve he takes you ice skating (totally not an excuse for him to hold your hand)

once you get home you cuddle on the couch while watching a generic movie like Home Alone. it's always the classics I'm telling you

he has a fireplace!!! and insists on opening the gifts next to it

among other stuff, he gets you Christmas themed lingerie and makes you wear it in bed. cuz after all, you're the best gift he could ask for

forget about baking him sweets, the only dessert he wants is your pretty cunt. he's gonna eat you out for what seems like hours, making you cum on his tongue at least two or three times before he even thinks about fucking you

"shiit baby you look so pretty like this. you like it when I spoil you rotten don't ya? I bet you do- oh fuck yea cum f'me doll"

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

hubby's busy even on holidays

he probably has to attend some obnoxious event and ofc you go as his plus one

he's gonna spend all evening sulking and complaining about how idiotic the whole party is

by the time you two get home he's too exhaused to do anything but you may be able to bribe him to stay awake for an hour or two with some gingerbread

can I just say he'd probably get you the nicest gifts? i'm 100% sure he has a good salary so he can afford whatever you want. expensive jewelery or skincare? sure, no problem. a stack of books with those pretty decorative covers? fine again

he probably gets a bit tipsy on mulled wine so be prepared to hear a silly yet lengthy love confession before bed

falls asleep before midnight but he's gonna make up for it in the morning if you catch my drift

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

sweet baby's so anxious at first

he's never celebrated christmas before so he doesn't really know what to do. this whole idea is so new to him but he can't deny he loves spending time with you decorating the house

Sigma wants to try any tradition you may have; baking winter themed cookies, making crackers, watching a movie marathon

when it comes to gifts he doesn't really know what to get you so he ends up buying multiple things he thinks you'd like and he's so happy when you tell him you like them

cuddles cuddles cuddles all evening under a cushy blanket with a mug of hot chocolate in your hands

he'd look so cute wearing one of those reindeer headbands

if it's snowing, take him slow dancing in the snow or on a walk around town. he's gonna love the pretty christmas lights

[elixirfromthestars]

A Rainy Rendezvous

Pairing: Steve Rogers x CIA!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night during a mission in Poland, you "bump into" someone who held a very important place in your heart in the past.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): brief mentions of CIA operatives / a bit of angst / a sprinkle of fluff / the one that got away vibes / mentions of being followed / mentions of a gun / stays within the marvel guidelines of action + fighting

requested by @espinosaurusrexex

a/n: Hello everyone! ❤️ Thank you for being so patient with me on these requests! ❤️❤️ Life has been very hectic lately between starting an internship, being a senior in college, and my dog passing away...it's been a lot. 💔 I’ve mentioned this before, but many of the requests are close to being done. I only have a few final touches and edits to add, so look forward to that in these upcoming weeks! ✨

sequel drabble 🤎 // birthday bingo masterlist 🤎 // main masterlist 🤎

“ I’ll check out the other location tomorrow. For now, I’m calling it a night,” you hung up the call, the simple click relieving some of the tension in your shoulders. Most days as an agent were tedious, but today had been another extreme of it entirely. Your informant double-crossed you, causing your undercover identity to be potentially compromised. 

You spent the majority of the day chasing dead-end leads as to where your informant had gone to hide away. The soles of your feet ached and the rainy chill of the night was bringing in no added comfort. You buttoned up your denim jacket, stopping the icy wind from seeping itself further into your chest.

You walked the unfamiliar streets of Kraków in the general direction of the hotel you had been stationed in. As exhausted as you were, it was your first time in Poland and it was small opportunities like this one where you could take in the beauty of the countries you worked in.

After your wasted efforts of the day, you weren’t going to waste a second of this.

You weren’t alone on your nightly stroll. Locals and tourists alike bustled about, enjoying what the city had to offer—despite the weather. 

You passed by multiple local businesses and restaurants before stopping at one of the stalls near St. Mary’s Basilica. An elderly couple was selling braided bread and mulled wine. Your Polish needed some work, but you knew enough to keep up in conversation with the couple. 

Their presence was the right kind of warmth for a night like this. They bickered in a way only old married couples did. The kind of back-and-forth friendly matches you can only have with the love of your life. Little simplistic arguments ending in tight hugs and peppered kisses.

They reminded you of the time you had loved so intensely to the point of considering—for the first time in your life—growing old with someone. You pushed the memories away, deciding there was no need to revisit ghosts from the past. You could do that at some other time. 

You excused yourself, taking your bread and mulled wine, and continued your route in the opposite direction of where your hotel was located. The saltiness of the bread dissolved on your tongue while the mulled wine left you in delightful confusion as you tried to decipher the ingredients within it. There were hints of apple cider, cinnamon, and a citrusy fruit. 

You decided to enjoy your treats and what you had left of this peaceful night while you still could. 

In your field of work, being on high alert every second of an operation is crucial. In many instances, it could mean life or death for any of the parties involved. The best agents in the organization could detect danger from the most peculiar places. 

You were one of them.

You realized you were being followed the moment you stepped into St.Mary’s Basilica. Within the shadows of the night, there was one in particular that stayed trained on you. Since the uncertainties arose over whether or not your undercover identity had been compromised, the person following you could be anyone. 

As to not raise suspicion, you kept your pace the same and continued to savor your treats as if you were any other tourist. Internally, your alarms were ringing and you were trying to locate the best place to have an advantage over your pursuer, so you wouldn’t end up being cornered by them in case a confrontation occurred. 

The rain was only but a drizzle now, and the moon was high in the sky. The more you walked the fewer people there were around you. Many of the businesses you had passed earlier were now closed and you realized it was likely you might end up in a position where you were left alone in the night with the mysterious stranger hot on your trail.

This stranger was now using the roofs of the buildings across the street to continue his pursuit of you. You had to admit that was clever of him and if you had been any other agent you might not have noticed.

Your only option now was to go on the offense before the man—you had concluded was a man from his broad silhouette—ever got a chance to.

You discarded the remnants of your Polish delicacies in a nearby trashcan before dashing over to the other street, underneath the building the stranger was standing on. You knew he could either maneuver his way to the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street or decide to meet you at the bottom.

You were hoping he would meet you at the bottom. 

The building you had run to had an intricate pathway aligned with arches all across it. You used the columns of the arches to make your way to the side of the building where you would be able to get a better view of which direction the man would decide to go. If you used the shadows from the columns made by the city lights and the moon, you would be able to sneak up on the man and have the upper hand. 

  Of course, the gun hidden on the inside of your jacket would help with that as well.

You bent down and angled your body so you had a clear view of the street while still keeping yourself hidden. Adrenaline began to make its way through your body giving you the added energy you would need in the fight. 

You concentrated on the noises around you, causing you to pick up on incoming footsteps. They were light, letting you know this person must be highly trained for them to know how to mask their steps. If it weren’t for the sporadic puddles on the ground from the rain, you might not have heard them. 

You weren’t sure what organization you were dealing with, but you knew you had to be as careful and calculated as you could. Due to the possibility of your undercover identity being compromised, the person after you could be from one of many organizations you had crossed in the past.

The steps were inching closer, and yet, there was no sign of the man. You could have sworn you chose the best location to spot him, but it seems you were mistaken. Your only choice now was to concentrate on the direction his footsteps resounded from and pinpoint his location with that. 

From the sound of it, he was just to the left of you and merely a few feet away. With every inching step he took, you realized it was now or never to act. 

“ Don’t move any closer! Identify yourself!” You sprung up, pointing your gun directly at the man. He was using the shadows of the night to hide himself as he approached you, so it was difficult to distinguish his features from where you stood. 

The man froze, his hands slowly raising to a peaceful stance, “ I figured I shouldn’t have snuck up on you, Y/n.” You faltered for a second at the sound of his voice and your name dropping from his lips. It was as familiar as a déjà vu was. In your heart, there was a memory of it and yet you couldn’t pinpoint when was the last time you had heard it. 

Perhaps it might have been when he broke your heart. 

Or maybe when you had broken his. 

“Steve?” His name dropped from your lips in a whisper. A part of you thought you were losing it. Had you been so lonely these last couple of years that you were now projecting your last lover onto random strangers? 

The man stepped into the light confirming what your heart already knew. The man who had been hiding in the shadows and following you was your ex-boyfriend Steve Rogers. Although, this Steve in front of you was foreign to you.

He had grown out his beard and his hair, which was now a darker shade of blonde than you remembered. From what you could see, his face and hands were adorned with new scars and scratches untouched by your hands. There was also a gloominess behind his blue eyes he couldn’t hide away.

He dawned on a black leather jacket as opposed to the brown leather one you were used to. You had borrowed that jacket many times in the past as it became a comfort to you whenever he was away on a mission. It always smelled of his sandalwood aftershave and the smoky bergamot cologne you had given him on the first Christmas you spent together. 

It became his signature scent and you loved it.

However, the Steve in front of you resembled nothing of the Steve you once loved. How much had his life changed in the years since the two of you broke up? How much had it changed him? 

“ Hey…it's been a while,” he spoke up cautiously, glancing over at the weapon in your hand before looking into your eyes. You lowered it slowly, feeling as though you were in a dream, “ Yeah, it has. Last I heard you were in big trouble with the United Nations. Technically, I should be arresting you right now.” You said the last part in a playful tone hoping to ease the tension between you.

The night seemed to have gotten colder ever since he stepped in front of you. 

Thankfully, easing into things was the right call as a small smile appeared on his lips, “ Technically, you're right, but you would have to catch me first,” he pointed out. 

“ Oh, that would definitely not be a problem,” you boasted. 

“ Half of the Avengers tried and failed,” he informed you, holding back what looked like a somber yet smug expression.  

“ Yeah, but I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve not even Tony would think of,” you stated confidently, placing your gun back into a pocket on the inside of your jacket. Now that you no longer needed it, you didn’t want it to hinder the pleasant mood that was now finding its place between you. 

“ I’m sure you do,” he responded, a fond look adorning his features. You were sure you had a similar expression, as you ruminated on past memories of playful exchanges with Steve. Many ended in far more romantic exchanges than this conversation would.

Getting past what once was, you needed your curiosity satisfied,“ What brings you to Poland anyway? And why were you following me? I don’t know how they did it in the 1940s, but in modern times we use a thing called a cellphone when we want to contact an ex,” you teased. 

He laughed at that, a sound you recognized all too well. It made you realize that although the Steve in front of you was different, you still knew him. Deep down he still had to be the man you had fallen in love with. 

There was a conflict of emotions stirring within your heart as a result.

“ Okay, I get it. Like I said, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” he confessed before continuing, “ Those of us who didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords are on the run. We’ve been moving to a new city every few weeks. Right now we’ve been stationed in Kraków for two and are relocating to Tarnów next week. Sam told me you were on a C.I.A. mission here and I had to come see you before we left,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head in a sheepish manner. 

You couldn’t blame him for coming to see you. At this point, you would have to hold yourself back from “bumping into him” in Tarnów. 

 “ Sam told you? How did he know?” You asked, still not seeing the full picture. Steve cleared his throat before speaking, “ Vision was a big help with that. Between him and Sam, they were able to rework an old laptop to pick up on different signals and monitor specific ones we chose. It was by chance he picked up on a phone call you were having with an agent named Clarke a few days ago,” he explained, causing your confusion to dissipate and in its place discomfort made a home.

Knowing that what Steve said was true, that meant that Sam and Steve had heard the very awkward and uncomfortable conversation you had with your mission partner Agent Clarke a few days ago. 

Clarke had taken an interest in you ever since you were first partnered up on a mission a few months back. You never had taken a similar interest in him and always kept things professional. Unfortunately for you, this caused Clarke to think you were “playing hard to get” and this ensued a plethora of attempts to charm you.

His latest attempt was a few days ago where he insisted on your undercover identities being a newly wedded couple having their honeymoon across Europe. You politely declined and were grateful your mission supervisor disagreed with the idea as well. The conversation was overall uncomfortable and to outsiders it could have insinuated there was something going on between you and Clarke. 

The outsiders in question here, unfortunately, were Steve, Sam, and anyone else in their group who had heard the conversation. You were mortified, to say the least.

“ Oh, you heard that? About that…,” you trailed off not knowing where to start. 

Steve shook his head,“ You don’t need to explain anything. I get it. You moved on and you have every right to. This whole moving on thing, I just—I still feel like I’m stuck in time sometimes and I can’t help revisiting the past,” he stated sincerely, his eyes wandering to the ground. He frowned at it, searching for something else to say.

At the same time, his statements had brought you out of your embarrassment long enough to register what he had said. 

“ Surely you’ve moved on?” You asked him, not comprehending if you had interpreted what he said correctly. 

It took him a moment before he got the courage to lock eyes with you,“ Have you?” 

You paused, not having a straight answer to his question. Before meeting him today to anyone else you would have said you had—even if deep down you knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

You broke up with him months before the whole Ultron disaster and since then you haven’t looked at another man with romantic intentions. 

You couldn’t count that as moving on. 

Your mouth parted, but no words came out. You were still unsure of what to say. Your heart was jumping out of your chest trying to answer for you and the look he was giving you was making it impossible not to give in and let it. He was pleading with his eyes, a hopeful shimmer that maybe somewhere within you there were still feelings for him lying dormant waiting to be awakened. 

His gaze made it difficult for you to think, so you averted his eyes and looked down at a slightly large puddle on the ground. It was the only thing separating the two of you, with both of your reflections lying inside of it. You stared at the reflections, hoping to collect your thoughts better this way. 

You could see him shuffling uncomfortably through the reflection,“ I think a part of me always knew you had. I should’ve known when you didn’t respond to any of my letters,” he continued, taking your body language as confirmation you had moved on. 

At his revelation, your eyes shot up and locked on him, “ You wrote me letters?” 

He looked taken aback by your surprised expression, “ I did. Every month for a year after we broke up. There was a lot I still had left to say—and that I wanted to say to you. When I didn’t get a reply back I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me,” he admitted, his expression softening. 

You were gutted at the mental image of Steve waiting nervously to hear back from you only to receive silence in return. You spiraled at the thought of what could have been if you had read just one of those letters. Truthfully, your breakup with Steve was unwanted on both ends. However, due to the pressure and demands both of your professions required of you, you grew apart. 

For months, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of each other on the weekends before receiving your next mission or task. Evil didn’t stop, so the good guys couldn’t either—and the Avengers took up almost all of Steve’s time. The loneliness of the constant nights alone waiting for your boyfriend to come home became too much for you.

So much so, that you ended things when loneliness turned into resentment. There was only so much the mind could understand before the heart took over. 

You boiled it down to right person, wrong time. 

“ I never got them,” you finally spoke up, “ If I had, Steve, I promise I would have called you. Right after we broke up I was stationed in London for a year and I rented out my apartment to a young couple. They never told me of any letters,” you explained, feeling betrayed by fate and your tenants. 

Steve gave a chuckle, one laced with disbelief at the situation, “ No, it's on me. Letters are kind of old school, aren’t they? I should’ve picked up the phone and called you.” He shouldered the responsibility, something only Steve would feel the need to do. 

You disagreed, shaking your head at him,“ The phone works both ways, so it's on me too. And I like old school. There’s a charm to it you can’t find anywhere else.” 

You hoped the deeper meaning of what you said would get across for Steve to understand. 

It seems it did, as a comfortable silence fell between you. You stared at one another, searching for your past selves in each other's eyes. There were so many questions and things left unsaid that were waiting to be discussed.

You were eager for him to confess to you everything that was written in the letters and he was just as eager to hear your response to all those unanswered questions he had sent you more than a year ago. 

As neither of you could decide who would get the conversation started, fate decided to intervene once more. However, fate this time went by the name of Sam and his little bird-like drone Redwing.

When you spotted it approaching you, your hand instinctively placed itself on top of the gun hiding on the inside of your jacket. Upon seeing your reaction, Steve bolted over to you and placed himself in front of you as protection. The action caused your heart to flutter.

As soon as Steve spotted Redwing, his guard went down. 

“ Don’t worry about the drone, it’s Sam’s. I think that’s his way of telling me I need to be heading back,” he informed you, your guard dropping as well at the explanation. 

“ I should be heading back too. I have a lot of investigating to do in the morning,” you pointed out. 

“ Want me to walk you back?” Steve asked you in a way that gave you full control over the decision. 

As much as you wanted him to, you had to decline, “ I want to say yes, but you can’t. The hotel I’m staying at is heavily monitored and you're on the run. It would be too risky. It’s safer for you and your group if you don’t go anywhere near it.” You were disappointed at the reality of the situation and from the look on Steve’s face so was he. 

“ I figured, but I still wanted to ask,” he took a step back, making you realize how close you two had gotten when he rushed over to protect you. There was no longer a large puddle of water in between, and if you reached your hand out you would be able to touch him. 

“ Steve, that old laptop can track down any signal right?” 

“ From what I understood, yes. Why?” 

“ Well you have mine now, so I’m counting on you to keep in touch,” you let him know before planting a quick goodbye kiss on his cheek. His beard was scratchy against your lips, but you were surprised to find out you didn’t mind it.

He was stunned for a moment before a grin quickly replaced it. 

“ I will. I promise,” the sincerity in his tone and expression was all you needed to walk away knowing the story wouldn’t end there. 

“ Goodnight, Steve.” 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

How lovely it was to hear those words again.

The next day a package was delivered to your hotel room containing a burner phone inside and a note that read: 

I always keep my promises. :) 

The phone contained only one number on the contact list you soon found out belonged to Steve. Throughout the course of the next two weeks in Poland, you spent every night talking on the phone with him. 

You both poured your heart out to one another. Your losses, your fears, your hopes, and any other topic that came to mind. There was so much to catch the other up on that there were never enough hours in the night to get through it all. 

With every conversation, the connection you once had was slowly building itself again. A little over two years had gone by since your breakup and the people you had become since then were getting to know each other once more. 

Maybe now the timing was finally right. 

[starzblvd]

Hang on to Your Love

Feelings kept secret can’t stay a secret forever when other people get in the way. Fem!reader Jealous!Ellie Jackson!Ellie hint of loser!ellie purefluff CW!creep ass man makes a short appearance 5k W.C AN; Originally this was going to be a short cute story but I really wanted to give with this one, because I LOVE fall. Really sorry for being gone so long, I got a bad haircut and I swear some negative energy was clinging onto me, so it made me insane for a bit. I move on so I’m better and thriving again now though💕

Autumn was in its early days still beginning to settle into Jackson, the cooler evenings accompanied by the refreshing winds that brushed over your skin. The perfect season for a dance to be sprung onto. Flyers hung around town, you’d seen it was set outside at 7:00 a little while after the sun set four days from now. It wasn’t necessary for you to arrive with a partner for the dance, but if given the chance you already knew the perfect candidate to fill the position in mind.

Initially you wouldn’t take her to come around to these sort of events. Come to change, a few days earlier you’d coincidentally happen to over hear Ellie’s conversation with Jesse and Dina outside the Tipsy Bison. Heavy reminiscence on her last comment about the Autumn dance,

“Just because she’d be there, it won’t change anything, not interested in going. Most we’ve talked is a few passing ‘hey’s’.”

It was disheartening to hear her talk about some girl you didn’t know,

Small pieces of her life that you were able to get a glimpse of, made being around her all the less intimidating. How enamored the high skies of space Ellie was, the type of video games she’d bring back, or even the clothes she dressed in. There wasn’t much to go off of when you’ve hurt to have a complete conversation with Ellie.

Regardless Ellie was right even if it wasn’t about you, most spoken words between you weren’t much nor meaningful. If it was anyone besides Ellie you wouldn’t be mulling over so long if you should bite the bullet and ask her out. To you she was everything you’d wished for, having feelings this intense was nauseatingly tiresome. With each day that flew away sleeping on the idea of taking action to get to know Ellie, felt like opportunity slipping away just as time is. You couldn’t expect her to stay single for long, she’s dated previously what’s stopping her now?

”You and Ellie are partners this time round, good with that?”

Maria thought it’d be good to group you with a girl that knew what she was doing while doing it exceptionally well. Expect you’d hate to be such a crutch to Ellie because of the delayed training you missed out on, of sheer fear that stemmed from being sheltered too long.

”yeah, no problem.”

There wasn’t anything to have a problem with if you’d just excuse your need for Ellie. Up to this point she didn’t completely disregard your existence, small occurrences like holding out the door open made you believe she’d think of you in the slightest, enough to be polite to.

The thought of spending time with Ellie alone even with the circumstances outside of Jackson’s security was exciting to look forward to. Preselecting topics and materials to make small talk with, patrol isn’t an ideal time to get to know someone better but you’ll take what you can get in these circumstances.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Brightly in a red marker ink circle enclosed the date of the patrol date with Ellie on the calendar pinned above your nightstand, marked day being today. Dressing up particularly cute wouldn’t do good in terms of practicality, but you had other reasons for dressing so. You weren’t naive of the terrors waiting, lurking, outside of Jackson’s walls just as anyone else was. Your choice of outfit for today were bootcut jeans with ribbons shaped into dainty bows tied to the belt loops. A ribbed long sleeved top in a solid color of brown, the bottom of the sleeves were flared out while the rest of the shirt stayed close in a snug fit.

Maybe you had arrived earlier than settled on, surely, because Ellie was starting to become a no show. Perked up right besides the stables doorframe, facing towards the inside, counting the minutes go by. Dina’s distant voice broke the fluid count of time you’d been mentally ticking by. Anyone would’ve been able to tell she was being so quiet intentionally with her hushed tone while speaking to someone else. You weren’t meant to hear her nor the words of advice she was aiding, but you couldn’t help being a standby could you?

“She’s been waiting for you in there for a while now! Seriously, you can’t stall any longer without being suspicious.” Dina knew exactly what this was about, Ellie’s whole unwillingness to go out on patrol with you was painfully obviously.

“I know I know, but I just need a bit longer and I’ll get right to-“ hearing the detest Ellie was expressing felt disappointing in a way that made your heart ache.

“No, Ellie. Go over there already, standing over here isn’t going to change anything.”

Ellie’s sigh was louder than their entire conversation. Then the words you were hearing so clearly became tedious whispers that had you leaning closer to decipher, with no luck as to knowing which one was speaking.

They couldn’t possibly know you were listening in, right?

Calm anticipation couldn’t overcome the hurdle of sudden nervousness when footsteps became closer. Thing was, you knew Ellie’s footsteps and the approaching steps didn’t belong to her. You’d turned back to face outside though not to Ellie, but to Dina’s consoling face.

”Ellie’s caught something and she’s stuck sick at home right now,”

it was all crap, every single word. Seeming so against you that she couldn’t stand having to go on patrol with you, Ellie lied about sickness as a get a way. Standing there silently to question every short moment you’ve encountered her, trying to recount if you did or said something wrong to ward her off so strongly.

“Oh well, that’s okay. Tell her I said to get better soon.”

You didn’t mean the condolence, the small smile you responded Dina with didn’t help in hiding that fact. Especially not when Ellie was probably snug inside by now spending her new found time freely, relived of being able to opt out so suddenly. This was by far the most embarrassing stand up you’ve been able to experience, as much as you didn’t want to be affected by her flakiness it irked you just as much if not more in efforts of trying to shrug it off.

Dina nodded and excused herself first, at least she was aware how childish Ellie was handling the situation. At times like these it was so easy to be jealous of Dina, how close her bond with Ellie was. Being able to spend time with Ellie by watching movies or just having her as company were few of those reasons. Though you were never mad at her for it. More so at yourself for letting your feelings keep you from making any move.

When Dina was out of view from where you stood, you followed out feeling defeated. The marked calendar felt like such a foolish thing to do, how excited you became when you could tick off another day, getting closer to the patrol.

It was debatable if the walk back home to the mess that was an outcome of frantically scrambling to figure out your outfit, or waiting so excited like a hopeless lovesick fool was more embarrassing. Had you kept to your own business you would’ve been able to cope in ignorant bliss, unaware of Ellie’s determination to avoid you. Crushing any unfortunate leaf that happened to be in your way on the ground with heavy steps was the best you could do to express how upset this made you.

Of course she had no obligation to happily spend her time with you, but the extent of Ellie’s actions was doing more than enough to prove her dislike. Reflecting just on today, it was evident you’d have to settle for a new dance partner.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Ellie groaned into her pillow when she heard extensive loud knocking, already knowing who it was and why it was for. You were right about Ellie being snug inside, leisurely painting on the floor beside the short coffee table, using the time she was meant to be with you to practice a hobby.

If it was possible, Ellie would have prolonged opening the door to her garage room to escape Dina going off on her. She rubbed her eyes using her thumb and index finger, this was punishment for not dealing with you today, rather she’d have to deal with Dina’s confrontational lecture. Right upon unlocking the door Dina began,

“Seriously Ellie, what’s gotten into you.” She’d allowed herself inside, taking her designated spot on the couch. Looking down onto the table, there sprawled out next to different paints in jars and a messy paint pallet was a painting Ellie was spending careful time to finish. It looked more detailed than any of her previous paintings, paint strokes still wet from recent application creating the girl on the canvas.

“Hey I dodged a bullet by doing that, I wouldn’t have been able to put in all my concentration,” now it was Ellie’s turn to be embarrassed.

Her skills were truly ones to be boasted about, but faltered the moment she was stuck partnered on patrol with a pretty girl. The girl she’s kept her eyes on from the first day of her arrival.

Of course Ellie made a distinct entry that day, made sure to not leave any detail out about your appearance or the way you’d greet others that day, including her. Describing just how sweet everything about you was, so sweet it distracted from what you told her, she’d failed to listen to the first words between you two.

Now it was acting all tough until the moment Ellie’s emotions become overwhelming, clouding both her judgment and competence. She knew exactly what she felt, but tried with everything to disregard it all because of the fear that rejection would hurt much more sourly than never confessing at all.

”Don’t start now, she looked hurt when I broke it to her that you’d called out sick.”

“Maybe she was looking forward to exploring around or something-“

“No Ellie, she was excited to see you.”

The sheer question if you looked at her back with the same feelings sent Ellie over the edge. She kicked up her foot, cracking the knuckles of her fingers one by one. How much time has passed and your relationship with Ellie hasn’t progressed at all? She’d be lucky to even call it a relationship, small talk was a hard thing since the first years of you being in Jackson.

”yeah well, you don’t know that for sure.”

Ellie slumped her back onto the bed looking up at the wooden ceiling, the position she should’ve been if she was truly sick. Dina couldn’t bother to deal with Ellie’s stubbornness when the topic was you specifically. Because she knew Ellie was almost helpless when it came to you.

Exhausted from the topic of you by how much denial and stubbornness it’d be met with, Dina propped herself up from the couch before looking over at Ellie, spitefully replying to her small attitude,

“Oh I think I know, at least come by the dance go say hi.”

Upon Dina walking out and shutting the door Ellie kept her spot, the stunt she just pulled probably set her way back in means of getting more familiar with you. Letting out a low groan again, it was hard to decide to show up. Seeing you would only have her ridden with guilt. Ellie didn’t know to believe Dina’s beliefs or not. She was hopeful, but failed to be certain.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Staring straight forward into your own reflection in the vanity was where your mind couldn’t rest on the long debate that was if going to the dance was still a good idea. Held up in knots going over each pro and con there could’ve possibly been, you’d already spent the time perfecting the look for tonight. Only to feel hesitant, and it was all Ellie’s fault. The few days after the incident, it was completely insufferable to face or hear any news about Ellie. Each time it would only make the feelings of embarrassment mixed with bitter defeat resurface.

“She shouldn’t be showing up anyways.”

Is what got you to settle on going out with the prerogative to have a little fun, determined to not let your crushed feelings take away from a good time. After all the wait for the dance it would be a spoil of time to stay in.

Because the party was outside people were more sprawled out, making it harder to see every single person attending. High hanging warm lights were strung from building to building in a zigzag pattern, they illuminated the incoming night that was creeping up. A table took space in the middle in front of everything, each spot of the table being covered with some sort of food or drink, leaned up on it’s ledges was Jesse and Dina talking to Joel.

Joel looked rough on the exterior with the way he would carry himself, but truly was a kind type at heart. You’d only gotten a few chances to chat with him, a little less than with Ellie. He’d only remind you of Ellie with how close they are, so you set it in your mind to clearly stay away from all three of them for the rest of the night.

A few speakers were synced together playing Sades Hang on to your love, just standing there cemented lost and doe eyed would do you no good. Staying home inside the comfort of your room would have been preferable, thinking maybe it would’ve looked a bit awkward to dance alone. Maybe you could ask one of the girls there you were friends with, amidst the cloud of thought a man invitingly lent out a hand. You’d seen him around a few times, wearing dark navy jeans and a black sueded cowboy hat, you accepted thinking you had nothing to lose.

In heaven’s name, why are you walking away?

Dancing with him was purely for fun, no strings attached to you, but for him, his eyes spoke that he was in it for something. Letting his hands cling to the sleeves of your shirt, his touch was a little irritating. Already starting to regret your choice to agree to dance, more specifically with a man. You tried to disregard the slight discomfort and continued to move along with his moves to at least entertain yourself by dancing. By now, the man’s hands on your arms begun steering you right to the center of the dance floor, which essentially was just an open dirt plot right in-front a certain table.

Hang on to your love

In a few footsteps he’d successfully made it close to unbearable for you to dance along now that you’ve made it to the prime viewing spot for everyone in the surrounding crowd. Uncomfortable with both his handling and everyones eyes set on the show he was making out of this. Of course in that crowd she had to be stood against there to that table, in those jeans that were starting to scuff from continued wear and fading flannel. Using quick stolen glimpses to catch the sight of Ellie when he’d spun you round.

In heaven’s name, why do you plays these games?

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide how distressed you were. Urgently wanting to escape only to bolt it back to your home. You were heating up because you knew by now, Ellie had been staring directly at you, visibly displaying exactly how unhappy she was with the situation. Crossed arms and legs, eyebrows dipping into a slight angry arch. Ellie was whispering something over to her right hand man, Jesse.

“Out of everyone here, why are they dance partners? It’s not like they know each other.”

“And you know that how?”

Ellie’s appearance at the dance was meant to solely be a quick passing, is what she swore to herself at least. Getting caught up in being witness to whatever you were found doing with that man had sidetracked her. Ellie knew from his stares he had intentions outside of having fun, nothing could be lead to coincidence with him especially. Ellie was aware of his reputation of going through plenty of women in short periods of time, immediately latching onto someone new after the last.

“Doesn’t matter, either way I can’t stop her.”

“How about getting over there and steal her back, or are you still hung up?”

Take your time if the going gets rough

The grip he had on you got tighter, he tried pressing his body further to yours by making a his hand placement lower to your hips. Every move he continued to act on making you all the more irritated. None of this is what you wanted, and Ellie’s stare only added fuel to fire. She didn’t want to go out on patrol together with you the previous day, why is she out of all people dishing out the judgmental looks?

so if you want it to get stronger you’d better no let go

“Your guess is as good as mine, I just can’t, be near her like that.”

For every thing Ellie wished she could do and say, is another longing stare of hers that graced you. Blaming the fear to approach you on the nausea effect that didn’t budge no matter what you tended to have on her.

“you’re not getting anywhere staring all crazy at her.”

Eventually the man had noticed how absent minded from the situation you were in, with your eyes glued straight past him clasped in his arms. Speaking up for the first time, some sparse voice pulled you back into the moment.

“Who’s got you distracted huh?”

hold tight, don’t fight

“Nothing, I was just zoning out a bit.”

He didn’t buy it, he reclined his torso back and away, allowing for an easier spin on his heel to see who had you so entranced just now.

”Oh come on not that dyke that came from wherever with her old man.”

Instantly he let go away, recoiling away immediately. His face had contorted into a disgusted expression directed at the both of you, Ellie for knowing and being Ellie and you for simply looking at Ellie.

“Men can’t get no breaks in this world.” A thick mouthful of saliva was spat onto the dirt next to your feet leaving from the center having you deserted there alone. A few surrounding people looked shocked looked at what had unraveled there while others looked away.

Hang on to your love

Ellie stayed put in her same spot, deciding it was better now or never to take your chances. Possessing feelings that felt too similar to love, only to hush and silence them away each night wasn’t getting any easier. Ellie’s eyes darted away the moment she saw you beginning to walk right over to her.

in heaven’s name, why are you walking away?

”Why didn’t you show up to patrol with me that day? I know you weren’t sick so don’t even use that excuse.”

Confrontation wasn’t your usual way of dealing with things, but the time spent conflicted as to feel about Ellie wore on you. One day you were swearing there was a chance for things to be mutual, only to change your mind the next.

“I don’t know where you’re getting at because I was sick.” To Ellie it was clear now that you heard everything she told Dina outside the stable.

“I heard you outside whispering you know, honestly Ellie what do you have against me?”

“Nothing! Look I did ask for her to cover for me, but it’s only cause I had something to do at home.” She slid her thumbs to hang out from the front pockets changing her stance to loosen.

”what we’re you so busy with?” You didn’t mean to come off as stern as you did, from then on Ellie started to sound less confident with each word that would come out her mouth.

”Something back in my room, it’s noth-“

“Let’s go see it then.”

Right then you start walking straight to her room, picking up your pace when Ellie called out your name behind you. You knew where she stayed at, catching her with Dina and Jesse walking in and out of the small shed that sat off to the left of the main house on a few occasions. Initially she didn’t believe you were serious, so she waited a while longer before starting to walk as well. Ellie caught up quickly but you were faster, sprinting closer to the door illuminated by the hanging light besides it.

Once you’d got ahold of the doorknob it easily opened to your luck, it was typical in Jackson to leave doors open because how people trusted one another as a community. Immediately you slammed the door shut upon putting two steps inside to Ellie’s room. With a quick click it had been locked to make sure she stayed out while you got to the bottom of this.

On the other side Ellie banged on the door with her whole palm repeatedly,

“Hey get the hell out!”

“I’m trying to see what was so important you had to ditch me and not tell me anything about it.”

”I’m sorry okay? I promise next time I won’t run out on you like that.”

She was basically pleading by now aware that you had the upper hand, you had every power to leisurely look through her whole life that was stored in her room. Standing there felt childish now that you’d caught your breath leaving you time to reflect what happened and what you did. Ellie ran over to the side of the shed to where the windows were, she put her hands up to the glass scanning the room for you,

“if you let me in now I’ll show you, I swear.”

She sounded sincere in her soft tone, rummaging Ellies room wouldn’t be right regardless how upset you were so you nodded and unlocked the door for her. Moving aside to give her space to walk in. Mumbling getting through she spoke again,

“Let me go grab it, it’s over by the coffee table.”

Now that everything calmed you could properly look around to see how Ellie’s room looked. The type of posters hung from the walls, above an unmade bed a cork board pinned photos of her friends and drawings adorned it. It was a little confusing why Ellie wasn’t mad or screaming for you to get out. It was pretty quiet in the small room, only a small faint strain of music from the party was keeping it from dead silence. The air was thick, closing in on the both of you.

“I would’ve showed you it if you asked without having to lock me out you know.” Ellie was still turned away from you, holding onto a medium sized board that she picked up from the rug. A few paintbrushes were drying on a towel next to the glass jar of murky grey water.

“No you wouldn’t,” lightheartedly you laughed trying to ease your nerves that arose from being alone with her away from anyone else.

“yeah,” returning a small laugh she turned to you, time felt slow in this moment as if everything itself was prolonged outside the rules of time with Ellie’s footsteps slowly approaching. Her laughter alleviated some of the tension the air carried.

Ellie didn’t say anything at first, she let you see what turned out to be canvas with you painted sitting down reading a book, propping your head up with your left arm on your knee with the book tucked into your lap. Never would have you guessed Ellie taken long enough to look at you long enough to get the amount of details she’d painted so perfectly. That’s exactly what you’d describe the painting her hands created, perfect.

“Ellie..” Lost in the soft colors that were painted into you, you were for certain on how you felt about Ellie.

With lack of response she was quick to defensively speak up, “You just looked like a good reference, I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything-“

“it’s beautiful,”

You were unsure what to say or even do, Ellie stood there looking back at you under your jurisdiction continuing to wait on you. She’d hate to admit what she was so scared about your reaction or rejection, because it was only then that the feelings would sink to only decay inside the pit of her stomach to linger. “Thanks,” Ellie’s composure was gone, visible by how nervous her smile looked. Considering how she took the effort to paint you, it was time to do something that had been long overdue. Putting down the painting to lean on itself against the wall freeing your hands, you find them a new place on Ellie’s shoulders. Slightly towering above you with her height, being able to see her up close in such a tender hold felt like a sweet of blessing.

”When I saw you for the first time I knew it was going to be you, and it has been since then.”

Ellie’s eyebrows cinched together in confusion unaware of the weight your words held.

”it’s been only you, nobody else has ever came close, because I like you the most.”

Ellies lips gapped open ready to let out to spill her unspoken words upon fully processing what you meant. She had wished to tell you that accumulated over time, except they only came out in silence.

Hearing your confession to her, was her own sweetest blessing. Instead of staying silent any longer Ellie let her actions talk for her, plunging right into a kiss. The muscles in her lips kneaded at your own desperately like to makeup for every kiss that was missed in the time that you could’ve spent together before today. Each passing day she could’ve only yearned to feel you as intimately as tonight. This was felt in the way she was making out with you now.

Leaning further into the kisses to savor the taste and smell you carried, and sure enough you were the same way, pushing further into her too. A strand of hair slipping out from the ear Ellie tucked behind tickled the side of your face.

Gasping for air after the both of you’d succumb to shortness of breath. Ellie’s lips were a softer shade of pink from the circulating blood by how much pressure she had used to press onto your lips. Before you could Interject again she plunged back into you, this time her trembling hands cupping the plush of your cheeks, which then stabilized themselves on you. you didn’t resist Ellie’s lips, rather you moved at the same rate. Her left hands fingertips slightly callused by the guitar Joel had gifted. Each kiss was passionate, becoming more sloppier and quicker paced than the last one.

Nothing else mattered here against the warmth that radiated from Ellie, her pulsing heartbeat was felt by your own chest. Through flesh and bone, you could’ve sworn your hearts could feel the love you both shared for each other. You knew perfectly in your mind that this was meant to be, and Ellie had loved you ever since you fell too.

Ellie gently pulled away to whisper in that hoarse soft voice, “This better than dancing with him?”

She sounded so tantalizing, having you in her hands all to herself. No one would ever be able to have you the way Ellie did, and for that she felt prouder than ever. The doubt for any connection that could’ve been there in the days and years prior to today, was overcast by Ellie’s pure bliss right now.

You smiled while pressing foreheads together, letting the air from Ellie’s breathing fall onto your face. Chests falling up and down in a few seconds of quietness before replying, “Better than you could ever know.”

“Oh I think I do know,” squeezing you tighter followed smaller frantic kisses below your eyes, between your eyebrows, and cheek. You reflected her actions onto each bronze or dark brown freckle Ellie had scattered across her face.

Finishing, Ellie pulled you to walk to her bed by her hands connected behind your neck, bringing you down top of her on the spring mattress. Cheeks lifting up to reveal smile lines that you managed to bring out so easily. You held yourself up by your forearms with Ellie sandwiched in between. A warm lit lamp and the small slips of light from the dance in the distance outside were the only forms of light source in the room. Night had casted over the sky, and the moon coating the world below in moonlight. Once a few seconds passed of enjoying the others presence by staring at each and every feature as to memorize them forever like a keepsake, Ellie cleared her throat to speak up.

”I want to be with you, properly this time I mean,” Ellie gazed right into your eyes endearingly beneath you. Her proper confession was in a form of a question you’ve been waiting on so eagerly for so long.

“I’d love that.”

Placing a small peck right on the tip of her nose, you laid down on her, letting your head fall to her heart. This moment would be the mark of something new, a new chapter in your lives. Not another person or soul could take this away from either of you, love continuing to grow deeper into your hearts.

[little-emerald-snake]

I come bearing another potential "sequel" idea. Obviously you don't have to write this. I randomly thought back to the "Sebastian with a reverse PA" story and, well...

Let's say f!MC decides she wants to return the favor, in a way. She decides to get a piercing of her own that can help stimulate them both. My mind says either a tongue piercing or a fourchette piercing, but that's completely up to you if you decide you like this idea 🤭

Anyways, she gets it and it becomes so hard not to ruin the surprise and she's holding off because it's still healing. She has to keep coming up with excuses for why they can't (too tired, have to study, etc). Both Seb and MC are sexually frustrated so by the time she feels it's healed enough, it's feral while also trying to be careful with both piercings.

(I'm just realizing how both my requests have a bit of a theme to them. Don't know what that says about me 🤣 Anyways, much love 💜)

Piercings pt3 - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

My lovely cyan1de, your brain is absolutely filthy and I love it 🫶🏻. I’ve taken your inspo but I changed the piercing to something with a little less heal time for the stories sake. Hope you like it anyway 💕. Thank you as always for the requests!

Warnings: descriptions of healing piercing, please have mercy and if you get a ‘spicy’ piercing let it heal fully/follow aftercare instructions so you don’t get an infection, modern college a/u, unprotected p-in-v, oral f receiving, mattress fucking?

2k words

Things had been incredible between them. While they had no label per say, they very much went on dates, spent the night with each other and hooked up fairly regularly.

She knew his birthday was only a few weeks away and while he swore he only wanted to spend the day with her and refused gift ideas, she had a fun little idea that had manifested after a saucy conversation or two about piercings.

After talking plenty about his she’d decided to ask what he’d think if a partner were to get one. He chuckled and gave her a wild playful look, hair messy from the combination of sweat and her fingers carding through it. “Wouldn’t mind it. What? You thinking about getting one?”

She’d only shrugged playfully, pretending to mull it over. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had in fact been thinking about getting a piercing ever since their first encounter. “Well if you do decide you want one-“ he paused to wiggle his brows and glanced at her bare chest “or two…I think it would be hot. But don’t feel like you need one just because I got one.”

She’d of course done her research of healing and pain and decided her top contender was a VCH piercing. Between the benefits, healing time, and the aesthetics of it she decided that would be the piercing she got.

Her roommate had agreed to go with her and hold her hand while she got it done, all kinds of on board for her and Sebastian since she seemed to be really happy since they’d started hooking up.

Thankfully the piercing wasn’t too painful, a big pinch and a bit of soreness but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her roommate had been hysterically laughing since she’d gotten home to look at it and her first words uttered were “She’s so pretty!”.

The next day Sebastian had tried to come over between classes for a bit of midday fun. But she’d quickly made the excuse that she was really tired and needed a nap. She’d also carefully evaded going back to his after a coffee date by saying she had to do some extra studying.

Luckily she’d been able to just get away with a good blowjob for him on the couch during their movie night at his place later in the week. He’d started to get a little suspicious after about two weeks of evaded sexual encounters or only blowjobs. “You know you can talk to me right? Like if something is wrong…is something wrong?”

She quickly waved him off just saying she’s been having some hormone changes which have made her tired and have a lower libido. In all honesty she was having an incredibly hard time telling him no, but she was almost halfway through the recovery and was determined to surprise him with her new piercing. “Love, is this because of your period?” He’d said while nipping the spot just below her ear, grinding against her thigh. “You know I don’t mind a bit of blood, I’ll still take good care of her. I promise.”

She of course already knew this since they’d already had period sex and he hadn’t been deterred in the slightest. Of course he’d been all too accommodating of her surge of desires during her ovulating week though.

He whispered incredibly sweet things and treated her like a princess but they definitely were a very sexually active couple. So when his hands began to wander when she stayed the night just a few days into her third week of healing she was losing her battle.

He whispered raunchy filth into her ear, rubbing and grinding against her inner thigh and moving closer to her crotch. One intense drag against her had her wincing and her mouth falling open.

Sebastian immediately stopped, cupping her face in his palms. “What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

She finally broke down, just three days before his birthday she felt like it was unavoidable at this point. She flashed a shy smile, looking up at him cheekily. “So you know how I talked to you about getting a piercing right?”

Sebastian’s lust lidded eyes popped and she swore she saw them sparkle. “You didn’t.” He looked down between them as if he’d see it through her clothes. He looked back up with wide eyes. “Holy shit…what did you get pierced?”

She laughed and rolled him off of her, carefully shimmying out of her pajama shorts and spreading her legs for him. “Surprise! Happy Birthday.”

His eyes darkened and he looked up, licking his lips. “Gods I’ve missed your pussy…and now she’s all pretty for me. God you know you didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled, blushing as he looked back down in awe. “I wanted it. It wasn’t just for you, promise. What do you think?”

He licked his lips again and she practically moaned from the look on his face. “How long till it’s healed?”

She bit into her bottom lip nervously. “Healing time is 4-8 weeks and it’s been 3 weeks and 4 days.”

His eyes widened. “You got it to be healed perfectly on my birthday…” he crawled up the side of her body, holding her neck carefully in his palm and he whispered against her lips. “Naughty girl.”

He kissed her deeply, tasting her and groaning into their kiss. She could feel his arousal against her thigh and it had her moaning into his kiss. He pulled back, eyes dark and lusty. “You can’t make those sounds, not when I still need to let that pretty little pussy heal up baby.”

She practically whined against his lips. The soreness had long since disappeared and she knew if she kept things clean that it would likely be fine for them to fool around a bit. She pushed at him till he was shoved out of bed and standing beside it, confused. “You’ve showered, right?”

He nodded, a confused tilt of his chin as she waved him towards the bathroom. His gray shorts doing very little to cover all the freckles littering his skin or the bulging mass thickening between his legs. “Go wash your hands then come back to bed.”

His eyes bulged and he hurried to the bathroom. He came back quickly, sliding into bed with her. She could smell his hand soap and smiled up at him as he crowded over her. “What are you comfortable doing? I don’t want to hurt you.”

She reached between them, palming his erection through the sweatpants he wore and hummed softly with approval. “I need this tonight, that is, if you’ll give it to me.”

He ground against her hand, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck and inhale her scent. He groaned, rolling his hips harder before frustration pulled somewhere inside him and he reached down to free his aching cock. It sprung free, cool air kissing his swollen leaking tip, silver barbell glinting in the low light. “Gods I’ve needed your pussy.”

She giggled breathily as he notched himself at her entrance, sitting up to watch the head of himself disappearing, his eyes fixed eagerly on her brilliant new piercing. His mouth practically watered with the urge to roll his tongue against it, use his tongue to flick the jewelry over her sensitized clit. “Does it increase your stimulation?”

She nodded, gasping as the head of his cock sunk inside. She was tight from their lack of fucking and she felt him pulse excitedly from inside of her walls. “Y-yes, even just cleaning it and looking at it in the shower, whenever I bump it, feels so good.”

He groaned in agony, shutting his eyes and sliding another inch or so inside, rolling his hips to increase her friction and spread the wetness. “Gods your so fucking tight. Been too long since you've been stretched around my cock, love.”

She nodded, gripping his shoulders. His hand slid down, barely pressing against the jewelry and she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. Holding himself back was going to be a feat and a half.

He sunk the rest of the way inside her and she constricted around him. He nudged the jewelry against her clit again and her head tossed backwards in pleasure. The sight of her falling into pleasure was absolutely breathtaking. He groaned, adjusting to straddle on leg, bringing the other so her knee hooked up over his shoulder, now spread apart his pubic bone ground against the piercing and had her moans heightening in pitch.

His thrusts were slow rolls that casually surged to desperately needy thrusts that he couldn’t hold back no matter how badly he tried. She felt far too good and it had been far too long. “God you’re cock, oh and the way your r-rubbing the piercing. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He chuckled as she gripped the sheets and arched up as she tightened like a vice around him. He tried to keep a cocky tone in his voice but it came out far more strained than he’d hoped. “Oh yea? Already, baby? That little piercing really does help you out, doesn’t it?”

He pressed a thumb right over the jewelry and she lurched up, practically shrieking as she rippled around him, crashing over her edge so fast. He groaned, surging his hips through her orgasm till she finally stilled, loud cries dulling to whimpering coos.

He pulled out of her, having her look down at him in hazy confusion as he settled, laying himself between her legs, spreading her warm thighs open in front of him. She flushed all the way from her cheeks to her thighs as he groaned, spreading her open and grinding his hips against the bed, glutes flexing and drawing her attention before he whispered in a gruff tone. “Fuck it.”

He dove in, licking her cunt from her silky wet opening and up to her newly decorated clit. He moaned at the taste and she frantically reached for the mass of fluffy hair. “S-Seb you can’t! You just fucked me there!”

He made another groan, rolling his hips steadily against the mattress. “I don’t care. This pussy is mine and I’ll eat it whenever I want to. I don’t care if your fresh out of the shower or freshly fucked and filled with my cum. I’ll taste you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”

Heat pooled deliciously between her legs as his tongue flicked precariously over the jewelry through her hood. He teased it over her clit, ran his tongue below it and tortured her with direct pressure that had her absolutely wild and all the while his hips never stopped against the bed.

The sight from between her legs had her quickly climbing the rungs of another orgasm. Her tugs in his hair became more urgent as her toes curled against the warm blankets and her thighs bracketed his head as she arched up into his talented tongue.

She came, shuddering and loose against his face and she didn’t stop till finally he lifted his head, licking her shiny wetness from his lips and chin.

Her eyes bulged when he sat up and she saw the strings of cum trailing from his cock to the blanket. Had he really fucked their sheets till he came while eating her out?

His eyes met hers and he glanced to where she was looking, chuckling and using that low satisfied tone that made her tingle. “How about I change the sheets while you shower off so everything stays clean?”

She swallowed, nodding and getting up into shaking feet and padding into his bathroom while he tossed sheets into the wash. He joined her and a whole new fresh wave of arousal rising inside of her as his erection slipped between the cleft of her ass and she was suddenly wondering if the slap of his balls against her clit as he fucked her from behind would feel as good as it sounded.

[deadlymistletoe]

Unrequited

Pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

Request: Anonymous asked: could you write something angsty with thranduil where reader is an elf in his kingdom but they've been friends for a long time and she loves him but never told him cuz she values thier friendship and thinks shes unworthy of him and she's starting to get sick and poisoned from holding the feelings in and he's getting really concerned thinking she might be dying 

A/N: Thank you so much for giving me my first request! I hope I did your idea justice! Sorry it took so long, I wrote most of it before getting writer's block and taking a break before going back to heavily edit it and changing quite a few paragraphs.

Genre: Angst/Romance

Description: Over the years you’d managed to fall in love with your childhood friend, and kept your feelings hidden, terrified of ruining your friendship, but now years of hiding your feelings are catching up to you, making you unwell.

Warnings: None?

Word count: 1408

You had always been close to Thranduil, since birth, practically. Your mother, a trusted elleth who dealt with the important archives in the palace library, had helped tutor Thrandiuil in subjects such as history, and geography at his mother’s request. And seeing as you were too young to be left to your own devices, and your mother already taught you, you became a class of two with the Greenwood Prince. 

It was safe to say not many others could say they’d been as close to the Prince as you were. And they definitely couldn’t say they knew him as well as you. 

As years passed and you got older, you and Thranduil only got closer. You snuck out together, you hid from your parents together, you laughed and played together. You cried together. 

You couldn’t say exactly when it was that your feelings for the Prince changed. Maybe it was when he made you a picnic to have on the balcony to cheer you up after some of the other young elves played a prank on you. Or maybe it was when he held you when you cried at the news of your mother’s death. Maybe it was when he spoke so eagerly on what he’d learnt on his trip to Lorien and you could only focus on the way his eyes lit up.

Maybe it was everything together. The only thing you knew was that you were steadily falling for the Prince.

But after a night spent lying awake, mulling it over, you realized that Thranduil could never know of your feelings.

Thranduil had only ever thought of you as a friend and you had no intentions of ruining that friendship. Even if he did feel the same, there was too much of a risk that it wouldn’t work out and your relationship would never be the same again.

Besides, Thranduil needed someone worthy of him, who could rule beside him when the time came - not an archivist who’d never dealt with politics in her life - not someone like you.

So you buried your feelings as you continued your mother’s work in the library, drawing away from Thranduil ever so slightly.

By the time Thranduil had been crowned King after his fathers death, (a very hard time in which you’d spent hours holding the devastated blond - even more so after his mother left to sail not long after, only waiting long enough to see Orpher laid to rest in the garden and Thranduil take the crown) you’d mastered hiding your feelings, and as the days grew darker and Greenwood slowly transformed into Mirkwood you continued to hide them. 

And it was hard.

And as the days grew colder you could feel the years of holding yourself back, attempting to force yourself not to love him, catching up to you.

You tried to ignore it, pulling away from Thranduil, burying yourself in work, and brushing off any concerns your fellow elves may have with a breezy answer of how the cold must be affecting you.

It was a flimsy excuse, and you knew it. After all, elfs didn’t get sick from the cold like humans did. But it seemed to do the trick for a while at least.

Over the next month, you ignored the way your heart ached as you slowly felt yourself deteriorating. You ate less, forced smiles when you had to, cried yourself to sleep when no one was around to see. 

Your glow was fading.

And Thranduil knew it too. After all, despite the way you’d seemed to pull away from him over the past few years, he was still your best friend, and he could tell that you were hurting, and ill, and who knows what else.

At first, he’d tried to casually bring the topic of you up with your friends, and it eventually came back to him that you were saying it was because of the cold.

The cold didn't affect elves. But other things could… An unusual panic seemed to take over him as his mind ran over the few illnesses that could affect elves. What if you were dying? Was that why you were pulling away from him? You didn’t want him to know?

And so Thranduil left his study with a stubborn resolve to find out exactly what was happening to you.

You looked up from the book you had sitting open in front of you as you stared into space when the library door was opened with enough force that it banged off the wall behind it and the reason your heart was aching stood in front of you, looking far from impressed.

Thranduil was clearly far from happy as he scanned you up and down. His eyes were cold but you could see the concern, a bit of anger and something else you couldn’t make out mixed in.

You furrowed your brows as he stood there in silence. You had to say something, but you couldn’t say his name. It was too hard to be so informal when you weren’t being informal in the way your heart wanted.

“My lord?”

That did it.

“Don’t call me that!” The blond seemed pained by the title as he rebuked you. “After all this time, you're going to start calling me ‘My lord?’”

You didn’t get a chance to say anything as he plowed on. “I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know why you're pulling away from me, or why you look like you're about to pass out and not wake up!”

You blinked as Thranduil listed off things you’d thought you’d been able to keep hidden from him. Your attention went back to the king as he finished his torrent of words with a sentence, a word, that snapped you out of your daze. “But I need to know, you need to tell me, because I'm your friend, and you’re supposed to be able to come to me when you’re not okay.”

You let your book fall to the floor as you stood up, an unusual display of violence towards a book on your half, and tried to blink back the tears that had begun to push forward. 

Unbeknownst to Thranduil, he had just put your problem into words, but it was too late to leave and pretend his words hadn’t just unintentionally broken your heart into pieces.

Suddenly you didn’t care if he knew. You didn’t care if the whole world knew. After all, he was the one who had said you needed to tell him.

Your heart pushed the rational part of your mind aside as your emotions reared up, ready to make you say words you might live to regret.

You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, tears finally falling as you finally spoke of your problems to the one who had unintentionally caused them.

“Well that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m your friend, and that’s all I ever will be, although I'd wager not at all after this, when my heart yearns for more, and has done so for longer than you can imagine!”

You ignored the blonde’s shocked expression as the words kept tumbling out.

“You are my problem! You who could never love me the way I love you!”

You broke off as your brain finally caught up to what you were saying, tears still falling from your eyes.

You let out a sob as you realized you’d done what you’d feared, ruining your friendship forever and pushed past Thranduil, who was still frozen in shock at your outburst, and made for the door, fully prepared to gather you things and leave, when a firm hand wrapped around your arm, stopping you from leaving the room.

You shut your eyes in shame as you felt him turn you to face him, a gentle hand lifting your chin, you his breath brushing against your ear as he spoke in a low voice. “My dear Y/N, you have never been more wrong in your life.”

And his lips pressed firmly against yours, one hand still holding your chin, the other on your arm.

And as you melted into the kiss, your mind finally catching up with what was happening, a final tear, this time of relief and happiness fell.

What tomorrow would bring, it didn’t matter. You were content in the moment, and things could only get better with Thranduil by your side, not only as a friend, but as a lover.

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[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You're just making sure I'm never gettin' over you ❞ [part 1/2]

Peter Parker x male!superhero!reader | break-up, light angst, mentions of nsf(t) stuff, 'nudes' | wc: 2k

masterlist; part1; part 2;

Peter had made sure to erase any traces of (Y/N) from their once-shared apartment. He finds himself tonguing his cheek as he confronts his ex-boyfriend on 'their' rooftop with a naughty Polaroid of (Y/N) in his hands.

Peter regretted even agreeing to spend the night out with Flash. He knew why he had but now he wished he hadn't - if he could, Peter was sure he would punch himself right in the jaw, so he'd experience this spiderweb (hah) of pain that climbed from up his jaw to his temple then and not now. The club he'd gone to was called Highball, nothing at all special other than the fact that Flash got VIP lounge access because of a friend. Peter had mulled over the thought for hours before deciding he needed something other than Grey's Anatomy to take the edge off his breakup. Flash had a whole entourage of friends and Peter mostly nodded his head to the bone-shaking music on the booth seats. He didn't hate the blonde for inviting him out. Sure, he had a somewhat complicated relationship with him, what with him being his high school bully and all. But Flash was just being nice and said something about Peter looking particularly pathetic. I probably look worse now, he thought with a muffled moan. He was hunched over his desk as he squirmed and knocked his knees together. A few concerned classmates glanced back, wondering what kind of drinks he'd gulped down to be this hungover. Sure, the brunette was clumsy, a bit messy too and came off as snarky if the smell of coffee wasn't emitting from the stains on his shirt but he was so studious! This was new. "Mr Parker" his head shot up faster than his headache liked, Peter grimaced and pursed his lips but mumbled out a 'yes, sir?' The professor eyed him apprehensively, was that slight disappointment Peter saw through his squinted eyes? "Your opinion on the current discussion, Mr Parker?" Peter bit back a snappy retort but his eyebrow twitched either way. The man had disturbed him just to ask for his opinion on whatever the fuck he'd been droning on about at 8-fucking-am? "It's uh, it's great, sir" he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and nodding just slightly. "You...you think the modern-day slave trade is...great?" A few heads turned to stare and Peter's eyes widened. "O-Oh! Oh my God! N-No! Not at all!"

Peter elected to be the last student out of the lecture hall, worrying over his backpack which only had two wire-bound notebooks, stray pens bouncing around, a few crumpled receipts and his web shooters. His professor gave him a pointed look as he approached the front. Peter grinned sheepishly, "I'm sorry I just..." he trailed off. How was it easier to find an excuse for web-slinging than it was for getting drunk? The guilt probably made it harder to lie, he thought. "You have been concerning me as of late, Mr Parker. You show promise. I'm willing to look past your tardiness if you're alert and aware in this class, however, lately" Peter looked at his shoes as he scratched the back of his head. "I know, sir, just been a tough couple of days" his professor arched a brow. "Something to do with Mr (L/N)?" Peter's eyes widened, fist tightening on the strap of his backpack. It's been weeks since the breakup and Peter had taken the liberty of completely cutting-off contact, he'd even emptied their apartment of (Y/N)'s belongings. Hearing his name now felt so taboo. "He's been absent for a while now...after your" he scrunched his face up in pity "...tense, sudden, uhm, distant seating from each other". "Oh God" Peter was now covering his face. Had it been that obvious? A goddamn professor had taken notice! "I'm an old man, seen it all" Peter nodded while still hiding his face "Please don't let this ruin two of my best student's grades". "Yes, sir" he groaned as he walked out of the class.

The only comfort from today was the fact that he only had two lectures. Only one of which he had made a total buffoon out of himself. He'd have enough time to recuperate before it was time for patrol - AKA, nap time. Peter entered the apartment and greeted them aloud. No one answered. He felt stupid as he stood on the threshold of his front door, his grip on the poor doorknob making it squeak in alarm. Peter all but growled as he kicked it close and tossed his backpack on the stupid, lumpy, couch. "Come on, Petey. Lay with me" Peter grits his teeth together as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd been petty in telling (Y/N) to get all his shit out of the apartment. Hell, he'd even opened all the windows to air out (Y/N)'s scent after a rough fight with Doc Ock which had left him bruised and annoyingly in need of (Y/N)'s tender care. He had no privilege anymore, but he wished he had, he could hear what (Y/N) would've told him. "Shh, I got you taken care of, pretty boy. Don't worry, I'm here, shh" "Fuck" he should have probably taken off the clothes he'd worn to the club - and his lectures - before he fell onto the mattress, but he felt his throat burn with the familiar rise of a sob and he simply turned to his side. "Fuckkk" (Y/N)'s side had that familiar dip, Peter could feel it, and it felt achingly foreign since he never laid on his side. Just an arm or leg tossed over the territory, maybe even his whole body if (Y/N) had gotten him in a pliant enough mood to spread his legs apart. Peter felt as though the dip was heating up in retaliation. Equally as peeved that (Y/N) wasn't there. Where he rightfully belonged, a voice whispered in his head. Peter felt tears slip past his eyelashes and he began sniffling.

The mattress wasn't exactly something he could simply toss out. Being a college student and freelance photographer whilst paying rent for a shitty apartment in New York meant that buying a new one wasn't in his budget. The whole gig as Spiderman didn't exactly pay well. Maybe he was being dramatic, imagining a dip in the mattress had feelings? Wanting to throw it out simply because his ex-boyfriend had slept on that side? He was definitely losing it. But he could do this, he could get over a boy. He had gotten over his previous partners, albeit, they did stay as friends...and they never made him feel as (Y/N) did but he'd gotten over them. For Christ's sake, he's fought against such a fantastical array of supervillains that would rather have him dead and squished on the sidewalk. He could get over a boy. With that thought in mind, Peter peeked open his eyes to stare at (Y/N)'s side of the mattress. The shitty round rattan bedside table (Y/N) had gotten from a sidewalk and refurbished for fun left a dust imprint on the floor that made Peter sigh, he'd need to wipe that away... He paused as he noticed a gleam of white stuck between the floor and mattress, hidden slightly by the bedsheets being bunched up above it. The brunette reached down, thinking nothing of it as he pulled it out. 'Meet me here, Spidey ♡ ' That was (Y/N)'s handwriting. Peter could not not know it from the hours they spent studying together. He turned it to the front and his face erupted in such delicious shades of red he did not know it could even make, it reach all the way up his ears and down his chest. (Y/N)'s vigilante suit was bunched around his hips, skin looking ever so delicious with only the camera flash, moonlight and New York lights washing over him. Peter felt his mouth go dry as he took in every little detail that shitty little Polaroid camera he'd gotten for (Y/N) for Christmas managed to capture. His lips were exposed, teeth slightly covered by a wicked tongue that was mid-lick and one of his eyes were exposed. His mask was lopsided in a way that reminded Peter of the times they'd meet up during patrol to kiss each other until oxygen ran out. "Fuck" Peter didn't need to look at the background to know where (Y/N) was. He knew exactly where the shithead had taken this picture. "Fuckkk" This day could not get any worse.

(Y/N) felt him before he heard him. Call it his spidey senses if you will, but (Y/N) could tell Peter apart from the millions of brunettes on this Earth even if his senses were taken. He'd worshipped that body too much to ever forget it. The usual thwip and thud came but then cool silence. (Y/N) hummed, feigning amusement as he straightened up from his crouched position on the ledge of the building. "Took you long enough, Spidey" "What is it that you want, (vigilante name)?" He turned his head ever so slightly to peer at Spiderman from over his shoulder. Peter gulped at the sight of (Y/N)'s darkened profile. The way the shadows sharpened the planes of his handsome face, his fingers ached to hold him. "Still bitchy?" And suddenly all that aching turned into ash in his mouth as his hands clenched into fists. "I don't have time for this" (Y/N) laughed, so sharp and loud it made Peter flinch. "No time for me but plenty of time for Flash Thompson and his goons?" (Y/N) faced him, taking steps towards him and a part of Peter cursed at himself for not moving back. He stood his ground, glaring at his ex-boyfriend through his mask. "You seriously think you can replace me with him?" (Y/N) sneered. "You seriously stalked me?" Peter said incredulously. A flash of hurt came across (Y/N)'s expression, his eyebrows sloping all pretty and it made Peter equally as hurt as he was angry. "No, I wasn't...I"

(Y/N) was so close, their chests nearly touching. But then he pulled away, arms crossing his chest as he turned to stare at the city instead. "I got worried" Peter swore his brows reached his hairline from that statement but he said nothing, knowing that (Y/N) was chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he tried to find the words to speak. Peter hated that he knew that about (Y/N). "I was an asshole, yelled things I didn't mean in the heat of the moment but I just, I can't sleep without knowing you're okay so I..." he took a breath, shoulders hugging his neck as he let his hands go limp by his side after a loud exhale. "I did some light stalking. Not Edward Cullen shit, I just make sure Spiderman isn't doing something stupid". Peter crossed his arms, watching (Y/N) for a long minute, urging him to continue. "You're usually back by 4 am when it's quiet, no bullshittery brewing. I checked the police scanners, so I know. I checked all the usual crime hotspots too, so I know. I checked if you were home so-" "You knew" Peter finished. (Y/N) swore he couldn't remember what made them fight so badly that he hadn't even fought when Peter told him to get the fuck out of their apartment. All he knew was the hotel mattress he had been sleeping on felt so foreign, uncomfortable, and strangely unclean - despite the hotel being on the higher end. (Y/N) couldn't sleep. Physically could not get his mind to shut up. Too spoiled by Peter's lips on his neck, drowsily sleep-talking, and Peter's arms around him holding him close so he didn't untether into the land of nightmares.

"...How'd you know I was at the club?" Peter scratched the back of his head and (Y/N)'s shoulders droop. His head shook as he chuckled. "Flash, asked me if I wanted to join" "But he knows we-" Peter scoffed as realized. Right. What better way to get your friends to get back together than drinks and dirty dancing? Nice try, Flash, Peter thought. He leaned against the door leading up to the rooftop, watching (Y/N) as he sat on the ledge, still facing each other. (Y/N) leaned on his hands, in the same pose as the Polaroid. Which prompted Peter to tongue his cheek. He reached into the neck area of his suit, mask lifting above his nose in the process, to pull out that goddamn Polaroid. His ex-boyfriend watched, crossed legs opening as Spiderman marched close and shoved it to his face. "Oh". "Oh," Peter mocked. "The 'light' stalking, I can forgive" (Y/N) perked up at that "But nudes?" With his mask partially lifted, (Y/N) could tell that Peter wasn't angry enough to be taken seriously - his lower lip trembles when he's excited. "Partial nude" he defended. "Unwanted partial nude" Peter retorted which made (Y/N) tilt his head as he pushed himself up to stand. Since Spiderman was between his legs as he towered and berated him, as (Y/N) rose, their breaths fanned across Peter's lips. They were closer than before. "Unwanted?" did he have to whisper so seductively? Peter felt his face warming. Peter tensed as (Y/N) pressed forward, their chests now touching. Peter scolded himself for wishing the suits they wore wasn't in the way. "Is that why you haven't tossed it away? Why haven’t you ripped it apart? Because you" his finger ghosted along Peter's sternum and towards his navel, "didn't like it?" Peter's lower lip trembled and (Y/N) fought back a smile as his hands wrapped around Peter's waist and he pulled him in. Closer. So close Peter swore the very air he was breathing was (Y/N)'s. "Never said I didn't like it" Peter whispered, his hands reaching between to cup (Y/N)'s face.

[metallicaislife]

Bad Mood

Requested by: @dallysnecklace

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 909

Warnings: Cranky Kirk

I was so excited to spend the evening with my boyfriend, Kirk. I went to his place to make dinner before he got home from band practice. I made one of his favorites, and finished making it right as I heard him come through the front door. 

I rounded the corner, he met my eyes and gave me a small tight lipped smile. 

“Hey babe.” I said, wrapping my arms around him. He hugged me back softly. 

“Hey.” He replied, “what smells so good?” He asked, taking off his shoes. 

“Curry, rice and some naan.” I replied. I wrapped my arm around his and led him to the dining room. He shook my arm off and sat down. I sat across from him and handed him the rice to start serving himself. 

I tried asking questions about his day, but he was giving me one word answers then turning the question back to me. After dinner we cleaned up. I put the leftovers in the fridge while Kirk washed the dishes. I came up behind him snaking my arms around his waist. 

“Oh my god, would you let me breathe?!” Kirk exploded. 

I pulled away wide eyed as he turned to me. 

“You have been up my ass since I got home. Can’t I just breathe for 5 minutes without you clinging to me?” He continued to yell.

I clammed up. I stared at him wide eyed. 

“Um.. I’m sorry.” I squeaked out as tears started streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t give Kirk time to react, I grabbed my things and was out the door in a flash. I went home and curled up in my bed. I could tell he had been in a bad mood since he walked in his door, if he had told me that instead of exploding at me I would’ve understood. He had no right to yell at me like that though even if he had a crappy day. After mulling it over a while I cried myself to sleep. 

When I woke up I had a headache from all my crying. 

I had the day off from work so I took a super long hot shower to help alleviate the tension in my body. 

I felt much better as I stepped out, well physically at least. 

I had to try and figure out what I was going to do with my day. Kirk and I were supposed to spend it together since I had it off. After last night, I don’t think we’re hanging out. 

I got in cozy clothes anyway and curled up on the couch. I turned the tv on and let it play mostly as background noise as I fell back asleep. 

I was awoken by a knock at the door. I wasn’t so sure I actually heard it so I waited and a few short moments later there was another knock. 

I got up and looked through the peephole. Kirk stood with his hands in his pockets rocking back and forth on his heels. I opened the door. 

“Hi.” I said softly. 

“Hey, baby. Can we talk?” He asked. I nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter. I leaned against the door as he took his shoes off. My lips in a straight line. On the inside I was really happy to see him, but was also still hurt from yesterday. He looked at me and opened his arms. I stood in place a few seconds before moving forward into his embrace. 

“I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I feel absolutely terrible about it.” He said. 

“Let’s go sit and we can talk it out.” I replied. 

He placed his hand in mine and we went to the couch. He sat down at the end of the couch, and I sat on the other. We faced one another. 

“I had a really crappy day yesterday, it was so sweet of you to come over and make dinner, but I was just so overwhelmed I cracked. And I know that’s not an excuse, there is no excuse for how I treated you.” He stated. 

“I understand, and appreciate your apology. I know it may be hard, but next time you feel that way could you try to communicate? If you had let me know you wanted to be alone, I would’ve been happy to give you your space.” I said playing with my fingers. 

“But you made dinner.” He pointed out. 

“I could've taken some to go, or picked something else for myself on my way home. It doesn’t matter what the situation is, Kirk, I respect you and your boundaries.” I explained. Kirk’s lower lip wobbled a little bit. 

“Thank you, I’m really grateful for that. For you. I promise in the future I’ll try to communicate better.” Kirk said. I smiled softly at him. “Can we cuddle?” He asked. I nodded, opening my arms and kicking my legs out so he could lay between them with his head on my tummy. He hugged my middle and I played with his hair. 

“I’ll hold you later.” He said as he nuzzled into my warmth. 

“Sounds good.” I smiled softly. 

The tv was on but we went periods of just enjoying one another’s company, and then we would switch snuggle positions and chat, giggling about this or that. 

I was happy we still got to spend the day together, snuggling in a cocoon of blankets.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[blurredcolour]

I Wish You Love | Part Two

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

A flurry of correspondence is exchanged between yourself and Lieutenant Nixon, unleashing an unexpected torrent of emotions inside of you.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Angst, Class Divide, Infidelity, Dishonesty, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5051

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

You were mending one of Miss Isobel’s blouses in the servant’s hall when Lieutenant Nixon’s reply arrived with the afternoon post. Mr. Atkinson, the butler, set it on at silver tray at your elbow and you nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll take it up when I dress her for dinner, thank you Mr. Atkinson.”

It was all you could do not to stare at it, struggling to maintain your focus on the task at hand lest you stick your finger with the needle and have to remove a blood stain from the white silk. The excitement was foolish, you knew. There was no need to feel such a thrill at his response other than the confirmation it brought of his continued survival. Yes, that must be it, you were simply glad to know he was alive and well enough to write back.

Finishing the last of your weak and bitter tea, grown cold while you worked, you stood to tend to Miss Isobel. Carrying the tray up the stairs, you ducked into the linen cupboard to slide the letter into the pocket of your dress, stashing the tray inside a pile of sheets before heading into her room. The envelope fairly burnt a hole in your skirt through the family’s dinner, and then later the staff’s, before you had a moment to yourself to tear into it while secreted away in your bedroom.

The giddy grin on your face should have registered as an early warning sign but your duties dictated that you immediately store the letter in a safe place before returning to see Miss Isobel undressed for bed. As you carefully brushed out her hair, you mulled over Lieutenant Nixon’s request for tactile objects. With the departure for Scotland not scheduled for another few days, perhaps there was something meaningful you could send him from Lydiard.

“You’re a tad distracted this evening.” Miss Isobel’s sharp voice cut through your thoughts, and you tensed, offering her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Miss, lots to prepare for the trip that’s all. Is there anything else?”

She let out a dramatic sigh and shook her head. “Since you can’t save me from this wretched trek, no. That’ll be all.”

Excusing yourself with a curtsy you stepped out, closing the door behind you quietly before making your way downstairs to bed. The answer did not come to you until the next morning when you were out walking Dash, his usual route abbreviated by the necessity to pack and prepare, but your eyes fell upon one of the last remaining trees in bloom. Reaching up, you snapped off a sprig carefully, tucking it into your pocket before chasing after the dog as he decided to try moonlighting as a sheep herder. A large tuft of white fleece snagged on the hedge caught your eye once you had corralled the unruly Cavalier and you smiled brightly as you plucked it free.

Pressing the sprig of blossoms between two sheets of scrap paper, you tucked it into the middle of the copy of War and Peace you had borrowed from the Viscount’s library some months ago. Your progress had naturally been slow, given your limited amount of free time, but you were enjoying the story all the same. You had intended to write your reply to Lieutenant Nixon that evening but Miss Isobel, for all her complaints about being forced to journey to the ‘empty wastes of Scotland’ was as particular as ever about what she wanted to pack.

It was the same story the day after that, leaving you just enough time to throw together a bag for yourself. You would have to write him from the train, apparently, or perhaps Scotland itself.

Animals and children always seemed to feed off the energy around them and so, as you were desperately trying to rush Dash through one last walk before departure the next afternoon, the keyed-up dog decided to take a running leap into the lake in pursuit of a duck he’d seen limping along shore.

“Dash! Dash, come!” You cried after him sharply, but he chose not to listen as the water soaked into the layers of his coat, his legs slowing as the bird handily outswam him into deeper waters. “Dash!” Your tone took on a desperation before, seeing no alternative, you kicked off your shoes and waded in after him.

The lake wasn’t terribly cold, but it was by no means clean – inhabited as it was by all forms of waterfowl. You were lucky enough to know how to swim, though your heavy servant’s dress was by no means suited to the task. As the small dog’s head bobbed and disappeared under the water you kicked faster, quickly scooping him up into your arms and bringing him back to shore. Shaking in terror he burrowed into your elbow, and you went to kiss his head before wincing at the stink radiating from both of you. “You really outdid yourself this time, didn’t you Dash.”

There had been just enough time to bathe the dog and change your clothes, the reek of lake water still on you as you boarded the train. It ended up working in your favour, however, with the rest of the staff giving you a pair of seats to yourself and at last a chance to reply to Lieutenant Nixon.

Sealing it with your collected articles into the envelope, you wrote the return address of the estate of the Earl of Selkirk, the families first destination, on the back and allowed yourself a proper rest for the remainder of the train ride. Upon disembarking, your eyes scanned the station for a post box, and you nipped through the crowd to slide your letter through the slot before returning to your duties.

Scotland was another experience entirely, one where you were permitted to act solely as Miss Isobel’s lady’s maid rather than taking on housemaid duties, affording you more opportunities to read, write to your father and brother, and explore the countryside.

Certainly, you had jested to Lieutenant Nixon that it was a land of ‘mist and misery’ but in truth the landscape was awe-inspiring and filled with a rugged beauty. You had only ventured outside of Wiltshire once in your life, to accompany the family to London during the last summer season of 1939, so travel was still very much a novelty to you.

Miss Isobel managed to occupy herself, despite her earlier pessimism, with Lord Douglas-Hamilton’s son James who was convalescing after a rather terrible crash during flight training with the RAF. It was near the third week of July by the time you – no, Izzy – received a response from Lieutenant Nixon and this time you easily slipped away to your single bedroom to eagerly tear it open and read it straight away. The thrill of receiving it rivalled, if not outmatched, that you felt when mail arrived from your brother.

You could not help the fond grin that pulled at your lips at Lieutenant Nixon’s concern for your…the family’s… safety. It seemed the 101st Airborne no longer had need of the field hospital they had built in Lydiard Park and the British army was in the midst of renovating it to become a German prisoner of war hospital camp. All manner of fencing topped with barbed wire and watch towers were being installed to ensure the security of those within and without. There were naturally some misgivings, but the land had been requisitioned and therefore it was quite out of the Viscount’s hands.

Several soldiers were slated to be posted inside Lydiard house from October onwards as an added level of security, one that you had chosen to take heart in. All that aside, it wasn’t as though they were going to be keep healthy prisoners on the grounds – only the ill and injured, so that would give you all a fighting chance if it came to it. Nonetheless, you were very touched all the same by his concern.

It was hard to ignore, however, the flirtatious tone of his letter, a sharp pang of jealously striking you at descriptions of things he and Miss Isobel had undoubtedly gotten up to. You had, after all, fixed her hair for dinner afterwards. While Lieutenant Nixon bemoaned the near miss you were nothing but grateful. It would have been disastrous for Miss Isobel and him to come face-to-face now, what with letters sent in her name she had no knowledge of. Of course, that would eventually come to pass, but you were banking on more time to come up with a resolution to it all before then.

Feeling thoroughly batted about by the myriad of emotions summoned by this latest missive, you were somewhat relieved to tuck it away as the clock downstairs chimed. You hurried out to join the game keeper, Mr. O’Connell, on the walk he had invited you to join him on whilst he planned a stalking trip for the family tomorrow. You had yet to secure a piece of heather, as you had promised to do for Lieutenant Nixon, and with a letter awaiting a reply, you ought to get on it as soon as possible.

The move between the two estates was far more of an ordeal than it needed to be, with a great deal of the difficulty arising from Miss Isobel’s sulking at parting from James Douglas-Hamilton. Confident there would be someone to catch her wandering eye at the next locale, you did your best to coddle and encourage her, once again struggling to comprehend that you were the same age as the girl.

As the days of murdering small birds and large deer ticked by with no response from Lieutenant Nixon, you began to grow anxious. Did you perhaps slip up in your latest response? Put too much of your own character into it? Or maybe it was the touch of melancholy that had seeped into the ink at the end as you were signing off. You really ought to write in the sunshine, it tended to lend a happier tone to your letters.

Your mood was altogether too dependent on his correspondence. Correspondence that he was not even aware that he was having with you. The housemaid who stood in as a lady’s maid, pending the day when Miss Isobel would finally choose just one man to love for the rest of her life. Signing the name of your mistress whilst your words betrayed ever deepening feelings for an American Lieutenant who most likely had forgotten your name by now. At what point had this service you had begun doing for him become something of such meaning to you?

To your combined relief and frustration, it turned out that the entire village was experiencing a problem with the post, something that the Royal Mail assured the Viscount Falkland they were working on immediately, but it took several more weeks for his response to arrive, in an envelope from the Ritz, just as the family was being ushered into vehicles to drive to the station in mid-September.

You quickly slid it away in your pocket, thanking the footman who’d handed it to you, before loading Dash’s carrier into the footwell and jumping into the back of a car yourself. The train was cramped and hot, most likely overbooked judging by the crush of humanity at the end of the cars, and so you were forced to sit next to a stranger with Dash’s carrier perched on your knees.

You tore into the envelope savagely as though your actions might make up for the lost time while the post had been mishandled.

A future. A future that could never be yours. But one that sounded so sweet. Tears blurred your vision until you blinked them away, sighing softly as the train slowed and pulled onto a siding yet again. It felt like you had barely made any progress since leaving the station despite re-reading Lieutenant Nixon’s letter three times.

Your seatmate was slumped against the window, sleeping deeply, thankfully unaware of the tears that were rolling down your cheeks, fresh ones quickly replacing those which you furiously wiped away. This was not your story. Could never be your story, particularly not when it was all based upon a lie. How had he become so sweet and dear to you? Lieutenant Nixon was impossibly charming and witty, perhaps you really never stood a chance at remaining unattached. You should have never read his second letter.

The train cars jostled to a halt with a series of bangs, Dash shuffling restlessly in his carrier on your lap in response to being woken. “Sorry, boy.” You whispered quietly, sniffling a little as you tried to rein in your emotions.

However badly you had failed to keep your personal feelings separate on the matter, the man still certainly deserved a reply. With space so limited, you began by preparing the envelope, sliding your collected feathers inside, before taking a stab at the letter itself.

You pulled back your pen with a ruthless shake of your head, eyes once again growing damp. This letter was unusable. You had simply devolved into pouring your heart out onto the page. Gone were all traces of The Honourable Isobel St John. All that remained was a working-class girl from Swindon punching high above her weight. There was no way you could actually send it, but you had gotten off to a good start, so you could hopefully salvage portions of it. A savage yawn suddenly overtook you and you sighed, tucking the pages into the prepared envelope and setting it on top of Dash’s carrier.

Perhaps you would be better prepared to finish this Herculean task after a rest. As if to lend a helping hand, the train jerked back into motion, the forward progress along the track rocking you comfortingly in your seat as your eyelids began to droop heavily.

They did not open again until Miss Beauchamp squeezed your shoulder gently. “Wake up, we’ve arrived.” She hissed and you startled up in your seat, eyes searching frantically for the letter which you had carelessly left out in the open. “What the devil are you looking for?” She muttered impatiently, grabbing Dash’s carrier from your lap.

“There was a letter, I had a letter on top of the carrier…” You stuttered, still not quite awake but system also flooded with adrenaline.

“Oh yes, Miss Isobel’s letter. Mr. Stevens took it to post along with some letters the Viscount was working on, it’s all taken care of. Now come on before the train leaves.”

You stared at her, eyes wide with horror, rooted to the spot, until she physically grabbed you by the elbow. She hauled you through the car and off the train in time to see the ever-helpful valet sliding a stack of letters through the slot of the post box. Your blood pressure plummeted, knees beginning to buckle beneath you as black dots appeared in your vision. You were vaguely aware of Miss Beauchamp shouting your name in alarm as you staggered toward a nearby bench, barely maintaining your grip on consciousness through sheer force of will.

The rest of the staff jumped to all sorts of conclusions – you were overheated, overtired, overwrought. Perhaps you were coming down with something or had bad news regarding your brother. You were barely able to voice the words to assure them you were fine, and you could feel Miss Isobel’s scornful glare as all attention was directed on ushering you into one of the waiting cars to return you to Lydiard and up to your bed to rest.

The words in that letter had not been meant for consumption by anyone and now they were in the dutiful hands of the Royal Mail, making their way to Lieutenant Nixon. If only they could suddenly develop another postal delivery issue, but you had never been such a lucky person. Shock ran deep, immobilizing you in your bed, rendering you unable to eat, to cry, to see any solution to this mess you had made.

You should have never read his second letter.

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

Read Part Three

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Tempus Fugit (4x17)

The Headless Woman’s Pub was crowded wall-to-wall with red-faced employees of the Federal Government who had traveled the measly few blocks after work— despite the fact that it was a Sunday. As far as Val could tell, these people never took a day off.

Before getting this gig, he always imagined the feds drank like they were in one of those film noirs, pulling a handle of whiskey out of their desk and mulling over it after a hard case. He thought being an FBI Agent must’ve been so cool and mysterious.

“Oh shit!” a voice slurred from the other side of the room.

Val glanced over and saw that kid from the Violent Crimes Unit wiping spilled beer off of his date’s lap.

After getting this gig, he realized everything he used to think about the feds was bullshit. 

These were some of the most depressed fuckers he’d ever met. The ones that got the job for the glory would inevitably crash and burn, and the good ones would be haunted by the evils they saw. He couldn’t blame any of them for needing to indulge at the end of the day, but, Christ— J. Edgar himself would blush at the things these people said when they were drunk. He was starting to wonder if there was a single desk in that building that hadn’t been defiled. Though that was nothing compared to the guy who drank himself under the table because the ‘alien-guy’ stole his job. Val still didn’t know what the hell that meant, but he could still hear the way that guy kept muttering “fucking grey.”

“Excuse me.”

Glancing up, he saw a tall guy easing himself in between two people sitting at the bar. “Do you have a tab started?” Val asked.

“No, uh, I actually had a favor to ask,” the man clarified while his hands fidgeted against the bar’s wooden ledge.

Glancing around and seeing everyone’s drinks were full, Val stopped what he was doing and replied, “Shoot.”

Lanky started fumbling around with the pocket of his suit coat, and he began to worry the guy was gonna pull out his badge. They were too damn short-staffed to spare anyone for a twenty-minute interrogation about some drunk guy making a fool of himself after having one too many.

But agitation quickly made way for confusion when he was presented with one of those pink Hostess monstrosities. Ho Ho? Zapper? Chocodile Kazbars? Whatever the hell it was called, it should be illegal to put coconut in anything that was supposed to be called a dessert.

“I’m on a diet,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his comment, the man tried to fluff the pink ball back into shape after presumably squashing in his pocket. “The woman I came in with— it’s her birthday, and she loves these things. I was wondering if there was any way you could ask someone in the back to put it on a plate and bring it out to her?”

Now that was a new one, especially for a shithole like this place. “Ya mean like Chili’s?”

“Well, hey, I certainly won’t say no if you have any sombreros hidden away in the kitchen,” he chuckled, looking over his shoulder as if to make sure his date wasn’t getting suspicious. Then, as if nervous Val would say no, he added, “They don’t have to sing Happy Birthday or anything. I know you guys are busy and—”

Interrupting the man’s rambling, he grabbed the pink cream ball. “What’s her name?”

“Scully.”

Val’s eyebrows rose at that. “She related to Vin? I was more of a Jerry Doggett fan myself.”

The guy exhaled a laugh, but then he shook his head. “No, and sorry, actually.” He spared another glance over his shoulder, and this time Val looked with him. It must’ve been the redhead who was glancing around, presumably searching for her boyfriend. He watched the shy smile that spread across her lips as her eyes met the man’s, and damn if she wasn’t one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her man must’ve known that too based on the nervous smirk that was on his face when he turned back around. “Dana. Her name is Dana,” he clarified, straightening out his tie.

It was common for Val to see men bring women from the office out for a drink in the hopes they’d get some. This might’ve been the first time he’d seen a fella do something thoughtful for his lady. Even if it was a 99¢ piece of garbage. “I’ll pass this to your waiter. I’m sure he can fix it up for Dana.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Dana’s boyfriend replied. Val watched as he slid a five into the tip jar and started to make his way back to the table.

“Hey buddy,” Val called out, causing the man to turn around. “Ya told her you were going to come up and get drinks, didn’t ya?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed with an embarrassed wince, rushing back to the bar. Across the room, behind the man’s back, the woman’s brows furrowed and her lips quirked into an amused smirk as she watched him fumble to retrieve his wallet. “Thanks. Uh, one water and one vodka tonic, please. It’ll go under the name Mulder.”

After he sent Mulder on his way, he watched him take long strides back to the woman who was digging into their shared appetizer. He must’ve said something funny because the redhead started laughing and shaking her head. Val was impressed with how suave the guy was being after how nervous he had just been.

“D-did that man say his name was Mulder?”

Val turned and saw a meek, blonde woman sitting at the bar, not far from where the man in question had just been.

Val shrugged while trying to flag down a waiter, “Yeah. Know him?”

She glanced at the couple over her shoulder before turning back to face him, nervously playing with the cuff of her sleeve. “He’s a friend of the family.”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

Happy Birthday Dana Scully!

[jicklet]

Oh no I forgot you ship Ted/Becca.

😆 Hi anon! I hope this doesn't ruin your day or anything, whomstever you are. If you don't ship it or ship something opposing or whatever's your bag, I'm sure we can still be friends, or whatever we are.

But I've been mulling this all over since the finale, and this is a good excuse to get my thoughts out. Because I come from ye old timey shipping days of "the idea of them together is cool, regardless of whether it happens or not." so that wasn't really my problem with the ending.

Here are the things that are true:

I really like themes and parallels. I like connecting dots and finding connections and all that jazz

The number of themes and parallels they set up between Ted and Rebecca was delicious and very fun for me.

My reaction to the finale is less upset than it is frustrated and confused.

My frustration isn't purely 'they didn't get together romantically so it sucks.' I had started making peace early S3 with realizing it probably wasn't gonna happen

I am frustrated because I wanted all those bits of cool narrative shit they laid out to Do Something

I am frustrated because it feels like Ted and Rebecca have had very few emotionally connected scenes since season one, and what's the point of parallel journeys and soulmateism if their journeys are going to stay so parallel and not join up more, and then just apparently diverge completely

And on the apparent diverging, I don't love it but it would have sucked less if their lines just matched up more in the middle! That could be poignant! But as is, it's more disappointing than tragic, because whatever potential was there wasn't almost realized and then lost, but instead just... never really approached. It feels wasted.

The show did not owe us them getting together, but what it did give us, I found unsatisfying. That's just a bummer, man.

Forgive me this metaphor but I cannot find a better way to put it: I am frustrated because I feel like I got ridden for 3 seasons while they went 'just wait it'll feel so good' and then they were like 'are you ready?' and then just hopped off and left.

I am confused because at the end of their story, I cannot figure out what I am meant to be feeling about it.

Again, I didn't need them to get together romantically, they totally could've found some other way to make it satisfying! But. Ted and Rebecca getting together romantically would have also tied it up in a lot of ways that worked and made the narrative satisfying.

Having a romance arc that works with their character arcs and the themes they've built on is just really cool as a story.

Obviously all that parallel journey stuff would've actually been leading them somewhere, ie to each other, yay woo

And not to each other just because they've been through similar shit, but because, as that last post said, among a lot of other reasons, they've been set up well to be what the other person needs.

Romance is not the be all, end all. But:

Ted and Rebecca both want to be in love with someone, someday.

Here is someone who already understands and balances and supports them.

Like, that's awesome. Is that not the qualities you want for them in a future romantic partner?

I can't see how it diminishes their friendship if it caries on very similar to it has been, just like, sometimes they smooch. Maybe I'm just too demisexual for this idk

Boat guy. I like boat guy, but he's a chiller version of Ted. I can't find that post that points out all the parallels there, but that episode by the time we got to Kenny Rogers I was like. Uh. Hm.

It's confusing to have boat guy have a beautifully intimate evening with Rebecca, all the while having so many specific details similar to Ted, and then just act like romantic Tedbecca is a wild, character-ruining concept.

Because the show ends with Ted leaving and Rebecca miserably walking out of the airport and straight into proxy-Ted. I have no idea how to feel about that.

I could keep going, but I'm about out for now, so uh. Woe, wasted Tedbecca potential be upon ye~

[skysometric]

Zeta - As Complete As It Gets

Zeta was my "magnum opus" back in 2014… the pinnacle of everything I had learned with level design in Mari0 1.6. Everything about it is as grandiose as possible – colorful levels made with an omnipalette tileset, unique challenges that blend Mario and Portal elements in fun ways, a plot holding secrets close to its chest. I released about half of it in various demos up until mid-2013, getting lots of praise and attention from the community! I was quite proud of myself and my work…

But I had ambitions to use features that hadn't even been added to the game yet, like a full custom music album, water tiles, custom enemies, cutscenes. I decided to shelve the project for a little while, at least until later versions of the game gave me more tools to work with. Those new versions came and went… yet I never returned to Zeta, instead embracing other big new projects like Retrush and Floating Isles. Zeta faded into history, left unfinished, a casualty of ADHD novelty-chasing.

Many of the ideas that were planned for Zeta would later find their way into my other projects, but the idea of returning to Zeta itself has always been daunting. Despite the fact that I was so proud of it in 2014… it's a little uneven looking back on it now. In addition to finishing the existing levels, there's a ton I'd want to rework from scratch! That would practically be a new project in its own right.

The perfect excuse to return to Zeta came when I started streaming all of my Mari0 mappacks in a retrospective series. Most of them I was content with showing as they were released… but with Zeta, I specifically wanted to show it in its best light, as close to its original vision as possible. So, using modern tools in AE, I added all of the music I wanted to add from the beginning, added warps between areas of unused content, and even finished the final boss! The stream itself went great, and I had a lot to say about development of the mappack – you can watch it in full here:

The short version is that Zeta is honestly better than I remembered! Even though there's still a few rough edges, and the blend of Mario and Portal elements gets kinda wacky at times, it has a cadence to it that's genuinely unique and fun in its own right. It's a lot more mature than I expected, and getting to revisit it was a joy.

And since I already have all the materials ready… I'm releasing this version of Zeta to the public! This version has a little more work done on it since I played it on stream, including the addition of water tiles in some areas and fixed time limits in most levels. There are still a few unfinished levels, but otherwise… this is how I wanted Zeta to be, ten years ago. This is as complete as that original vision gets.

I have to make the distinction that this is the "original vision" because there's SO MUCH I would change these days. Before I did the stream, I had to mull over just how extensively I wanted to change things up – but I decided that preserving the original vision was most important… and if I want to change things more extensively, that will be a separate release. I guess let's say that a Zeta DX isn't off the table~

For now, though, here's that original vision preserved as faithfully as possible. It doesn't run in the original Mari0 1.6 anymore due to the music and the final boss, so you'll have to use Mari0 AE. A decade later, please enjoy Zeta as it was meant to be played!

https://www.dropbox.com/s/85z8jqotzun1e8z/Zeta%20-%20As%20Complete%20As%20It%20Gets.zip?dl=1

[troglodytepixieeater]

Tarnished Blood: Part 1

Disclaimer: want everyone to know that the future is not the canon of the series! This is my own personal headcanon of what I imagine my MC to have in the Blood Legacies (creator: @bloodlegacies). While I have read probably every piece of lore for the blog, there might be some things that are not canon in my story. If there are, then you can message me and correct me for future fanfics; however, it might not change said fanfic where I got the lore, magical properties, or anything else wrong.

Paring: Hayden x OC!Bianca

Warning: none?

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The sound of tapping brought Bianca out of her thoughts; however, she did not look at the source and instead stared at the key points that she would have to cover in the next meeting with the court about the trade routes written on a piece of parchment.

Maybe I should ask my father about this?

Bianca sighed. She missed her father dearly, and although she knew he would drop what he was doing to help her, she felt guilty bothering him with simple trade routes just for an excuse to check up on him.

He was still in Darian; however, it was really Bianca who kept her house in power and her people happy as she had come of age to rule. However, that did not mean her father just sat on his ass. No. If anything, he helped take most of the stress off her shoulders, making sure everything went smoothly. He wasn't just her commander anymore; he was her commander if the crown on her head was any indication.

It was odd having her father follow her orders and not the other way around; however, Bianca knew deep down that she would never be the one in charge when it came to the relationship with her father. She respected him too much. Maybe she should try not to rely on him too much and let him enjoy his time in his older years with that new lover of his.

What would I do without him?

That thought came with an aching feeling of grief at the thought of losing another parent; however, she scowled at herself for having such a morbid thought. Bianca knew that one day it would come when her father wouldn't be around, but she would get through it; it would be full circle as it would now be her turn to teach her own children to slowly let her go as they grew into adulthood.

Speaking of children, the tapping became so excessive that Bianca finally looked up from her notes to see her middle child tapping away at the table with her right hand, her index finger having just a hint of ice on her tip as she mulled over her notes. In her left hand sat a quill as her daughter wrote something down and then frowned before roughly scratching through the paper again.

Bianca couldn't help but have a small hidden smile as she stared at the twelve-year-old. At only twelve, her daughter, the second heir and princess of Petrus, was probably one of the smartest scholars that their kingdom has ever seen.

The way that she consumed knowledge was amazing; unlike her siblings, who saw their studies as chores or a responsibility, it seemed that her middle child enjoyed her studies. Now only if Bianca could get her daughter to pick up a sword like her oldest than would she be unstoppable.

Bianca just stared at her daughter, watching as her nose wrinkled when she got frustrated, and the tapping got louder and louder. Unable to sit still, just like her father, getting him to sit through a whole meeting, people would think you were sending him off to war at how he moped and pouted, but with a few threatening comforting words, he seemed to make it through the "torture."

Although Hayden wasn't nearly as focused as their middle child, when mentioned to him once when they were alone, Bianca remembered him saying that her nose wrinkle reminded him of his sister when she would get annoyed at him.

Bianca smiled at the thought, and she remembered thinking than that the name of her daughter was even more fitting.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bianca finally pressed her lips together before speaking.

"Serah."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Serah did not look up from her paper, and the tapping only seemed to increase, which put Bianca on edge.

"Serah." Bianca said again, a little more bite in her tone, and she noticed that her daughter's whole finger was covered in frost.

 Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Serah Gloryann Elkar!"

The princess looked at her mother, letting Bianca get a more full view of her daughter. Serah's light blonde curls were even more messy than usual, and Hayden's eyes stared back at her in a wide-eyed state.

"What is wrong?" Bianca spoke with a calmer voice, her expression remaining cold as usual.

Serah bit her lip as she looked down at the paper again and looked back at her mother, nervousness clear on her face as she shrank back.

"N-nothing." Serah spoke quietly, in her usual timid tone.

Bianca wished now more than ever that her daughter had not gotten her quiet nature from her; however, maybe that trait would stop the rumors that Serah was not her daugher. If she heard those whispers herself she would gladly show the stretch marks along her stomach. No one questioned if Serah was Hayden's child. Everyone could see she had Elkar blood through her veins just by looking at her eyes.

"I do not like being lied to by Serah." Bianca said this with a raised eyebrow and looked at the parchment in front of her daughter. "Does it have something to do with whatever you are writing?"

Serah's cheeks turned pink. "What? No!"

Bianca's eyes narrowed, which made the girl in front of her squirm in her seat. She needed to teach her daughter to have a better poker face if she wanted to survive in court.

I will make sure to give her a lesson some time next week.

The Queen made a mental note in her head as she studied her daughter's flushed expression and dilated pupils, and it all clicked into place. There was only one person who had any kind of effect on her daughter in such a way.

"You are writing to Zemislav." It was not a question but a statement as Bianca leaned back to get an even more perfect view of Serah's wide-eyed expression once again.

"He was just asking about something." Serah fiddled with the corner of her paper.

The...infatuation was clear on Serah's face, and Bianca held herself back from killing the young preteen that seemed to wiggle his way into her daughter's heart.

The queen side of her knew it would be a great match. Zemislav...while he was nothing like his mother, Sofia, who only wanted a sweet release of sleep, it seemed that Zemislav, from what Bianca had seen, never slept and was always a ball of energy ready to go off at any moment. Poor Sofia. But still, it was a good match for both families.

The mother side of Bianca wanted to strangle the young man; her daughter was only twelve, and now Bianca had to worry about crushes. She didn't even think that her eldest had become smitten with anybody as of late; however, that wasn't surprising since her eldest would rather be left alone with a training dummy than any kind of person if it didn't have to do with achieving progress in their kingdom.

Bianca shook her head and tried not to let a scoff slip. This Zemislav was fourteen and already in the academy; what in the gods names was he doing writing to her daughter when he should be focusing on his studies? Maybe she should write to Sofia.

Worry gripped Bianca like a viper, and she had to force herself to remain stoic. Serah could make the most successful battle plans and strategies; however, it was no secret that her middle child was naive about the setting of the court and the wicked ways that would try to use a young princess for their own personal gain, especially a marriage alliance.

Serah got Bianca's own quiet nature. Yes. But instead of the cold expression that Bianca was blessed with that sent people on their way or even Hayden's mischievous smirk that kept people on their toes, it seemed her daughter was blessed with an open, friendly smile, which made Bianca often question which side of the family she got it from.

Not Serah's grandfather...that was for sure.

Bianca let go of the chair arms that she didn't even realize she had gripped, which were now covered in a thick frost. Hopefully her daughter didn't see, and from her daughter's open expression, she did not.

"What did your friend want?" Bianca said the word "friend" with distaste that Serah didn't seem to catch.

"He was asking if you were going to be announcing that Martella was going to the academy soon......everyone is curious." Serah whispered, her voice cracking a little; however, her eyes were trained on Bianca, studying her.

Smart girl.

Bianca kept the fear off her face, and her hands shook under the table. "Tell Zemislav that there will be an announcement soon."

Serah bit her lip. "Mother, rumors are spreading of Martella's elemen-."

"That. Is. Enough." Serah shivered at her mother's cold tone.

Bianca continued. "I don't want to hear another word about this." Grayish blue eyes met light teal, and a look of understanding crossed over the table.

Serah nodded, looking back down at her quill before uttering a quiet. "Yes, mother."

The sound of the doors slamming open made the two royals turn in their seats.

Masterpost | NEXT

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Note: Blood Legacies is such an amazing story, and I can't wait for another update. While we have only touched the surface of what the author has planned for the series, I just appreciate the lore and the world that the author has created.