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attapullman · 5 months

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Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x gn!reader, extremely fluffy, food mentions, heavy making out, shirtless Bob, only referred to as Robert for the series, unrealistic expectations of next door neighbors, 18+ as always. This idea hit me like a bus while walking the dog (where I almost was hit by a bus) and has been fully unable to leave my brain since then. Cozy, sweet, overly helpful Neighbor!Bob is literally all I want for Christmas. And he's my holiday present to all of you!

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

“I have a ladder you can borrow.” You look up from the box of Christmas lights you’re detangling in the garage to see your neighbor standing in the opening to the street. Coffee mug in hand as he watches you loop out another knot. He’d noticed your garage open that morning, too early for a Saturday, and came to investigate or possibly offer assistance. If there is one thing Robert Floyd does best, it’s help his neighbors.

You had moved into the tidy bungalow just under a year ago, placing a potted fern on the doorstep and painting over the dated beige walls. It was finally starting to feel like a home. Now with the holidays approaching (as reminded by the entirely too jolly Santas everywhere in town) you were excited to start new traditions in your humble home. And it started with putting twinkling lights on the house, lights currently tangled in the cardboard box you haphazardly threw them in twelve months ago.

Threading out another knot, you give him a playful smile. “How do you know I don’t have a ladder?”

“Lucky guess?” He’s not going to admit he’s scanned and memorized nearly every inch of your garage.

The day after the moving truck came and went, you were thrilled when your first new neighbor rang your doorbell. While you had expected some middle aged woman with a plate of brownies and a plea for babysitting, you were pleasantly surprised at the man in a flight suit (Lt. Robert Floyd according to the stitching) with the striking blue eyes who stood there instead. He didn’t have brownies, but he happily gave you the lowdown on the neighborhood as you sat amongst moving boxes drinking lemonade out of paper cups.

As the months passed, an easy friendship had developed amongst neighbors. In the morning before making his way to base, Robert would scoop up your morning paper and walk it up the seven steps to your porch. The paper boy always threw it short. And despite numerous pleas to leave it be - you didn’t mind the short walk - every morning when you went for the paper, there it sat neatly on your mat along with any misdelivered mail.

And when he wasn’t saving kittens from trees in his free time, Robert was a shining example of a great neighbor. Driving his truck for a trip to get plants at the nursery, lending his mower when yours broke in the heat of July, cleaning your gutters when the leaves fell…you shouldn’t be surprised he’s now offering up his ladder so you can enjoy your Christmas lights. Looking down at the tangled mess, you hadn’t even thought about how you were going to get them actually on the house. Nails? Did you even own nails?

Not even an hour later you’re standing on the sidewalk facing your home with a hot cup of coffee in your chilly hands. Propped up on a ladder with detangled lights in one hand - and a tool belt around his waist like your personal Mr. Fix It - Robert hums to himself as he hammers nails into the trim before wrapping the first strand of lights in place.

You had accepted his ladder graciously, but mentioned you needed to hit the hardware store first for nails. With a nod of his head he left your garage and you continued on the lights. It was a tedious project, but rewarding once the final strand lay flat against the concrete floor. You were digging around in boxes for tools when your neighbor reappeared. He had a ladder and his tool belt, a full box of nails clutched in his large hand. Cheeks warm, you assured him you would buy your own. He let out a playful pfft.

“Nonsense. It’s Saturday, the hardware store will be packed. Consider them an early Christmas gift.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me at least trade you for them? A cup of coffee?”

“Do you still have those Kona beans?” His ocean blue eyes are hopeful.

Your smile widened as you nodded. The overpriced beans you had expensively shipped every month were a favourite of the weapons systems officer. Last month you had hosted the homeowners association meeting (for the first and hopefully only time) and Robert had raved about the coffee you served. He was used to the basic stuff they made on base, his own home brewing not much better. Your coffee was the best.

When you came back to the garage after whipping up a carafe - hot mug in hand - you shouldn’t have been surprised to see your neighbor already up the ladder, deep into the project.

You holler up to him. “Robert, get down! You don’t need to do that!”

But he waves you off, insisting that he had already started and might as well finish the job. He would just drink your delicious coffee once he was done. And so you were relegated to the sidewalk to make sure everything looked straight from the street.

From this distance you could admire him innocently. The military-issue wire frames that catch the morning sun. Broad shoulders under the neat canvas barn coat he recently replaced when the corduroy collar ripped. His strong hands shielded from the chilled wind under his workman’s gloves. Because someone like Robert Floyd follows safety precautions and owns workman’s gloves.

At this angle you can see the slight smile on his lips as he strings lights along your porch. For the next hour you watch him put up lights, him occasionally turning back and asking you how they look.

“Are you sure they’re straight?” You promise him they are, but he meticulously checks his work anyway. He wants your house to look perfect.

The wind has tinged both your cheeks a deep pink and the cold is starting to seep through boots. Robert has nailed the last of your lights to the trim and deemed them faultless. He comes down the ladder and walks to stand beside you to admire his handiwork. Hands on hips - with that damn tool belt still astride his waist - he turns to you beaming at a job well done. It’s impossible not to beam back, thinking how long it would have taken you to do even a job half as good.

“Thank you for putting up the lights. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” He isn’t sure whether your cheeks are red from the cold or something else. “I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

His smile is permanently stuck at your compliment. He opens his mouth to make a joking comment about the coffee you owe him - anything for more time together - when he feels the telltale buzz in his pocket. Pulling it reluctantly out after shedding a glove, he sees it’s Phoenix and is only semi-annoyed. They have lunch plans, which he’s running late for. And while he’s sure his front seater would approve of him blowing her off for the neighbor he can’t stop talking about, he’s a better friend than that.

Turning back to you, where you’re enjoying your freshly strung twinkling lights, Robert rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I have to head out…lunch plans. Rain check on that coffee?”

Nodding through your disappointment, you help him gather up his ladder and assure him that coffee is his whenever he wants.

The following morning you pad toward your front door, eyes bleary from a deep sleep. The house was cold and you pull your robe tighter around you. Through the glass panel in the door you can see your paper on the mat, as always, ready for you to consume over coffee and toast. As you open the oak door and scurry to shut it with the paper secured, something - or rather someone - catches your eye.

Robert stands in the doorway of his own bungalow, calmly watching the neighborhood. The thick fair isle sweater covering his wide shoulders looks incredibly cozy, and he nurses a mug between both hands. He exists in that moment without worry, and you’re envious.

His placid expression is broken when he feels your eyes, turning his head to see you, bedhead and newspaper clutched in your fist. His lips turn in a warm smile and he raises one hand in a slow, friendly wave. Your heart flutters, utterly taken away with how surely he carries himself, how sweetly he treats others. An emotion quickly squashed when you realize you are still standing in a bathrobe and knobby socks, flying back inside and shutting the door with heated cheeks.

As you go about working on your Sunday chores, you keep picturing Robert’s face, that small happy smile you can’t get out of your head.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in the sheets unable to find peace, you finally trudge down the hall into the living room, settling under blankets on the plush couch with a cup of chamomile. You’ve lost details of the plot of the movie you started, brain racing as your fingers fidget with the mug.

The faint trill of your phone on the coffee table breaks you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bo-Robert…from next door?” You yawn a hello while checking the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. “I just wanted to check if everything was alright? Noticed your lights were on.”

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at his concern. Picturing him peering out his kitchen window with the striped cotton curtains, filling up his own kettle, distressed that your house lights were on so late. You’d like to think he wore tartan pajamas, neatly buttoned. Those would suit him.

You settle back into the cushions as you reply. “Everything’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

“Better question is, what are you doing up so late?”

The whistle and clink of boiling water and china crash over the line. A sigh pulled from his lips before responding. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea while I finished some reports, but appears that I am out.”

You glance down at your own mug of tea. It’s late, but not that late.

“What kind of tea do you like?” He muses on about his lack of preference - an equal opportunity tea lover - before admitting he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint. You make your way to the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you both open your cupboards. Your voice feels small as you offer, “I think I might have some.”

A silence lingers on the line. An unspoken late night implication that neither of you knows what to make of it. Your fingers flip through boxes of tea that take up too much cupboard space. Pomegranate, green, oolong. You don’t even drink tea that often. But right as you think you have too many white teas, you see the striped box of peppermint tea, one lone bag waiting for its turn.

You empty the box and walk to the window in your kitchen, where you can see the faint light on through his curtains. You clear your throat. “Look out your kitchen window.”

To your disappointment, Robert does not wear tartan pajamas to sleep. Although you are delighted to see his shirtless chest, defined from years of Navy training. He waves at you through your respective kitchen windows, holding up his mug of hot water. You lift up the tea bag, and his face splits into a toothy smile.

Before you can offer to bring it to him, he’s already turning toward his front door, speaking into the phone, “I’ll be over, just a minute. Need to find my coat.”

By the time there’s a soft knock on the door, you’ve turned on the kettle and gotten a fresh mug for him. You open the door, greeted by the tip of his nose and ears a merry red, the cold kissing his features. He’s been outside all of a minute. You usher your neighbor in, watching him observe how you’ve put up garlands and festive knickknacks in the entry since his last visit.

He slips off his boots, bare feet settling on the cold hardwood, and fingers the collar of his canvas barn coat. In his rush to come over he’d thrown his coat on forgetting his bare chest. It feels obnoxious to be half naked in your home, so he keeps his coat on and follows you to the kitchen.

“Peppermint still good?” You tease, the packet of tea leaves in your hand. He nods, slightly distracted by how cozy you look in your soft loungewear and the robe from this morning. Dunking the bag into the hot water, you search for a topic to pass the steeping time. But when you turn to talk to him, words catch in your throat because he’s right there.

Eyes so blue the sky is jealous. Shy smile so friendly it warms the room. Your thoughts dirtily flit to the tool belt around his waist on the ladder, fingers adeptly wielding a hammer. Fingers that brush yours in the proximity. He’s so close and your brain blanks as bodies simultaneously take action.

Your mouths find each other effortlessly, bodies pressing together as if they know the moves the two of you were just figuring out. The low-lying tension building for the past year breaking the surface as the dark of the house gives you both the bravery needed. His hands are cold as they find your waist, your hands too warm on his chilled jaw.

His mouth is all soft lips and hard pressure, the faint hint of toothpaste in his taste. It’s exactly as you imagined, but better.

Lips become more desperate the longer you connect, your back suddenly against the counter as he presses into you. This moment has been building since he’d watched you first walk up the front steps with that too big moving box. A hand slips into his sun-bleached locks he always has so perfectly combed. He moans into your mouth, a sinful noise in the quiet kitchen.

Before sense can interrupt, you’re reaching for the zipper of his coat, revealing every inch of his toned pale chest as the zipper slowly comes down. You slide a hand over the skin, a low gasp slipping out at the strong muscle. You’ve been attracted to his mind for so long, it feels unfair his body should be attractive too.

He shrugs out of the barn coat and follows you to the lowly lit living room, where the couch is softer on your back than the counter edge. Sitting side by side, knees knocking, he’s more hesitant to touch you in this context. Despite his body screaming to explore every inch of his pretty neighbor’s mind and body, he knows he’s basically barged into your home and immediately stuck his tongue in your sweet mouth. You get to set the pace.

“This okay?” His hand encompasses your knee, thumb rubbing smoothly through the fabric. You nod, tilting your head toward him to continue kissing. He’s warmed up now, your home and body bringing him to temperature. Robert smiles into your kiss. You can’t get enough of him, wanting to consume him fully. He’s delicate with you in the most delicious of ways; gentle kisses pressed to your soft lips before sliding his tongue across to politely ask for access.

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

You place you hand on his hip, enjoying the warm skin and lean muscle beneath your fingertips. Groaning lightly into your mouth, he blindly reaches for your hips to bring you into his lap. His tongue takes its time to taste you, learn every intricacy of your flavor. Administration so thorough your eyes roll back in your head. The sounds escaping you music in the darkened room.

Fingers dance across skin, finding purchase on thighs, shoulders, chests. You can’t get close enough to him, resting one hand on the back of his neck as your swollen lips press harder to his. Robert loves the way your thighs straddle him as he leans against the couch cushions, his warm, large hands along your back bringing you closer to him. Your sharp inhale as one hand toys with the waistband of your lounge pants.

When his lips trail down your neck, praising the delicate skin, you can’t hold back your declaration any longer. “I…I’ve wanted this for a while.”

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

That gratified smile will forever be imprinted along your neck. “I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in.”

The whimpers that rip through you when he nips the thin skin behind your ear have him grabbing your chin and swallowing your sounds. Reveling in the shared passion you’ve both had simmering beneath the surface. Can’t help his hips rutting up into yours, glorious friction he’s been craving satisfied. You giggle through a moan against his lips.

“So, we could have been doing this all year long? What a shame, lieutenant.”

You ground down in his lap, running your own tongue along his lips and savoring his taste. Thoughts of what he tastes like after his peppermint tea have you wrapping your arms tighter around his bare shoulders. Behind his head, outside the window, the faint glow of the Christmas lights he strung up shines in the winter night. How did you find this perfect man, and how is he your neighbor?

You express your gratitude for him with your mouth along his jaw, licking along the skin while he deliciously whimpers in your ear.You can only take so much before you’re sealing your lips over his again, inhaling his every breath.

As lips finally reach exhaustion - brains well past tired as the clock strikes a new hour - Robert and you pull apart with content smiles. Already cold without his warmth, you immediately lean back into him. He’s practically a furnace now under your ministrations. Unspoken words pass between as you invite him to sleep on your couch with you. A throw blanket produced from the nearby chair as the two of you tangle your limbs. There’s something comforting in the way he rests your head upon his arm, your knee upon his thigh. Again, it’s like your bodies know the actions like they’ve been waiting for you to finally figure them out.

You’ve just settled your head upon his warm chest when a thought strikes you, prompting you to lean up to look at those sleepy cerulean eyes. The small curious smile he gives you melting your heart.

“Did you still want your tea?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, using the last of his energy to tuck the blanket tighter around your body. “It’s okay. I got what I really wanted.”

Your heart feels two sizes too big as he presses a kiss to your temple before sleep takes you both.

When the winter sunrise streams through your curtains the next morning, you refuse to get up. Perfectly warm wrapped up in the thin throw and your neighbor’s arms, you are purely too content. When Robert blinks open his eyes and gazes at your face, he sees the same placid smile he wore the morning before. The same one he’s had since you moved in next door.

Despite both being all too happy to remain entangled on the couch, sharing small kisses on any skin within reach, the responsibilities of Monday morning dawn and you must get up. Reluctantly you release him, watching him fold the throw neatly upon the sofa arm before helping you stand. Warmth blossoms down your spine the more you’re in Robert’s presence, the little things he does meaning so much to you. Especially as he strides through your home shirtless, musing about the whereabouts of his coat on the kitchen floor.

Your eyes flit to the cold mug of abandoned peppermint tea as you offer him coffee. But he’s intent on getting home for his flight suit, the drive to base longer than he’d like. Of course, he would ideally spend the morning drinking your expensive delicious coffee and listen to you go on about the neighbors down the street with the atrocious holiday decorations. If you’d let him, he would spend every morning like that for the rest of time. But his admiral would put him in drills all week if he was any later.

You walk him to the door, robe pulled tight across your chest to keep out the cold. He’s pulled on his boots for the short walk and wraps his arms around you in an intimate embrace, disappointed this perfect night must come to an end. You bury your nose in his jacket-covered chest to enjoy the last of his herbal and citrus scent, hands reluctantly slipping from his middle. He turns to leave and both your hearts pang.

When Robert reaches the end of your path, he bends down and picks up the paper, thrown too short as always. He turns around and retraces his steps, walking back up the steps and straight up to where you reside in the doorway still. Fingers brush as he hands you the newspaper, saving you the walk as he always does. Only this morning he tips his head to press a kiss to your lips.

You’re already adding peppermint tea to your shopping list as you walk back into the house. Just for him.

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #top gun maverick fan fiction #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #x reader #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fluff #gn!reader #neighbor!bob

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elliexmylove · 6 months

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✮˚｡⋆ferns and moths⋆｡˚✮

ellie x f!reader

sinopse: you colour in ellie's tattoo while hanging out which leads to something more

cw: making out, swearing , heavily implied smut, confession

i hate this ngl

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

the alarm clock beside your bed went off at six am waking you up for what would usually be patrol, the shifts had been recently changed so jesse replaced you. the day was free to you now so you stretched and sprawled out over your bed after turning the alarm off, for the next three hours you slept soundly.

a soft knock on your door woke you slightly, you only turn on your side, now being more comfortable than ever. the knock was louder the second time but not enough for you to really care in your sleepy daze.

knocking for a third time the person clearly did not care if you were sleeping as they banged on your door with their fist, "fuck." you mumbled, pushing yourself up onto your elbow taking a minute to open your eyes. eventually throwing the blankets off of yourself you were met with a chill, the person banged on the door again and continued as you strode to the source of sound.

the door swung open with force as you stood about to greet the person with annoyance, and ellie stood there, fist mid air, about to hit the door again. her eyes widened for a second in surprise until her eyes took you in, cosy plaid pyjamas, hair messy and tired eyes filled with irritation. a small smirk went unnoticed by you,

"hey,"

"morning," you rub your eyes and blink a few times, ellie crosses her arms in the cold,

"i knocked three times,"

"i'm aware."

"what the fuck! it's freezing out here,"

you look at the grey hoodie she's wearing,

"maybe you should have thought about wearing something warmer,"

"i thought you would let me in quicker,"

"why would you assume that."

"i dunno, cause you care about me or whatever,"

you raise your eyebrows with an expressionless face, staring at her,

"yeah okay, come in." you finally decide.

you now notice the snow softly falling outside.

"oh my bad." you laugh

ellie shuts the door behind her and walks to your bed as you're already sitting down, "what's up?" you ask as she takes her shoes off and sits on the bed with her legs crossed getting comfortable,

"i dunno, i thought we could hang out cause we don't have patrol today."

"yeah i just thought we would both sleep in first."

"we can, i just wanted to spend time with you."

you nod with a smile and get back under the covers, ellie does the same, as you get comfortable and stretch your arms above your head, resting them there, "sorry bro i'm just really tired,"

ellie's hand falls onto your face as she lies next to you with her eyes closed letting you know it's okay and to shut up because she's tired too.

you start to fall asleep again almost instantly until ellies body sprawls across your bed, taking up almost all of the space and you groan, "get on your side of the bed." you kick her under the blankets, she softly smiles but doesn't move.

after drifting to sleep again your head turns to the side, squinting to see the time, only thirty minutes had passed, ellie's legs were tangled with yours and there was no space on the bed for you, your mind wandered to pushing her off the bed and you found yourself smiling evilly at the satisfaction in your mind.

while you were picturing shaking her back and forth her head turned toward you, eyes closed and fast asleep. you turned toward her, oxygen no longer filling your lungs as much as it should while your breathing slowed to almost a stop.

her eyes looked so peaceful and pretty as she slept, your eyes dragged down her face to her lips, slightly chapped from not drinking enough water, which you were also guilty of. one strand of hair lay across her freckled skin, before you knew it your fingers tucked it behind her ear leading you to almost choke on your own spit as her beautiful eyes slowly opened, her face lit up in a soft smile.

shiiit you'd hit that

beside you ellie sat up cracking her back and neck, your hands held your cheeks feeling how warm they were. "you slept for long enough now?"

"yeah."

"wanna do something or?"

"sure, you wanna sketch again or something?" i'm cool with just listening to music."

she shrugs and frowns in thought, "yeah, you got a sketchbook or something i can use?"

without saying anything you get off the bed on your way to get the paper and your walkman, ellie reaches over to smack your ass,

"ellie." You groan in frustration as she chuckles amused.

skimming through the pages of your sketchbook filled with doodles you make sure there's a clear page for ellie to use, you'll probably colour in her drawings because you can, so the colouring pencils that have been hiding under your bed for months are about to be disturbed. you pick up the walkman from the table and bend down to look under your bed, seeing the pencils in a container, along with markers.

the bed bounces after you jump on it and you reach your arms out as if to calm the movement,

ellie takes the sketchbook from you and gently smacks you on the head with it, your instincts kick in as you hit her arm, in return you get punched in your arm twice making you wince but only getting you more riled up, ellie gets tackled onto the bed letting you hear her beautiful laugh, she wraps her arms around you tightly as your body fights to get out of the tight grip, the need to beat her up is strong but she's stronger.

Your teeth sink into her arm as you bite her, "ow! what the fuck!" she half laughs in surprise letting you go, she looks at the clearly visible teeth marks in her arm. you then notice her tattoo and look to your markers, a plan made in your mind.

"el can i colour in your tattoo?"

"no! you just bit my arm."

"i've done it before so like, what's the issue here exactly."

she chuckles and nods, "yeah sure." granting permission.

no time was wasted as you begun colouring in, bent down to her arm focusing intently, one of your hands holding her arm in place while the other was carefully colouring the fern dark green.

she stared down at you not planning to look away, your hand on her arm made her feel something deep in her stomach. your breath fanned gently across her skin and her gaze burned holes through your head, the mood quickly changing.

your hand accidentally smudged the ink outside the edge, "shit sorry," you apologise, "you good or do you want me to stop?" once you look up your met with her eyes fixed on you.

"don't stop."

you frown slightly confused at her tone but continue anyway.

your hand gently grips her arm again, she looks at your hair and begins to play with it with her free hand, twirling it around her finger. "what're doing?" you murmur,

"playing with your hair." she said softly

"it feels nice."

"yeah?"

you were careful next to the outline of the fern, making sure not to colour outside the lines in the last bit, sitting up and shuffling over ellie quickly lifted her hand out of your hair unhappily

"dude."

"what? i'm just getting a different colour for the moth, i didn't think you enjoyed playing with my hair that much." you laughed getting a brown marker.

once back in position you looked at ellie who was already staring at you, your eyes glanced down to her lips for a second then focused back on her eyes.

"fuck."

your body heated up slightly, the situation seeming different now. ellie's eyes glared at you relentlessly and without realising it, you licked your lips as they suddenly felt dry, ellie now stared at your lips after you unknowingly drew her attention to them.

silence filled the air and your body grew very hot, you inched closer and her eyes flickered back to yours, "what're you doing?" she said lowly, you felt your stomach flip as you stared directly into her eyes.

"you do know i really fucking like you right?"

"aw. that's so sweet."

her voice alone made your stomach twist into knots.

the silence became agonizing and you didn't know what to do, after a moment she seemed to recognize what you were feeling and stopped teasing,

"i like you too,"

"i really, really like you." she breathed out leaning and crawling on top of you, those words were an understatement for the both of you, you two had liked each other two years ago this was way more than that now.

you sighed as you felt one of her hands rest behind your neck and the other gently cup your cheek, your lips moved together slowly, ellies tongue slid across your lip asking for permission to which to opened your mouth for her, the slow kiss turned into gentle urgency.

minutes went by making you pull away for air, keeping close to her face, the soft feel of her breath fanning over your lips.

"i've wanted to do that for so fucking long y/n."

"really?" You smile sweetly at her confession,

"yeah," she breathes out mirroring your smile

"and i wanna do it more."

she straddles you, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear as she looks down at you. taking no longer than a minute to admire you she answers your silent plea and leans down to kiss you.

a small moan slips out before you can stop it when ellie accidentally moves on you, her eyes widening,

"sorry i didn't mean to-"

"shh, shut up."

"ahh ellie what're you doing?"

ellies lips are now on your neck, making you sigh. "is this okay?"

"yeah- mmphfuck,"

ellie bit down, you lean your head back giving her better access and closing your eyes, she softly licks over the bite to soothe it.

you move under her rubbing against her jeans making her curse quietly, "can i uhm, take your pants off?" she looks at your face carefully, looking for any signs of discomfort. "yeah okay." You smile and lean up to kiss her, "you're sure?" she breaks away to ask, "it's okay if you're not ready i don't wanna rush anything i just-"

"ellie, i want to."

she looked at you unconvinced,

"i don't wanna just fuck you, i want to be with you."

you nearly passed out, giggling internally and kicking your feet,

"i wanna do both."

she raises her eyebrows at you, surprised at your confidence.

"then let's do both."

you lifted yourself half off the bed assisting her in taking your pyjama pants off, she stared seemingly out of it for a second then licked her lips and placed them on yours, hand reaching down under your underwear.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie fluff #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #wlw #ellie x masc reader #ellie williams imagine

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tamurilofrivendell · 9 months

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Arranged | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The Mirkwood courts having successfully pushed Thranduil into accepting a new queen through an arranged marriage. However, he cannot seem to help comparing them to his former wife. When tensions run high and reader calls the whole thing off, Thranduil realises the error of his ways.

Content etc: Thranduil being a little bit of an ass I guess. Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: number 32 & 39 on this list

requested by anonymous (I’m sorry this took literally forever and I’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted!)

word count: 4.6k

tags: @firelightinferno, @achromaticerebus, @coopsgirl, @birbixo0912, @desert-fern, @ancient-rime, @lady-of-imladris, @weepingdreammarvel, @asianbutnotjapanese, @deadlymistletoe

“This is wrong.” Thranduil’s voice snapped you out of your tangled thoughts and you lifted your head with a confused frown, looking back at him.

"What is?" You asked, not even having had any clue as to what it was that he was working on over there on the sprawling couch of his large private library.

Thranduil looked up and met your gaze. "The guards you have picked." He gestured to the paper in his hands as if it should be obvious. "They are not of a high enough level to guard the Queen."

“Oh.” You gave him a quizzical look, tilting your head. You weren’t entirely sure about levels and the like. Nobody had said anything yesterday. Nobody had even really told you much at all, in all honesty, you had been sort of left to fend for yourself. “I... didn’t know anything about that. I just had to watch them fight and pick, you said. They appeared good enough for me. I think they would do just fine.”

The Elvenking blinked at you for a moment, his thoughts more critical than he would have liked. If you had not been sure, why had you not asked? Deep down, he knew that you could not possibly have known to ask because he had not told you that you could, or should. He’d told you to pick your own guards and then left you in the training grounds to attend a council meeting. However, Thranduil had simply assumed you would have asked for help or clarification if you had needed it. And clearly you had if this list was anything to go by. As it was, you had not wanted to cause a fuss, or look foolish, or add more work to the king’s heavy load. The soldiers showing off their skills had seemed capable enough and that had been all you’d thought you needed to look for. Besides, how would you know anything about their levels? You still did not yet know everybody here.

Thranduil’s silence was uncomfortable but then he simply tsk'd and lowered his gaze again. He shrugged, almost to himself, but he did not sign off on the document. He simply scored something out before setting it to one side to go back to later. He would pick, he decided. If he let you choose low levelled guards, how would they protect you?

She would have chosen better, he thought, though it was there and gone again so quickly that he did not notice he’d thought it at all.

You eyed him for another long moment before you moved to leave the library, heading away down the corridor. He had been in a fairly strange mood all day and you supposed you should leave him to it. Not bad, exactly, just... distracted, perhaps.

Most likely he was still struggling a little with this entire situation and you couldn't really blame him for that because it was still so very strange for you too. To have wound up in an arranged marriage with the King of Mirkwood. You yourself were from Lothlórien, daughter of an important elf in the Lord and Lady's court.

While unexpected, you could see the positives in such an arrangement and, truthfully, you liked Thranduil. He had been kind to you, at least when you first met and agreed to this. However, now that you had actually moved here, it seemed a little like he had been taking offence to every single decision you made. He’d give you things to do and then seem unsatisfied with the way you had done them. It was frustrating but you could only assume he was stressed and that he would soon relax.

You went to sleep that night hopeful that tomorrow he would be in a better mood.

You found him in his study the following afternoon and felt relief when he looked up and smiled at you. "I hope you slept well. Are you prepared for the feast tonight?" He asked, holding his hand out to bid you closer.

"Mostly. I just have to decide what to wear." You told him, moving into the room and seating yourself beside him. “It is still between two dresses.”

He sat there looking at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher and it was almost as if he was studying something in your very soul. “Oh? You are not... set by now?” It seemed far too late to not have the entire outfit prepared.

You shrugged, always having been a bit more carefree and lazy in your decision making. You were a bit of a procrastinator and did not altogether mind if you left things to the last minute. Sometimes this was simply because you just... forgot. A far cry from the King beside you, of course. Also unbeknownst to you, a far cry from the Queen who had come before.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. His displeasure, however, radiated from him in waves in the silence that followed as he looked back down at the paperwork on the desk before him.

"Thranduil?"

"What?" He did not look up.

“Something troubles you.”

He responded with a non-committal grunt and you frowned at him, watching as he pretended to read whatever was on the desk but you could tell his mind was now elsewhere. You sighed and stood to leave the room.

As you turned, Thranduil’s hand suddenly reached out and grasped your own. You turned to find him looking at you, a soft smile on his lips once more. “You will look beautiful whatever you wear.”

Returning his smile, you ducked your head to hide the blush you could feel about to spread over your cheeks, and quickly took your leave.

Thranduil watched you go and then leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He liked you, he always had, but you were not quite what he had expected when he had finally relented to the pushing of his court to take a new Queen.

He had obviously agreed you would be a good choice. Your station in Lothlórien, your family tree, put you in a very good position to knowing how things worked... yet not entirely, it seemed. Something was a little... off now that you were actually here in Mirkwood with him.

Oh, you were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. You made him laugh. He enjoyed your company. There was simply something niggling at him in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

The feast came quickly, too quickly for you as the time just flew past. You had gotten caught up doing something completely unrelated and frowned when a maid rushed in to find you. Her relief was palpable but you didn’t understand it until you realised the time and she had ushered you back to your room to get ready.

Thranduil was irritated. There had been a delay - nobody had been able to find you - and you were not ready for the feast. You were not here, and it took so long that he had to walk into the room alone and act as though nothing were amiss. He had promptly sat down and thrown back a rather large gulp of strong wine, irritated by the hold up.

When you entered the room - finally - you were a vision. He took in your hair, the ornamentation in it and around your neck, and the royal blue dress with pleased eyes that did much to allay his frustration.

Then, you went and tripped over the hem of the damned thing because you had not bothered to see that it had been properly fitted.

Luckily, you were close enough to the table at this point for him to grab you by the arm and keep you upright, but his irritation only grew at the scene that your little stumble had caused. The attention you caught was not the type he wished for, nor were the titters of laughter around the room.

She would never have left the fit of the dress to chance, nor would she have embarrassed him as such.

This time, Thranduil did catch the thought, but he quickly dismissed it as a simple stray musing that did not mean anything.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a little tersely, as he refilled his glass of wine.

You nodded, hardly noticing his tone yet as you willed the embarrassed flush in your cheeks to go away. You felt like the entire room had seen that and you cursed yourself for not even thinking that the dress might need proper attention. It just had not occurred to you.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He grunted and you finally looked up at him and noticed the frustration he was trying to bury shining in his eyes. You frowned, feeling even worse. He could not be... angry at you? Could he?

After picking at the food on your plate and watching one dance (you dare not join in with your dress!), you rose and made your way from the table out of the room without a word. You were not in the mood now. Reaching up, you tore the circlet from your head as you walked down the hallway as quickly as you could.

“Where are you going?” Thranduil’s voice came from the door you had just exited and you realised that he had followed you out.

Turning, you eyed him cautiously for a moment, trying to ascertain his mood, but once more he was quite the mask. “I am tired, Thranduil. I am going to bed.”

He nodded, moving closer. His gaze dropped to the circlet in your hands. “You could not have waited until you were behind a closed door?”

“What does it matter?” You asked, shrugging at him.

Thranduil didn’t respond but his brow creased just the slightest bit. Did it matter? He began to walk down the hallway and you turned to walk with him since it seemed that he was heading in the same direction you were anyway.

“Are you upset?” You ventured after a while, watching him come to a halt as your question reached his ears.

Thranduil blinked. Was he upset? He supposed that he was feeling frustrated. Annoyed. Angry, perhaps. Why? He turned his head to look at you, a soft frown of confusion on his face as he shrugged. “I suppose I am. A little.”

“What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer right away because, truthfully, Thranduil could not fully put into words what his problem was. What had gotten him so riled up over something that, logically, he told himself did not truly matter. Thranduil shook his head. “I am not rightly sure.” He offered his arm then. “Come, I will escort you to your room.”

But you would not be shut down quite so easily, and you shook your head. “You must know what is wrong.” You insisted. “How can I help you if you do not tell me?”

Thranduil frowned at you, his frustration growing once more. “I do not need your help.” He stated firmly, moving his arm closer so you would take it, but you still did not take it.

“Well, you need something. You-”

“Stop. Please.” He snapped lightly, dropping his arm since it had become clear that you were not going to take it. He turned around and took a step away, not wishing to engage in this right now.

“Thranduil!” Was he truly going to just turn away and leave? In the middle of a conversation? You could not quite believe it. “Just tell me what is wrong! Tell me!”

“She would not behave thus!” He thundered as he spun back to face you, and then immediately fell silent. Horror seemed to fill him as he realised what he had just said.

You frowned softly back at him, shaking your head. “Who-” Your mouth snapped shut as you stared back at him, suddenly understanding with a sick sort of certainty.

She. Her. His deceased wife.

She would not behave in this manner. She would not behave how you were behaving. She would do things ‘the right’ way. She would do better.

You could not hide the hurt that bled across your face as the two of you stared back at each other in the long, deathly silence that followed. Thranduil seemed to be frozen, utterly stricken, but you did not see it past your own dismay. Then, you were gone. Turning and fleeing from him, away down the corridor towards your own rooms.

Thranduil did not see you for two days.

He tried to seek you out that same night but he had not been able to find you and, so, retired to his chamber to wait until you were ready to talk. However, it seemed that you were not willing to talk at all as, two days later, he received word that you had been seen sneaking into the stables with a bag full of your things.

Had it not been for you carrying your own belongings, Thranduil might have dismissed it and told them to simply follow you from a safe distance to keep you safe. As it was, he was immediately up from his chair and out of the door before the guard who reported to him could blink.

He rushed to the stables, finding you still trying to attach a bag to your horse, clearly frustrated that you could not get it secure. The animal, too, seemed unamused with your attention - blowing air through its nostrils and scuffing its feet.

“Going somewhere?” He asked quietly from the doorway, causing you to jump because you had not even heard him arrive, too focused on your irritation.

You stared at him for a second and found that looking at him hurt. You did not respond, you just turned your attention back to the horse and continued fiddling with the bag but nothing would attach the damn thing to the animal so you eventually huffed in exasperation and let it drop to the floor of the stall.

A silence followed.

You could feel Thranduil’s eyes on you but you did not look up at him.

“I never meant to hurt you” Thranduil said softly after another moment and you could hear the regret in his voice but you still didn’t look up at him.

Instead, you shrugged. “But you did.”

“Yes.” He agreed quietly, sighing. “I did.”

Of course, you did not resent him thinking of his wife. How could you ever? She had been a good Queen and an even better wife from all that you had heard of her. You had never met her, not even on a trip she’d taken with the King long ago to Lothlórien. But you had heard a lot about her and she sounded amazing. She was the love of his life, the mother of his only son, and you truly had never expected to replace her but to have him compare you in such a way... it had hurt, you could not deny that.

You were so different, you understood that, but... you were two completely different people and it did not feel fair for Thranduil to hold you to this standard that you had not even realised you had to meet. Yes, you were to be a queen and yes, you had a lot still to learn especially about Mirkwood and its own politics... but you were trying. You really were! All you needed was his help, not criticism. How could he not see that?

“Please just talk to me.” He said, his voice full of obvious unhappiness. His eyes dropped to the bag on the ground. “Where are you going?”

You held in a sharp comeback about why you should be expected to talk to him when he did not wish to do the same two nights ago. At his question, your gaze turned to the bag and you sighed, shaking your head. You bent down to pick it back up and began once more attempting to fasten it securely to the horse. “Home.” You said.

Thranduil blinked. “This is home.”

You frowned and your head snapped up to look at him. “This is your home... and clearly I am not welcome in it.” You hated how your voice shook just a little. You wanted to sound brave and firm, not like a hurt little girl. “I am returning to Lothlórien. You can call off all the arrangements.”

Thranduil stared at you then, watching while you struggled with the bag, as the reality hit him. You were going home, you were... calling off the wedding?

His arm shot out and he took hold of the bag, wrenching it gently but firmly from your grip. You gave a sigh and lifted your eyes to his face. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? You shook your head at him, throwing your hands up in a defeated manner.

“Do not leave.” He said, his voice quieter than he would have liked. He was certain it shook a little... but you did not notice.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, scoffing a little as you shook your head again. “Why should I stay here, Thranduil? I did not come here because I have no other options, I came here because I... I like you and I trust you and...” You trailed off, lowering your gaze for a moment, one of your shoes (which were absolutely not suitable for riding a horse in the first place) kicking at the straw covered ground. “I will not... settle for a life where I am never good enough, where I am always second best. A life in the shadow of a memory. A beautiful memory, do not misunderstand, and one I would never want you to forget... but I am not her, Thranduil! I am not her and I never will be and I am sorry but... I cannot stay here, not like this.”

Another silence filled the stable.

You looked away, at the horse, running your fingers through its mane. The animal was no longer in a mood now that you had stopped messing with the bag. You watched as it lazily chewed on some hay. Thranduil still had your bag in his hands, his fingers anxiously fiddling with the strap, his eyes on his hands. He felt ashamed and for a long moment he could not speak.

“You were never second place to me.” He whispered eventually, his eyes filling up with tears as he realised just what he had done. What he had made you feel. What he had made you think. “Never. You are not. I...” He faltered, grasping for the right words but he could not find them. “I know... what I said, what I have done, it was wrong. I cannot excuse myself, I do not even know why I...” He paused, frowning.

You didn’t look up, though you could see him in your peripheral vision. He seemed to be struggling. He was not always good with words when it was not about politics or battle.

“I did not realise I was doing it at first,” he continued after gathering his thoughts once more. “There is no excuse and I do not say this to make one. I simply... she is the only queen to have ever graced my rule. I was thrust onto the throne so quickly... and I was grieving and she had to... truthfully, she had no choice but to take control of many things until I was more... present.” More in the moment after watching his father die, after that dreadful day, after suddenly becoming a king. “My mother died long before I even began to pay real, proper attention to anything... royal. I... my wife was the only queen I have ever known here, I remember how she did everything, I grew used to it. I forgot that you... do not know and I did not help you properly when I know that I should have. So I compared you to her and it was not fair of me. You did nothing wrong. I am sorry. So, so sorry.” He did not really expect forgiveness, he did not feel that he deserved it, he did not feel that he should receive it. To have hurt you... it pained him. “I love you.”

You turned your head from the horse to Thranduil’s face, the shock evident as you stared back at him for a few very long minutes. Had you heard that correctly? Did he... did he say...?

Over this time, you had developed your own feelings towards the king. He was not perfect, though to outsiders he may look it, but that was probably part of why you’d fallen for him in the first place. You had not been able to help yourself.

In the beginning, after he had approached you and your father with the idea from his council of an arranged marriage, it was not something either of you had rushed into. He had spent some time getting to know you better, for he did not wish to wed somebody he did not at least get along with. He’d been clear on that with his councillors and advisors. He’d written you letters after he returned to Mirkwood, he arranged visits for you to come and spend time with him. He showed up in Lórien once with no other reason than to offer you a bouquet of wildflowers he had picked himself, then he took you on a walk through the forest and the two of you just... talked. After all of that, it had been so easy. To say yes. To agree. Though you had known, you had known, that he would never love you. He cared for you enough, you knew that, but as a friend. He would never love you as he loved her. At least that’s what you had presumed.

“You...?” Was all you could say, still staring at him in absolute shock.

Thranduil nodded, the tears in his eyes that he’d managed to keep at bay finally beginning to spill down his cheeks as he blinked. He glanced down, embarrassed, lifting his thumb to his face and swiping away a tear. “Yes.” He whispered. “I... I should have said it before, I should have... shown it better. I am so sorry... but please.” He lifted his head again, his eyes wide as he looked at you quite desperately. “Stay. Please... do not leave me.”

You were staring at him, frozen for what felt like a long time, and Thranduil began to lose hope. You would leave and he would never see you again all because of his own stupidity. He knew you did not love him that way, that you had agreed to this as his friend, but he needed you to stay here, he could not bear to lose you.

When your voice finally came, it was but a whisper, and there were now tears in your own eyes to match Thranduil’s. “...I love you too.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to stare at you. He looked like he could not comprehend what had just come out of your mouth. He looked like he did not dare believe it. You stepped towards him, your hand dropping from the horse as you reached for the bag in his hands. He let you take it and you swung it up onto your shoulder out of the way, taking one of his hands in yours. You were still hurt but you could not believe this had happened... and maybe this was just something you both had needed to go through, to be able to get past it. Something his mind had needed to work through.

“I love you.” You said again, a little louder. You felt his hand squeeze yours and you lifted your free one to his face, wiping away his tears. He looked like he dared not even hope that what you had just said was true.

“You do?” He asked then, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you while you wiped his tears away. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest as he looked back at you. He was not fully sure he had even entirely admitted to himself that he loved you until right now. He’d felt it, he’d been aware of how fond he was growing of you despite those other thoughts, but he hadn’t fully come to terms with his feelings - he had not felt such love in a thousand years.

You nodded, your anger fading away, leaving both your hurt and your love behind. “Yes... I do.” You confirmed, sighing as you took his other hand. You heard his breath catch in his throat and you gave him a sad little smile. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Thranduil said immediately, shaking his head firmly as he cut you off. “Do not. You have nothing to apologise for, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I am the one who was in the wrong. You will make a good queen. I should have told you this... I should not have gotten upset over such trivial things. Dresses...” He scoffed at himself. “None of that matters.” He said, glancing down shamefully. “I do not want you to think that I... that I do not appreciate you for who you are or that I wish you to be somebody else... because I do not.” He shook his head. “I love who you are, I love everything about you. I am so sorry.”

You could practically feel your heart soaring to the heavens. You simply could not believe that Thranduil felt this way about you and, despite your hurt over his words, you were quite overjoyed. You finally smiled and Thranduil took a steadying breath before he moved. He leaned towards you, slowly so you could turn or pull away if you did not wish it, but you stayed perfectly still and waited for him to kiss you.

When he finally did, it was like electricity. It was like something you had been missing your whole life suddenly clicked into place and you removed your hands from his to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer. His own tentatively moved to hold you gently by the waist. When he broke the kiss and you opened your eyes again, you could tell by his expression that he truly felt the same, that he was floored by all of this, and you could see how deeply he regretted hurting you, making you feel inferior, second best.

“You will stay?” He asked then, still sounding a little uncertain, despite the fact you had kissed him and admitted you felt the same way. He was worried he might have ruined everything before he even got the chance.

You gazed up at him and you nodded. “Yes... I will stay. Of course I will.”

There was still a sadness in your eyes that broke Thranduil’s heart to know that he was the one who put it there and he vowed to do everything in his power to make up for what he had done.

“I will never make you feel that way again.” Thranduil told you, his voice extremely firm, his gaze sharp but loving. He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek. “I promise.”

You smiled and he kissed you once more before he took your hand, leading you from the stables and back into the palace, back to the future with you that he was more grateful than he could ever express to have not forever ruined.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction

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astralnymphh · 4 months

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⤹ okay but on the topic of vampire!ellie, which one do you guys personally like?? has nothing to do with what i'll write next, just a curiosity + headcanons. MDNI 18+ enjoy this free vamp!ellie brainstorming content with a random side of nipple fixation!

¨༺ ♱ ༻¨

teenage dirtbag vampire!ellie in a modern realm who can't stand being in her parents suburban hell born house, tired of their cockalorum and urging for her to engage more in the vampiric branch of her family. attend the parties, go human–hunting with the other blood–ingesting addicts, try this, do that. it all irked ellie the wrong way, made her psyche boil, cause all she wanted to fucking do was you. she craves only your blood, your taste, the metallic ribbons pumping your lifeline was like a goddamn nectar to her. and you let her feed, because you loved her. you let your meat sack of a body replace her breakfast, lunch, dinner– first and final meal.

that's why you let her move in with you. cause you fucking can. now, every itty–bitty token of her life tangles with yours on the walls. pictures and awards, a manifold of knickknacks cluttering the window sills, even her clothes tend to blend with yours– an illusive invitation for you to wear her clothes without the question ever pressing her lips apart. you both are madly besotted in each other. no denial objects to that.

and, fuck, this version of ellie is hot. fitted tanks absent of a bra– pale brown pierced nipples erecting the thin fabric into a small mound. gray wash skinny jeans that fit her lean legs well, waistband cruising nicely under that peek of a v–line, fraying at the ankle hems that contrasts into those battered up converse of a similar hue. oh, and usually cloaks her shoulders up in a sable leather jacket– with your name patched in. a jacket, so prized, alwaaays winds up hurled to some isolated and cimmerian corner of your room, purely cause she lacks the care to hang it up whenever she returns home in a scramble, fangs unsheathing for blood. her knees would find themselves pressing hard into the mattress beneath both of you, centering a large gully of weight where her half–unzipped crotch and your butt meet, thirstily rutting to the point of numbing your clit through the hard denim of your pants. her zinc button just kept pounding that shit, keeping you spread wide. while dry humping you, she'd moan and groan hot on your earlobe, fangs partial hooking on the rim, "mhh– fuck n' suck, babe– can i? fuuck.." 'fuck n' suck' was just some made–up code for, well, it should be obvious. times like those, where she intends to fuck her pussy rough on you without remorse, whilst drying your organs of blood.

ohh, but i'll write that in detail one day~

gothic vampire!ellie who lodges high on a hill, deep in the mighty fathomage of her grandoise palace, steeples scaping high into the howling sky– torn asunder by a network of lightning above. you're nothing but meat and blood, princess, a feast inside regalia. every freshwater pearl, every satiny reflection of light off your dress, only made your flesh more supple in her fluorescent fern eyes. those lucifer–damned pupils though, well, let's just say you can't even measure the green pool of her eyes anymore. dilating, big black saucers, ballooning the milken white away whenever she snags a glimpse of your blood. that phantom heartbeat of hers races madly, mad of love for that color. for that glisten of liquid. so divine, she thinks. a gulp bolts down her gullet when within a measly foot of you, or, more specifically, a mere gate between the two of your noses. how else is she supposed to store her cache of sustenance?

yes, that's precisely what i'm hinting at. a holding cell. dusty and decrepit, rats abundant skittering the stone ground, and you swore cobwebs began to web themselves in your hair– now loose and unbraided. that brute of a girl would crouch on the opposing side, dangling keys on a loop sat upon her finger, ploddingly wagging like a swinging great axe. taunt, taunt taunt taunt.. is all she would skip about and do. slip into your cell quickly and play with you. kitty–cornering you and blocking you in her arms, cooing how terribly sorry she feigns to be, for jailing you up and treating you like meat. however, tides turn, and so do emotions. could it be, the dracula upon the misty cliff– has fallen in love?

turns out, witty princesses with a snakish tongue and spit to spare really turned her on. fuck, even you cursed yourself for rending your guard and feeling a magnetic pull to that hunk of a beast, clad in her midnight black, puffed sleeves and collar drawstring shirt. finely sewn black trousers and shiny black boots, curse you, for finding something about that hellishly horrid outfit so handsome on her. there's– oh, this particularly noticeable asset tp her garb as well. the black dye was nearing translucency, and if you loitered your vision directly on her chest long enough, caught in the right cosmic light, you could see that waxen bosom and her nipples, light brown contrary to her vampiric skin. haha, how humiliating it was when she caught you staring at them as she stood in front of your sat stature, being so brazen enough to ask, "something caught your eye princess? shall i strip myself of this, then?" whilst her hands mindlessly tucked under the loose hem anyway, wringing the fabric over her head and banishing it aside. "here, feel my dead heart–" swirled her voice, thrusting her hand out to grasp yours, cold as the ice age, her mitts froze your wrists and yanked them forth, pressing them flat against her breast and swiping her thumb across your contrasting warm skin, leavening with excitement as you fondle. she stows her knee on the bed adjacent to your thigh, whispering, so.. so, hauntingly, "feel that? no pulse, no life, not a spark lives within me, dear." and it was nothing vastly far from the truth. beneath her erect nipple, was no beat. eyes widening to a moon, and lips parting to steal simply too much air, you shudder. was it fear, you shuddered for, or arousal? that's a tale, for another day.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras thoughts #vampire!ellie #lesbian #sapphic #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou smut #ellie smut

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riverwindphotography · 6 months

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In the tangled fields: Ferns reach for the setting sun

#original photographers #photographers on tumblr #ferns #autumn #new york state #nature

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desert-fern · 5 months

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“Great. Now I'M the bad guy.”

Join the magic! Find the rest of the Disney!Daggers moodboard series here!

#disney!daggers #fern creates #moodboards #moodboard series #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #tangled #penny benjamin #mother gothel #mother gothel!Penny

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indimiart · 9 days

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I've been a quiet fan of Nievan for a while and you wanting to talk about him on the latest dress art has me breaking my silence- since he ans Astarion are so touchy (which I love!) How does "sleeping" go. Are they tangled together? Do they move around a lot? Does Fern ever climb in with them and add to the mess??

Or just talk to us about him in general I love to hear about everyone's tavs (especially those paired with Astarion) 🖤🖤

(ty for the ask!! I love talking about them hehe)

Nievan likes to sleep as close as physically possible and also produces heat like he’s the sun itself (a perk of being half sun elf in my head). It took Astarion a while to get used to it, but I think eventually it got to a point he made it his personal mission to press himself as close as possible and refuse to disentangle himself. So Niev usually sleeps with Astarion’s cold ass nose pressed into his neck and come morning Astarion’s whole body has been warmed through, no blood drinking needed :>

bonus: after Fern was born, they had to make some room because she really likes to kick in her sleep

#bg3 #astarion #tav #nievan ilthurin #ideal relationship dynamic: thermodynamic equilibrium #indimi asks #baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate fanart #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #tav x astarion #fern ilthurin ancunin

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suguwu · 11 months

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kita x f!reader, oral (reader receiving), reader wears a skirt, established relationship

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

"Let me."

Kita's already kneeling before you can protest, one hand wrapped around your ankle. He undoes the strap of your sandal with a quick flick of his deft fingers.

You gaze down at him, at the way his gray hair has gone silver in the genkan's dim lighting, the black tips like thunderclouds. He's focused solely on the task at hand. Something in you pangs.

"Up," he says softly, rubbing his thumb over the bone of your ankle, the callused pad catching slightly at the thin skin.

You lift your foot without a word. He slips the shoe from your foot and sets it to the side.

He undoes the other sandal's strap. He drags it free slowly, the leather strap gliding across your skin. He helps you step out of it, his grip firm as he balances you.

When he glances up at you, his amber eyes have gone whiskey-dark, deep and heady. He smooths his strong hand up your calf and leans forward to dot a kiss against the side of your knee. And then he nips at you, a pinch of pain that he immediately soothes with his tongue.

"Shin," you breathe.

He presses another little kiss against your skin, fleeting like a summer storm. His hand slides higher, until his fingertips are just beneath the hem of your skirt. He's still looking up at you with those dark eyes, an acolyte at your altar.

"Can I?"

"Yes."

He rucks you skirt up around your hips and holds it there. He presses another kiss to your knee before he trails upwards, kissing along your upper thigh gently. You shift in place.

"Don't tease," you tell him.

"Just takin' my time."

He punctuates it with another kiss, high on your inner thigh. You can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. Then he's nosing at you, pressing his face between your legs with a soft sigh.

He shifts forward so his shoulders are spreading your legs wider and you suck in a sharp breath as he dips low, laving at your dampening underwear with his hot tongue. He nudges against your cunt with his nose again and you shudder with it, dropping a hand down to tangle in his hair.

Your skirt drops on one side as he lets go of it to hook a thumb into the gusset of your panties and pull it aside. The first flick of his tongue is soft, almost exploratory, a slow drag against the length of your cunt.

"Shin—"

You can feel the way he smiles against you. Before you can say anything about it, he flattens his tongue and drags it through your folds, sending sparks skittering under your skin. He ends at your clit and sucks it into the wet heat of his mouth. You hiss in a breath.

He rolls over your clit with his tongue, adding pressure as you clutch at his hair. He sucks at you and those sparks become embers, simmering through you.

Kita eats you out with careful thoroughness, as he always does. He pulls away from your clit and ignores your groaned complaint, dipping back to lick across the length of your cunt before he moves, bracing your thigh against his shoulder.

He sinks his face back between your legs with a quiet groan. You shudder as he nudges at your clit with the ridge of his nose as his tongue traces over your fluttering hole. Your thighs shake. You're dripping on him, your slick smearing across his mouth and chin.

You moan as he spears his tongue deep into you, your walls tightening. You rock your hips against his face, curving over him like a fiddlehead fern.

His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh as he coaxes you to rock forward again.

"Fuck," you pant as his nose presses into your clit again, undulating your hips to chase the pleasure pooling golden in you. He laves at your walls, getting as deep as he can with his tongue. Your thighs tighten around his head and he nuzzles against your clit again.

You cum with a low, desperate cry, the embers roaring into a forest fire. Kita braces you through it as your thighs clamp down around him.

He lowers you down to the genkan's step when you go jelly-legged. You lie back on it, still panting as he ducks out from underneath your skirt. Your cheeks heat at the sight of him; your slick shines wet over the lower half of his face. He's dark-eyed, his lids hooded as he rests his chin on your lower belly.

"God, Shin," you say. "What was that?"

He smiles at you. There's something like laughter caught up in the corner of his shining lips.

"Welcome home."

#bee writes hq!!#kita x reader #kita smut #hq!! smut #haikyuu x reader #wow it feels like i've forgotten how to write smut but that's okay

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itsagrimm · 1 year

Text

He Who Comes From Under The Water

Chapter 1 - The Promised Bride

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN sexism & patriarchy, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, accidental attempted drowning, arranged marriage, choking on water, mention of a human bodies decomposition

eventual smut.

Beta-read by @sandinthemachine and @queenquazar. Thank you both so much for supporting me with obsessing over fairy tales.

Masterlist

“So, you are a king without a queen?” The old man asked while throwing his rod back into the water. “I suppose you require a queen then, eh?”

The king, considering the old fisherman’s words, slowly nodded. “I suppose I do. But where does one get such a fine lady?”

The water below the wooden landing was dark and dirty. Frogs croaked and fireflies danced over the green sludge and water lilies, lively and playful like the flecks of sunlight that reached the surface through the thick forest trees. A pretty scene on any other day.

Not this one.

Your tears had long stopped flowing into the water of the deep pond. Now, you sat there, your hand tangled in the water and your thoughts lost, dark and deep like the water below you.

A few days ago, your grandfather died. A kind old man who had spent the last years of his life close to the warm oven in winter and fishing in the pond in the summertime.

You remembered bedtime stories as a child with sweets sneaked into your hands. You remembered kind eyes who watched out for you as you grew from child to maiden. You remembered worry in those same eyes when your father died in the forest chopping wood, when your brothers perished in a tavern fire, your uncle and your mother succumbing to sickness, and - finally - your cousin breaking his neck after climbing a tree.

Yes, there was a lot of pain in your grandfathers’ eyes. But even more to worry.

The old man had been your last living relative, and most importantly your last male relative.

And now you as an unmarried village girl from a clearly cursed family, had no one who could inherit your family’s house and support you.

It was only time until the village would shun you and chase you away to get rid of all the bad around you.

That is if you were lucky.

You could try to make it into the city where you would live for a while as a beggar or, if you were hungry and deemed pretty enough, work as a whore.

In his last days, your grandfather tried to arrange for a husband, but no one wanted a cursed girl, and so his last words to you were to visit his favorite fishing spot.

You sighed.

Now, you sat on the same spot where your grandfather had sat, catching fish, and gazing over the water.

Maybe that’s what he had meant, you mused. It would be easier to end it all here and jump into the pond only to never return to the surface, drowning your sorrows and yourself with your grandfathers’ blessings. At least you would choose your fate with your chin proudly raised and your dignity untouched, floating into the abyss in your best billowing skirts from the funeral and no more tears left to cry.

As much as that was possible considering your situation.

“It’s a good place to leave this world,” you spoke out loud to taste how it felt on your tongue. It resonated, with the forest, the pond, with you.

“Indeed, it is.”

You twitched in surprise, heart jumping into your throat.

“Who is this?” you called over the water, glancing around for whoever lurked within the trees, hiding between the ferns.

A hand, big and wet, snatched yours from the water and pulled you in with one strong tug.

You wailed in surprise before crashing into the pond and swallowing the muddy green water, gurgling and gasping for air. Something seized you – strong and solid. Instinctually you kicked and punched it.

Was this it?

NO!

Fighting for your life you thrashed around, struggling and trying to free yourself to get back up to the surface. But whoever had you in a hold only dragged you down, carrying you further into the dark.

Your panicked eyes widened, trying to see who attacked you, trying to see anything.

It was dark. Only the dark, green water around you.

No, no, no, no!

Your lungs heaved for air as your heart drummed painfully in your hurting chest.

A second hand twisted around your throat and over your face. Instinctually, you opened your mouth and bit down.

The hands jolted back with a howl reverberating in the water, releasing you from the deadly weight dragging you down. Hungry for air and with burning lungs you swam up with frenzied strokes, pushing through the surface. Gasping and coughing you breathed, feeding your body with much needed air.

Quickly, you glanced around. No one there. Was this someone from the village trying to get rid of you? Did you manage to drag your attacker down with you? Or was it an animal in the water?

Before you could move, something grabbed you again and lifted you a good length out above the water.

You screamed and kicked again only to have your legs and hands fixated in an iron grip.

“Hold still!” A voice commanded you, foreign and vibrating close. You struggled on, thrashing your body against the solid form behind your back, unwilling to take any chances and die here without a fight.

“I said, hold still!” the grip around your limbs tightened, forcing you into stillness. “There, finally.”

Slowly, you turned your head. You were caught in the grip of a dark, green form, pressed against what must be its chest and stared at by sharp, watery eyes from a nearly obscured face from tangled wet hair and a beard.

Who is this? You thought to yourself, still heaving for air.

“Why are you fighting me?” the strange being said, “I’m here to take you in as my bride. Just like I have promised.”

You coughed again, a bit of swamp water and spit running down your chin, splashing onto the being’s arm.

“What?” you cried and with your head still spinning.

“What what?” The large figure snapped back, “The old man asked me to take you as my wife, yet you bite me? Is that how you want to treat your future husband? Do you want me to let you go? I have no need for an unwilling bride.”

You blinked, your body slowing down and your mind starting to think clearly again.

“You nearly drowned me. Let me go!” you cried out as much as your abused lungs allowed.

The figure blinked and instantly dropped you.

With a loud splash you crashed back into the water.

Your body seized and your mind raced, struggling to comprehend and move your body up.

You made a few weak swimming strokes, but it wasn’t enough to move your still tired and abused body up. Water started filling your lungs again and you were about to dr-

Something grabbed you and lifted you. Again.

“Woman!” the strange being cried out in annoyance, “What are you doing?”

You coughed, swamp water from your hair dripping over your face, disorienting you further as you gasped for air.

“Wait, maiden, do you need to breathe?” the strange creature asked, “Make up your mind! I was just trying to take you home, but you don’t want that. So I did like you asked but then you started sinking like a stone back into my waters again, heaving for air!”

You shivered, “Of course I need to breathe! All humans need air, idiot! What kind of question is that?!”

The creature groaned and grumbled, “The old man forgot to mention you are a human. I thought you might be a nymph or a bigger frog lady. Well, that’s just bad luck.”

You snorted, “Oh, I am sorry that me needing air is inconvenient for you! I nearly died down there in those muddy waters!”

“Hey, those are mighty fine waters of mine, thank you very much. Besides, the second time was not my fault.”

“Your waters?” you managed.

“Who else’s waters?” the figure deadpanned as you’d asked the most obvious question, swayed, and started moving towards the landing before carefully putting you onto the planks instead of holding you like a cat holds its naughty young, “Stay. Let me take a better look at you.”

You huffed and collapsed onto the planks out of the wet arms. It wasn’t like you could run anyway with your body still shaky and weak from the near drownings. Instead, you lifted your head for a better look at the stranger as they studied you.

The strange being from the waters was built like a man, but huge and larger than the tallest man you had ever seen. And it had the face close to a man too under all that unkempt hair and beard. But its facial features were fine, much too fine for any man who could lurk in the waters, and slightly too angular and with eyes a bit too lively and sharp to belong to a human as they studied you.

“Pretty girl.” the man from the water finally grumbled, “A bit unruly but pretty. At least that the old man did not lie about it.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Thank you?”

The man shrugged, “Sorry for trying to drown you, apparently, I misunderstood your fragile physique.”

Fragile physique. He made it sound like an insult.

You took one final breath and summoned your strength to sit up to be on the same eye level as the large man from the water.

“Who are you?” you asked while trying to sort your wet skirts.

He snorted and waved slightly.

“I am König – king of all under the waters. Naturally. And you are the bride I was promised by the old fisherman a couple of days ago.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Do you mean my grandfather? He used to fish here.”

The man shrugged, causing little waves around his shoulders where he emerged from the pond, “Most humans all look and smell the same to me, honestly. He was old for a human, liked to share stories, and left me a bit of tobacco as offerings sometimes. Smelled of smoked fish.”

Memories of your grandfather flashed before your eyes where he sat on the bench in front of the house, smoking his pipe in the late hours of the day, watching the sun go down.

Your mouth went dry.

Had he? Did he really?

Did he, in all his misery and worry, promised your hand to a strange man from the pond – a huge and wet and cold and clearly dangerous monster.

You went stiff from the overwhelming thought of being given away like that to a stranger - to a monster.

“Well, you are a human but I’m not in the habit of breaking promises and I'm sure you would make a good enough queen,” König continued, “Unless you object of course. There is little as unhonourable as having an unwilling bride, not even the slimiest toad approves of that.”

König babbled on about waters and ponds and marriage but your head was spinning. Your grandfather arranged for you to marry an algae cover man from the pond who's idea of home nearly killed you. The painful absurdity of it made you consider jumping right back into the water.

The cold, dark and green water.

The buzzing of the summer insects and splashing of the little waves drowned everything else out, turning louder and louder and louder and-

“Maid?”

His hand touched your arm, slowly shaking you.

You jolted up only to fall back.

“Yes?” you managed while leaning back, away from the large, clawed hand.

König’s watery eyes shifted around you as if searching for the right words.

“Listen, I don’t know too much about you humans, “ König started, “but you look cold and miserable. Maybe let’s worry about that first and talk about our wedding later.”

You blinked as the realization in all its form settled in.

Marrying him?

He would drown you in this pond, your flesh rotting and being picked by the fishes until nothing but a pile of bones were left.

Your bones, your lovely bones.

No! You had felt your life slip out of your fingers, the precious air bubbles escaping your lungs bare moments ago. Your cold hands wandered around your pained body intuitively, cradling yourself and trying to protect you from the outside world. You weren’t ready to give up on this life - to give on your body - and you would keep yourself safe and alive. This was your skin, your hair and flesh and bones! Death would come to you one day but you would be damned if it came today at the bottom of a dark pond and by the hands of a man.

“Yes, you are right. I should get dry,” you managed, sensing a chance to escape.

With wobbly legs, you tried to get up only to sway and stumble down on your knees. You needed to leave this place.

König tilted his head, watching you.

You tried again; your muscles too weak to carry you.

“Dear,” König said with slight amusement in his voice, “Your will is admirable, pretty girl. But I doubt it will be enough to get you home.”

“So? Will you drag me back into the pond and finish your work?” you replied, considering the option to crawl home and far away from the water

“Why would I do that, bride?”, he chuckled before turning serious again, looking at you with those blue more than clear inhuman eyes, “I have heard it’s not customary but allow me to get you to your home before you hurt yourself. You humans take so long to heal and an injured bride during the wedding would be a nuisance.”

Fearful you tried to move again.

He watched, waiting for your answer.

You considered his words. Your home. And he clearly wanted you in one piece at least before the wedding.

“No pond?”, you asked with an oh so thin weak voice.

“No pond.” He reassured, “That’s clearly not your element, my little bride-to-be.”

Slowly, you nodded.

Carefully, as if not to spook you, he scooped you back into his arms once again and pressed you to his chest.

You felt yourself going stiff again from fear, but before you could cry out, König stepped out of the water and away from the dreaded pond.

“See, no pond,” König spoke soothingly, and you felt his voice vibrate in his chest as he moved and swayed to avoid branches while shielding you with his shoulders, “I’m keeping my promises, my little bride.”

#there will be a mix of folkloric elements in this since i grew up with both eastern and central european traditions and can do what i want #this was written with a special amount of love for my fellow slavs and hinterland fairy tales collectors #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig x you #call of duty #könig x oc #monster #monster x human #monster!könig

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andypantsx3 · 1 year

Text

Deceiving the Duke | 6 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 6th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

Over the course of the ensuing weeks, your certainty only grew worse: you were developing feelings for Lord Shouto.

You sent another letter to Camie, ashamed to tell her that not only had you continued the scheme against her express wishes, but now you were falling for the worst person possible. She wrote back, heartbroken to hear it, demanding once more you put a stop to things before they went too far.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You would never again get time with Lord Shouto–you wanted to revel in it as long as you could.

You reassured yourself that he meant to marry the princess–a rumor that was only growing stronger as the season crept onwards with no hint of a proposal to anyone from his corner–and he meant only to use you as a deterrent to the other scheming misses and matchmaking mothers crowding the parlors and assembly rooms of Musutafu.

You hoped that once your own scheme was uncovered he wouldn’t hold it against you–would understand that you’d liked spending the time with him, but had never desired to trap him in any sort of romantic understanding.

Lord Shouto made things so much more difficult for you by continuing to be so horribly good. He was kind and attentive, and so unexpectedly funny, you couldn’t help but fall harder.

He sought you out many times a week, taking you for several more promenades, insisting on a dance at every ball, and even took you riding in the park. He even let you take the reins when you’d reached an emptier stretch of road where no one might see you driving, showing you how to steer his set of bays and smiling that gentle smile when you got the hang of it and urged them to go faster.

He called several times more, bringing another bouquet of flowers for you–tiny bright jonquils tangled with orange winter cherries, and hedged with short-trimmed ferns–that you managed to squirrel away into your tiny bedroom without the Utsushimis seeing.

He was on your mind so constantly that you found yourself ducking into the haberdashery on an afternoon Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui had invited you out. An idea seized you as you had looked into the window, and you found yourself drawn over to the small selection of handkerchiefs for sale.

You didn’t have much in the way of spending money, sending most of it back to your family, but you had just enough to buy a linen square bordered in a dark blue. Miss Ochako and Lady Asui watched you almost too knowingly as you did.

You worked late into the night that evening, tucked up in your bed with embroidery thread and a book you’d ferreted out of the late Mr. Utsushimi’s study propped open in your lap–a Greek primer, with a tiny section on Ancient Greek. You found that their phonetic system did not align quite so neatly with yours, but you made do, stitching the closest approximation of Lord Shouto’s name in the Greek alphabet–how it might be spelled had he found himself there.

You hoped he would find it fun, and not too silly–-and that he would understand that you had liked him enough to think of him, even when your deception was uncovered.

Giving to him was another matter, however, as you found yourself too shy and girlish on the several occasions you saw him next. It stayed tucked away in your reticule, burning at your wrist.

You finally resolved to give it to him at a dinner party at Lady Cathleen’s, where you might hopefully be able to flee to the other end of the table and not speak to him for the rest of the night. Caroline had informed you that tables were set according to rank, meaning the Utsushimi family would find themselves at the foot of the table, with Lord Shouto all the way at the head.

In preparation, you donned the most secure of Camie’s gowns—which was not saying much—but you felt better for the more protective, higher neckline, the muted blue of its color which would draw little attention your way, for it almost bordered on the drab palette of married women or spinsters. You knew Camie had chosen it for the contrast it would draw to her largest, sparkliest choker of paste jewels, which you carefully ignored in favor of her smallest pendant.

You would be as well hidden as you could manage, at the other end of the table, and with any luck Lady Cathleen would dress her table with elaborately tall candlesticks and floral displays you might duck behind.

In fact, once you thought of it, you were almost certain you could hide Lord Shouto’s gift at the table itself, that you might not have to confront him in person with the full force of both your stupidity and your regard for him. You wouldn’t even need to witness his expression upon its receipt.

It was with that thought that you stuck to the edges of the drawing room as guests crowded into Lady Cathleen’s estate, drawing as little notice as you could. You requested the restroom as soon as you were able, instead sneaking off towards the dining room to scout out Lord Shouto’s place.

Except—as you scanned the head of the table–his place card was nowhere to be found. You knew he was coming–Mrs. Utsushimi hadn’t shut up about it, and besides that, Lord Shouto had told you as much himself. Brow furrowing, you wandered around the table.

A little shocked thrill went through you to see his name next to Camie’s, towards the opposite end of the table he should have been. Camie’s name also had managed to come unmoored from the Utsushimi block that occupied the end of the table, several seats away from Caroline and Mrs Utsushimi.

You wondered at the specificity of the mistake, and then a thought occurred to you.

Well–if there had been a mistake, it only made sense to use it to your advantage.

You quickly tucked your gift under Lord Shouto’s place card, very carefully that it might only be seen once he’d moved it. And then you took your own place card away and carried it down the table to Caroline’s spot. You’d just managed to replace hers with yours when a low voice carried across the room.

“I suppose I should be less surprised to find you in another deserted room.”

You froze, arm still outstretched over Caroline’s seat, your eyes darting up to the entryway. Lord Shouto stood there, looking as preternaturally handsome as ever. The candlelight glinted off the white of his hair, burnishing it gold, and the shadows danced in the hollows of his cheeks, the divot under his full mouth. He was dressed in a dark gray dinner jacket, a cravat tied immaculately at his throat.

He took a step into the room, a white eyebrow raised.

“Lord Shouto,” you said hoarsely, quickly whipping Caroline’s card behind your back. Perhaps he hadn’t seen what you’d been up to. “I—it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you are not rearranging Lady Cathleen’s seating placards?” he asked in his smooth baritone. He continued into the room, circling the table to you.

A hunted feeling crept over you. “I–it’s funny it should look that way…but I, um…”

Lord Shouto drew closer, leaning in, and a gloved hand touched the place card in your fingers, tugging it gently from your grasp. He glanced down at it, a tiny smile touching his mouth. “You’d not been about to seat Miss Caroline next to me, had you?”

His gaze darted over to the middle of the table where his placard sat, like he’d already known there’d been some mistake with his placement.

Hot embarrassment burned its way through your veins, and you snatched Caroline’s place marking out of his hand. “As a matter of fact, the only empty spot is next to you,” you said, attempting to make your way around him to put it down.

“And that would not be because you had already moved another place card, would it?” Lord Shouto asked mildly, stepping in front of you so that you almost headbutted his chest. You backpedaled wildly, almost tripping over the hem of your gown.

“I—what proof have you?” you demanded, trying your best to sound as though you hadn’t just done exactly that.

Lord Shouto’s smile widened, a rare sight, and it sent a lick of heat right down your spine. You clutched a chair, aware of how stupid it was that a smile was about to send you into a swoon.

Those long fingers reached out and pulled Caroline’s place card from your grip again, and Lord Shouto produced your own, switching your places once more. “The proof that I asked Lady Cathleen to seat me here, with you,” he said simply.

A horde of butterflies exploded in your chest again, and your face went hot.

How could he say things like that so easily? An ask like that was a clear declaration of his favor–something you very much did not deserve, all things considered.

“Your Grace,” you said, in protest.

Lord Shouto’s smile flashed white in the candlelight, a clever half-moon. “It was you who doubted I might reign in my presumption by the end of the season. You should be pleased to find yourself proven right.”

Pleased didn’t quite cover the breadth of emotion you were feeling–embarrassment, guilt, and pleasure all warred with one another in your chest.

“Really, I was doing you a favor,” you insisted, gesturing at Caroline’s place setting. “She is a great conversationalist, and very pleasing to look at.”

“As you have said perhaps hundreds of times,” Lord Shouto acknowledged. “It is just as well I can look at her from across a table.”

You frowned up at him. “I am beginning to think you do not mean to find a wife, as you’d hinted.”

Lord Shouto bent his head so he could lean closer, and your hip bumped the table as you stepped back, nervous with his sudden proximity.

“Then you did take my meaning that day,” he said, his voice low.

Your skin prickled at the layer of intent in his tone.

“And I am only trying to help you now,” you told him. “You’ll get very little mileage out of me as your dining companion, considering I cannot wed.”

“Cannot,” Lord Shouto murmured, as if turning the word over in his mouth.

“Caroline can, however,” you continued as though you hadn’t heard him. “And I understand she is a very desirable match. She’s acquired several admirers, you know, and you won’t want to dally. There is a Mr. Awase who is very keen.”

“You say it as though you are not a desirable match,” Lord Shouto said.

His words were like a thunderbolt, striking through you. The very idea of you as a desirable match!

You laughed, but Lord Shouto’s face did not change, and he pressed even closer, close enough that you found yourself trapped against the table. Lightning zinged in your veins as you registered the heat of him over you, your blood singing with the thrill of a man so close.

“You do not believe so?” he asked. He was close enough that you could feel the exhalation of his words on your mouth.

Your head swam with the ridiculousness of the question, and the press of him so close. You scrounged around for an appropriate ripost, but then Lord Shouto’s face drew even nearer.

Your breath seized in your chest, and you stared silently up at him, heart racing.

Outside, a loud laugh sounded, startling you, and you jumped, almost smacking your forehead into Lord Shouto’s nose.

He dodged neatly, smiling ruefully and stepping away. But there was a light in his eyes like he was strangely satisfied–as though he’d confirmed something.

“We should go, lest we are discovered here, and your reputation compromised,” he said. “You should take your leave first.”

You could tell he meant to prevent you from switching the place settings again once he was gone, and you squinted at him suspiciously. He looked far too pleased with himself, and his smile seemed to grow a fraction wider. It was your observation that his eyes slivered into little crescents when he truly smiled that finally sent you stumbling out of the dining room, your heartbeat tripping over itself.

You found your absence had gone unnoticed when you arrived back in the drawing room, though Lord Shouto’s entrance was intently noted by every single set of female eyes. Several fans came out, flapping back immaculately coiffed curls, and Lord Shouto’s face went politely blank.

You stifled a laugh at his expense.

Eventually you were let into the dining room and you found yourself at Lord Shouto’s side once more. Lady Cathleen’s eyes flickered interestedly over you and tried not to look too strange or suspicious under her attentions.

You were pointedly studying the table linens with avid interest when you felt Lord Shouto stiffen beside you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him draw the handkerchief out from under his place card, and you found you couldn’t lift our eyes to his face, too anxious of his reaction. You adopted a sudden fascination with the centerpiece to your opposite side–until a gloved hand touched yours in your lap.

You startled, almost knocking over your water glass, fingers reflexively seizing on the hand that had touched you.

You glanced up at Lord Shouto as his own fingers tightened on yours, and found him smiling that tiny, private smile of his. His gaze was almost molten in the candlelight.

“I see rearranging the place settings was not your only objective,” he said. There was a touch of pleasure in his voice, so rich and low. The sound made your blood fizz like a bottle of champagne had just been poured down your veins.

His hand shifted, his wrist resting on your thigh, and your breathing went shallow at the feeling of a man’s hand where it had never been before.

“I–you might think it’s silly—” you groped for something to say.

“I can think of no gift I have ever liked more,” he said.

The praise flooded through you in a warm wave of pleasure, and your ears went hot. “I…should like if you would think of me fondly, after this season,” you said.

Lord Shouto’s brows creased, and that full mouth pursed a little in thought. You tried very hard not to think of kissing it.

“You say that as if you do not plan we should ever see each other again,” he said carefully.

A hot stab of panic lanced through you when you realized you’d almost hinted at the dissolution of your scheme. You searched for some response.

“I–there is only one objective to the season,” you said. “After a match is made, I’ll have no reason to return to Musutafu, unless my husband’s estate is at a close enough remove.”

“I thought you did not mean to marry?” Lord Shouto asked. You almost jumped again when a server reached between the two of you to serve the first course–a pale soup swimming with carrots and rice.

Fuck, that was right. You had said you’d not meant to make a match. “Do not worry, Lord Shouto. You are safe from any attempts on your virtue.”

But Lord Shouto did not look at all reassured by this. “Then you do wish to marry?” he asked.

You did not see a way around answering truthfully. “I–well, yes, eventually,” you admitted. You had at least had hopes at one point, before meeting Lord Shouto, before understanding that no other man might ever measure up. Gentry though he might be, you’d never felt as light-headed, as happy, as surprisingly comfortable in another person’s presence.

You had not meant to feel quite like this about him.

“One day, I should like to,” you said, trying not to sound morose. One day, a long time from now, perhaps you would have enough distance that you might once again find the prospect of another man palatable.

Lord Shouto’s gloved thumb smoothed over your knuckles, and you realized you’d still been gripping his hand. You reluctantly let go, but he seemed to feel no need to move his hand.

“One day and the end of this season sound rather distant from one another,” Lord Shouto said.

You stared into your soup to avoid having to look at him, guilt settling heavily in your stomach. “It is complicated,” you said. “All there is to know, my lord, is that I plan this should be my last season in Musutafu. And that I should like you to think of me fondly, as I shall think of you. For all that you seem to insist on dwelling in darkened rooms, you have been a bright spot in this season.”

You pointedly studied the silverware, wanting to start in on your soup to halt conversation, but found that you could not remember how Caroline had instructed you to dine. Was it outward in, or inward out?

Your hand hesitated over the silverware, and Lord Shouto’s finally rose from your lap to press gently to the outward-most spoon.

“It’s this one,” he said, leaning in. “Outward in.”

That smile was back on his mouth, and it felt both private and conspiratorial, somehow. Like you shared a secret, though the only secret you had, really, was the one that he absolutely could not have known.

“Of course…” you said primly, like you’d just momentarily forgotten. But your heart warmed a little with his assistance and you couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way across your face in answer. “Thank you.”

Lord Shouto’s eyes seemed to linger on your mouth for a long moment, before he murmured, “Anything I may give you.”

And for a minute, it sounded like he meant more than just help with the spoon. Like he was offering something much larger, much more secret.

But of course that was nonsense. You waved him off, answering in turn. “You are kinder than you know, Lord Shouto. I will remember that too, always.”

You started in on your soup, feeling Lord Shouto’s eyes lingering on you still.

But for the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just had a conversation with him whose parameters you did not truly fathom.

That Lord Shouto knew something he couldn’t.

But it wouldn’t matter, with the season so close so its end. You would just have to last a few more weeks.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader

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