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agsbf · 10 months ago

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WOOHP + Fundação Speedwagon unindo forças para derrotar Dio Brando.

Sinopse: Devido a ocorrências estranhas ao redor do mundo envolvendo habilidades sobrenaturais, a maior agência de super espiões fez uma parceria com a Speedwagon em troca de informações privilegiadas sobre o caso Gray Fly. Ao verem que o buraco é mais em baixo, você, uma espiã extremamente capacitada da WOOHP, se une aos chamados "Stardust Crusaders" em uma jornada de 50 dias no Egito visando derrotar um dos seres mais perigosos que já existiu.

Stardust Crusaders X Agente da WOOHP! Leitora

Avisos: palavrões, a leitora possui um stand; mas não é utilizado, menções implícitas a agressão/morte.

"Então, deixe-me ver se entendi." Você questionou seu chefe, Jerry, claramente incrédula pela grande quantia de informações que recebeu em menos de 5 minutos. "Você quer que eu viaje até o Egito com 5 caras para derrotar um vampiro?! UM FODENDO VAMPIRO?! houve alguma atualização no mundo que perdi?" Essa última parte soava sarcástica, não era sua intenção ser rude com alguém que considerava profundamente, porém a coisa toda soava loucura.

O mais velho deu um suspiro cansado, desde sua primeira reunião com a Fundação Speedwagon, as coisas não tem sido fáceis para o administrador da WOOHP, algo que começou com a simples suspeita de um idoso causar mortes que parecessem acidentais, escalou para um vampiro querendo controlar o mundo com o auxílio de uma bruxa com uma flecha mágica e alguns lacaios. Honestamente, depois que isso acabasse, Jerry tiraria umas férias merecidas.

"Eu sei, parece loucura, mas é a realidade. Aparentemente, houve muitas coisas acontecendo nos bastidores que nem mesmo nós ficamos sabendo até recentemente." Ele respondeu, sua voz em tom tão profissional como sempre, quase como se nada mais o abalasse nesse trabalho, mas você o conhecia melhor, mesmo com a máscara estoica estava claro que o homem se sentia inapto para lidar com a situação. Apesar de ser seu superior, o relacionamento que tinha com o homem lembrava o de um pai com sua filha, essa missão é demasiada perigosa, muitos funcionários da Speedwagon morreram sem nem entrarem no combate frente-a-frente. Ele não queria te enviar nela, se o pior acontecesse, seria como perder alguém de seu próprio sangue, mas de todos os espiões, você era a mais qualificada.

A garota se sentou no confortável banco circular almofadado, ouvindo atentamente os detalhes da missão.

"Não sabemos muito sobre o vampiro, exceto que é irmão adotivo de Jonathan" Antes que você questionasse de quem Jerry estava falando, esclareceu. "Parente de dois membros do seu grupo." A jovem soltou um pequeno "ah", antes que a explicação continuasse "E roubou o corpo dele." A espiã tinha muitas dúvidas de como isso aconteceu, porém perante uma história tão bizarra, não fazia sentido se prender aos mínimos detalhes. "Não sabemos os poderes dele, então todo o cuidado é pouco." Advertiu.

"Alguma vez eu não tomei cuidado?" Questionou-o, colocando a mão no peito e uma expressão chocada falsamente ofendida.

"Eu realmente preciso responder?" Argumentou, você decidiu se calar.

Jerry aproveitou seu silêncio para lhe dar informações de seus colegas de equipe, colocando uma foto de cada membro junto ao relatório de cada um deles no telão.

"Eles são uns gatinhos, hein?" Deixou escapar, fazendo com que o mais velho lhe olhasse com uma expressão séria, desaprovando seu comportamento.

"Por favor!" O idoso fala em tom critico. "Essa tarefa é diferente de tudo que já vimos, não leve as coisas tão levianamente."

"Relaxe, coroa." A garota disse em tom descontraído, só usando esse apelido por ter amizade com Jerry. "Ir ao Egito, bater nos lacaios do vampiro, bater no vampiro e voltar para a casa. O que poderia dar errado?" perguntou com um sorriso no rosto.

O superior deu um suspiro cansado.

"Ao terminar a missão, será elevada para uma espiã de nível A." Ele comentou, fazendo com que a boca da mais nova se abrisse em descrença ao que isso implicava:

Agentes de nível A são do mais alto escalão, cujo o maior beneficio é possuir um cartão Black da WOOHP, em outras palavras, dinheiro infinito, pois quem saldava as dívidas eram os governos de todo o mundo, afim de garantir os serviços da rede de espiões em seus países.

"Viagem paga, 50 dias com caras gostosos e viver como se tivesse nascido herdeira quando voltar? Finalmente um trabalho que farei com prazer." comentou brincando, fazendo com que Jerry se aproximasse e colocasse a mãos nos seus ombros.

"Eu te imploro, tome cuidado. Te perder seria como ficar sem uma filha." Você queria fazer alguma piada sobre esse lado emocional do idoso normalmente estoico, porém ao ver seus olhos marejados e expressão desesperada percebeu que o homem estava falando sério, tomado por nada mais que melancolia por te colocar em algo tão mortal.

A garota o puxou para um abraço, ficando assim por alguns segundos.

"Eu tomarei."

Vocês dois foram escolher os apetrechos.

Abdul:

Ele não sabia a diferença entre um informante normal da Speedwagon e um agente da WOOHP, então quando te viu pela primeira vez não entendeu o porquê te colocaram na linha de frente, já que aos olhos dele era apenas uma pessoa normal com um Stand inapto para os combates que viriam.

A opinião dele mudou bruscamente quando viu suas habilidades e descobriu que aqueles itens que levava na bolsa não eram o que pareciam, se sentindo como se estivesse assistindo um filme de ação ao ver toda sua performance utilizando uma mochila-a-jato em formato de coração e um clipe de cabelo que se transformou em boomerang.

A tecnologia do seu trabalho é impressionante, o egípcio está curioso sobre todos os apetrechos, além de suas histórias de criminosos com itens semelhantes.

O objeto que mais o surpreende sem sombras de dúvidas é o pó compacto, é chocante como algo tão pequeno possui mecanismos de comunicação, banco de dados de todo o mundo, rastreamento, teletransporte, projeção, disfarce, dentre outros.

Não tem nenhum problema em assumir que desde que você chegou, ele foi rebaixado para o segundo membro mais inteligente ao invés do primeiro.

Confia na sua intuição de espiã completamente. Apesar de terem idade próxima, é extremamente claro que a garota é a mais vivida.

Sempre que compartilhavam um quarto, aproveitava a oportunidade para sanar todas as dúvidas, querendo saber absolutamente tudo sobre suas missões passadas, especialmente as que aconteceram no Egito, inclusive pediu uma cópia do livro que Jerry te deu referente aos mistérios do país das pirâmides.

ÚNICO do grupo que você deixou utilizar seus apetrechos.

Provavelmente Jerry ofereceria uma vaga como espião a ele quando a jornada acabar.

Jotaro:

O mais descrente que você era o reforço que a Speedwagon mandou, seu stand era tão útil quanto o de Holly.

Ele foi quem deixou mais claro que não entendia a sua presença aqui, literalmente verbalizando que esperava que mandassem alguém com poderes decentes.

Quando te viu utilizando os apetrechos, percebeu que te julgou muito precocemente, sua habilidade de espiã é indiscutivelmente poderosa em combate.

O neto de Joseph chegou a lhe pedir desculpas, com isso quero dizer que soltou um "yare yare daze"/"mas que saco" junto a dois tapinhas no ombros após o conflito.

Como um grande fã da vida marinha, tem como item favorito o Batom de Oxigênio, além do fato de que respirar embaixo d'água é uma experiência incrível, esse objeto fez com que batalhas contra inimigos como o Falso Capitão Tennille e Midler acabassem mais rápido, já que a principal vantagem deles foi anulada.

Tem certa curiosidade sobre seus equipamentos de trabalho e missões, mas diferente da maioria não te perguntava diretamente sobre, apenas prestava atenção no seu manuseio e ouvia atentamente quando contava alguma história para o grupo ou algum membro especifico.

Nunca tocou nos seus apetrechos sem permissão.

Ao final da jornada, recebeu auxílio da WOOHP junto a Polnareff para descobrir o mistério da flecha, além de informações referentes a Josuke e Giorno.

Kakyoin:

Assim como Abdul, não entendia a função da garota aqui. Nada pessoal, ele apenas achava seu stand muito inofensivo para ataques.

Todavia ficou muito mais chocado que o egípcio ao perceber que a jovem não foi recrutada pelos seus poderes, mas por suas habilidades de espiã.

É um grande amante de obras geek que abordam agentes secretos, então ver com os próprios olhos como realmente eram as coisas o fez agir meio fanboy (embora mais discreto e tímido).

Constantemente pedia para você mostrar como funcionava os apetrechos, além de te comparar com personagens do gênero.

Curioso sobre suas histórias de aventura, é impressionante a quantia de crimes inacreditáveis ao redor do mundo que ficaram embaixo dos panos para não assustar a população.

O item que mais lhe surpreendia era o apagador de memória da WOOHP, simplesmente inacreditável demais para ser verdade.

Quando isso tudo acabar, provavelmente lhe pediria para indica-lo em seu trabalho, a viagem ao Egito fazendo-o perceber que gosta de lutar contra o mal frente-a-frente.

Polnareff:

Comportamento paquerador ao perceber que o reforço era do sexo feminino.

Ele não entendia porque ela foi recrutada, mas diferente de certas pessoas nunca verbalizou isso.

Constantemente ficava ao seu lado em lutas por imaginar que você precisaria de um cavaleiro de armadura brilhante, porém imagine a surpresa do francês ao te ver derrotar um inimigo usando nada mais que um perfume.

Ao descobrir que seus itens na verdade são aparelhos tecnológicos, teve vontade de experimentar e o fez. Usuários de stand passaram a ser um problema medíocre comparado a Polnareff ativando seu batom a laser e acertando a mão protética de Joseph.

Um desajeitado "Ops, foi mal." com a mão atrás das costas foi tudo que o velho recebeu.

Outro amante do pó compacto, embora por razões bem mais fúteis que Abdul. O homem simplesmente adorava como você podia mudar de traje rapidamente, por consequência, dando-lhe mais oportunidades para dizer como a roupa ficava linda em você.

Tentou virar um agente da rede de espiões, mas foi recusado (injustamente se o perguntar.), porém recebeu informações privilegiadas como Jotaro.

Joseph:

Impressionantemente já conhecia a WOOHP, embora não soubesse todos os detalhes, exceto que eram espiões que trabalhavam para o mundo todo.

Não teve nenhuma dúvida referente as suas capacidades quando chegou, por mais que seu stand servisse apenas para coisas de rotina, confiava que a Speedwagon não enviaria alguém inapto como reforço para a missão.

Quando te viu utilizando os apetrechos, a teoria foi confirmada.

A única razão que contribuiu para que ele não ficasse completamente chocado com um simples secador criando uma rajada de vento tão forte que jogou os inimigos a quilômetros de distância, é ter conhecido Stroheim e ver o potencial de tecnologias governamentais ao vivo.

Apesar de ser um grande entusiasta do pó compacto e suas funções, o laquê congelante é seu item favorito, congelar os inimigos e destrui-los com o Hermit Purple é bastante prático, além de dar uma refrescada no clima quente do Egito.

Devido a sua intuição de espiã, vocês dois entram em conflito com uma certa frequência caso discordem sobre quem era o inimigo, tanto Joseph quanto a jovem eram pessoas com vivência de derrotarem seres super-humanos com looks bizarros, então era palpite contra palpite.

Uma vez pegou escondido sua boina planadora da mochila.

Ele ficou horas gritando por ajuda enquanto flutuava no teto do quarto por não saber desativar o objeto.

Quando os outros Crusaders vieram ao resgate, ninguém se incomodou de segurar o riso.

O Joestar definitivamente seria um bom amigo de Jerry, o comportamento sério mas periodicamente brincalhão lembrava o de Caesar.

IGGY:

A principio, te tratava assim como qualquer outro membro do grupo, ou seja, ignorando completamente sua existência e periodicamente roubando sua comida.

Porém, o comportamento do cachorro mudou magicamente após ouvir uma conversa sua com Abdul sobre como o porco de estimação de uma tal de Alex era bem cuidado pela WOOHP, além de como você pensava em adotar um animal de estimação quando subisse de cargo ao a missão ser finalizada.

Ele não era interesseiro, mas para um cachorro que foi abandonado na rua, receber afeto diário, possuir uma cama e alimentação todo dia era demasiado tentador.

Então o Boston Terrier passou a ser mais complacente com você, até permitindo carinho na cabeça sem morder seu dedo e te defendendo em lutas.

Apesar das falhas, o pequeno só deseja uma vida normal.

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yuckyfucky · 2 years ago

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⋆｡‧…and they were roommates!! ⁎˚⁺˳𖦹︎

#not studying SHIT #damn lemme binge watch totally spies again #moodboard #roommate!abby #abby anderson fic #college!abby #modern!abby anderson #suggestive #x female reader #Spotify

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lizziesangel · 4 months ago

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TOM RIDDLE ⟢ soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

SDE MASTERLIST ⟢ x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4677

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

You were walking through the Hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. The sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red; it was a cold day without the sun. As you approached the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted Lucas—tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin—leaning casually against the wall.

“There you are!” he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. “I’ve been looking for you. Fancy coming with me to Hogsmeade? I’ve got some things to pick up, and I thought you could use a break from all the studying.”

You raised an eyebrow, interested. “And by ‘things,’ you mean what exactly?”

“Important stuff!” Lucas replied with mock seriousness. “Like sweets from Honeydukes and a new quill, since I keep losing mine. And, of course, we have to stop at Zonko’s—can’t leave without some supplies for our next prank on Maeve.”

You let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few years slip away. You figured you could use a shopping day—it was a Saturday after all; you could just study after. “Sounds like a plan, though I’m not sure if Maeve would be happy with another one of your ‘masterpieces’.”

“She’ll survive. Besides, I’ve got a new idea that’ll totally blow her mind; just wait and see,” Lucas nudged you playfully.

As you made your way down the long, winding path to Hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. It seemed to be lingering just out of reach; you’d seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. It had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now it was walking behind you and Lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

“Look at that,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. “It’s been following me this entire day.”

Lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. “Huh, that’s a little weird, don’t you think? Cats don’t usually follow people around for no reason.”

You crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. To your surprise, it didn’t hesitate. The cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm; its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. You smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

“I think it likes me,” you said, looking up at Lucas. “Maybe it's a stray. What do you think?”

Lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious expression. “It's a little too good to be true, don’t you think? A mysterious black cat following you around Hogwarts. You know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?”

“You're paranoid,” you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

“I’m cautious,” Lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. “But if you’re set on keeping it, we should make sure it’s not... I don’t know, an Animagus or something. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“You think someone’s been using this little thing to spy on me?”

Lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. “Could be, perhaps. There’s a simple charm to check for such things; it won’t hurt the cat—you have my promise.”

You stood up and took a step back, “Okay, but I’m telling you, it’s just a normal cat.”

Lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. A faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. It surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

You both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen. But the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

Lucas let out a breath, “Phew... what do you know? It’s just a regular old cat.”

“Told you,” you smirked, “looks like you’re now stuck with me and my new pet.”

The cat—as if it sensed your affectionate words—let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. You knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. A bond was already beginning to form. The only problem was the lice and many more things that were scattered across its fur.

"Alright, alright," Lucas said, laughing. "I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

With the cat in tow, you and Lucas continued down the path to Hogsmeade. The bustling village was already alive with students and locals; shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. As you entered Honeydukes, the warmth of the shop’s interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

“So, what’s your go-to sweet?” Lucas asked as he grabbed a basket, eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

“Maybe the peppermint toads?” you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. “They’re the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing.”

Lucas pulled a face, “You’re a maniac. It’s all about the fizzing whizzbees.”

Both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basket high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. At one point, Lucas tried to sneak a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

“You’re not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I'll save it for someone else.”

After stocking enough sweets to last almost a month, you and Lucas headed to Zonko’s. The shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. Lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at Hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the Weasleys.

It made you wonder if there was a Weasley in this timeline, or a Potter; surely there must—

“I’ve got it,” Lucas broke your trance, holding up a box of nose-biting teacups. “We’ll switch Maeve's regular tea with one of these. Can you imagine the look on her face?”

You shook your head, grinning, “You’re terrible.”

“Hey! You’re the one who agreed to come with me,” he replied, winking. “Makes you an accomplice.”

After spending almost an hour in Zonko’s, you finally dragged Lucas away before he bought the entire store. The two of you made your way back to Hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and—in your case—also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

“Already thought of a name?” Lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

You looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. “I’m not so sure yet; maybe something like ‘Shadow’?”

“Shadow,” Lucas mused, “hm, not bad; fits the whole ‘following you everywhere’ thing it’s got going on.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat’s fur against you. Despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

And as you and Lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal, like you were just a regular student at Hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

You went to sleep that day feeling better already, with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

The following morning, you made your way down the main hall, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. It was officially your second week at Hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

You reached the Gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs; some of them had pancakes. They waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“Morning, y/n!” Maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. Her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “Sleep well?”

You poured yourself a glass. “Pretty well, all things considered. I think I’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

Alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “Weird ancient beds? Try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! I had Nearly Headless Nick hovering over my bed last night, telling some kind of story about jousting. I barely slept.”

“Better Nick than Peeves, though. That poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during Charms yesterday,” Maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. These girls had made everything feel… lighter. The constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. Here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forgot the real reason why you were here.

“Mm, speaking of Charms,” Maeve said, glancing at her timetable. “We’ve got it again this morning. Think Professor Flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“I certainly hope so,” Lilith spoke as quietly as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Right? I’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. Imagine being able to summon an entire plate of pastries!” Lucas exclaimed.

“As if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, Luca,” Alicia rolled her eyes.

They continued to chatter about the day ahead while you found your gaze wandering around. The students were busy with their own conversations; some were studying, others were yawning over cups of tea, while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. Everything felt so normal.

When your eyes landed on the Slytherin table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. You’d almost forgotten about him.

Tom Riddle. He was sitting at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. He was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast, speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

You looked away quickly before his group—or him—could notice you staring. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“Everything alright?”

You gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, just thinking about today.”

“Don’t worry about it too much; it’s only the second week,” Lucas smiled. “Besides, you’re part of the group now. We’re in this together.”

“No backing out,” Lilith added, and for a second, you thought you’d melted.

You smiled, relaxing. You felt it reach your eyes; a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

Breakfast continued, and so did the conversation to a more light-hearted topic: Alicia’s and Lilith’s excitement about the next Hogsmeade trip, Lucas’s plans for another elaborate prank on their dorm mate, and Maeve’s ongoing battle with Peeves. You listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

Maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “Come on, y/n. Let’s see if we can make it to Flitwick’s class before Luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“I resent that,” Lucas called over his shoulder, “but I do want more pastries.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the Great Hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

When you arrived at the Charms class, it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. You took a seat next to Maeve on your left side. Behind another desk with space in between you two sat another girl—Slytherin.

“Good morning, everyone! Today, we will be practicing summoning charms—Accio!” Professor Flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

An exciting murmur passed through the room. You realized how, in their fifth year, they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in Harry’s timeline you learned more defensive spells or memory spells. The difference was huge.

Summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like Accio while you could easily Obliviate someone or use the Patronus charm.

“Partner up!” Flitwick instructed. You turned to look at Maeve, who was already grinning at you.

“I’ve been practicing this all week,” Maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s see if I can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time.”

“Alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you’re responsible,” you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

Maeve pointed her wand at one of the cushions Flitwick had left for practice. “Accio cushion!” she shouted, her wand slicing through the air.

The cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. “Not bad, right?”

You clapped lightly. “That was impressive!”

Maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you. “Your turn!”

You focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. After a flick of your wand, you called out,

“Accio cushion!”

The cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and knocking you back slightly. You laughed, catching it just in time. Maeve burst into giggles beside you.

“Well, at least it's working,” you said with a grin. Putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of Tom. He was practicing at the far end of the classroom. He performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. His focus was intense, almost unnerving.

You quickly turned towards Maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

The potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool; the only source of light was flickering. A mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to Alicia at one of the tables near the back.

“Right,” Alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. “I’ve got a good feeling about today’s potion. We’re supposed to make something simple, so there’s no way I can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week.”

You snickered. “Simple or not, I still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic.”

Before Alicia could respond, Professor Slughorn’s jovial voice boomed across the room. “Today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. Quite useful for, uh, stressful situations.” He winked at the class. “—I’m sure none of you feel stressed, though.”

You could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. You could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

Slughorn’s face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. You gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup, and the fluxweed oil.

“So, you think Slughorn’s going to invite you to one of his little parties?” Alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. “Not very likely. I don’t really know what those parties are even about,” you lied. You went to one meeting with Hermione and decided to never go again. Simply a waste of time.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Well, Slughorn kinda ‘collects’ talented students. You’re smart, plus you’re new and kind. So, I’d say you're prime Slug Club material.”

You smiled at her. “We’ll see,” you said quietly. “Plus, I think Riddle is in Slug Club,” Alicia whispered.

You almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. “Sorry, what?” you gaped at her. She scoffed at you and smiled. “Don’t act dumb; I always see you looking at him.”

Your potion turned to a soft blue—that was a good sign. “What??? No, I don’t…” you mumbled and glanced over at Alicia’s cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

“Uh, Alicia... are you sure you didn’t add too much oil?” you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. “You’re not getting out of this conversation, Y/N,”Alicia said while she kept adding oil.

“No, no, I’m serious; look at those bubbles.”

“Oh, oops,” Alicia gasped and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. “Well, at least it’s not melting this time.”

You laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. Potions was always a mix of stress and humor with Alicia. Seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

Dumbledore’s class, there was a different energy in the air. The room was spacious and bright; high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. Dumbledore was standing at the front. “Today,” Dumbledore began, “we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations: turning inanimate objects into animals. Quite the leap from last week’s matchsticks to needles, wouldn’t you say?”

Maeve leaned over to you, whispering, “What if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?”

You snickered quietly.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the students’ desks. “Your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures of your choosing: a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. Be gentle and focus.”

You pointed your wand at the stone, visualising a small bird. With clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

To your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. It fluttered its wings in confusion before hopping onto your desk.

“Well, aren’t you just the star pupil,” Maeve teased with a grin. She was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

From the front of the class, Dumbledore’s eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. You continued helping Maeve when you caught a glimpse of Tom Riddle a few rows ahead. His magic was perfect—obviously. The stone in front of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

You sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on Maeve and her furry rock. There would be plenty of time to think about Tom later, but the time was ticking, and you knew it

Shadow, the cat that you’d taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. You smiled down at him; Shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. The cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

“You like books, don’t you?” you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. Shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

The library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. You loved it in the library; it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

Wandering through the shelves, you scanned the spines of the books you passed. Every so often, you’d glance behind you to make sure Shadow was still with you. Reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for—The Founder’s Legacy: A History of Hogwarts. It was a book you needed for your Muggle Studies.

You pulled it down and tucked it under your arm, turning to leave the aisle; but when you did, you noticed Shadow was gone. “Shadow?” you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. The silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

Frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. Only a few students were scattered around the tables, their heads buried in their studies. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

At one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was Tom Riddle.

With Shadow.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of Tom’s open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. Tom didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

For a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life’s choices. Seeing Shadow so comfortable made your heart race. Tom Riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in, and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

But only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at Tom Riddle.

So, you summoned up your courage and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

“Looking for this?” His voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. Shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against Tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

Hearing Tom’s voice changed something in you; a warm feeling spread through you.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady, trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. “I didn’t realise he’d wandered off.”

Tom’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you’d noticed in class. Then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind Shadow’s ear. The cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

“He seems to like me,” Tom observed. You had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. “He’s a friendly one.”

“I can see.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for Shadow. “Well, I should get him out of your way; he’s probably disturbing your reading. Or studying, or whatever…”

Tom didn’t move at first, and for a brief second, you thought he might not let you take back your cat. But then he pulled his hand back. Shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

You cradled Shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

You felt Tom’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. “Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “Not everything that follows you is harmless.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. Was that a warning? Or something more? Before you could reply, Tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened

A chill ran down your spine as you hugged Shadow closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you turned around.

Tom’s cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. You were halfway to the library’s entrance when you spotted Lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

“There you are!” he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library’s strict silence policy. He walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where Tom was sitting. “I saw you over there, chatting with Riddle.”

“Yeah... Shadow wandered over to him,” you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but Lucas’s presence helped a bit.

Lucas smiled. “Look, I’m just gonna say it: I’ve seen you stare at him at times, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Whatever he’s said to you—”

“He said something about not everything that follows you is harmless,” you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

“Okay, stop. That’s freakishly creepy,” Lucas gaped, stealing a glance at Tom. “Just... try to ignore him. Riddle’s either got everyone thinking he’s the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he’s bloody weird.”

Your curiosity piqued. “And what do you think?”

Lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. His grin returned. “Both.”

You chuckled at his bluntness. “Both?”

You walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. “Yeah, he’s good looking. I mean, objectively speaking,” Lucas said. “But there’s something about him that’s off. Like, he’s too good at... well, everything. It's unnatural; people are drawn to him, but they’re also... I don’t know, scared of him. You know? Even if they don't want to admit it.”

You nodded, thinking back to how Tom had looked at you—the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. There was definitely something unnerving about him. “He’s strange. Almost like he’s always one step ahead of everyone.”

“Exactly,” Lucas agreed. “It’s like he’s playing a game no one else knows the rules to. Trust me, best to keep your distance.”

“I wasn’t planning on making friends with him,” you said, shifting Shadow in your arms. The cat blinked lazily up at you.

“Good, I’ve got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle,” Lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

You let out a laugh. “Thanks, Lucas. I’ll be sure to tell you first if I get in over my head.”

Lucas grinned. “I’ll be there, wand at the ready.”

The two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with Tom slowly began to ease. Lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“Anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about Riddle. Did you get what you came for? Or are we heading back in for round two of ‘Tom the Cat Whisperer’?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more rounds with him for today, thanks. I think I’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. But I do think I might’ve left my book in there.”

Lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “We’ll get it first thing tomorrow. And if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. I won’t judge you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Please. You know I prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“See? That’s the right attitude.” He gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “Stick with me. I’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. As strange and intense as things had become, Lucas was a constant source of light. Maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #⚕soulmates don't exist⚕#tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle angst #soulmate au #time travel au #girl writer #harry potter x reader

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verstarppen · 11 months ago

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haiii plz ignore this if your requests are closed 🙇🏻‍♀️ but I'm begging you to give us george who's totally in love with someone from the camera crew and the drivers start making fun of him for it but it's all fluff ♥️

summary; mercedes have a strict policy regarding office romance, but that can't stop Totally Spies because they can't read

pairing; george russell x fem! camera operator! reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; im so sorry if this isn't as funny as usual im rusted and dusted from exam season anyway HERE WE GOOO HERE WE GOOO ON A MISSION UNDERCOVER AND WE'RE IN CONTROL HERE WE GOO HERE WE GOOO WE'RE TOTALLY SPIES SO WE'LL GET ON WITH THE SHOW

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilymhe and 625,801 others

alex_albon He's going to look back at this post and curse my entire bloodline isn't he

view all 100,384 comments

georgerussell63 Alright then, what's all this about

alex_albon It'll all be revealed in time... georgerussell63 Your old wizard impression is serving

scuderiayummy the f1 gc must be booming rn bc what does this even mean, alexander.

charlielecunt If I see "breaking news: george russell found dead in a ditch" in 30 mins I'm gonna lose it

pierreleftsock "time to take george to football, live up the bugatti weeee"

liked by alex_albon, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 755,105 others

georgerussell63 I won in the name of the people

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miss.sainz55 this is better than 95% of the enemies to lovers books i've read

typicallyleclerc what happened to the original plot of the movie

applenorizz bitches be like "can't stand her fake ass" 10 minutes later "me and the bestie"

landonorris i feel the urge to bash your head in a wall

georgerussell63 Digital footprint

liked by 36rg, britney_alex_clover and 15 others

ynusername on a mission undercover and we're in control

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36rg Alexa, play "They Don't Know About Us" by One Direction

ynusername THEY DON'T KNOW HOW SPECIAL YOU AREEEE

britney_alex_clover Now all you have to do is avoid being spotted together by the public eye, your boss, all of your friends, your family and also the entire human population

britney_alex_clover also please stop flirting on promo vid sets that shit is cringe as fuck britney_alex_clover I find it adorable britney_alex_clover no one cares what u think charles britney_alex_clover Wow. britney_alex_clover Guys britney_alex_clover Sorry britney_alex_clover Hello 👋 britney_alex_clover alright who let maximilian in 36rg Who let any of you menaces in britney_alex_clover careful loverboy, i've got HR on the phone 36rg And I know what you did with the trophy after Vegas britney_alex_clover OKAYYYY LET'S ALL JUST CALM DOWN britney_alex_clover what the fuck 36rg Eyes and ears everywhere, Norris britney_alex_clover Wait, is that why I still can't get it to light up? Did you break another one??? britney_alex_clover can someone ban max off this account thank you

britney_alex_clover and while you're at it can you tell the trophy company to start making trophies that look less edible

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 @allygatcr @marshmummy @ravisinghs-wife (happy race week everyoneee im so glad to be back)

#george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x you #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic

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ashkabbom · 2 months ago

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Thoughts of the Day - Mouthwashing

A/n: I don't know what this is 🧍🏽. I started with one idea and ended up with a completely different one. Lock your doors and windows before you go to sleep, or Jimmy will appear in your room at night.

Versión en español en Wattpad: Libro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Cuenta: ashkabbom)

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Post-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader (Not the focus, but it's still here)

Synopsis/Summary: Situations from every week, questions from every day

Notes: I apologize in advance for the phrase Swansea says😭

Why had he done this? He condemned you all to immediate hell.

That day, the emergency screen, the red lights everywhere and the sound, all of that could only be a bad dream, right? It had to be a nightmare.

What had you done to deserve this? Years of work thrown away with a single action and you don't even know why it was all thrown down the drain without any prior warning.

You loved him like never before, your days with him meant much more than all the work you had in this place.

The layoff was already a problem, but this was beyond what you could handle in the future. If there even was a future.

The tears fell and you felt yourself slowly going crazy. The captain was out of the game now and in his absence they put Jimmy as an anesthetic for the immense despair in everyone on that ship, but it didn't work at all, it was the calm before the storm.

Anya looked as uncomfortable about it as anyone on that ship. Having Jimmy as captain was stressful, to say the least.

You and the others came to a silent agreement about the now captain. He was as cowardly as anyone there, but he was still second in command.

"What do we do next?" You ask, taking a deep breath, wiping your tears on the sleeve of your uniform.

"I don't know, but his painkillers will run out at some point." Anya also looked apprehensively at the captain's situation.

At the same time that you felt anger and disappointment, you also felt worry and uncertainty, you still loved him. The story made sense to some extent, but it didn't match the captain you knew.

"You.. You know how I feel about this, I think it's the right thing to do, Anya." It was weird to think about doing that with someone you like, you don't even know if you can imagine yourself doing such a thing.

She didn't have to answer, but as much as neither of you wanted to, you silently agreed that it was the quickest and least cruel option towards him.

"What a funeral atmosphere." Daisuke's voice coming from the door startles you both, making you turn to look at him.

"Well, this is almost a funeral- Ouch!" You can't even finish before Anya pinches your neck. "Okay okay, I get it."

"And how is it going? How is he?" He approaches the stretcher and looks at the captain, saying good morning and sighing soon after. "At least he's alive..."

"The painkillers help to control the pain and he can... Sleep, I think, or at least not writhe in pain and discomfort." Anya says to Daisuke, knowing that it was impossible for Curly to have any slight improvement in the situation they were in.

"But still no sign of being able to speak, and it would take a miracle for him to actually be able to say something." You say sincerely.

Daisuke nods in acknowledgement, he wondered if keeping the captain in this state for months was right. When they return to Earth, Curly could receive specialized treatment for his situation in a Hospital, right?

"The Totally Spies girls better get back into their disguises, or the Mojo Jojo will find you out." Swansea warns, leaning against the door.

If everyone was in sickbay, Jimmy would probably be hunting one of them around the ship. It's only a matter of time before Jimmy shows up and starts putting stress and pressure on everyone, so Swansea was right.

You pat Daisuke on the shoulder and then look at Anya. "You heard Jerry, girls, back to disguises." Anya lets out a small laugh, a small quiet moment before dealing with the reality of things.

"I'll give the painkiller to the captain this time, I'll see you guys later" You say waving to your colleagues before grabbing the bottle of painkiller.

Daisuke and Anya walk to the door, chatting a bit before agreeing on where each of them would go. "But isn't the Mojo Jojo from The Powerpuff Girls?" Is the last thing you hear Daisuke say before the door closes.

It's just you and him now. No matter how much you tried to ignore it, but you could feel Curly's gaze burning you alive, so many things wanted to be understood with just a single look from his eyes.

If he could say something, what would he say? What would be his version of what happened? Why would he have crashed the ship? Would he want us to keep giving him the painkillers or just end his suffering?

Looking at him, burned, unable to speak or move properly, lying on that stretcher, which was now his bed and the infirmary his room. He just stared, unable to close his eyes at any moment, you didn't know what was going on in his head, it was impossible to guess any feelings he had by looking at his face.

"Yeah, Captain... You should have thought better about your actions before you did this to us..." You say with the painkiller in hand. The urge to cry formed again and made you feel suffocated. "You have to take responsibility somehow at least..."

#captain curly #mouthwashing #anya #anya mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #daisuke #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #swansea #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing x male reader

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surielstea · 8 months ago

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Sneaking Away

Based off this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Vanserra!Reader

Summary: Reader sneaks from the forest house and goes to her mates for Starfall.

A/N: so I kind of totally strayed from the original request but it was giving me writers block so I completely changed it— the element of sneaking out is still there, hope you guys still enjoy 💙

Starfall was just about to begin and I was horribly late to the party Rhysand had graciously invited me to.

My father had caught me in my most expensive dress and asked where I was going before I got the chance to sneak from the Forest house. I had to conjure up some lie he'd be happy to hear, which was harder than it seemed. I ended up telling him I was going out with a noble named Antony, a made-up male who wasn't Illyrian and definitely not one of the most dangerous men in Prythian, nowhere near someone like the Shadow Singer, who I was going to see in reality.

The High Lord of Autumn had practically demanded he met this male first but I managed to convince him that I was meeting him at a party that I was already late to.

Needless to say, it took me an hour to get out of the overbearing household, then another half hour to escape from my father's spies and maids constantly whispering in his ears.

Once I arrived at the House of Wind I felt the weight on my shoulders lift, and I was actually able to breathe. It was all so much simpler here, high in the sky with people who cared more about my wellbeing than how maidenly I was.

I had noticed the Shadow Singer across the room before he saw me, a rare occurrence that meant his mind was elsewhere. His back was turned to me but those wings were unmistakable. I approached him as silently as I could, my heels betraying me because as soon as I was only a yard away shadows curled around his ears and he whirled around, eyes immediately locking with mine.

I grinned wildly as he took in my appearance, my deep green dress with bedazzling emeralds cascading down the skirt, the fanned-out bottom of the gown morphing into a waterfall of jewels. The fit was tight around all the right places and the slit in the side revealed high up my bare thigh, his gaze not missing a fraction of the skin I exposed.

He didn't take a long time analyzing my dress before his gaze snapped back to my face, my smile, my eyes lined with kohl.

"You done staring?" I tease with a tilt of my head.

"No," He said and I giggled, closing the distance between us with a few strides and wrapping my arms around his torso, my head leaning against his chest as I hugged him tightly.

"I missed you," I murmur and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

"It's only been a few days," He reminds and I lift my head, looking up at him with a hurt expression. His smile turned soft. "I missed you too," He whispered and I leaned up, interlocking our lips for the first time in what felt like a year. My hold around him tightened and his hands came to my face, one on the nape of my neck and the other on my jaw, holding me so delicately like if he let me go I'd shatter.

"Y/n!" Cassian shouts from the distance and I pull away from Azriel, he's hesitant about letting me slip away but reluctantly he gives in and lets me turn to face the other Illyrian who was coming in from the deck with a bright grin on his face. "It's been years," He groans, approaching the two of us.

"It's been a month," I correct.

"Same thing," He grumbles, before wrapping his arms around my torso and hugging me tightly, I grin as he stands to his full height, my feet dangling off the ground as he squeezes me tight.

"Don't you look beautiful," He places me down and I do a small twirl, Azriel scowls at Cassian as if the male might steal me away, so silently I gravitate closer towards my mate and intertwine our hands.

"Why, thank you, my lord," I curtsy teasingly and he clicks his tongue, annoyed.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and I only grin.

"Cass, come back—" A familiar voice shouts from outside and I perk up.

"Rhys!" I leave Azriel's side and rush towards the High Lord. His eyes lock on mine and a smile immediately comes across his features. I practically jump into his arms and he catches me with ease, spinning us around before placing me back down onto the ground.

"I missed you so much," I tighten my hold around him. It's been fifty years since I've seen the male, fifty long tortuous years while he was stuck with that witch Under The Mountain.

"It's been too long," He sighs, hugging me back with the same tightness.

"When Az told me you were back I nearly grew a pair of wings and flew here myself," I confess and he chuckles, setting me down with a soft smile.

"You look ravishing, all this for me? I'm flattered" He smirks playfully and Azriel's hands come down onto my shoulders possessively.

"Fifty years really hasn't changed you," I sigh with a childlike smile.

"Careful Rhys, they're mated now. I already had a go at her and Az nearly bit my head off," Cassian intones from my side and Azriel all but growls at the red-siphoned male.

"Don't be ridiculous, she wouldn't come all the way from the Autumn Court for you, Cassian," A familiar voice chimes in and Morrigan appears at my other side. I squeal and wrap my arms around her shoulders as she hugs me back tightly. "I love this dress," She gasps as I back away, allowing her to take in my full outfit. "Mind if I take it off you later?" She winks and I flush.

"Gods, does everybody want you?" Azriel grumbled and I looked back at him with a sly smirk.

"Don't hate the player," I wink and he shakes his head in disbelief.

A giggle sounded and I had only just now realized there was someone I didn't recognize standing beside Rhys. My brows rose a fraction as I laid my eyes upon the female, she had light brown hair and eyes so blue they almost seemed lined with starlight. Her dress was gorgeous, and she was even prettier. But it wasn't her beauty that shocked me, it was the obvious thread between her and Rhysand, a golden tether intertwining their very souls. It seemed so clear they were mates, but the way she looked at him made it apparent she had no idea.

"You must be Feyre, Az mentioned a new female joining our male-centric group," I tease and the High Lord grumbles a curse beneath his breath, she smiles softly and takes my outstretched hand, shaking it. "I've heard plenty about you," I flash a polite smile and she returns it.

"Good things I hope," She says and my eyes flick to Rhys, then back to her.

"There's only good things to talk about," Morrigan intones and Feyre tosses her a grin.

"I'm Y/n, the High Lord of Autumn's daughter," I explain and her brows shoot up.

"You're Lucien's sister," She gasped and I nodded with a grin.

"You know Lu?" I tilt my head.

"He, he's my friend," She says her gaze flicking between me and Azriel, his hands on my shoulders, the invisible tether between us that I see between her and Rhysand.

"You guys are, connected," She murmurs and I chuckle.

"Mates, but yes," I correct and her eyes widened further.

"Azriel didn't mention anything," She mutters in apology and I wave her off.

"It's quite alright, he likes his secrets, and I'm technically not allowed to date outside of my court," I explain. "My father wants to keep the lineage, pristine," I huff and her brows twitch together, clearly concerned.

"But you're mates, isn't that an unbreakable bond?" She asked, the curiosity evident in her eyes.

"That's enough questions for now Feyre," Rhysand's hand tightens on her shoulder.

"But," She looked to me curiously then back to him.

"C'mon, Starfall's starting," He gestures her towards the balcony.

"It was nice meeting you," She gives me a small wave and I return it.

"You too," I grin.

Once she was gone I whirl around to face Azriel. "You didn't tell her about me?" I frown up at him. He shrugs.

"I figured the ring on my finger was enough to prove I'm yours," He said, leaning down and pecking my forehead. I melt into his touch, throwing my arms around his neck. "How long can you stay?" He murmurs and I sigh at the idea of leaving.

"Probably a few hours, Eris is covering for me until I get back," I explain and he scowls at the mention of my eldest brother.

"Tell him you're not coming back, just stay here forever," He groans into my shoulder and I smile at the idea, but my grin falters when I remember my mother and my brothers. They didn't deserve to suffer so greatly alone. When Amarantha had come to take over the Autumn Court, Azriel risked his life by showing up at the forest house and taking me to Velaris where she'd never find us. I hated myself for not thinking to warn Eris or at least my own mom. I felt as if I owed them for it because they endured tortures I could only imagine while I stayed safe with my mate for forty-nine long years.

"You know I can't," I sigh. "I love them, no matter how twisted my brothers are they're my family," I say, backing away and looking up at him.

"I'm your family too," He argues and a smirk graces my features.

"Whatever you say, Azriel Vanserra," I tease and his gaze hardens.

"If you call me that again I'm leaving you," He warns and I gasp dramatically before that expression of shock turns into a grin.

"You couldn't if you tried, connected for life remember?" I say, pulling at the bond between us and he groans as if it's a newfound sore on his heart. "I can't believe you fell in love with a Vanserra," I taunt, lifting up and pressing a kiss to his lips which he eagerly returns.

"You never shut up do you?" He grumbles. "You only have a few hours, do you want to watch the stars or find a better way to use that mouth of yours?" He asks and by the look in my eyes, he already knows the answer.

My dress falls to the ground with the clacking of jewels. I step out of the pool of silk now around my feet and look up at him with a smile. I watch as his throat bobs up and down with a thick swallow, his eyes taking in every bare inch of my skin that wasn't covered up by my lingerie the color of midnight. I rarely wore Night Court colors, so this, only for him to see, was a dream come true. "Like what you see?" I tease.

"Yes, I like it very much," He confesses in all seriousness, then, as if he can’t control himself any longer, he surges forward, crashing his lips onto mine. His lips were hungry, his hands coming to my jaw, his thumb pulling at my lower lip and forcing my mouth open for his tongue. I take everything he gives me greedily, my own tongue meeting his in a dance as his hands travel down my waist, my hips, all the way to the backs of my thighs where he finds purchase to hoist me up into his arms.

"You have no idea what you do to me," He confesses into my mouth while walking us towards his bed. I bring my hand down his chest to his hardened length straining against the fabric of his pants and I smile teasingly.

"I think I have some idea," I hum, rubbing down the budge and he grunts, I continue the movement, pressing harder each time until he got frustrated with how much I was teasing, practically throwing me down onto the bed and quickly mounting over me, his hand coming to the hem of my bra.

"As much as I love seeing you in this color, I need to rip it off you," He confesses and I smirk, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. He mirrored it, then pressed his lips back to mine.

I was already unbuttoning his shirt while he settled between my open thighs. He had unclasped my bra and pulled it off, the lace being thrown onto the other side of the room. I free him from his button-up, pulling it off his muscular arms, his chest left bare.

I grin wildly into our kiss as rough, scarred hands stoke over every expanse of bare skin, my arms, my back, my waist, and finally my breasts. I sighed at the sensation, his callouses brushing over sensitive nipples. I moan as he rolls them between his fingers, flicking over them causing me to whimper into his mouth. He smiles at the discovery of my sensitivity and moves away from my lips and down my neck, my collarbone, then to my breast, taking it into his mouth while his other hand continues its work.

I arch into the intense pleasure as he swirls his tongue around the peaked bud, and when he lightly nips at it my breath hitches, arousal flooding my panties as he continues his sweet torture. "Az, it's too much," I murmur, my hands coming to his hair and attempting to pull him away but he only grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, rendering me tied down.

His tongue continues its wicked movements making me writhe beneath him pitifully, but he doesn't relent. "Az," I whimper, my words slowly turning into incoherent mumbles and moans. He softly bites at my nipple, pulling at it as he backs away and I'm forced to suppress a scream.

So slowly, he takes off my panties, pulling them down my thighs and off my ankles. I tug at my wrists but shadows cluster and tie them tight to the bed. He frees himself from his pants as well, wasting no time as he aligns his impressive member with my entrance.

"You're making such a mess baby." He swipes two fingers through my folds, gathering an embarrassing amount of arousal before smearing it down onto my clit, my breath hitching at the stimulation. A smirk curves his lips as he watches me lose myself after he's barely even touched me. He gathers more of my fluids and lathers his length with it, lubing his cock for an easy entrance. I clenched around nothing, the apex of my thighs pulsating with a need to be filled.

"Az, inside," I murmur, those are the only words I can manage, I was already too stimulated to form full sentences.

"Yeah? You want me to fill you up?" He asks and I nod helplessly.

"Please," I whine. His smirk turns predatory, his tip prodding at my entrance and my cunt twitched, aching to be driven into.

"This okay?" He looks down at me and I nod with a soft mumble. "Words, use your words," He encouraged but I was a mess of whines and tears.

"Yes, please, yes," I manage to get out and his eyes swap love with lust and suddenly he's pushing into me, stretching me out around him and hitting every spot, filling every crevice, pushing me to that edge.

"Az," I nearly scream, my nails digging hard into my palms as I arch, without the use of my hands, I'm left writhing and jolting like an injured animal, prey about to be consumed by its predator.

"Fuck you're so tight around my cock baby," He gritted out, going deeper and deeper while noises slip from my lips involuntarily the farther he goes.

"It's too much," I cry but he doesn't stop, no, he goes faster.

"You begged for this, remember?" He purrs into the shell of my ear. I release a lewd moan as he hits that familiar bundle of nerves that makes me feral. "There?" He hummed and I nodded eagerly. He took his chance and began to abuse that spot nestled so deep inside of me, his thrusts making my puffy, pink folds throb for more, craving that gratification.

He lifted one of my legs up, over his shoulder and met my silent wish, the new position creating an entirely new intense angle.

He continued to pound into my leaking pussy, fluids dripping down my thighs, transferring onto his cock, the wet slap of his balls against my ass making me mewl. "You're so, fuck, so big," I gripe and he smiles against my jaw, continuing his forceful injections as he says, "Poor girl, can only think about my cock, isn't that right?" His hand gropes at my breast before I can even reply, resulting in a guttural moan. He knocks into me deeper, father, harder and it felt so damned good, he was rewriting my definition of pleasure.

"Yeah? Just a mess for me aren’t you my good girl," He crooned, his lips so close to my ear I could feel his breath against it, his teeth lightly nipping at my earlobe.

His hand leaves my breast and travels the expanse of my stomach until eventually reaching my neglected clit, his thumb flicking over it and making gasps of both relief and pain. His thumb switched to tight, torturous circles and I lost all cognitive abilities, he left me defenseless.

"M'close," I warn with teary eyes, looking up at him with helpless devotion.

"Already?" He taunts as experienced hands continue their cruel work, my arousal drenching his fingers but he doesn't seem to care.

"Mhm," I nod with a pout.

"It's okay, come all over my cock," He impels and I was not going to disobey such an appealing demand. He leans down and his mouth returns to my breast, flicking his tongue over it in a similar way he's doing with my clit, creating an explosive feeling of passion.

I reach my climax with his name on my lips, white-hot ecstasy searing through me like a wave crashing, starting at my core and blooming through the rest of me with an unexplainable euphoria that ripped me into a haze of pleasure.

Once I came down from my high he didn't stop, he didn't even slow down. I bit into my lower lip at the intense pain, the overstimulation pushing me over my limit and he delighted in it, loved to see the way I squirmed beneath him. I pulsed around him, walls fluttering against his width as he moved past my perfect spot and bottomed out, his base pressing against mine. He groaned as I contracted around him, reveling in the way my tight cunt hugged his length like a perfect little sleeve.

"Fuck, love," He panted in a wolfish tone, losing himself in the pleasure of it all. "Touch my wings," He whispered and I regained a conscious at that, I had been wanting to forever but he never let me, always pinned down my wrists instead. Shadows slipped from my hands, showing he was serious.

I waste no time before brushing the back of my fingers against the thin membrane of his right wing, my other hand going into his hair. His cock twitches inside of me and his head falls onto my shoulder. I smile at my newfound power, trailing a feather-light touch over a long scar and he whimpers my name into my ear. I clench around him tightly at the sound, his thrusts turning slow and lazy as he approaches release.

I map my fingers closer to his back, finding a central vein that pulsed with life near where his wing began. I pressed my thumbpad to it and he groaned, his cock twitching. "Fuck, baby, let me come inside of you," He pleads.

"Please, fill me up Az," I whine and he meets my request quickly, his warm seed spurting into me, painting my walls white. He came for what felt like forever until he finally pulled out, laying down beside me with a huff. I curled into his side, clenching my legs together in order to keep his release inside of me, mixing with my own.

He turns on his side to look at me, gathering the blankets and throwing them over the both of us.

"I have to go soon," I whisper and he sadly smiles tiredly down at me.

“No, no let me live in denial until it’s time,” He pulls me closer to him, my chest pressing to his. I melt into him, leaning my head on his chest to hear his heart beating so softly against his ribs, a steady beat that oddly brought me comfort.

"I love you." His confession patches over whatever was broken before. I lean upward and press my lips to his, his arm slithering up my bare back and pushing me into him.

"I love you too, Az."

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penvisions · 10 months ago

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.

Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.

“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.

“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.

“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”

“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”

Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.

“Maria, what is this?”

“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”

“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.

“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.

“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”

“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.

“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch. When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.

“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.

“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.

After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.

“Now, the horse you two lost.”

Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.

“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”

“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”

“That’s correct.”

“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”

“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”

“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.

“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.

“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”

“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”

“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.

“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.

“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.

“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.

But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.

His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.

“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”

Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.

“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”

“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”

“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”

“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.

“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”

“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”

“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”

“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.

“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”

“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.

“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”

“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”

“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.

“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”

“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”

“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-

“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”

“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.

“It’s no problem, I can-“

“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”

“I really don’t’-“

“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.

The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.

“Shut up.”

“Oh brother, you got it bad.”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”

“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”

“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”

Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.

“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”

Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.

“What do you mean?”

“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”

“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.

“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”

“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.

“Tommy.”

“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”

Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.

“They blame her for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”

“We are not talking about this.”

“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”

“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”

It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.

It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.

It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…

But his brother didn’t know anything about that.

Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.

The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.

Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.

A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.

Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.

“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.

What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.

Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.

He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.

“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.

“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“

“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”

You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.

“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”

“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“

“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”

“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.

“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”

“Joel-“

“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”

And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.

It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…

Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.

The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.

Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.

“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.

“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”

Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.

Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.

He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.

And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.

“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you.”

“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”

“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”

“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”

“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.

“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear.

“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”

Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.

He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.

Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.

He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-

The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.

With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.

He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.

But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.

Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.

He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.

He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.

“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.

The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.

He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.

The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-

He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.

Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.

He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.

Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.

The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.

“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.

“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.

“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”

She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.

“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”

“Of course, anything to be of help.”

“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”

“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”

“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”

“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“

“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”

“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”

“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”

Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.

Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.

Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.

You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.

The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom@communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

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the--blackdahlia · 4 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet (Beetlejuice x Fem Reader)

So this is the first time I've ever done one of these, so just go easy on me please.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's got to have a smoke after the act is done. Prefers it when your head is lying on his chest. You also wouldn't think he'd be a cuddler, but he surprises you every day.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is a leg man. He's said and shown it a couple of times. He loves seeing you in short skirts. He's also been known to buy you the see-through leggings for when you're at home. (He enjoys all your parts but a good pair of legs really does it for him)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He will cum anywhere. On you, in you, down your throat. It doesn't matter as long as he gets to cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets off on the idea of shrinking you down and fucking you in the model graveyard.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Well, he's over 600 years old, so he's been around a time or two. He absolutely knows what he's doing, and loves learning new things that didn't exist when he was alive.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes it when you ride him. He gets to hold onto your thighs, watch your breasts, see your face. But he is also down for missionary when he wants to be in charge. But he's perfectly find just laying back and letting you do the work.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Sex is probably the only time he is serious. He wants to focus on the pleasure. Now afterward, it's like a dam opening up and he goes back to being a little shit.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well just looking at him, he does not manscape, but you convince him to at least trim. It definitely does match the drapes, and he's damn proud of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When you two are together, he can be the most romantic man. He whispers sweet nothings to you when he's in that moment. You know you're in for some true lovemaking when he brings you roses. They might not always be alive, but it's the thought.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He most definitely jacks off, especially when you two are apart for a while. He might use your psychic connection to watch you. Think phone sex but with better reception.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He 100% has a daddy kink. He loves it the first time you slip up and call him daddy, and he just keeps it going. Also maybe a bit of a voyeur. He has spied on you a few times in the shower. Keeps him going until he can get his hands on you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bedroom, his desk in the call center, the model. Anywhere he can have you, he will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It does not take much to get him going. You could be reading to him and it turns him on. Everything about you does that to him. But the biggest thing is when you get angry. One time, you were cussing up a storm about your boss and your job and he could've came right there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't really like to hurt you. If he accidentally does, it derails the entire thing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The man doesn't have to breathe, so he is great at giving. He literally could go down on you for hours if you would let him. And he's never going to turn down a blowjob from you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the situation. If he has a job to do, it will be fast and rough, pinned against the wall, on the couch, wherever. But if he has the time, he will spend literal hours worshipping your body.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is totally okay with a quickie. Any chance he gets to fuck you is a chance he's going to take. A little time with you is better than nothing.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Since he's constantly learning the newest trends over the past 600 years, he is definitely down to experiment. But sometimes an old classic goes a long way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Without having to really rest, breathe, or eat, he can go as long as you can, and sometimes even longer. He can be quick when he needs to be.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has a collection of like, medieval sex toys. He doesn't use them on you, mainly because you won't let him. But he loves watching you use your modern ones, and will even take over controlling them. And when you introduced him to the joys of Bluetooth vibrators, he thinks he's finally found heaven.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to wait until you're busy with work, then use your psychic connection to tease you. You can feel his lips on your neck, or his fingers pinching your nipples. You can feel his hands all over you, even though he's nowhere in the room. And he will do that until you summon him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's just loud enough for you to hear. Growls, deep moans, right in your ear. He'll call you baby girl, or another pet name, but only for you to hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He absolutely goes wild when you wear his suit jacket. Even if he drapes it over your shoulders when you're cold, he just can't resist you. To the point, you found lingerie in the black and white stripes. You have to keep buying it because he rips it off you to get to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He has to sit like a whore because he is absolutely packing. He is thick and long, giving you the perfect stretch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a lot of time to make up for. So his sex drive is super high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't need to sleep, but he will lay there quietly while you sleep. Sometimes he lets him at least pretend he's asleep, as long as he gets to lay by you.

#beetlejuice #michael keaton #keetlejuice #alphabet #beetlejuice x reader

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asumi2020202 · 6 months ago

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Things I never felt before

Pairing: Legolas Thranduilion x reader

Summary: You are Legolas' lover, he courted you before you both left to destroy the one ring. You are a healer who is needed almost all the times and a motherly figure to the hobbits.

A/n: My Lotr/Hobbit obsession has again started after I saw my husband, Legolas, in a youtube video. Anyways, Thank you for reading!

______________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ___________________

The Fellowship had been assembled. Tens companions in total. Aragorn, the son of Arathorn. Legolas, son of Thranduil. Gimli, son of Gloin. The four hobbits- Frodo, the ring bearer, Sam, Merry and Pippin. Gandalf the Grey. Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor.

And..Y/n, daughter of Lord Elrond. The only female.. Lover of Legolas Thranduilion....

Her father didn't want her to join, thinking she would get hurt. But her abilities, knowledge and skill is something that the Fellowship required.

The elves of Rivendell were sailing off to the Undying lands. Yet she told her father she would not. She would stay with Legolas.

The Fellowship left Rivendell after bidding goodbye. Arwen almost did cry to see her little sister go on a dangerous quest, she felt a bit of peace as she knew her sister had someone to protect her.

And so...their journey began....

_________________________________________

The fellowship were aiming for the gap of Rohan. After a while of walking the mountains they had stopped near a pile of giant rocks, some of which even looked as if they are stacked.

You handed a plate of food to Sam to give to Frodo. The others had already eaten. After doing so you blew out the fire and sat next to Frodo and watched Merry and Pippin train while Legolas was looking out for any enemies.

"One. Two. Good!" Boromir said, sword clanging against another.

"You got good Pippin" Merry said to Pippin.

"Thanks"

"Move your feet" Aragorn said.

Frodo looked at you and smiled.

"Ah!" Pippin squealed

"Sorry!" Boromir said. The two young hobbits tackled him on the ground as the three of you watched.

"hold him!" "For the shire!"

You gently laughed as you saw the two hobbits tackle Aragorn who tried to help Boromir. Aragorn groaned as fell on the ground as well.

Pippin got up and ran to you.

"Y/n I've got a cut on my finger. It hurts." He looked at you with his adorable little Hobbit eyes which melted your heart.

"Ah.. come with me, I will put some medicine." You led the little Hobbit to where the fire once was.

You were putting a healing balm on his hand. You turned your head and saw Legolas jump from one rock to another and stand on a giant boulder.

You finished applying the medicine and smile at Pippin as he runs to Merry. You got up from the ground and stand near Legolas.

Him standing on a boulder gave him better view whilst you stood on the ground, adjusting you satchel. You were shorter than Legolas too which gives him the tall height advantage.

"What's that?" One of the members asked.

"Oh nothing it's just a wisp of clouds." Came Gimli's reply.

"It's moving fast.. against the wind.." Boromir said, getting up from the ground with Merry and Pippin.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas shouted.

"Hide!" Aragorn shouted.

"Hurry. Frodo.." you said as you guided Sam and Frodo to cover.

As crebains flew away, everyone got out from their hideout.

"Spies of ... Saruman! The passage south is being watched. We must take the path of caradhras." Said Gandalf.

You looked at Legolas as he gently held your hand.

_________________________________________

The path of Caradhras was difficult. Thick snow, extreme cold, heavy snowfall. Elves do not mind cold very much but the others do. So you and Legolas walked in the front.

You, Legolas and the others got stuck in the snow when a huge chunk of snow fell from above.

You helped Sam out of the snow and then got out yourself. Sam went to Boromir's side.

"There is fell voice on the air" said Legolas.

"It's Saruman!" Shouted Gandalf.

"He's trying to bring down the mountains" Aragorn said as well.

Gandalf started to chant a spell in Imladris to try and stop. But alas it did not work.

It was decided that the fellowship would go through the Mines of Moria. It was chosen by Frodo.

_________________________________________

Gimli sat down a bit away from the door. The Door of Moria was yet to open. Gandalf had tried all the password that he could come up with but it didn't work.

You and Legolas sat on a log. The two of you braided each other's hair. You saw Gandalf sigh of defeat. Legolas got up and walked around to see any incoming danger.

You went to Gandalf and stood in front of the door before looking at Gandalf. He looked at you.

"It is riddle......" You said.

"A riddle you say?" He replied.

"Mellōn" you said as the doors opened the Hobbits running towards you at once.

The events that occurred after that...were too cruel for all of you...

_________________________________________

The hobbits were shedding tears. Gimli was trying to get back in the mine but Boromir didn't let him. You sat on a boulder, unable to accept the reality like Legolas.

"Get them up Legolas, Y/n." Aragorn spoke to you and Legolas. Legolas came up to you and placed his hand on your back. You looked up from the ground to his eyes. He could see the pain in your eyes, for he too feels it.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir shouted.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs. We must make for the woods of Lothlorien." Reasoned Aragorn.

"Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Y/n get them up." Aragorn said as walked up to Sam and held him up.

You got up from the boulder and gave Legolas a nod, after which you went to the hobbits, asking if anyone got injured.

_________________________________________

You and Legolas were close to eachother. Fingers intertwined as you walked through the woods. Aragorn was leading the way.

"I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox." Said Gimli as he almost got himself pierced by an arrow of a Lothlorian guard.

"A dwarve breathes so loud, we would've shot him in the dark" Said Haldir, an old acquaintance.

_________________________________________

"Mae g'ovannen Legolas Thranduilion, Y/n Elerondiel." Said Haldir. Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduilion, Y/n, daughter of Elrond.

"Ah, Aragorn in Dunedain. Istannen le ammen." Oh, Aragorn of Dúnedain. You are known to us. Haldir spoke, turning to Aragorn.

"Haldir." Aragorn greeted him.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of elves! Speak words we can all understand!" Spoke Gimli, annoyed because he couldn't understand what was being spoken.

Haldir simply turned to Gimli and spoke.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days."

"And you know what this dwarves says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" I spit on your grave.

"That was not so courteous" Aragorn intervened.

Haldir looked at Fellowship and then to Frodo.

"You bring great evil here.... You can go no further."

_________________________________________

You sat like the rest of the Fellowship while Legolas stood. Aragorn trying to convince Haldir to let you all stay the night.

Frodo saw Legolas look at him as the others looked at him too. He felt guilty. As if they are blaming him.

Frodo got up and went to you. He came to you and sat beside you as you opened your arms. He came in and laid his head on your chest as you hummed. He looked up in the sky and then closed his eyes.

Legolas saw you two cuddled up. He felt warm at the scene. Many would feel jealous at the sight of their lover with someone else but Legolas felt love for you grow further.

You and Frodo looked like mother and son. You ran you fingers through his head and held him close like a mother would.

Legolas smiled a little seeing you both. He imagined how it would be when the two of you would have children together.

_________________________________________

Night had fallen. Most of the Fellowship had gotten fallen asleep. Aragorn was with Boromir.

You and Legolas were in your sleeping place. He had re-braided your hair and you were currently doing his.

You ran your fingers through his hair, trying to untangle any knots.

"Melēth nin, what would do after all of this is over?" You asked him.

"Ah..... The first thing I would do is to marry you. I would still need to think of what to do next." He replied.

His reply made you blush a bit. The sad atmosphere lifting up a bit.

"I would have a big family with you, nin melēth. I imagine it every time I see you with the little hobbits. You would make an excellent mother to our little elflings." He continued.

Your ears had turned pink. You laughed gently as you finished braiding his hair. He got up from the ground and went to your side.

He sat down beside you and kissed you passionately. It was slow but filled with deep love.

Elves love once. They love slow but when they do, they love hard.

After a minute, his lips seperated yours. Your lungs felt empty before you inhaled air.

He laid down and patted the place beside him. You went to his side and laid your head on his chest.

Soon after you drifted off to sleep. Soft snores made Legolas smile. The world was harsh... But you both had each other and that was enough.

He ran his hand over your head, soothing you. He drifted off to sleep after sometime. He fell asleep admiring your beauty. He had said something before doing so.

It was what he felt since he met you the first time.

"You make me feel.. Things I never felt before..."

#lord of the rings #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #x reader #fanfiction #x you #x y/n #x yn #elrond's daughter #lotr #the hobbit #legolas #legolas thranduilion #legolas greenleaf #legolas lotr #legolas the hobbit #the fellowship of the ring

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prettyboypistol · 6 months ago

Note

Yo, cis guy here, I've always felt a lot of shame about being super gay for the tf2 men, because it made me feel like less of a man. You reckon I could possibly get a scout or engie x reader when theyre calling the reader handsome, pretty boy, big man, and lots of masculine petnames? Smut or fluff or ignoring this is fine

I really like your work dude 😁

fellow cis guy here- I totally get it man. i'm glad that other guys like me enjoy my work. I also struggled with my attraction to men and fictional men were (and still are) my escape from homophobia and biphobia. Stay safe, you're valid.

TF2 Mercs With a Masculine!Male Reader

Scout

He loves squeezing your muscles and feeling your abs, totally not thinking of you as a goal for himself!

Nicknames include: Big man, big boy, sweet cheeks, hot shot/stuff, bossman, stud, etc.

likes the feeling of your facial hair when you kiss him- it tickle/scratches him in the best way!

Soldier

Thinks of you as the best man in the unit of RED! You're an exemplary man with gusto and power to spare! Solly fell for you when he caught you on a morning run "to keep yourself fit". That dedication got his heart skipping!

Nicknames include: Soldier, pride, the unit's pride and joy, big man

arm. wrestling. as. flirting., sparring. as. flirting. honestly anything that gets him up close and personal to you

Pyro

Hold onto you like a damsel in distress and loves how protective you are over them. As much as Pyro would and has protected you from enemy Spies, they like depending on someone who can hold their own.

nicknames include: My fire, firefly, my fireman, big boy, handsome

They love how you treat them like "just another one of the boys" rather than "the creature"- it really hurts their feelings when they're excluded due to how they cope with life.

Engineer

God he couldn't have asked for a better assistant. You grab heaps of metal for him, toolboxes, and sentries you can pick up with both hands and carry over to him!

Nicknames include: Hoss, handsome, big man, sir, boss

loves watching you work out while he works on his bench (sometimes even being your bench weight)

Demoman

He treats you like how he'd treat any partner of his, no changes. Demo's kind, loving, tender, but would let you fend for yourself to not baby you.

Nicknames include: dear, darlin', lovely, loverboy, handsome, best-shag-of-my-life

loves cuddling up to you and just burying his face in your muscles- but when he's not sleepy he is constantly hooting and hollering about how awesome his boyfriend is.

Heavy

a lot more friendly about his romance, treating you more like a best friend than a romantic partner in public mainly due to his anxiety about "being caught"

nicknames include(mostly in russian): lover, love, handsome man, hero, heart

he loves kissing your strong hands and sliding his hands over your muscles, it assures him that you're strong enough to take care of yourself, and that eases his worries.

Sniper

god this is a useless gay man. he sees you crush a bonk can and his heart skips a beat. you take off your shirt and he's speechless. you make him unprofessional and it ruins him internally.

nicknames include: Hotstuff, love, mate, darling, chickadee, big bugger, bear

he likes asking you to carry his stuff, complaining about his aching arms (totally not to watch you carry his things!!!)

Medic

ooooh god this man is a HOMOSEXUAL for you. on GOD.

nicknames include: honeybear, my love, my heart, my magnum opus, big man, beast

can, has, and will continue to flirt with you on the battlefield, no matter who sees him do it. If anyone gives you shit for being gay, he's instantly at your side and ready to beat them down with you

Spy

i mean... if you have a degradation kink go ahead i guess? he treats you like a bodyguard in public and is cold and callous in other's eyes. they think he hates you. In private however he is all over you. kissing, holding, embracing, etc., whispering sweet nothings in your ears.

nicknames include: my sweet love, my man, my handsome, big beauty, sweetness

although he seems uncaring in public, anyone who disrespects you gets backstabbed as "target practice" later when they least expect it.

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shegatsby · 10 months ago

Text

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Hi babies! I hope you're doing amazing! I love writing this story i feel alive after months of depression lol. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)

Warnings; None.. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.291K

Chapter 4

Chapter Three – ''Caught in the Web''

The throne room was spinning under her feet, she felt the sudden rush of hot air on her body. No one dared to speak, one could hear the birds outside singing in harmony. Y/N’s alerted eyes found Pyramus, he seemed in shock and quietly left the throne room. Y/N looked at her parents pleadingly, Leto’s brown eyes were fixed on the Emperor, Jessica had a victorious smile and it dawned on her.

This was planned.

‘’Rise young warrior.’’ Shaddam’s voice was heard. ‘’Do parents of Lady Y/N object to this offer?’’

Entire room held its breath. ‘’No, Emperor.’’ Leto answered on the behalf of his house, it broke Y/N’s heart into million pieces. ‘’Not here.’’ she whispered to herself, she couldn’t burst into tears in front of important people and show weakness.

‘’So it is done. Paul Atreides shall take my daughter as wife and you, young warrior Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen shall take Lady Y/N Atreides as your wife.’’ And the crowd went into hypnotic frenzy.

The following hours went blurry, Y/N was taken to chamber to another…

At last, she was in her family’s quarters, she waited for servants to leave them alone. The door closed and a thick silence fell like a dark cloud, hovering over the House Atreides.

‘’How could you?!’’ she yelled, stood up to her feet, her skirts swirling, her face showed nothing but anger, she was a lioness. ‘’How could I refuse the Emperor?!’’ Leto yelled back, he felt powerless like the exact time when Emperor Shaddam demanded his beloved baby daughter to accompany Princes Irulan. Again, someone else was going to take her from him. ‘’Wake up father! This isn’t the Emperor. This is Bene Gesserit’s doing. It has been all along.’’

Leto turned to face Jessica who averted her gaze, she looked guilty of a crime she didn’t commit yet she had her fingers in it. ‘’You?!’’ He didn’t want to believe but she was right. Jessica’s blue eyes couldn’t face her beloved. Paul knew that his parents needed to talk in private so he gently held his older sister’s arm. ‘’let’s go to the gardens.’’ He knew that would calm her.

Y/N stormed odd to the halls of the palace and with Paul they walked to the lush gardens. Gardens of House Corriono were always well maintained and aesthetically pleasing with colors and scent. She had to take deep breaths and pray in silence;

‘’I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.’’

Paul was standing there hands in his pockets, counting his blessings.

‘’Y/N’’ he called softly, ‘’What?!’’ she was about to take her anger out on him, ‘’Do not give me that look Paul. You and Irulan and that.. that Bal headed beast are the ones who profit from this arrangement but me!’’ she tried to keep her voice low, servants and spies could be anywhere. ‘’You can manipulate him, Y/N, remember our training.’’ Paul was making sense but Y/N was too furious to hear .

‘’Y/N…’’ a soft voice called out, they turned to face the owner, ‘’Pyramus..’’ she breathed out, a brief silence fell, his dark brown eyes found hers, ‘’I shall take my leave.’’ Paul announced and left them be.

Two lovers embraced, she started to cry in agony, ‘’What are we going to do now?!’’ her voice desperate, rebelling against her fate. ‘’I have an idea.’’ He said holding her face, ‘’Tonight, after Irulan and Paul’s wedding we run away together.’’ She was shocked to hear him being bold. ‘’We can hijack an ornithopter and hide till we find a ship to fly to my home, you can use the Voice on people.’’ It would be the most outrageous scandal that the Imperium had ever seen, but it was now or never.

All day she got ready for Irulan’s wedding, she wore a long black dress an black lace gloves that were see-through, her long hair let loose. A big obsidian stoned necklace on her delicate throat, the stone shined every time lights hit from the glowglobes. After tonight she was suppose to be shipped to the hellhole called Giedi Prime. House Harkonnen.

The feast was bountiful, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, no one cared about Y/N and her situation. Among the crowd she found her family’s place and started to move past dancing couples to go to them but a firm trap caught her delicate wrist, it was Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

‘’Where to, little dove?’’ he was in his regular black clothing, a silver ring on his little finger, a cunning look on his ocean eyes, ‘’To my family.’’ Y/N replied coldly, ‘’I am your family now.’’ He was so direct it caught her off guard. He didn’t wait for an answer and guided her to the dance floor, his tone was stern, was he hurt that Y/N didn’t go to him first? She deduced with her Bene Gesserit powers. ‘’I highly doubt that.’’ She clapped back in annoyance. He was trying really hard not to lose his temper. He couldn’t show his true self among other houses, he couldn’t humiliate his family so he simply had to wait and be patient and when the time comes… he could insert his ways on her. As if he wasn’t doing it now….

‘’You have a silver tongue. I like that but-‘’ he made her twirl, ‘’be careful.’’ Y/N looked up to meet his orbits, under the yellow lights, among dancing couples one could assume that Feyd and Y/N were a loving couple. It was so easy to lose oneself in his aura that she had to look away. Their bodies pressed to each other, she could smell his cologne, manly and just.. there

‘’You know what, I’m going to be nice to you tonight.’’ She said which caused him to rise his nonexistent eyebrow in questioning. ‘’How come?’’

‘’You might not find me again, so, it’s on the house.’’ And the music ended and she immediately let herself part from him and go to her family.

Rest of the night she avoided most of the people and observed. Paul and Irulan were shipped to Caladan and tomorrow morning all of the lord and ladies were to go back to their home planets. Perfect timing.

Y/N wore her black leather pants and top, she couldn’t afford running in her beautiful gowns if any trouble arrived. She prepared a small bag of essentials, and had been waiting for Pyramus to whistle from outside, her windows were all wide open.

When she heard him she activated her shoes which were made to float in the air and she softly landed on the fresh cut grass, they kissed passionately. She could feel her heart in her throat, this was the first time she was actively rebelling against her family and the rules. Pyramus had his outfit from the night’s entertainment. ‘’Why didn’t you change?’’

‘’Didn’t have time. Follow me.’’ If she was more observant she could have seen the cut on his eyebrow and small bruises on his face clearly.

Ornithopters were on the airfield, since it was really late most of the guards were sleeping on their duty.

Pyramus held her hand, his palm sweaty, ‘’Let’s go.’’ He made her move fast ‘’Wait-‘’ she whispered,

‘’Let’s not wake them up-‘’ he seemed like he didn’t care, they got to an ornithopter. He opened its door, it was for two people. Before she climbed inside she turned to face him for a second, he seemed terrified, ‘’Wait-‘’ her hands went to his face, ‘’What happened to your face?’’ Y/N asked in horror and saw his expression change into guilt.

‘’Pyramus?’’ she whispered, ‘’I’m sorry Y/N..’’

And all of the lights on the field were turned on like lightning on a rainy day, alarms were going off, soldiers wide awake… were they awake the whole time? They were surrounded by Harkonnen soldiers, a sound of applause echoed on the open field, soldiers moved to make way for him.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen approached, he stopped clapping when he saw them, he had his black and dark grey uniform. Y/N could see he was geared up.. just in case.

‘’Did you really think that you could escape me?’’ Feyd asked sarcastically, his voice amused, he looked like a theater actor who finished his bit and proud of himself. ‘’I’m sorry..’’ Pyramus whispered again and let her go, he, without a beat climbed into the ornithopter and flew away.

Y/N could feel the tears of betrayal coming in, Feyd-Rautha with a sudden move grabbed her wrist, she felt like an animal who just stepped into a metal trap, his fingers bruising her wrist, he started to drag her back to the palace. ‘’Let go of me!’’ because of the panic she couldn’t use the Voice on him.

‘’Enough games, little dove. You will be locked to your chambers until we leave for Giedi Prime.’’

She kept trying to fight and get away from him and he stopped in his tracks, an annoyed huff coming out of him he turned to her and with a swift move he lifted her to his shoulder like a cave man.

‘’I order you to let go of me!’’ this time she used the Voice but he wasn’t affected. Why? Y/N noticed the earplugs he was wearing. ‘’I out rank you Lady Y/N.’’ he chuckled and she could feel the panic rise in her. He slapped her butt and she whined in pain, his hand was heavy and big.

Feyd-Rautha marched the empty corridors and found her bedroom, he kicked open the door and threw her onto her bed which was covered with fluffy pillows and he was startled to see so many colors at once. She froze, supporting her body with her hand, he stood there like a statue, immobile. ‘’Thankfully other houses don’t know this foolish attempt of yours.’’ He said coldly ad slowly leaned to be on the same level as her. ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ She felt the threat of his words settle into the room, she felt as if his presence made her vision go dark and the only thing she could see was him.. Feyd-Rautha was so many things but a liar.

He left and she heard the lock on the door.

Y/N was in shock, she had to take deep breaths to calm her racing mind. Soon a maid came to lock the windows and leave her there, without a word.. even her own maids turned their backs on her, Harkonnens were feared. She belonged to them now, her body and soul was his.

She moved to the window to see the full moon, on her knees she prayed till morning came with its fog. Jessica entered with the maids and servants, Y/N was on her knees praying like a mad Bene Gesserit witch. ‘’Prepare the bath for my daughter.’’ Jessica ordered and went to sit next to her.

‘’You will understand me one day.’’ She knew what happened last night and was surprised, Jessica had never thought Y/N would rebel like this.. ‘’When I was in your whomb…’’ she began, ‘’why didn’t you change my sex?’’

Jessica had to tell the truth, ‘’I was ordered to have a daughter as first born. They didn’t tell me why. If I had known.. things would be different.’’ Her blue eyes searching hers, hoping to see something but Y/N was trained well, not a single emotion on her face, a blank slate. ‘’If you don’t manipulate him he’ll be the end of you, you’re my daughter, you have to survive.’’ Jessica kissed her daughters soft hair and stood up to give more orders to carry Y/N’s belongings to the Harkonnen ship.

Y/N watched other houses leave from her window, she tried to read while her servants worked in silence. The sun was setting when she wore her ceremonial gown. It was emerald green, the color fo her house and a hawk was on her chest, symbol of House Atreides. Her long hair was braided elegantly. Her father came to take her outside before the Emperor, it was the custom. Leto tried to talk to her but she didn’t budge, they walked in death silence.

There was a breeze outside, she saw everyone standing in their rightful places. Feyd-Rautha was standing in front of the Emperor who was seated on a moveable throne. Feyd’s hands clasped behind his back, he watched Duke Leto bring Y/N to stand next to her, he noticed that she was avoiding eye contact like an expert.

Leto, when he made her stand next to her husband- to-be he took a step to Feyd, held his arm and whispered into his ear, ‘’Hurt my daughter and I will end your entire blood line.’’ He gave a pat on Feyd’s shoulder and left them.

The field was silent, she could hear the birds, it calmed her. Were there any birds in Giedi Prime?

Padishah Emperor Shaddam basically announced that this young couple had his blessing and the wedding would take place in House Harkonnen’s planet. He made them kiss his ring and ended the ceremony. Y/N walked to her family to say goodbye, Feyd watching her intently, Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, Jessica hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear.

‘’Remember your training.’’

Feyd made her take his arm, his ceremonial clothing was black, he was covered in it, together they walked to the ship. ‘’I must say you look pleasant in green.’’ He spoke quietly, Y/N turned to see the small smile on his plump lips, ‘’Thank you.’’ And they walked to the ship, Y/N looked at her family before the metal door closed.

Tag list; @superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

@palomavz

@beebeechaos

@jeong-uwu

@tian-monique

@avidreader73

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@taleah

Thank you for reading. :)

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cactus-cuddler · 7 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝑺𝒑𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // first part

Natasha Romanoff

x female reader

Word count: 2,1k

Plot: you and Natasha are two spies who have worked together for many years. During these years, a particular chemistry has arisen between you that will make something emerge that you couldn't have foreseen

Genre: Romantic Erotica

Warnings: this story contains descriptions of sexual activity

Author's Notes: English is not my first first language so I apologize for any errors! Let me know what you think!

You and Natasha are the most famous spy couple in the world. There isn't a mission you haven't completed, and your lives revolve around espionage. You don't consider yourselves friends, and you don't think you ever will be; you only refer to each other as 'colleagues'. Nothing more and nothing less, but between you, outside of your work, there is a strange and deadly chemistry.

In the facility where you work, each of you has an apartment with everything that is yours. There are no rigid timetables to follow; you have total freedom of movement. From the outside, the building that houses you looks like a very normal condominium, and it is. Most of the people who live there are spies, but there are also ordinary people and children. No one is allowed to know the identity of others except within couples, so you don't know who is a spy and who is not inside the building.

Your apartment is furnished according to how you always dreamed your home would be when you moved out on your own. It has a bedroom, a guest bedroom, and a connected kitchen and living room; however, they are separated by a curtain. You have a cat sleeping on the armchair, occupying the place where you usually like to read and watch movies, so you are forced to sit on the soft sofa that you typically reserve for your guests.

It's a beautiful day outside. You notice as you adjust the curtains on the window that you live on the top floor, so you enjoy a spectacular view of your town. The doorbell rings unexpectedly, and you're alarmed since you're not expecting any visitors. It could be anyone! You shout, 'I'm coming!' and then put on a cardigan with pockets hiding weapons, just in case it's an attack—unlikely, but never say never. You open the door carefully, and there stands a redhead with a friendly smile on the threshold. You stare at her for a few moments. She's wearing a simple T-shirt that says 'I 🌵 cactus' and gray sweatpants. You don't even understand the effect she has on you. Every time she looks at you outside of a mission, you become like a broken record that only makes one sound: the 'tumtum' of your heart. She has never been in your apartment in all the years you've been working together, which is why you're very surprised.

"Haven't they taught you how to welcome guests?" she asks you sarcastically, and you snap out of your trance. She sits inside your apartment and looks around as if lost. "You have good taste," she compliments, and you smile shyly.

"How can I help you?" you ask her but she’s lost in petting your cat. You clear your throat as you cross your arms to remind her that you're there.

"I just wanted to see you," she says, looking at you with her penetrating gaze. You didn't expect such an answer, and you were absolutely not ready to receive it because your heart starts beating hastily, leaving you breathless. "What a beautiful cat! What's his name?" she asks you, but it doesn't have one yet. You found him yesterday, cold and hungry, and you couldn't leave him there!

“He doesn't have one yet" you reply, trying not to tremble.

“What do you think of Dymka? It’s a Russian name” you like it so you nod in approval. You ask her if there is something she wants to eat and she asks you for a beer but you don't have it in your fridge. You have only water, tea and fruit juice.

"Your fridge looks like a baby’s" teases you with a sarcastic voice. Pretend nothing and serve her a glass of orange juice and pour one for yourself while Dymka sits on Natasha’s legs.

"I have a favor to ask you. I have a problem with the water pipes, and I remember that," she starts talking, and before finishing the sentence, she lowers her voice, "during an old mission we had the same problem and you were able to solve it," she concludes. For a second there, you really thought she was just there to see you, and you feel stupid.

"Of course!" you answer, hiding your disappointment. After finishing your drink, you go to her apartment. She lives downstairs, in apartment 52. Her house is rather messy; she has dirty clothes around, including bras, beer bottles, and empty canned food.

She apologizes for the mess, but it doesn’t bother you; on the contrary, you are pleased that she also lives alone and has no traces of any partners. She takes you to the kitchen, which, unlike the living room, is clean and immaculate. You open the door under the sink and, once you understand the reason for the leak, you get to work, asking Natasha to help you by passing the necessary tools.

"Where did you learn?" she asks curiously. You smile softly, and while you wash your hands, you tell her that when you were little, your father forced you every time to keep the light on while he had to solve small problems. Every time you watched him, you learned how to fix things without having to call a plumber or an electrician.

She invites you to eat with her that night, she feels indebted to you so she decides to offer you a pizza. You take it easy.

You're sitting at the kitchen table. She refuses to let you stay in a dirty place like her living room, so you're sitting next to each other on the table. There's a particular tension in the air between you. It's not discomfort, but something that makes your heart beat timidly and makes it seem like there's nothing else around you. She looks at her phone silently, and you try to find topics to talk about, but she interrupts you, "I saw a movie start like that," she says with a seductive voice. You blush and wait for her to continue, hoping she doesn’t mean what you understand.

"How?" you ask.

"With one person fixing something for someone, the other one doesn’t know how to pay and so..." She starts talking and leaves the phrase hanging, stroking your thigh from under the table. "Do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at me?" she asks you and inside you begin to feel an unusual warmth.

"How do I look at you?" you ask with a tremble in your voice, while her grip on your thigh gets stronger and stronger.

"Every time you look at me, your eyes always tell me 'fuck me,' and you don’t know how hard it is for me every time to hold back," she whispers in your ear. Your body is literally on fire. Between your legs, you feel something pulsating, something that begs to be stimulated. You swallow, feeling petrified. You don’t know what to do, how to react, or what is going to happen. Your mind is a mix of emotions and feelings that you haven’t experienced in a while, and you didn’t think it could be caused by a woman. But the woman next to you is not just any woman. She is Natasha Romanoff, the one who can render you speechless with just one look.

"Am I wrong?" she asks you, moving a lock of your hair behind your ear. You say no with your head. You know it’s something you want even though there’s something in your head that tells you you’d regret it and that’s wrong.

"Tell me you want it," she says, curling a lock of your hair to her finger.

"I want," you say in a gentle whisper, normally a phrase like that would have embarrassed you, but right now you feel imposing in front of her.

"What do you want?" she continues teasing you, moving her hand from thigh to more internally.

"I want you to fuck me" you whispers and she takes your chin and kisses you passionately. You eat each other’s lips and it seems to come from a primal feeling that was secretly hiding inside you. During the kiss she lifts you up and makes you sit on the table without taking her lips off of yours. She explores your body by pressing her hands on your buttocks in a possessive way. As if she were afraid that someone might catch you and take you away from her. She begins to undress you carefully and admire your body like a painting. She likes every inch of your body. She eagerly inhales the scent of your skin and kisses every inch of it.

"You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen," she says before kissing you again. An avid, passionate kiss that screams "again".

You’re in your underwear, it’s uncoordinated, which is why you’re embarrassed. But it’s not your fault, how could you have imagined that this would happen? She caresses your breasts from under the bra teasing your nipples that become turgid to her touch then she loses it and looks at you enchanted by your body. With both hands she touches your breasts, squeezes them in her palm. Then, as she continues to massage one, she takes the other’s nipple in her mouth. First sucking it and then biting it between your teeth, paying attention to give you just pleasure. In the meantime, small sighs of pleasure emerge from your lips. Your mind is clouded by the sweet but tantalizing scent of the woman beneath you and you can’t process any thoughts other than what you’re feeling. Between your legs you feel an unbearable and heartbreaking sensation. You want that she touches you there, you want she looks at you there, and you want she fills you with her fingers. You would never be able to compose such a perverse sentence so you start slowly massaging yourself from the fabric of your briefs while she continues her perverse play with your breasts.

She starts undressing too with your help between stolen kisses. Her body in your eyes is just perfect and her curves make you crazy. You are afraid to touch her because you fear to hurt her, you see her as a crystal vase: beautiful but equally delicate. While you are still sitting on top of the table she ducks and with her teeth tries to remove the only garment you have left, inhaling your smell and admiring how wet you are just for her.

"Is this for me?" she asks and you nod shyly. She take off your panties and gently caress you, giving you a little taste of what you’re about to do. She take out her tongue and look straight at your eyes and then you feel a warm and pleasant feeling in your intimacy. She leaves you a kiss on your clit before she starts sucking and from your lips you start to make small moans. You put your hands on her head pushing it more towards you and when she finds the rhythm that makes you crazy, you caress her hair and your moans become stronger. It leaves you dissatisfied and gets up to take possession of your lips and you feel the taste of her mouth mixed with that of your liquids, it's a taste that turns you on even more. Meanwhile Natasha with her fingers looking for your sweet opening that penetrates first with one finger and then with two.

"Nat, you’re driving me crazy," you say between groans and the other, and you move your pelvis over her fingers until you come on them. Natasha licks her fingers satisfied for her work while you continue to sigh for the pleasure you have felt.

You move into her bedroom, you don’t notice how it is furnished because you wouldn’t even have time to admire it. She puts you on top of the bed and puts herself on top of you with the knee placed in the middle of your legs to be able to tease you again in the middle and you kiss again. Then she turns by placing her buttocks on your face to put herself again where she caused the fireworks inside you and starts to penetrate you again with just one finger going deep causing you a pleasant feeling while you focus on her and her own pleasure.

You are interrupted by the doorbell and quickly disconnect as if you were at a crime scene and she lends you a t-shirt of her pajamas while she puts on the first things she finds to open the door. She return to the room with a face with an expression of disappointment and surprise and announces: "we have a new mission".

Thanks for reading!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝑺𝒑𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // Second part

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fortheloveoffanfic · 2 months ago

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Letters to Christmas: The Letter

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: Defying the logic of mail to bring you this subpar fic.

Fic summary Hozier masterlist

Summary: when Y/n's letter to an old flame ends up in the wrong mail box, Andrew decides to respond to a stranger across the pond.

Warnings: angst

Hey,

I know its been a while and I know I have no right sending this after everything, but its hard to see trees go up and not think about you. You always picked the best ones. I caved last year and got one of those plastic ones, from that department store we always went to. Its tall with frosted tips, and fills up that little space between the window and the fireplace really nicely. And there aren’t any pine needles to get caught in the floorboards, so that’s great too, but it doesn’t smell the same, but I guess a lot of things aren’t the same now. I haven’t decorated it yet, not like it matters, there’s no one but me here to see it and it feels awfully silly to decorate a tree that no one else is gonna see.

How’s the job going? And country living? Hopefully its everything you thought it would be, if there's anyone on this fucked up planet that deserves every shread of happiness that comes their way, its you. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted. Its funny how I used to know exactly what that was and now…..now we’re practically strangers.

Milo’s gone. I can’t remember if we’ve spoken since it happened, but we should’ve, you were his favorite person. But anyway, he was a happy cat, and it was quiet and easy. He just went to sleep on your chair one night and never woke up, he missed you so much, until the very end.

But enough of that.

If you do reply, send me a picture of an Irish winter, hopefully its prettier than Seattle around this time. Though, it doesn’t take much to be prettier than gray skies and slush on the sidewalk. Tell me about what work’s like, and your life there. Say anything.

I don’t know why I’m writing this, I guess I’m lonely. Or maybe bored, like you said. Maybe I’m looking for something that I only ever had with you – maybe I'll never have it with anyone else.

Love always,

Y/n.

There’s something in-between the penultimate and last paragraphs, but its been scratched off with such vigor that it isn't legible in the slightest. The dark patch of ink almost resembles those redacted documents in movies about rouge spies and wayward government agents and it makes Andrew think that whatever the letter’s author had written there must be so personal that they have no choice but to keep it near and dear. Its a secret that can’t be shared with someone she loves so deeply, so why should she share it with him, a total stranger thousands of miles away from her?

Then it hits him – almost an hour after pouring over this obviously personal letter, scrawled in slanted penmanship that reminds him of his own – these words were never meant for his eyes. He’s a stranger looking in, dragging his thumb along a little bleed in the ink that resembles a tear stain like the intruder he is. Its almost as bad as looking into someone’s window, except this person, whose face he’s never seen and whose voice he may never hear, won’t ever know that he is doing something that borders unspeakable.

Or will she?

Andrew has had the overwhelming urge to pen a response since his first reading of the letter that accidently made its way into his postbox. An accident – it couldn’t have been anything but that. It was addressed to a house one block over; 124 Crescent Avenue – his house is 124 Crenshaw Avenue, so he understands the mistake. Though, when he’d bundled himself up and walked over to Crescent Avenue, the house that the letter should have been delivered to was vacant with a ‘for sale’ sign pitched in the damp grass.

He should have taken it back to the post office, but snow had fallen on his mailbox, and subsequently melted, skewing the name on the front of the envelope so much that he could only make out a couple letters. It would have probably just been stamped with the words 'return to sender’ anyway, so really, he’s doing this person a service by offering them the illusion of receipt.

But that’s just an excuse concocted by prying eyes and a curious mind – and it does not deal with the itch to reply.

There’s just something about the ache welling off the page that resonates with him. Coming off a break-up himself, Andrew understands the sense of hopelessness that gets tangled up in an end. The ‘what if’s and ‘what could I have done?’s. Far too often, he thinks about the things he did that caused the demise of his own relationship;

It had started off as blaming her for not trying hard enough to understand him, but eventually, he’d come to terms with his own, albeit larger, role in the matter. Perhaps he should have tried harder to be someone she could understand.

Most days, Andrew tells himself that he’d do everything in his power to be different if she ever gives him a second – or rather third – chance. Though, he has very little faith in his ability to change. But he does know he’ll do anything to have things go back to the way they were before.

Rereading the bit about Y/n’s store bought tree, Andrew contemplates the amount of time he expends lately, watching his own, undecorated tree and thinking about the woman that used to carefully hang tinsel off the branches and hopes that she’s missing him the way he misses her, if only it would mean that she would allow him some undeserved opportunity for redemption.

Sloane. He was so sure it was going to be her for the rest of his life. They'd been together for so long that he isn't really sure that he quite knows how to do life without her.

The way things were, clearly they weren’t very good so why is he so eager to relive them?

He wonders if the writer of the letter in his hand – Y/n – feels the same way about her nameless person. Does she think about all the things she’d change if she had a second chance? She seems as lonely as he does right now, so perhaps she would.

Andrew wonders what she did to warrant the idea that her letter wouldn’t be welcome. As he does, he runs his thumb over her name at the bottom of the page, and suddenly his imagination is running wild with all sorts of thoughts. He wonders what she’s like, how she sounds and if she’s the sort of person that writes letters often. Maybe it was something special between her and the person she’d been hoping to reach, or maybe its something she just does. Anyhow, he likes it. he’s always wanted someone to write to when he’s away. Most of the people in his life prefer texting, because its faster, and its no easy task to converse via pen and paper when you’re on the road, covering three states in a week.

The rest of the day goes by so listlessly that he can’t help but let his mind stray to the letter over and over. It feels almost comical that he's sparing all this time thinking about words on a page, written by someone he’s never met.

By the time he gets to bed at around one am that night, a good fifteen hours since he first read Y/n’s letter, Andrew is staring at it again. The edges have now been softened by the number of times he'd picked it up and the words "Love always, Y/n" are underlined in his mind like a quiet echo, lingering longer than he liked to admit. He keeps wondering what she’d sound like if he could hear her say it which only serves to make him feel even more like an intruder, a stranger peering into someone else’s heartbreak.

Yet, he can’t shake the pull. It isn’t just her words; its the way they mirror his own thoughts. The hollow ache of losing something—someone—without ever knowing if you could have done better. Her loneliness is so painfully familiar, matching his own.

"She deserves her privacy," he mutters to himself, running his fingers over the previously untouched notebook that he’d brought along to bed. He keeps telling himself he’d only picked up because he’s been meaning to flesh out a couple ideas that have been swirling around over the past week. But the only person he’s lying to is himself, and he’s not doing a very good job of it.

Leaning back against the headboard, he exhaled sharply. "But what if..."

The thought was absurd, but it stuck. What if replying made things better, even if just for her? What if this small act of acknowledgment meant she didn’t have to feel like her words had been sent into the void?

Wouldn’t he like it if someone did it for him? He isn’t quite sure.

Nonetheless, Andrew reaches forward, pulls the notebook onto his lap, and uncaps his pen. The words started slowly, stilted, but they came:

Dear Y/n,

We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter……..

Y/n feels awfully stupid about sending that letter, but what makes her feel even worse is checking her mailbox in the lobby everyday only to find it empty. Its been a week since she sent it off, and she’s almost certain that its reached its destination by now.

Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you, a small voice insists. Y/n doesn’t think she has any right to grieve over it, she’s the whole reason their relationship met its ugly demise. It was her selfishness, her stubbornness, her putting her own needs over his. So really, she had absolutely no right to the privilege of his time or attention, but that doesn’t mean she can’t miss him.

Shaking off the memory, she slaps the little, brass door closed, locks it and trudges towards the elevator, defeated. Maybe its time to accept that he is not going to write back – maybe its about time she starts accepting that its over between them. For good, its done; she ruined it. She stomped all over the best thing she’s ever had and there’s no use crying about it now – though, after a couple glasses of wine, she probably will.

For almost ten years, they used to be each other’s everything, doesn’t that mean anything to him anymore?

"Ten years, Y/n. Ten fucking years," he stresses, running worn fingers through his wind touseled hair, "you can write from anywhere in the world. Seattle.....Ireland. Doesn't this - us - mean enough to you for you to give it a try?"

As the dull, metallic doors slide closed, effectively shutting out all the activity in the lobby, Y/n presses the worn button that’ll take her to the seventh floor and just when the elevator starts going up, a familiar Christmas tune comes over the speakers. Pressing her back to the cool reflective wall, she finds herself humming along to it. Even if she isn't in the grandest mood, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice never fails to lighten the weight on her shoulders. For a minute, Y/n shuts her eyes and lets a little fantasy take her;

He’ll write back, say he misses her. In another follow-up letter, she will apologize and ask if there’s still any chance for them. He’ll say yes – in her mind, he always says yes because, sometimes, you can love someone enough to give them a second chance.

In her silly little unmade memory, it all works out somehow. They do the long distance thing for a while, until he’s ready to come home to her.

The ding of the elevator startles Y/n out of thought, and with a jump, she pushes off the wall and awkwardly tugs at her cashmere scarf. “So stupid,” she mutters, shoving the strap of her bag higher up on her shoulder, clad in a heavy, gray long coat. Stepping out into the long hallway, she twists her frame awkwardly to reach into her handbag, rummaging around for her keys.

Y/n is within a few feet of her door, the last one down a hall that houses four other apartments, heeled boots wet with melting snow thumping softly on the long strip of burgundy and gold carpet. “Y/n!” The door right before hers swings open with the sort of enthusiasm that can only be mustered up by her eccentric, and frustratingly nosey, neighbor. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Gladis,” Y/n tries to hide her groan under a bubbly smile, “me? Why?” God, please let this be a quick conversation.

“Gosh, I swear, its like I never see you,” the older woman bulldozes right over her earlier question, “I'd never think you lived next door if it wasn’t for all those packages that get dropped off – a little shopping addiction, have we?”

Y/n chuckles wearily, quickly thinking up excuses that would validate an escape from the clutches of small talk with Gladis. “Ha, maybe,” she licks her lips and rubs her thumb along the side of her house key, “you know, i’d love to chat but I have a meeting in…..” pretending to check her watch, she summons a gasp that would make her highschool drama teacher proud, “thirty minutes, so I really should get going.”

“Oh, well, then,” Gladis frowns, “let me just give you this, I think your mail got mixed up in mine,” she explains, handing over a brown envelope littered with stamps on the front. “Coming all the way from Ireland, Peter’s out there, isn’t he?”

The envelope feels heavier than she’d expected. It wasn’t just the weight of the paper; it was the promise of something inside. A response. From Peter? Her heart twisted at the thought, but the handwriting on the front didn’t match his neat, precise script. This was different—messier, almost rushed.

Furrowing her brows, Y/n stares at the address that she’s certain isn’t Peter's. “Huh,” briefly, she glances back up at Gladis, “What? Oh, yeah, he is,” she rattles off, now even more eager to muster up a quick good-bye and be on her way. “Look um, I should go.”

“Oh, of course. Busy busy,” Gladis chuckles softly, then, as Y/n starts walking off, she adds in a tone of pesky judgment, “too busy to even decorate, I see.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Y/n slips her key into the lock. Of course, even she can admit how sad and plain her door, lacking a wreath like Gladis’ and her other neighbors, but Y/n just can’t seem to bring herself to decorate. Every time she looks at the boxes she’s pulled out of storage, it makes her a little sad – no Peter to insist on mistletoe in every doorway, or Milo to swat at twinkling lights with his tiny paw. “Yeah,” Y/n licks her lips, “something like that. Take care Gladis,” she manages soberly before slipping inside.

Upon shutting the door, Y/n presses her back to the cool, white-painted oak she gives the brown envelope another long look. She hesitates, her fingers trembling as they finally slide under the flap to tear it open. The crinkle of the paper fills the silence of her apartment as she unfolded the letter, joining the slight shake of her breathing.

Getting it out, the name at the bottom catches her eye first: Andy. Not Peter.

Y/n blinked. Confusion giving way to curiosity as she reads the opening lines.

“We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter...”

A stranger. A stranger had read her words. Her cheeks flushed hot, and she almost crumpled the paper on instinct, shame pooling in her chest. But something stops her. She can’t just do that, not when this stranger has given her time out of his day to offer whatever comfort he can muster up for someone oceans away.

So stumbles out of the foyer and into the living room, dropping herself unceremoniously onto the long sofa as she keeps reading.

Dear Y/n,

We don’t know each other, and I know I shouldn’t have opened your letter but I hope you don’t mind me writing this. I know this is wrong—it wasn’t meant for me, and for that, I’m truly sorry. But I promise you, I tried to do the right thing and take it to its intended address, but the house is empty and up for sale, and the snow has all but ruined the envelope. So here I am, writing to a stranger, hoping I’m not overstepping by responding.

I’m Andy. Well, Andrew. You know, I’m not really sure how to do this.

But your words stayed with me. They remind me of something I’ve lost—or maybe, thrown away. I can’t explain it, but your letter didn’t feel like something I could just set aside. It was raw, honest and that kind of loneliness…….I think understand it. I know what it's like to feel like you’ve screwed everything up. To become a stranger to someone you used to know better than the back of your own hand. Its funny how that happens, how someone can become such a huge part of your life and know everything about you, and you think you know everything about them. And then one day they just…..leave, but you can’t really blame them because its all your fault.

I’m also sorry about your Milo, losing a pet is like losing a piece of your home. But for what its worth, I’m sure he appreciated you being there with him until the end. It's such a simple joy, having someone that stays until the end, not that I would know anything about it. I seem to have a knack for driving people away.

As for your tree, I have to admit that mine’s just as sad. It’s just sitting undecorated in the corner of my living room, looking a bit sorry for itself. I keep telling myself I’ll get around to putting up the lights and ornaments, but it feels strange doing it alone, I used to have someone to help me decorate too. But she’s gone now, and maybe this is my way of avoiding the reminder of what’s missing.

You asked about Irish winters. If I’m being honest, they’re usually pretty gray and the cold kind of seeps into your bones. Wicklow is never short on snow, or rain, so we’re no stranger to slush. And iced-over driveways. But so far, we’ve had a good one this year, no too much rain so the snow stays put – my driveways still frozen, though. Sometimes, at least where I’m from, it gets so quiet, almost like the world’s holding its breath. Its beautiful, its lonely.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this, except that it feels like the right thing to do. I don’t know what you were hoping to find when you sent your letter, but maybe this reply means that neither of us has wasted the effort. If you do write back, I’d like to hear more about your plastic tree—and maybe even see a picture. I’ll send one of mine in return. Let’s make it a contest. May the best tree win.

Take care, Y/n. And thank you for making me feel a little less lonely.

– Andy.

By the time she reaches the end, Y/n’s chest aches in a way that isn’t unpleasant. The tone isn’t mocking or dismissive. Its... kind. Empathetic. This Andy doesn’t know her, but somehow, he understands.

It takes her a handful of minutes to process everything that’s happened; her hope of reconnecting with Peter, this newfound affinity with a man she’s never met. Suddenly, and quite surprisingly, Y/n doesn’t feel the loss so greatly anymore.

Though, the longer Y/n stares at the letter, its neatly folded edges sharp when she drags her fingers along them, the more she starts feeling a tightness in her stomach. The kindness in his tone, the shared loneliness in his admissions, the unexpected warmth that radiated from every line—all of it made her chest ache in ways she couldn’t untangle.

But she can't shake the shame curling in her stomach.

Letting it go, she presses her fingertips to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. What was I thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, that's the truth. Sending that letter to Peter—an impulse born from desperation and the relentless tug of the holiday season—was foolish enough. But now, knowing a stranger has read her most private thoughts, her rawest emotions? Its borders unbearable.

Her cheeks burn at the memory of her own words, the confessions she’d stupidly spilled without thinking. “Maybe I’m looking for something that I only ever had with you.” How could she have written that? Would she even say that to Peter had they been on the phone, or in the same room? Probably not. And now, Andrew—a stranger—had seen it, read it, felt sorry for her.

She swallows hard, a lump forming in her throat and embarrassment suddenly gives way to anger that boils up and makes her skin hot. “He shouldn’t have opened it,” she mutters to the. “He had no right.” But the protest sounds hollow, even to her own ears. The house was vacant, and the envelope had been damaged by the snow. Andrew’s apology seemed sincere, and his intentions genuine.

But writing back to him feels... wrong. Like a betrayal of something she isn’t ready to let go of. She still loves Peter, these are thoughts meant for him, these feelings belong to him – she can’t just give her innermost thoughts to someone else like that.

Y/n spends so long wrapped up in turmoil that she almost forgets that there were other things besides Andrew’s letter in the envelope, until she goes to move it off her jean-cald lap and two photographs slip out. Drawing in a sharp breath, she collects them off the tweed cushion. The first one is of a backyard she’s never seen before, the pool is covered and there are patches of snow gathered near tall trees with white flecks peppered on the bare bones of ornamental bushes. The yard retreats into what she guesses is the forest, and she wonders what it must be like living so close to wildlife; she’s lived in the city all her life with only a couple vacations to the likes of Aspen and Maine – both with Peter – but seeing that much foliage in person is still foreign to her.

The second picture is of a sparse Christmas tree standing in front of a wide, floor to ceiling window. Its so tall, it almost reaches the high ceilings of what seems like a spacious living room. Her finger traces the outline of the tree, and she thinks back on what he said about not having someone to help him decorate. When Y/n turns it over, there note scrawled on the back and it reads: "Mine’s a little sad too."

Then, for the first time in days, Y/n smiles……and the anger wans.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #fanficton #holiday fic #letters to Christmas

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