#they already had this discussion in the war

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #king of mirkwood #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

[b0xerdancer-writes]

The Maiden that Stuck Around

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: After Feyre had left Tamlin, Calanmai approaches and he finds himself unable to keep up with meetings as a fog seems to slowly occupy his mind, thanks to the magic of Calanmai. He hires a secretary/assistant to help him, little does he know that he would grow incredibly close with her eventually taking her as his maiden for Calanmai.

Prompt: Calanmai/Happily Ever After

Warnings: Bullying, implied smut, Calanmai,

Word Count: 5558

Notes: Super late since this was supposed to be for Tamlin Week 2024 but it's here now. Not proofread we die like men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Calanmai was always a weird time for Tamlin, he lived in a weird brain fog that always  made him feel off. The beast Tamlin became while under the influence of Calanmai’s magic was not him, he hated that part of him. It took up to a week after Calanmai for the fog to clear and him to come back to himself.

The two weeks before Calanmai were the worst, everything in the court seemed to stop and attention turned to the upcoming festival. Meetings about patrols, the surrounding villages, repairs, war efforts, all of it was stopped so they could talk about how many bonfires they would have this year, what kind of food they should have, what drinks, where they would move it to since the eastern fields were not usable this year. It had started to anger Tamlin to no end, he had more important things to tend to; he couldn’t just drop everything to discuss a stupid party.

Had Feyre been here he could have pushed the party planning onto her and focused on the repairs needed in spring, but yet she had messed up the entire proceedings of this court. So there he sat bored out of his mind discussing Calanmai proceedings.

The fog started drifting in two days before Calanmai, he'd forget where he put something around the manor, he'd forget to do a patrol or attend a meeting and every time  it would be pointed out he would blow up. Tamlin was exhausted by the meetings, was fighting off a headache, and the looming threat of the upcoming fog in a weeks time; after one particularly rough meeting he decided to hire an event planner and assistant for himself.

He had sifted through applications all night once, none of the applications looking anywhere decent for what he was needing. That was until a familiar name came up, Kallias’ cousin who had thrown many a party in winter for their solstice that he had attended once upon a time; he remembered her she was rather upbeat, rather positive, always willing to help, yet quiet and a loner. Tamlin had been called to her the first party he attended in winter and stood with her against a wall the entire ball.

He grumbled a bit to himself before  taking out his stationary to offer her the position in his court.  He wrote to her letting her know hebwould like for her to fill the position in his court,  that is she could right back when he could expect her in his court so he could have a room prepared for her and meetings arranged around her arrival. He figured he would  get a response in the morning since it was rather late but he was pleasantly surprised when his response came moments later with the words ‘tomorrow morning, I’m already in Spring.’

+

Arrive early she did, Tamlin had just scrambled down the steps that led to his room when a light knock came from the grand door.  Tamlin groggily opened it to find her standing there with a bag, he let her inside and took her bag from her, handing it to a servant to bring to her room. As his assistant she would be in charge of making sure nothing was forgotten throughout the day as Calanmai neared and the fog made itself known, starting with his morning routine; he had forgotten his tabard and dagger several times while getting dressed, not to mention the number of times he had completely forgot breakfast was a thing.

He could tell she was just as tired as him, but both had a long day ahead and would suck it up. They started with breakfast, then a tour, then came the rundown of her duties; once she had agreed and signed a contract with the spring male they split off to work. She had followed him the majority of the day as long as no Calanmai meetings were required, to get a feel for his daily routine. Only splitting off to attend the Calanmai planning meeting where she jotted notes down for Tamlin.

This continued for a week before she had to bring Tamlin into the conversation, his brain fog had begun to set in ever so slightly; she had noticed he didn't order his toast like he normally did at breakfast; had it just been regular toast with butter and jam she could be ignored it but he got cinnamon and sugar on it, and it was something he got every day without fail so him not ordering it was unusual.

She had knocked softly on his study door that evening after all meetings were done, all notes had been taken and anything needing input had been recorded.

“Enter.” Tamlin spoke with a grumble.

“Tamlin. What's wrong?” She had asked softly.

“Its closing in on Calanmai, that fog I told you is starting to come in, I seem to have misplaced my insignia stamp and have looked everywhere in my desk and this room trying to find it.” He growled under his breath.

She smiled softly and held out her hand with said insignia stamp in it. “It got knocked from the table earlier during your meeting.”

He thanked her softly sealing the letter he was working on closed.

She cleared her throat. “Calanmai as you know is a week away now my lord and I’ve arranged everything that just needs your final approval, mostly yes or no questions or one word answers kind of thing. If you have time.”

“Yeah I can do that right now, what do we got?” Tamlin nodded, gesturing to the seat across from his desk.

“First off since the eastern field is unsuitable for Calanami this year they want to know whether to set up in the west field or the south field, I suggested western because of the sun.” She spoke softly, her voice like a symphony to him.

“I agree with western for the sun's reason. What else?” he nodded.

“I know you care about the flowers. I'd not go with roses this year since they would blend with the wildflower patches in the western field weirdly and it wouldn't look right. I'd suggest actually using the flowers from the patches that grow there.” She  read off from her notes.

“You seem to have a keen eye, I'll trust your judgment on it sweetheart.” Tamlin nodded. 

She smiled and a blush covered her face. “Thank you my lord. Final thing I need to ask is which ceremonial wine did you want? I had a chance to sample them myself and I would definitely go with either the Crystal Vine Vineyards white or the-“ 

Tamlin cut her off, “Did Berryhill have an entry this year? I prefer their reds.”

“They were actually who I was going to recommend for my choice of reds, I'll let them know they've been selected again this year.” She chirped softly.

Tamlin stood from his desk and stretched before he rounded the desk, he patted her shoulder and nodded. “Thank you darling, you are doing amazing.”

She smiled up at him with a faint blush on her face, Tamlin’s hand fell from her shoulder to the small of her back; leading her from the study to the dining room, the two in constant back and forth chatter about the upcoming celebration. Tamlin ran his hand up her back and over her shoulder, grasping her chin softly between his thumb and index finger.

He tilted his head with a small smile on his face as he spoke to her. “You’ll be attending won’t you darling?”

She shrugged and rubbed at the side of her neck. “I may stop in but I mag not stick around, I don’t mean to offend Tam really, just last time I went males always try and manhandle females and while most of them don’t complain I have no interest in the sleazy males who do that especially if it's one I have no interest in.” 

Tamlin smiled gently. “I can understand that darling, but if you do decide to join you can always just call for me and I’ll come running. No female of mine will be made uncomfortable at a celebration like Calanmai.”

Tamlin must have not caught the slip in his words but oh she definitely did. No female of his. By the mother did that make her soul burn, she’d had a crush on the male since she first spotted him in Winter; it was Kallias’s coronation if she remembered correctly. He had looked practically golden leaned against the wall talking to the red headed male he had called friend once upon a time. Since he had looked her way with a wink and excused himself from the other male, her chest had been aflame and a flutter with images of the golden hair male and the relationship she had wanted to have with him; and no the books written by an author with the name of Drake that had been recommended to her did not have an influence on the imagery in which she imagined him as. Those images were well into her head before the Drake books were recommended to her. Maybe she would go to Calanmai if only for him and maybe just the tad bit of influence the voice in the back of her head said when it whispered the ideas of being his maiden for Calanmai.

“Maybe I will go, but only for you and with your protection.” She mused and giggled.

“I hope you will darling~” Tamlin had crooned at her, pulling out her seat from the dining room table.

She sat quickly and he pushed her in, taking a seat beside her himself.  Servants came in and introduced the meal,a type of steak and some sides she paid no attention to, watching only Tamlin as his jaw ticked ever so slightly; for what reason? She didn't know and didn’t necessarily care. Tamlin hadn’t forgotten anything before dinner, she carried most of his personal effects, save his dagger and tabard, as Calanmai grew closer so it wasn’t that he forgot something.

“What’s wrong?” She had asked worriedly.

“They made one of the sides with that berry quinoa mix you aren't a fan of.” He mumbled, a growl deep in his throat there but barely audible.

“Oh! You remembered I don’t like it?” She had asked as her heart skipped a beat.

“Of course I did Darling, I pay attention to stuff like that. I asked them to remove it from the menu for the duration of your stay, it seems they forgot about that order.” Tamlin had waved a servant over and had them remove the plate from the table, the dinner continued on relatively peacefully.

+

Calanmai approached quickly, Tamlins brain fog increased and so did his temper. With plans in place for the upcoming celebration she had begun to join Tamlin in his daily meetings. She had noticed Tamlin forgot about a stamp he needed for the round table earlier in the day, she pocketed it from his study as they dismissed for lunch; when they returned from the lunch and were ready to sign off on the paperwork she noticed Tamlin looking around for the stamp with furrowed brows, she presented the stamp in her as the other males in the room began to snicker under her breath.

“Not to worry my lord, you knocked it from the table earlier. I picked it up before we left.” She smiled softly but glared at the males as Tamlin took it from her and stamped the paper.

“Ahh thank you darling, good to know I didn't forget it.” He chirped to her.

She wouldn’t let Tamlin become embarrassed and enraged due to the magic fog, she kept a keen eye on his every move as per her job. She would cover for the fog several times throughout the day, switching folders that had gotten mixed up when no one paid attention, pinning blame on herself when applicable, and turning the subject on whoever seemed to comment, even going as far as to question their loyalty to Tamlin if the offense fit. Tamlin was thankful for her effort and he even played along when it amused him or offered some sort of benefit, it made his chest ache at the levels she would go to defend him; more so than anyone else had on such an intimate and emotional level. As the evening played on he found himself letting her control and run the meetings, his nobles weren’t exactly fond of his choice in that but most didn’t dare to question him, until the last meeting of the night. 

The nobles were here to discuss agricultural gain, trade, and benefits from the surrounding villages, Tamlin had switched seats with her entirely, giving her the throne at the head of the table while he took the  smaller seat to her immediate right. The nobles stumbled into the conference room already bickering between each other, they all froze as they found Tamlin’s eyes on them; confusion flashed on their faces to see him off to the side, a mix of disgust and anger on their faces as they eyed her.

“My lord, may I ask why the female is in your position for this meeting?” One of them had questioned, venom on his lips.

“Are you questioning my choices? She is my secretary and I will do as I please as part of her training. If you wish to question my methods then please let us continue this conversation.” Tamlin had hissed.

“No sir, I don’t mean to question you sir. I simply ask because as far as we were aware our meeting was to be with you, our High Lord.” The skittish male had replied back.

“And I am still here, but you will treat her as you treat me from here on, there will be no questioning of her decisions as I trust what she has to say.” Tamlin had replied disinterested.

Another male chimed in then. “But my lord, she is from Winter, their crops, trade, benefits, and requirements differ from our community here in Spring.”

Tamlin growled a warning, rising from his seat. “Like I said, I trust her judgment. She has arranged Calanmai easily, while keeping those exact factors in mind. Again. You will not question her.”

The nobles sunk back into their seats, all swallowing back a breath in fear as his canines glinted against the chandelier light. “Continue Darling.” Tamlin turned to her with a nod.

She thanked him softly and cleared her throat, nodding for the males to begin their presentation. 

+

Then came the dawn before Calanmai, she had awoken before the sun was in the sky and slipped into riding clothes for her trip to the Western meadows.  She slipped from her room and made her way across the hall to Tamlin’s room to awaken him and prepare him for the day as the brain fog had become extremely heavy and would slowly increase as the day progressed until the ritual tonight. 

She would ride back up for lunch, change, and then travel back to the fields with Tamlin in toe; but first she had to make sure he was ready for the day and wouldn’t forget anything this morning. She pushed the door open to find Tamlin sliding on his tunic, he seemed groggy and sluggish but offered her a small smile. 

“Morning My Lord.” She mused.

“Morning, darling. I’m afraid I woke up a bit late.” He replied back the exhaustion still heavy in his voice.

“You're not a drop late my lord, remember today is about you and on your schedule.” She smiled and took a few steps forward as the blonde male fumbled with his buttons, offering to help him with the small metal pieces.

“Thank you my dear.” He offered back.

“Of course Tam.” She smiled up at him.

“What's the schedule for the day hun?” He asked as he tossed his tabard around his body.

“Well Breakfast for the two of us, then you’ll be in your study until I get you for lunch; I’ll be out setting up the meadows and when I return we will have lunch then we will change for the evening and ride out for the night.” She started in a happy tune for him.

“You cleared my schedule this morning?” He noticed and pushed his bedroom door open for her to slip under his arm.

“I took care of them already, I know how you feel about meeting with people the day of the festival, you expressed how it can make your skin crawl.” She chirped.

Tamlin was stunned into silence and placed his hand firmly on her shoulder pulling her into a hug. “Thank you Darling…”

“Of course Tam, I’d do anything for you.” She smiled and stepped from the room.

His heart ached the slightest bit at her words as the two made their way towards the dining room in silence. “Just so you know darling, talking to you doesn’t make my skin crawl. If anything it's the opposite, you are like a breath of fresh air.”

“Thank you Tamlin… Can I ask something though?” She asked.

“Of course Darling.” He tilted his head, opening the doors to the dining room  for her.

“Why does it make your skin crawl?” she questioned.

Tamlin smiled and pulled out the chair for her. “It’s just a side effect of the brain fog, it more so applies to the day after Calanmai because my body just feels disgusting even after I bathe. I can still feel everything from the night before until the magic quells itself and calms down.” 

“You said you feel everything from the night before? Does that mean it's because of the maidens you choose for the ritual?” She looked up at him sadly as he pushed her chair in.

“Most likely yes, I normally have no connection to the females which definitely plays a part, leaving me with the ick. If it's a female I dislike normally, the feeling is even more disgusting to me.” He explained, “But it's more than that, I often patrol the woods before and after the ritual, it feels like any and all dirt gets under my skin and just stays there for a few days.”

“Oh,” she started, “I’m sorry. I hope this time won’t be like that.”

“Well thank you for your wishes darling. I hope so as well.”  HE scooted into his own seat.

The rest of breakfast continued in silence as the two ate, only it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; the two had come to an understanding between each other on an intimate level.  After they ate, Tamlin disappeared to his study and she sought out the stables. She rode out to the meadows, where vendors and servants were already beginning to arrange the tables, bonfires, shop stands, and any other buildings slash furniture that needed to be set up for the night; and began to check everything over until the sun was high in the sky, unlike past Calanmais this year they did not have a space for the last part of the ritual. She had discussed it with Tamlin and they had arranged for his room to be locked after they changed and had arranged a guest room within Rosehall to accommodate for the ritual. 

Everything had been relatively in place when she rode back to  the manor estate, pushing her way through the doors of the estate and slipped between bustling servants as she made her way towards Tamlin’s study. Inside the room Tamlin had decided to nap and had his head resting on his desk, she rounded the sturdy oak desk and shook on his shoulder softly.

He roused with a small purr and yawned. “Lunch already darling?”

She snickered to herself softly. “Lunch already because you decided to nap, Lucky man.” 

He snickered himself and stood from the padded chair, stretching and yawning as he pulled her towards the dining room. “Well I would have invited you to join but you were busy.”

She had noticed he was more touchy than he normally was, a side effect of the fog she surmised and nothing was said about it as they both took their seats. Food was presented to both of them and she noted that Tamlin ate more than he usually did, probably a side effect as well but it made sense to her if he needed it for the extra energy he would be exerting tonight. 

They had joked around the entire lunch, Tamlin had even chucked one of the roasted potatoes at her when she complained he had taken them all and she took it in stride catching the wedge in her mouth. When they had finally cleared their plates, Tamlin had playfully growled at her and scooped her up over his shoulder; she pounded on his back calling him an oaf repeatedly between rib hurting laughs.  He dropped her off at her door and stalked across the hall to slip into his own room to change.

She flipped through several dresses before settling on one she had bought in her first week here, a pale green dress with a sweetheart neckline and thin straps decorated with tulle leaves and butterflies; the bodice was ribbed in the same pale green silk and tulle with a multi-layered skirt and a high slit.  If it was to be her first celebration here then she wanted to look the part of a Spring Court Fae. Before slipping on her shoes or doing her hair she padded across the hall to knock on Tam’s door. She pushed the door open to find him shirtless sitting on the foot of his bed and tugging on his boots.

He looked up at her curiously with a head tilt.”Yes mam?”

“Just checking on you, i'm going to go finish getting ready, feel free to come in while I finish.” she chirped quickly, a blush spreading across her face before she dipped back into her own room. 

She arranged her hair, slipped on some green flats,  and began applying some eyeliner before Tamlin had slipped into the room; he made himself comfy on the foot of her bed as he watched her intently. When she finally put down the kohl he jumped to his feet and pulled her from the vanity, she giggled as he pulled her down the stairs and out to the stables.  They both climbed onto Tamlin’s white mare, Tamlin’s bare chest pressed against her back as he wrapped his arms around her to control the reins. 

+

The time spent around the festival grounds before dusk was rather uneventful; she stayed tucked into Tamlin’s side to avoid the whistling of sleazy males. Tamlin made no comment, simply shooting them a glare as they walked by. A silent claim but Tamlin blamed it on the brain fog as he grew more and more possessive of the female at his side. Eventually they settled at the table, sipping some of the several types of wine offered to them when Tamlin invited her out on one patrol before the ritual would be taking place; she accepted his offer and they disappeared into the treeline not far from the festival. 

Once the festival was out of view Tamlin shifted into his large wolf like beast form and laid down for her to get onto his back. She climbed on and he stood, she fisted his fur tightly in her hand afraid she would fall off with the gait of his stride.

“Don’t worry I’ve got you.” The male below her growled out, yet his snout never moved; it was in her head she realized.

“Sorry I've never done this before, it's much different than a horse.” She mumbled.

His laugh echoed in her brain. “It’s okay darling, just letting you know you have no need to be afraid to fall off me.”  

“Thank you.” She squeaked.

He nodded and continued his slow pace between the trees.

“Hey Tam?” She mused.

“Yes Darling?” He answered. 

“If it's so close to the ritual why do you do a last minute patrol?”  She asked quizzically.

“It's my last chance to breathe and actually be me, before the fog fully kicks in. A last chance to be alone before there's hands on me all night.” He answered.

“Oh. Then why did you invite me?” her voice took on a sad tone as she asked him.

“I don’t mind your hands on me, your  presence is always welcomed.” Tamlin purred out.

“Ah. Thank you Tam.” She smiled sadly, fighting with the ache in her chest.

“Of Course Darling, though you have no need to thank me, I should be the one thanking you.” Tamlin answered.

When they returned to the spot they had started their patrol, she jumped from his back and he shifted back. 

“I think when you disappear for the ritual I am going to take the horse back to the house and turn in for the night.” She looked down at the grassy floor.

“If you want Darling I only wish I could escort you back.” He sighed, secretly hoping she would stay through the selection process so he could beg the mother for her to be the maiden this year.

The walk back to the festival grounds was silent, the two returning to their seats until a horn was blown and Tamlin was called to the front where a priestess stood shrouded in veils, two bowls on a pedestal beside her. The priestess began a speech and the party goers crowded close, with her at the front as she supported Tamlin with a smile, hoping that tonight wouldn’t be as hard on him. Tamlin took one bowl into his hands and the priestess took the other and began painting his exposed skin with a dark emerald green paint; when she finished Tamlin brought the other bowl to his lips, The Berryhills red wine they had selected, and drank slowly yet deeply. The sun rested behind Tamlin as it slowly lowered, painting him with a halo as it sank beneath the horizon.  The drums picked up and pounded harder, pounded faster; Tamlin lowered the bowl back to the stand and took a deep breath as the true fog of Calanmai flooded his brain. His pupils dilated into slits as they dragged over the crowd. 

They centered on her, the drums around them, pounded just as loudly as her heart was; Tamlin stalked forward towards her in the crowd. He stopped in front of her, took her face between his thumb and index finger, and kissed her deeply with a growl. Her face blossomed red, and he picked her up softly in his arms, one hand around her neck and the other under her knees.  He was silent as he began to carry her to the horse, he helped her on before climbing on behind her himself. 

When they had finally made it to the manor, he carried from the stables up through the halls, ignoring the guest room that had been prepared and set her down in front of his own room. Taking the key from around her neck she had put on earlier and unlocking his bedroom door. He didn’t bother with being gentle as he tossed her onto the deep emerald green silk sheets of his bed. He stalked forward, kicking off his boots before pouncing on top of her. She welcomed him in with a kiss and felt the fog begin to fill her own mind. Tamlins hand found the fastening of her dress , pulling it from her body and she in exchange helped him with the tight leather pants that left little to the imagination. Teeth and lips clashed against each other as both were pulled under the brain fog of Calanmai. 

+

They had awoken groggily early in the morning to a knocking on the door, a servant on the other side called out to them. She was tucked into Tamlin’s side with his arm around her and the palm of his hand rested firmly on her upper thigh. Memories of the night prior flitted across her mind, images of Tamlin buried between her thighs and the look he gave her while he put his tongue to work, images of Tamlin below her coaxing her and praising her, and finally him buried deep within her and the roar he had let out as he finished inside of her and how when he had collapse dto her side and pulled her into him he had glowed a bright gold and felt a tug in her chest. 

She was pulled from her thoughts as Tamlin growled, “What now?” To the servant on the other side of the door, not even bothering to open his eyes as he covered his face with his other arm. 

“Sorry my lord, I wanted to wake you in enough time for you to bathe, get ready, and eat lunch before your meetings for the day. Apologies for waking you and possibly waking your lady.” The servant had squeaked before scampering could be heard as he hurried off. 

Tamlin groaned, “I just wanna stay here all day-” He was cut off as he felt a tug in his chest. 

He sat up quickly confused and startled at the tug, and looked down at the female beside him with a purr as she giggled and tugged the bond again.

He rolled on top of her and littered her face with kiss after kiss, a mix of their laughter echoed around the room. Eventually he pulled her from the bed and towards the attached bathing room, they stood in front of the floor length mirror and TAmlin buried his lips against her exposed neck; eyes finding hers in the mirror he watched as she shuddered against him, he could feel his arousal growing quickly and could scent hers in the air before it quickly soured.

“Darling? What's wrong love?” He looked up worriedly.

“Tam… Do you feel that disgusting feeling you talked about?” Her voice had a sad tilt to it.

“After being with you? Never” He confided.

“I love you.” She responded.

“I love you too Darling.” Tamlin kissed her cheek and moved to draw water for the bath.

“Oh by the mother…” She whispered.

“What?” Tamlin asked over his shoulder.

“Your back…” She whimpered. “I’m sorry.” 

“Huh?” Tamlin moved to look at his back in the mirror. He purred happily at the view. “Oh, Darling you have no need to be sorry.”

She ran her fingers over some of the raised red scratches on his back. “Are you sure?” 

“Mmmmhmmm, I like these new battle scars.” He snorted and she playfully punched his arm.

+

The two bathed peacefully and at some point she had convinced Tamlin to leave his shirt for the day and show off her claiming marks on his back. He had agreed with a deep kiss that almost led to something that would have made them late to lunch, she batted him away and wrapped the robe around her tightly as she rushed across the hall to change into her own clothes for the day. 

Lunch was uneventful and she moved from her normal chair opposite him to one directly to his right, staff chatted between each other with red across their faces as they gossiped. She sat up straight in her chair with a happy and smug smile on her face as everyone eyed Tamlin’s back.

The meetings after lunch however were the thing that made both of their days. They had stood, Tamlin with his back towards the doors of the conference room, while waiting for the nobles to file in. They had done so exactly as the clock in the great hall chimed on the hour, they had all stilled upon entering the room. 

Only one noble had cleared his throat, gathering the new couple’s attention. “Ummm. my lord, it seems you have forgotten something today.”

“Oh? And What would that be?” Tamlin asked the noble amusedly.

“Your shirt my lord, it seems you have forgotten your shirt.” The noble uncomfortably shifted on his feet.

“No actually that's intentional.” Tamlin’s female chimed from his side, and Tamlin smiled down at her.

“My back is too irritated for a shirt, I will have to wait for the scars to fade a bit more before I am able to wear one. Apologies if it makes you uncomfortable or envious.” Tamlin had snorted, the shirt fact was a partial lie his back was obviously irritated yes but he could have totally worn a shirt. Plus he was well aware that the noble questioning him was in an unhappy marriage and his wife was cheating on him with another of the nobles in the room. 

Being high lord made him privy to some information, he took his seat smugly as he pulled his mate, his female, into his lap and he offered all the nobles to sit with a smirk across his face. She nestled into his hold even more knowing she wouldn’t be leaving Spring Court or Tamlin’s arms for a very long time especially when rumors and gossip started spreading about their mating bond, titling her as ‘The Maiden Who Stuck Around’.

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin week #tamlin week 2024 #tamlin x reader

[penelope-potter]

Smudged Lipstick~♡

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Owl Hybrid! Reader

Summary: You are an Owl Hybrid Demon, who's power is to see the memories of sinners past life's. Out of fear that others might take your power for their own good, Angel came up with the idea of presenting you as a porn star with love powers instead- to avoid trouble. Alastor who grew fond of you, offer his help...

Warnings: No one it just gets a little hot in here doesn't it?

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You sat on the sofa in the hotel lobby, your head leaned against the palm of your hand, while you listened to the groups discussion about how to come up with a lie to protect your new found powers. You adored the fact that the group of sinners you grew close with actually trying to help you out with your problem, just like you did it with theirs. You had the ability to see the memories of the past life's from sinners, so you were a great part for the team of the whole redemption thing Charlie is so excited about. You offered your powers to Angel first, which he agreed on, and what ended up in an emotional puddle for both of you.

Therefore it was just more than obvious he wanted to help you too. So he came up with the amazing idea to push the hint out of peoples eyes that you have such powers, to replace it with another. Your head rose up. "I should be what?!" You asked, all eyes on you. "A love demon, seriously Angel?" Asked Husk with a sceptic glance. He was kind of protective of you, so when Angel came up with something like this, surely made his nerves go wild. "What? She already looks like some sort of love demon I mean just look at her!" He pointed at you. "Also whats the matter? Porn is always a good way to put a spell on peoples heads..." Angel winked at you as you glanced over to Alastor who sat on the other side of the room in his armchair. Legs crossed and his smile plastered on his face like always, although now it looks somehow more forced than before. His eyes hiding a slight bit of annoyance.

You knew that he wasn't very fond of the way Angel constantly flirts with anybody including him. Or any sexual themes in general so you suddenly felt embarrassed about it. Maybe it was the fact that you developed a crush on the Radio demon, or the whole idea of you doing things what would normally only Angel would do, brought you more cringe than anything. "They will never believe that I'm...well-" You started, heat rushed up to your cheeks. "Oh come on toots, you'll be amazing just look at you! Heart shaped antlers, cute lil' heart spots on your wings... your whole appearance screams for love!" He teased and came to you only to squish your face between his hands. "...you look so innocent, the people will go wild when they see that the little bird becomes an eagle..."

"I don't think (Y/N) is very comfortable with the idea of doing such nasty things like you Angel..." All heads turned around to look at Alastor who just looked in your direction, the others long forgotten. His position bever changed, but his hands firmly gribbed his cane in a more aggressive way than before. Angel's head turned to him, a smile spread across his features. "Oh oh big scary demon thinking someone will take his girl?~" Alastor's grin tighten and his head titles to the side. You could see the anger boiling up inside him so you just tried to brush it off. "It's alright Al, we have to do something that the other sinners won't get any clues. Even if that means doing something like this. It's just photos." The demon looked at you, his eyes still holding the war between grabbing Angel and smash him against the nearest wall or to actually pay attention to what you were saying. "I won't do anything that's above my boundaries..." You assured him, and finally his gaze softened. Like always when he interacts with you. You liked that you have such an impact on him and felt kind of honored for the special treatment he gave you. So you didn't wanted to make him uncomfortable in any way. "Oh come on now sugar cheeks, you don't have to promise him anything he don't owns you!" Angel said with furrowed brows and looked directly at him. "I know that Angel, he's just trying to remind me that I don't have to do this." You smiled at Alastor before you stood up infront of Angel. "So you two are gonna do this for real?" Husk asked again. "Yep. Maybe it won't even work, but we should have tried out everything." Angel nodded, the anger of the deer in the room long forgotten. "Well I'm happy you two found something to start with!" Cheered Charlie, a bit unsure about the situation as well. "When you two need help with something-" "Oh we don't need help but thanks Charlie. She will learn everything she needs to know from me." He grinned and grabbed you by the arms. "Let's go!" "Wait, now?" "Of course! The sinners won't wait an enternity for you! Let's get you dressed up, we're taking pictures!"

The enthusiasm he has for this left you shook your head. "I don't know Angel, I think I will mess this up." You said as you picked up a bright pink puff sleeved crop top which looked like it could pnly fit Fat Nuggets. You even wonder how Angel ever managed to get into that thing. "Of course you can, I'll be with you so don't worry. We'll just let them think theres a new star on the Angels lap. He was so excited about it. You were not. "Don't say that like this. Nevermind, tell me what should I wear?" He grinned and turned to his closet, almost throwing everything on the inside out so let out a chuckle while trying to catch some of the things. "Wow I never saw you in one of these..." You hold up a black skin tight leather jacket. "Well it's because not for everyone to enjoy!" He said grabbed it back. After a while he picked something for you, something that was fitting you in his words. Now you are standing there with a rainbow choker around your neck, a white crop top and your hair messed up on the top of your head. "Is this really necessary?" You asked once again as the spider cursed under his breath while doing your eyeliner. "Hold still and yes this is necessary. You want them to eat this shit up don't ya?" "Fucks Sake...." you muttered as he turned you around for you to look in the mirror. You let out an exciting gasp. "Wow Angel you did amazing! I look so..." You started. "Amazing?" He finished for you smiling. "Thanks toots, got me a while to get it right." He said. You turned your head in every angle, admiring your eyeshadow with the heart symbols and your eyeliner. The colors were fitting your wing color and your cheeks looked a lot more reddish than before. Your nose also had a nice sparkle on it. He even put on lipstick which was shimmering red like blood. "Let's do this!" Angel grabbed a camera from his bed and turned around. Your smile dropped. Oh lord...

Getting the pictures to look like you ACTUALLY know what you were doing was a lot harder than thought. You lost track of how long you two needed to have atleast five to six photos to fill with every week to post. You were quite confused and ashamed for not getting it right, even then Angel showed you more than once how to pose. His constant laughing made it only worse. "Fuck it, I quit! You said angrily. Sweat covered your forehead and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller than before. "I'm sorry sweet cheeks, it's just pure comedy that you've actually no idea of how a hot mess looks like, don't you?" You sighed. "No Angel I don't." He titled his head. "Never caught by a hot made out session?" You blushed. "No!" "Aww". "Shut up, I think we have enough pictures for today." You walked to the door and swung it open finally breathing the chill air inside and let your hot cheeks cool down. Angel followed you. "Alright we will find a solution. When imagine the whole thing won't work out, then I might just kiss you by suprise..."

You stopped abruptly and turned around. "No!" "But either way you won't deliver it the right way!" "Noy absolutely no- you are like a brother to me Angel please." You said almost desperate, only for you to see that Alastor was standing right beside you two.

Great.

You felt your head burning as you suddenly felt very aware of the minimalist amount of clothes you wore and tried to ignore him. "Okay that's sweet of you but that won't stop me." He said and his shit eating grin never left his face. Angel reached out for your lips with his thumb. "What are you doing?!" "Smudging your lipstick so that it at least looks like you just got caught in a hot make out session." You already started to protest as Alastor walked closer standing right next to you. "Well hello dear. I overheard a little. Seems like you could use a hand!" His smiled widened. "How could you from all of hell help her?" Angel asked and furrowed a brow. "Hmm I think I'm quite good to let a face looks like a mess." He said and glanced over to the spider who just scrunched at his choose of words. Alastors eyes darted back at you, his hand slipped up to your upper back and rested right between you shoulder blades. The touch send shivers down your spine as you tried to remain realxed. "Uh sure. I don't think we will need your-" "I think it's worth a shot don't you think? Because for me it seems like you two are somewhere stuck in the progress..." Alastor said, his hand wandered to your side, pulling you closer. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden touch from him. It was normal for you that he invades your personal space but not like this and not for that long.

Angel looked over at you, silently asking for your permission. "Uh yes why not let him help!" Seriously you don't even know what you're saying at this point. You were too flustered and you head was filled with nothing as his smell. Freaking feelings. "Maybe we can make it quick with the photo." You said ignoring the fact that your heart was louder than the words you spoke. "Okaay...well when anything happens I'm in my room. Waiting for you." Angel said but his eyes followed every movement from the deer next to you. He knows that you're in love with him, he found it out as you two were sitting in the kitchen and caught you staring at the demon from across the room. He teased you about it of course just in a funny way, but he is also protective of you because he doesn't trust Alastor one bit. He just don't want you to get hurt. Although you and him are somehow very good friends. You nodded as the spider walked away slowly one last look in your direction as he left around the corner. You sighed. "You know you don't have to do this." He looked at you confused. "Whatever do you mean dear?" He looked a lot more calm now, his statue more relaxed as he swirled his cane between his fingers. "Helping me out with this. I know you don't like that kind of stuff and me neither. You can't imagine how desperate I looked like while taking the pictures." You laughed in hopes that he will turn on his heels and left. Instead he closed his tooth grin to a relaxed smile which always seemed to you like it was truly genuine. "Oh don't break your pretty little head about this songbird. I know you are far too sweet for something like...this."

His gaze lowered to your top and you already felt the heat rushed into your head. Oh how he loved seeing you so flushed because of him. Suddenly the distance of you and him grew smaller from second to second as he towered over you, gently grabbing your hand in his while rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. "I must say darling, this color suits you unbelievable good, I wonder how it will look smudged..." He pulled you closer with his other hand now on your lower back. Your bodies pressed against each other he lowered his head so you had to look up just to see his crimson eyes half lidded. "You...know you don't have to act." You said breathless. "Who said I'm acting, cher?" His smile grew even softer and it almost looked like it was fading as he let go of your hand just to slide his sharp claw over your bottom lip, careful not to hurt you. Goosebumps running down your neck and you could only stare at him as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and came impossible closer to your face. You grabbed his collar out of excitment, what caused the deer to let out a quiete huff. His lips brushing over yours like a feather as he spoke. "If anyone tries to harm you in any way after this picture...I will rip their ridiculous organs out of their bodies..." He whispered against your lips. "...you are far too pure to be resembled as some sort of toy..." "Al-" You whispered, shaking.

He finally broke the last few inches and pressed his lips against yours. You gasped suprisingly. It was not a peck it was more than a good friend should be doing. Thousand questions raced through your brain but you couldn't care less. Instead you became braver and grabbed his neck running your fingers up to his undercut. His hips molded into yours as he pulled you even closer so you could feel his racing heartbeat against your chest. The tip of his tongue silently asked for permission on your bottom lip as you opened your mouth a bit. His claws digged into your hair and a soft groan escaped him. You felt the heat in your head and you bei you looked like his crimson suit for sure. What seemed like an enternity the two of you let go of each other, for you to breathe and for him to pepper your neck with sharp kisses. His lips were now tinted in the same red color as yours, the messy red scattered around his lips and smushed over the edges. He looked even hotter in this messy state you realized, his cheeks suddenly also a bit reddish. You wanted to say something but you already heard steps coming from the floor.

"Toots, Smiles where are you for fucks sake? Messing something up can't take this long..." Your heart dropped to the floor in an instant as you tried to free yourself from his grip only for him to still hold you close. He could easily aviod this drama to be seen. He could just miracle the lipstick stains away but he didn't moved. You're standing there, the red color still on his lips and Angel would obviously see what you two were doing but he didn't seemed to mind.

He finds your flustered state adorebal, really. "He-he will see us..." You started your last attempt to let go of him before it's too late but he only chuckled and pulled you closer to his chest, his face again close to yours. "Let him~"

"What. The. Fucking. Hell?!" Angel stood there, his jaw dropped on the floor. "Oh you are back! Well it seemed like I could helped a little. It was very exciting I must say!" His eyes followed back to yours and his smile grew wider. Angel would tease you forever for this. "Well I think our friend is left speechless dear. It was a pleasure." He grabbed your chin. "Don't be so shy little songbird. I like that smudged image of yours..." His eyes gazed to your lips again before he leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek close to your mouth.

"Well then, I hope this helps for your little shooting! I will see you later." He said- only to you it seemed as he turned and left, the lipstick still over his face.

"What is even happening?!"

Angel shouted out and laughed unsure.

"I- I don't"

"Oh Husk will love this!"

"You shut up about this!"

"No way. But at least you had a hot made out session when I look at your face..."

"ANGEL!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh gosh I did it! I hope you enjoyed it!

Still in love with the lipstick trope~

#alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor #hazbin x you #alastor x you #fanfiction #omg I hope you like it I'm so nervous #penelope write's

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

At one campaign rally after another, former President Donald Trump whips his supporters into raucous cheers with a promise of what’s to come if he’s given another term in office: “We will demolish the deep state.”

In essence, it’s a declaration of war on the federal government—a vow to transform its size and scope and make it more beholden to Trump’s whims and worldview.

The former president’s statements, policy blueprints laid out by top officials in his first administration and interviews with allies show that Trump is poised to double down in a second term on executive orders that faltered, or those he was blocked from carrying out the first time around.

Trump seeks to sweep away civil service protections that have been in place for more than 140 years. He has said he’d make “every executive branch employee fireable by the president of the United States” at will. Even though more than 85% of federal employees already work outside the DC area, Trump says he would “drain the swamp” and move as many as 100,000 positions out of Washington. His plans would eliminate or dismantle entire departments.

A close look at his prior, fitful efforts shows how, in another term, Trump’s initiatives could debilitate large swaths of the federal government.

While Trump’s plans are embraced by his supporters, policy experts warn that they would hollow out and politicize the federal workforce, force out many of the most experienced and knowledgeable employees, and open the door to corruption and a spoils system of political patronage.

Take Trump’s statement on his campaign website: “I will immediately reissue my 2020 executive order restoring the president’s authority to remove rogue bureaucrats. And I will wield that power very aggressively.”

That executive order reclassified many civil service workers, whose jobs are nonpartisan and protected, as political appointees who could be fired at will. At the time, more than four dozen officials from ten Republican and Democratic presidential administrations, including some who served under Trump, condemned the order. In a joint letter, they warned it would “cause long-term damage to one of the key institutions of our government.”

In the end, Trump’s order had little impact because he issued it in the final months of his term, and President Joe Biden rescinded it as soon as he took office.

But if, as promised, Trump were to change thousands of civil service jobs into politically appointed positions at the start of a second term, huge numbers of federal workers could face being fired unless they put loyalty to Trump ahead of serving the public interest, warn policy experts.

‘AN ARMY OF SUCK-UPS’

“It’s a real threat to democracy,” Donald Moynihan, a professor of public policy at Georgetown University, told CNN. “This is something every citizen should be deeply aware of and worried about because it threatens their fundamental rights.”

Moynihan said making vast numbers of jobs subject to appointment based on political affiliation would amount to “absolutely the biggest change in the American public sector” since a merit-based civil service was created in 1883.

One of the architects of that plan for a Trump second term said as much in a video last year for the Heritage Foundation. “It’s going to be groundbreaking,” said Russell Vought, who served as the director of the Office of Management and Budget under Trump. He declined interview requests from CNN. But in the video, he spoke at length about the plan to crush what he called “the woke and the weaponized bureaucracy.” Vought discussed dismantling or remaking the Department of Justice, the FBI and the Environmental Protection Agency, among others.

Vought focused on a plan he drafted to reissue Trump’s 2020 executive order, known as Schedule F. It would reclassify as political appointees any federal workers deemed to have influence on policy. Reissuing Schedule F is part of a roadmap, known as Project 2025, drafted for a second Trump term by scores of conservative groups and published by the Heritage Foundation.

Vought argues the civil service change is necessary because the federal government “makes every decision on the basis of climate change extremism and on the basis of woke militancy where you’re effectively trying to divide the country into oppressors and the oppressed.”

A Trump campaign spokesperson pointed CNN to a pair of campaign statements from late last year in part responding to reporters’ questions about the 900-plus-page Project 2025 document. The campaign said, “None of these groups or individuals speak for President Trump or his campaign… Policy recommendations from external allies are just that – recommendations.” However, the Project 2025 recommendations largely follow what Trump has outlined in broad strokes in his campaign speeches – for example, his plans to reissue his 2020 executive order “on Day One.”

Ostensibly, a reissued Schedule F would affect only policy-making positions. But documents obtained by the National Treasury Employees Union and shared with CNN show that when Vought ran OMB under Trump, his list of positions to be reclassified under Schedule F included administrative assistants, office managers, IT workers and many other less senior positions.

NTEU President Doreen Greenwald told reporters at the union’s annual legislative conference that it estimated more than 50,000 workers would have been affected across all federal agencies. She said the OMB documents “stretched the definition of confidential or policy positions to the point of absurdity.”

Trump’s comments about wanting to be able to fire at will all executive-branch employees suggest the numbers in a second term would be far greater.

Moynihan, at Georgetown, said US policies already grant the president “many more political appointees than most other rich countries” allow – about 4,000 positions.

“Almost all Western democracies have a professional civil service that does not answer to whatever political party happens to be in power, but is immune from those sorts of partisan wranglings,” said Kenneth Baer, who served as a senior OMB official under President Barack Obama. “They bring… a technical expertise, a sense of long history and perspective to the work that the government needs to do.” Making thousands of additional positions subject to political change risks losing that expertise, while bringing in “people who are getting jobs just because they did some favor to the party, or the president was elected. And so, there’s a risk of corruption.”

Such concerns cross the political aisle. Robert Shea, a senior OMB official under George W. Bush, called himself a hugely conservative, loyal Republican. But hiring people based on personal political loyalties would produce “an army of suck-ups,” he said.

“It would change the nature of the federal bureaucracy,” to remove protections from senior civil servants, he said. “This would mean that if you told your boss that what he or she was proposing was illegal, impractical, [or] unwise that they could brand you disloyal and terminate you.”

Biden has moved to block such a move. On April 4, the Office of Personnel Management, which in effect is the human resources department for the federal government, adopted new rules meant to bar career civil service workers from being reclassified as political appointees or other types of at-will workers.

The new rules would not fully block reclassifying workers in a second Trump term. But they would create “speed bumps,” said Baer. “To repeal the regulation, there would have to be a lengthy period of proposed rulemaking, 90 days of comment,” and other steps that would have to be followed. “And then probably the litigation, after that.”

“PLACES FILLED WITH PATRIOTS”

While assailing “faceless bureaucrats,” Trump also has said he would move federal agencies from “the Washington Swamp… to places filled with patriots who love America.”

But when he tried such moves before, the effect was to drain know-how, talent and experience from those agencies. That’s what happened in 2019 when Trump moved the headquarters of the Bureau of Land Management to Grand Junction, Colorado, and two agencies within the Department of Agriculture to Kansas City.

“The vast bulk of (headquarters) employees left the agencies,” said Max Stier, president and chief executive of the Partnership for Public Service, a nonpartisan group that promotes serving in government. It led to the loss of “expertise that had been built up over decades,” he said. “It destroyed the agencies.”

A 2021 investigation by the Government Accountability Office found that the BLM move pushed out hundreds of the bureau’s most experienced employees, and sharply reduced diversity, with more than half of black employees in DC opting to quit or retire rather than move to Colorado. The GAO also concluded that the USDA’s decision to move its Economic Research Service (ERS) and the National Institute of Food and Agriculture (NIFA) to Kansas City was “not fully consistent with an evidence-based approach.”

The two USDA agencies do statistical research and analysis. The ERS focuses on areas including the well-being of farms, the effects of federal farm policies, food security and safety issues, the impacts of trade policies and global competition. NIFA funds programs to help American agriculture compete globally, protect food safety and promote nutrition, among other areas.

Verna Daniels had worked for the USDA for 32 years, most of them as an information specialist at the Economic Research Service, when she and her colleagues found out their agency was being relocated in October 2019.

“I really enjoyed my job. I worked extremely hard. I never missed a deadline,” Daniels said. She said the announcement left her in shock. “Everybody was afraid, and it was happening so fast… We were given three months to relocate to wherever it was or vacate the premises.” She quit rather than uproot her whole family. “It was heart-wrenching.”

The Trump administration said moving the USDA agencies would bring researchers closer to “stakeholders”– that is, farmers. Catherine Greene, an agricultural economist with 35 years at the USDA’s Economic Research Service, called the idea ridiculous. “Every state that surrounds Washington, DC, has farming… I grew up on a hundred-year-old farm in southwestern Virginia.”

“We’ve all dedicated our lives to looking at farming in America, to looking at food systems in America,” Greene said. “I think the goal was to uproot the agency in such a way that most people would have to move on, and most people did. It was highly predictable.”

The other relocated research agency, the National Institute for Food and Agriculture, had 394 employees at the beginning of the Trump administration, said Tom Bewick, acting vice president of the union local for NIFA. Trump imposed a hiring moratorium that left positions unfilled as people moved or retired. By the time the relocation to Kansas City was announced, NIFA was down to 270 employees. “Once it was announced they would move us, we were losing 10 to 20 people a week,” Bewick explained. “We had less than 70 people make the move.” Five years on, he said, “We still are not the same agency, and we’ll never be the same agency we were.”

The USDA said the move to Kansas City would save taxpayers $300 million over 15 years. But the GAO said that analysis didn’t account for the loss of experience and institutional knowledge, the cost of training new workers, reduced productivity and the disruption caused by the move. Including such costs, the Agricultural and Applied Economics Association estimated the move actually cost taxpayers between $83 million and $182 million.

Greene, at the Economic Research Service, retired rather than move. After Biden took office, the BLM and the two USDA agencies moved their headquarters back to Washington, but also kept open their offices in Grand Junction and Kansas City, respectively. Greene said she worries for federal workers who might face the same choice in a second Trump term. “They mean business,” she said. “They spent four years practicing, and they are ready to rock and roll.”

To Stier, at the Partnership for Public Service, there is a huge gap between the perception and the reality of the role that the civil service plays across the country. “We’ve been doing polling on trust in government, and when you tag on the words, government ‘in Washington, DC,’ the trust numbers crater,” he said.

USING THE GOVERNMENT TO GO AFTER ENEMIES

On the campaign trail, Trump has regularly claimed, without evidence, that Biden and the Department of Justice are stage-managing various prosecutions of him – including state-level indictments in New York over falsifying business records and in Georgia, on charges of election subversion. Trump has used that false claim to say it would justify him using the Justice Department to target his political enemies. He’s said that in a second term he’d appoint a special prosecutor to investigate Biden. He told Univision last year he could have others indicted if they challenged him politically.

Trump tried to use the Department of Justice in this fashion during his previous term, repeatedly telling aides he wanted prosecutors to indict political foes such as Hillary Clinton or former appointees he’d fired, such as former FBI Director James Comey. He also pushed then-Attorney General Bill Barr to falsely claim the 2020 election was corrupt, which Barr refused to do.

In that term, some senior officials at the White House and the Justice Department pushed back against pursuing baseless prosecutions. Their resistance followed a tradition holding that the Justice Department should largely operate independently, with the president setting broad policies but not intervening in specific criminal prosecutions.

But in a second term, Trump could upend that tradition with the help of acolytes such as Jeffrey Clark, a former Justice official who faces disbarment in DC and criminal charges in Georgia for trying to help overturn the 2020 election results. As Trump tried to hang onto the White House in his final weeks in office, he pushed to make Clark his acting attorney general, stopping only after senior Justice Department leaders threatened to resign en masse if he did so.

Last year, Clark published an essay titled “The U.S. Justice Department Is Not Independent” for the Center for Renewing America, a conservative nonprofit founded by Russell Vought. Clark also helped draft portions of the Project 2025 blueprint for a second Trump term, including outlining the use of the Insurrection Act of 1807 to deploy the military for domestic law enforcement, as first reported by the Washington Post.

Trump also has talked about bringing to heel other parts of the federal government.

“We will clean out all of the corrupt actors in our National Security and Intelligence apparatus, and there are plenty of them,” Trump said in a video last year. “The departments and agencies that have been weaponized will be completely overhauled so that faceless bureaucrats will never again be able to target and persecute conservatives, Christians, or the left’s political enemies.”

Project 2025’s blueprint envisions dismantling the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI; disarming the Environmental Protection Agency by loosening or eliminating emissions and climate-change regulations; eliminating the Departments of Education and Commerce in their entirety; and eliminating the independence of various commissions, including the Federal Communications Commission and the Federal Trade Commission.

The project includes a personnel database for potential hires in a second Trump administration. Trump’s campaign managers have not committed the former president to following the Project 2025 plans, should he win the White House. But given the active involvement of Trump officials in the project, from Vought and Clark to former Chief of Staff Mark Meadows, senior adviser Stephen Miller, Peter Navarro and many others, critics say it offers a worrisome roadmap to a second Trump term.

“Now they really understand how to use power, and want to use it to serve, not just Republican partisans, but Donald Trump,” said Baer.

On the campaign trail, Trump leaves little doubt about what he’ll try to do.

“We will put unelected bureaucrats back in their place,” Trump told his supporters at one rally last fall. “The threat from outside forces is far less sinister, dangerous and grave than the threat from within.”

#us politics #news #republicans #donald trump #conservatives #gop #2024 #2024 elections #project 2025 #deep state #civil service workers #political appointees #at will hires #at will employment #Russell Vought #Schedule F #Heritage Foundation #cnn #deregulation #Office of Personnel Management #Jeffrey Clark #partisanship #fascism

[violet-evergarden-typo-quotes]

Hodgins: So... have you thought about my offer?

Gilbert: I have.

Hodgins: And?

Gilbert: I’m not working for you.

Hodgins: WHAT!? WHY?!

Gilbert: It’d be awkward working for you.

Hodgins: It’s no different from when we were in the army, ya know?

Gilbert: You were in an artillery regiment. I was in a shock troop battalion. Completely different groups.

Hodgins: Then be my partner! Let’s be equals and manage the business together!

Gilbert: No. Nothing you say will change my mind!

Hodgins:

Hodgins: Violet’s there, ya know?

Gilbert, tenses: That’d be even more awkward!

Hodgins, sighs: Good grief, you’re a mess!

Narrator: And they argue for another 3 hours.

Gilbert: *Gives in*

Hodgins: *Grins and downs another shot of vodka in victory*

#violet-evergarden-typo-quotes #violet evergarden #incorrect quotes #violet evergarden incorrect quotes #claudia hodgins #hodgins #gilbert bougainvillea #gilbert #job offer #argument #this might as well be canon at this point #they already had this discussion in the war #violet evergarden fandom #violet evergarden humor #violet evergarden funny #violet evergarden funny quotes #violet evergarden anime #friendship

[waitineedaname]

@patron-saints tagged me in a "list five topics you can talk about for an hour without preparing any material" post!

I'm echoing what julianna said, the fact that the two of us called each other for six straight hours to talk about the untamed really says something lmao

outer wilds!! do not get me started on that game. oh my god. I will talk your ear off about it.

star wars, specifically how I think I could fix her

medieval literature, especially arthurian romances. I just think they're fun <3 gotta put that english degree to good use!

is it cheating to say the thing I am literally in grad school for? I could probably talk for hours about sociolinguistics since that is my academic niche lmao

I'll tag @gamergirlcrustacean, @puzzlehat, @buffintruder, @birbliophile, and @daychiie!

#thank you for tagging me!! #I have already proven that I am capable of talking about the untamed for hours lskdjflksdjf #I could probably spend a full hour just talking about the yunmeng trio #the only caveat to the outer wilds discussion is whether or not im giving spoilers #bc oh god spoiling that game is a crime #but also EVERYTHING IS SPOILERS #my sibling and i have had many conversations where we accidentally talked about star wars for several hours #specifically how much we want to fix that stupid franchise #and then literature + linguistics are the things i have degrees in lmao

[greenliar]

Miss your monster art </3

hey im glad to hear someone likes and misses my fanart! monster is still one of my favorite pieces of media ever, but right now im just trying to focus on more silly self indulgent art to fight art block so im not planning to revisit it for now

#i can elaborate #so theres some rambles ahead #naoki urasawa is one of the guys ever and a big inspiration for me #but i had to take a break in consuming his works for now because it oftenly tackles themes of political injustice #like i started reading 20th century boys around January-February 2022 #and i fucking loved it #but like the last chapter i read was about dictatorship #and then war started in late February. yeah #same why i cant contunie on reading master keaton #theres a lot of geopolitical issues discussed #like in monster post ww2 germany is brought up often and its not something im mentally prepared to consume #pluto anime came out and ive read it and i think its an incredible piece of work and to my shame i still haven't watched it pass 2 episodes #bc i still have this kind of...block? #a lot of thoughts idk just didnt want to flood the post so its just my rambles that mostly here as a wiggly train of thought #what i say its hits a nerve because i want to feel safe with my art #and i dont have this mental energy to double issues that i already see irl around me first-hand

[psilactis]

do you guys think there is a correlation between silver being a straight, cis, white man, and why he was basically the only one willing to risk the war or..

#Black Sails #Yeah he was in love with flint. But he didn't know it so by all means. Straight guy #Just a question bc I genuinely don't remember something like this being discussed #Because everyone else that had high stakes in the war was some sort of minority you kno? #But silver. Not really #Did he even consider himself a pirate by that point? #And I mean like. As a permanent thing #Like rackham you know? Who couldn't see himself doing anything but being a pirate #Silver clearly didn't think that was an as important characteristic of himself #Especially because like. Rackham and Anne probably died as pirates #And silver went off to be an inn owner #Do you get me?? Am I making sense?? Or is the melatonin working already???

[nostalgia-tblr]

when i finish the Sylki Adultery AU thing THEN i shall allow myself actually make a start on the Loki-rules-Jotunheim AU, where my goal is to top 10k words in a fic that doesn't have even a single baby in it.

#he's gonna fuck a frost giant tho obviously #AND NOT THOR. THIS ISN'T A THORKI FIC THEY'RE JUST TWO BROTHERS WHO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER BROTHERINGLY. #(have had to remind myself of this fact once already D:) #this one too is based on reading Too Many Historical Novels because the basic plot is 'SUCCESSION CRISIS TIEM NAO' #it'd be real wars of the roses shit but not because in my plan loki only has three (3) allies on Jotunheim and one of those is thor :( #(see this is why he has to fuck a frost giant. to get himself some friends.) #even i could get 10k words out of a 'well this is obviously gonna end in civil war' scenario right? right?? #thanks to recent Tumblr Discourse there will absolutely be some discussion of Lauffey being too incompetent to murder a literal baby :) #(i said i wasn't making a start on it i didn't say i don't have Extensive Notes for it. i can't just not write the thoughts down.) #(i'd forget some crucial plot point and then get mad at myself) #(like the fun prologue that explains What The Fuck Was Odin Thinking. and then none of the other characters know. idk if that'll work?) #but first i have to get that adultery thing finished! ONE EPIC TALE OF SUCCESSION IN A MONARCHY AT A TIME! #PLANS!!!!!! #don't believe the hype #fic related

[luobingmeis]

sometimes i monologue to myself for what feels like hours abt 3zun/nieyao and then i end with the very lxc statement of “well, they both have their reasons” :’)

#like i don’t have much to say abt jgy and that’s only been #bc my statement from day 1 has been that i get so frustrated when people say that jgy was ‘evil’ from the start #and did every single this with manipulative and malicious intent #so like that is something i have already talked length abt w/ blink so like that soapbox has been done and is currently still happening #nmj tho…. #it’s funny bc frankly i can list more things he does that i disagree with than agree w/ #and like frankly for me personally i don’t really. care abt how much i agree with a character aksksksks #if it makes sense that they did what they did then i am happy #which like isn’t even me being shitty or trying to be above it #but it’s bc. yeah the general statement of ‘i dont agree with x/y actions but i still like the character’ #which like. the other option of only liking the characters that i morally agree w/ has become such a tired discussion #anyways i digress bc when i think abt nmj yeah i think def in the meng yao era he was rly unfair to jgy at a lot of times #and i think that in-general my’s wen spy era was painted to look. nefarious. and not like something that was pivotal to win the war #and yeah like he shouldn’t have tried to kill my esp bc i do believe that my was genuine in trying to save nmj from being killed there #and then this all snowballs out etc etc etc #but it’s like! agreeable or not imo it’s so understandable why nmj does this #like i use nightless city as my big nieyao example bc like. my did what he had to and by being a spy he ultimately won them the war #or at least finished it #but on a personal level nmj has a reason to not want to fuck w/ my #but even then i think abt!! how for nmj he /doesnt/ take the personal route #he takes the ‘what abt the others’ which like ig for the world itself isn’t an off-color statement #but it’s also like. i think abt what jgy said on the steps of jinlintai abt how they’ve both killed #and yet nmj has never forgive jgy even tho he’s killed far less #and it comes down to like what nmj thinks is a just reason for killing (aka no subterfuge) #i’m losing my train of thought and also running out of tags i think #anyways if i had to pick 1 era this is a wen spy meng yao era support blog #and then blink and i joke abt nmj being my favorite plot device but like #by god am i obsessed with him. i didnt even get a chance to talk abt his qi deviation #and how imo that is more tragedy than anything else #anyways. 3zun. the ouroboros trio. i am obsessed with all three of them.

[ellemj]

Off-Limits: Ch. 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.

            Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.

            Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.

            The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.

            “You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.

            “We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”

            Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.

            As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.

            Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.

            “It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.

Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.

“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”

Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?

Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.

“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.

“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.

“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.

“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.

“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”

It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?

            When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.

            When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.

            “We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky x you #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes

[alyakthedorklord]

Au where the Drake’s don’t die (they’re just bad parents) and as Tim gets older they start spending a SLIGHT bit more time with him to train him to take over Drake industries. They start trying to set up a marriage to a daughter of a good family for Tim, but he’s dating Bernard, who is not only a man but from a “subpar family.” They demand he break it off.

Tim refuses to break up with his boyfriend, threatens causing a huge scandal and making out with Bernard in public if they engage him to anyone.

Jack and Janet threaten to disown him, bc they think Tim’s been living the soft cushy house (manor) life hidden away from the world on thier money this whole time, so they’re all, “You’ll come crawling back, you need us and our money, this will teach you a lesson.”

Tim, who has been practically independent since he was four, has extensive robin training, access to zetatubes, powerful friends (and enemies) in every major city across the world, at least eight fully stocked safehouses in Upper Gotham alone, a personal bank account under his own name with combined Drake and Wayne allowance, at this point is only in Drake manor when his parents are here (a week with an important gala every four months maybe) and has LITERALLY had a discussion with Bruce about a custody battle due to negligence so he can call himself a Wayne on paper not even a week before, just laughs.

“This is Gotham. I’ll get Bruce Wayne to adopt me.”

That makes them mad. His parents show him the disowning paperwork and kick him out. Tim doesn’t even run to Wayne Manor, he meanders over while tapping at his phone.

Bruce already had the paperwork ready. The Drakes don’t know what’s happening before it’s too late. Tim is a Wayne. They try to challenge it but they relinquished all rights and Tim has receipts of parental neglect and also he already has a room at the manor.

Tim takes over as Wayne Industries CEO (the sooner the funnier) and immediately starts being awesome at it, smug ass grin in every photo, the other Waynes cackling in the background as the Drakes seethe and thier stocks plummet. The next gala they go to, Bruce makes absolutely sure to turn to Tim and go, “So son, when is your boyfriend coming over for dinner?”

Bernard comes back from a family camping trip to find out his boyfriend started an upper crust civil war for the right to date him. And also he’s invited to Wayne Manor. Wtf Tim.

#jason calls bernard helen of troy #bernard is on tims arm #in a fancy suit #he’s just happy to have front row seats to all this drama #the drakes are crumbling #tim drake #bernard dowd #tim x bernard #bruce wayne #dc prompt #batfam #batfamily

[gremlingottoosilly]

Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)

You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right? Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them AO3

The Vikings are here. Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel. The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has. You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin. 

Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured. 

But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem. 

— What are you doing here? 

Ah. 

You were spotted. Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad. 

— Can’t you talk? 

His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…

Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds. — I can talk. 

This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think. — Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.

The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say. 

— What is that? 

He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all. — A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them… — Oh. Mavka. — Others call it mermaid. Selkie. Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner. 

— I’m not…that. 

— I can see. 

He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water. 

Hm. 

Is it supposed to be this big? 

He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well. — You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen. 

— Why? 

— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake. 

You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold. — Where are your men? 

You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too. — Around. Waiting for the order. — What order? 

You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky. 

If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either. 

König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here. Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…

— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too. You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that. 

— Are you cold? 

You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his. — You can warm me. 

You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you. — How? 

— Do you have a husband? 

He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them. 

— No. And I won’t.

— Why? — Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it. He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father. — Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja? 

He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however… Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan. 

You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls. — Are you hurt? 

— Nein, it’s…go on. You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube. 

König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment. Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t. He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks. — You did good, little bird. 

His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you. 

You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling. 

— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control. 

His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek. 

— Are you going to leave soon? 

He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you. 

— Yes. Yes, I will. You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this. 

When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important. 

When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead. 

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig x you #konig cod #cod konig #yandere x you #yandere x reader

[robin374]

𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖕 𝖆 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Alastor x reader, romatic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: I think we all agree that Alastor would say this phrase. Maybe I got too carried away, sorry if it's too long. Unedited

Carmilla waited for all the overlords to arrive and take their respective seats. Her silver eyes serenely observed the situation, while she prepared her probable monologue in her mind. A war would be one of the worst options to choose. They had already lost many souls since the last extermination, and losing even more would serve no purpose, except to amuse the angels. All the powerful demons sat down and Carmilla waited a few seconds for the various conversations between them to end, seeing that she got nothing waiting she coughed to get the attention of her companions. "I have gathered you here today to discuss this year's brutal extermination..." She began to explain, her eyes full of determination with a subtle light of hatred, which was directed towards the cruel exterminators up there. 

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud bang and two shadows appeared; one taller than the other. The little fashionista Velvette, a member of the Vees, appeared first with a superior smile on her face. With her back stretched and chin held high, she pulled the metal chain around her hand, causing the other shadow to walk involuntarily. However, the big difference between the two demons was that one of them was walking with her head down, as if she had been defeated and humiliated in front of all Hell, as if she was going to be sacrificed. Carmilla scowled at Velvette which diverted the attention of the other overlords and they looked towards the fashionista. Y/N didn't look up, she had already felt too ridiculed on the way there to feel even more so under the gaze of the other overlords. Especially under his gaze, under that smile that conveyed no feelings at all. 

"Speaking of the exterminators..." Velvette's distinctive accent echoed through the room, no overlord daring to speak. Anyone could cut the tension in that room with a butter knife. Y/N didn't even flinch at the confident sound of the voice, she was now as vulnerable as a puppy just abandoned on a highway. A few thumps accompanied the fashionista's small laugh, thumps that sounded too soft to be a blow from a fist but too hard to be a single piece of flesh. A golden drop landed on Y/N's slipper, she swallowed dryly, feeling closer and closer to the permanent presence of eternal death. Ironic, isn't it? A dead girl being afraid to die. She didn't hear the next sentences of the argument between the two overlords, she was too focused on the pain of the silver chains around her wrists behind her back. Never in eternity had she thought that being in hell she would burn, let's just say those holy chains silenced those thoughts for her. 

Velvette needed only a single tug on the chain to smash Y/N's face into the long table in the living room. Her hand pressed her face against the hard material, it looked like she wanted to put her face through the table. Y/N's gaze jumped from overlord to overlord, she knew full well that none of them would help her. "She was the one who killed that flying rat." Velvette began. "If those...Things can die, we're in a whole different situation." She paused for a moment, "we could start a war..." She turned to look at Y/N, her gaze as callous as her actions. "Not without killing this bitch first, it wouldn't suit us well for a girl as normal as you to get all the fame, what would my fans say?" His voice became a bit sharper, clearly seeking more attention than he already had.

Y/N looked away, her eyes fell on a spot between the ceiling and the window of the room, she didn't want to see how the overlords looked at her as if she was a mere bug, which they had no intention of keeping alive. She noticed her vision blurring, she knew these would be her last moments, as Velvette kept her word whenever it would do her good. "Who's for killing her and dropping her body in the nearest trash? Right where she deserves." The room was filled with murmurs and different conversations, some agreed with the fashionista, while others did not. Y/N had stopped listening long ago, she had accepted her permanent death since Velvette found her near the angel's body. She hadn't done it, she was just being more noisy than she normally was, not everyone gets the chance to see a dead exterminator, no? It was just bad luck, she wasn't the culprit, "It wasn't me..." She whispered in an attempt to get someone to listen to her, but these were overlords we're talking about, they wouldn't hesitate to kill someone. That's how ambitious they could be to have more power in their hands.

The sound of radio static came on, which was getting closer and closer. The pressure on Y/N's head disappeared in less than a second, and for a moment she thought she had finally been killed and her thoughts were slowly leaving her head as she completely lost consciousness. However, one hand helped her up, and even with her hands still tied she met those red eyes she loved to stare into so often in the hotel. With the other hand, Alastor pushed Velvette away from her, "I'll take care of it." 

The last thing to go. That demon Y/N thought she loved was going to betray her as soon as she left the building. She felt his hand brush against her back as he silently guided her through the halls of the building until he was outside. Once there he began to walk towards a particular direction. Y/N stopped in her tracks, confused. Maybe what she was about to say would be a big mistake, maybe she shouldn't say anything to stay alive, though curiosity killed the cat, right?

"You're not going to kill me? Kill me and then drop me in the middle of the street?" She watched as the Radio Demon's back tensed, and so did his ears. As much as she didn't see his face, she knew that smile twisted into an irritated one. He turned around slowly, and that annoyed smile softened the moment their eyes connected. He laughed softly and moved closer to the girl, his free hand coming to her cheek. "Only a fool would drop a girl like you." He smiled. That sentence made Y/N ironically feel like she was in heaven, a strange warmth rose to her cheeks. She heard the laughter of the overlord who was now offering his arm to walk beside him, "Alastor, my hands are chained." Y/N began, "I can't hold your arm."

#hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

[zombiefiilm]

Next to You

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: sharing a room with the person in the bau that hates you the most makes you go through more emotions than you thought possible

warnings: kind of enemies to lovers, arguing, crying, no use of y/n, smut, nsfw - 18+ only, apology sex, soft sex, fem oral, protected p in v, praise, typical criminal minds death and unsub mentions

word count: 2.7k

Last minute cases in desolate towns in the midwest often meant that there was nowhere for the team to stay. It wasn't uncommon for you to have to pair or group up with other team members in dodgy motel rooms.

The most recent investigation had brought you all to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska, a long day ending with a drive to an motel that housed 7 rooms in total.

You, Reid and Rossi were the last to arrive so when Prentiss handed you a room key and told you that you would be sharing with Reid, it was already too late to complain.

"It's for your own good" she she grinned, picking her go-bag off the floor beside her.

"I hate you" you sighed.

"Sure you do" she was already walking off. You've been face to face with serial killers regularly, and this was just surviving a few nights in the same room as Spencer Reid, you could do this.

You walked back outside to find Reid standing in the dark by the car, right hand in this pocket and his left leaning against the black SUV.

"Looks like you're with me, Reid" you announced and the way that his face instantly dropped almost knocked you over. It was almost like you'd told him you were about to kill him.

"Come on" you began walking down to room 4, Spencer following shortly behind as you unlocked the door.

Being met with just one double bed though was enough to bring tears to your eyes. The couch looked like it had been through the war and there was no way on earth you were even touching it. And the sigh that Spencer let out made you want to rip your own hair out.

"I'm gonna sleep in the car" you quickly turned around to walk out of the door.

"You're not sleeping outside with a killer targeting women the exact same age as you on the loose" he stopped you in your tracks. He was right. "I can take the couch".

You were a little surprised at the chivalry but thankful none the less. "Are you sure?"

He didn't answer, instead dropping himself onto the couch.

Feeling content with his actions, you dropped your own bag on the floor beside the bed and told him you were going to use the bathroom before cleaning yourself up and changing into the oversized t-shirt you were using as pyjamas.

Coming out of the bathroom again, you were going to tell Reid that he was free to use the bathroom now but he simply glared at you.

It was as if he wanted to make your life hell. He always scowled at you, made snarky comments on little details about you, gloated whenever you got anything wrong. He always drove you up the walls, since you first started at the BAU, and you never knew why.

It's not like you had done anything to him, from what you knew at least. You smiled and shook his hand when you met him and even thought he was cute, you treated him just like you did with everyone else on the team, but you quickly noticed how differently he treated you.

You gave him plenty of time to warm up to you before you let yourself develop any solid opinions on him. You were warned about how he took to knew people, and you were understanding at first. But after you were several months in, and now years, and he still treated you like an outsider, you were no longer shy to expressing your dislike for him.

Other people on the team noticed it too, you, JJ, Garcia and Emily often discussing it with each other, but if one of them ever mentioned Spencer's attitude to himself, he'd deny everything and brush it off.

You really tried to not let it get to you, especially with the support from others, But man, did it upset you.

Spencer eventually got himself ready in the bathroom and came back out, silently setting himself up on the couch as you sat in the bed and did some research. There was a nice silence for a while, and then:

"Could you stop turning the pages so loud" he sounded irritated already and you hadn't even spoken to each other in the past 30 minutes.

"What?" you matched his tone, was he really trying to start a fight with you right now?

"I can't even think with how much noise you're making"

"I'm not making any noise, Reid, what's wrong with you?"

"You're flicking the pages, I can't pay attention to anything else"

"Oh so the sound of paper is able to stop boy genius in his tracks?" you mocked, pissed off at what he was choosing to do do.

He glared at you in response, he looked like he was about to blow a fuse.

"I don't know how to help you here, Reid, I'm trying to work on the case"

"Yeah, trying, it's not like you've ever actually done anything important for one" his voice had raised slightly.

"What?"

"You're practically incompetent, how you got recruited to the bureau, I'll never know" you hadn't even noticed him standing up, but it suddenly made you feel uncomfortable so you got out of the bed too, standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Excuse me?" you were completely shocked now, how had he gotten so far.

"You heard me. You have no place on this team. All you do is mess things up, you can't figure anything out and then you go and let our unsubs go"

Oh

You knew exactly what he was talking about. During one of your first cases, you had unintentionally informed an unsub that the FBI were searching for him during an interview with his wife and he got away. He was dangerous and you had never forgiven yourself for the people who had died before he was finally caught.

You just broke down in tears after that. It felt like he'd re-opened the wound right there and then.

"Fuck you" you spat through tears. You couldn't even look at him now, turning your back to him to sit on the bed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry" it was like he had suddenly snapped out of the unexplained rage he was just experiencing.

You felt the bed dip as he sat down behind you, and then a hand rest on your shoulder.

You were edging on losing the ability to breathe. It wasn't even just remembering the worst experience you had on the job, it was the fact that Spencer had used it against you just to get a reaction out of you. You wouldn't have even expected that from him.

He just sat behind you as you attempted to regain some sense of composure, not saying anything else. Was he finally feeling some sense of remorse for how horribly he had been treating you?

Once he noticed that your breathing had slowed, he called out your last name, your work name. It felt so impersonal in that moment. Not that you'd ever been on a first name basis with him, but you gave no reaction to him.

He tried again, squeezing your shoulder this time. You gave him nothing.

But then he whispered your name. Your first name. It was quiet, apologetic.. desperate.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from under your eyes before you turned around to look at him. He was sitting right behind you in the bed now, his big brown eyes practically burning a hole in your head. You knew you probably looked like a mess now, face red and wet, eyes puffy, and hair mangled.

"God, I'm sorry" his hand reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek "I'm such an idiot, I can't believe I said that".

You flinched at his touch, not saying anything back to him.

"If I could take that back I would, I did not mean it. It was just in the moment" he tried to hold your face in his hand but you avoided his touch.

"In the moment?" you repeated "What even was that moment. It's like you wanted to have an argument with me for fun".

"I don't want to argue with you, I just.."

"You just hate me" you finished.

"No! I don't hate you, I'm just stupid and don't know how to deal with how I feel about you"

You looked directly into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed. "How you feel about me?"

You managed to catch his gaze as it briefly flicked down to your lips. It felt like something was drawing you closer as you moved towards him.

"Please, let me make it up to you".

"No. Are you saying you've treated me like this because you can't figure out what to do about your feelings for me? What are you? Twelve? You've made my life miserable."

The tears spilled out again, what was he even saying?

"Please, just let me show you how sorry I am"

His voice was laced in what could only be described as desperation, it was making you want to hear him out, forgive him, and you didn't quite know why.

"Please" his voice was on the verge of breaking.

Your walls were crumbling down, it was like he'd cast a spell on you

"please"

You only nodded, allowing him to to lean in closer to you, finally cupping your head in his hands and softly pressing his lips against yours.

It was like he was purposefully avoiding any roughness as he gently kissed, from your lips down your jaw and then down your neck. He looked at you then, his eyes meeting yours in a silent question. And you nodded.

He loosely grabbed the hem of your shirt, and you let him lift it up over your head.

He didn't touch you yet, kissing your lips again as he began to slide your underwear down. You manoeuvred enough for him to take them off you completely. He was so gentle that you didn't even think of feeling self-conscious being completely undressed in front of him.

He urged you to spread your legs and quickly laid down on his stomach in between them.

You barely had time to blink before his lips were on you, kissing up the inside of your thigh. as his hands wrapped around you, holding you down.

Then, he was softly licking up your cunt, softly moaning to himself as he tasted you. He avoided your clit, dragging his tongue everywhere except where you needed him most.

"Spence" the nickname drove him crazy, he finally felt like maybe you could be his.

He finally flicked his tongue over your clit and you couldn't help but push your hips against his face, a whine slipping from your lips.

He only egged you on, using your legs to pull closer to his mouth. He kept circling your clit, increasing the amount of pressure he used as your squirmed under him.

Every few moments, he'd bring his tongue down again, dipping into your hole gently, gathering your slick, before suckling at your clit again.

Slurs of his name, swears and a few 'oh my gods' were the only coherent sounds that could leave your mouth. He had gotten you incredibly sensitive and you felt like you could tip over the edge at any moment.

Spencer himself couldn't stop himself from moaning at your taste, your sounds, how your skin felt under his hands. The vibrations pushing you further.

He suddenly sucked a bit harsher, almost nipping your clit before going back to his previously gentle movements.

The contrast between the rare harsher movements and his gentle attention had you bucking into his face, only to be stopped by his hands pushing you down.

All of a sudden, you felt your release. You moaned much to loud as you writhed under Spencer's mouth, him carrying you through your orgasm.

Just as you felt yourself come down, you went to pull yourself away from Spencer, but he refused to let you, keeping you pinned down to the bed as he let himself taste your release.

"Spencer, please" you were so incredibly sensitive at this point, your body jolting at every small movement. You had to bite the side of your hand to stop yourself from yelling out from the pleasure.

He suddenly pulled off of you with a soft *pop* ad sat up, quickly kicking his trousers and boxers off as you reached forward and loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Now that he too was undressed, you felt more equal, it was almost metaphorical as if he was agreeing to end the weird tension between the both of you.

He sat between your legs again, lifting your legs around his hips. You hadn't noticed the condom he had taken out from his pocket until you heard the crinkle of the foil as he opened it.

He quickly rolled it down his shaft as you finally got the chance to look at him. You felt yourself clench in anticipation.

He finally lined himself up and you were subconsciously pushing your hips down towards him.

"Please, Reid" you practically begged as he leaned forward but he stopped at your words.

You looked into his eyes, pleading for him to fill you up, but he didn't.

"Spencer" you whined, and he quickly rutted his hips into you.

"Thats it, good girl" he praised as the air was knocked from your lungs.

He started slow, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to finally caress your skin. It was like he was trying to memorise the curves of your body with one hand. He grabbed at your hips, held your waist, squeezed your breasts, as he slowly picked up his pace.

He couldn't get enough of feeling your body as he pinched your nipple, marvelling at the way it hardened further.

"God, you're so beautiful" his hand finally fell down to your clit, rubbing small circles in time with his thrusts.

You couldn't even get a single word out at this point, too tired and desperate to say anything.

"I'm so sorry baby" if he didn't have your attention before, the name had definitely gotten it now. "I'll be so good for you from now on" you could tell he was close from the waver in his voice, but you too felt your 2nd release approaching.

"You're so perfect" his rambling was interrupted by groans, "never want to leave your side ever again" his thrusts had last there rhythm as he circled your clit quicker, desperate to get you to cum before him.

It didn't take long for the coil in your stomach to snap, vision blurring as he continued his thrusts. Not much after, he plunged into you one last time. You could feel him coming inside as he filled up the condom, his chest now flush against yours.

You both laid there for a few moments, enjoying the hot, sticky embrace as you caught your breathe.

Silently, Spencer pulled out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash before pulling his boxers on. He then got you cleaned up, helping you put on your own underwear afterwards, before you got into the bed.

He tried to walk over to the couch but you were not letting that happen. “Get in here Reid" you muttered, laughing quietly as he practically jumped in beside you.

As he faced you in the bed, he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. "I'll make it up to you, I'm sorry, about everything" he kissed you once more, it would take more time for you to forgive him, but for now you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencerreid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fluff

[evilminji]

Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.

Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.

Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.

Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?

The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤

And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.

He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!

Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.

And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-

And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"

Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?

Shoot us TWICE?

Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!

And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.

"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.

The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?

And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.

Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"

And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!

Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Ghost Reporters Au