#LISTEN;;; TALL WOMEN ARE TREASURES;;;;

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

Gay women who will kick your ass in a pokémon battle while getting distracted by each other

Anyway Pokémon Masters has completely ruined me

[neteyamslovrr]

For your 2k event 😊 (I'm so happy for you btw! 🥰👏👏)

Fluff #9 - “if you cry, i’ll cry ─ and that won’t be fun for anyone.”

With Tsu'tey x h!Reader maybe 😊

Absolutely no pressure though and again; congratulations on reaching 2k! 😁🎉🎉

SKY-WOMEN LOVE GIFTS

here you go lovely!! i hope you enojy. this was actually my first time writing human!reader so eek. but i liked it. tsu'tey being ooc but y'know him being alive isn't canon lmao

It took Tsu’tey a long time to warm up to the left over scientists of the sky people. Like a seriously long time.

While Jake did help get rid of some of the hostility towards the scientists, it was really you that did the heavy-lifting. A small, fragile weak human in his eyes. On a planet where not even the air serves you. Maybe it was pity that drew him closer towards you, or maybe it was your interesting alien self. Who knows?

Months passed as he got to know you. You would follow him through the forest to study more of the flora, involve yourself with the clan’s cultures and always be there to lend him a listening ear.  

He couldn’t deny that his heart grew fond of your company. The way your tiny alien hands would grab onto him when you lost your balance. The way he would have to wait for you to catch up to him every other step. The way you were so committed to loving his home. He found himself constantly thinking about you as a mate.

He wasn’t quite sure how to show his affections towards you. He knew the usually the traditions would not be received as well, as you did not understand them. He didn’t enjoy asking Jake for help, but it was worth it for you.

“What? You want to court Y/N? Didn’t know you were into sky-people brother.” Tsu’tey snarled at him, too serious to be caught up with Jake’s antics.

“I want to court Y/N, I am here for advice not ridicule.” Jake gave him a strong pat on the back followed with a proud smile.

“Sky-women like gifts. All women like gifts! Make her something and I’m 100% sure she’ll treasure it. Especially if it’s from you.” Tsu’tey wondered if something handmade would be up to your culture’s standard, especially considering the odd demon technology your people have built. Would it not be mundane?

He may as well give it a shot. “Thankyou brother.” And he was off, already conjuring ideas in his mind of what to create for you. What would be suitable for someone as tiny as you. He would have to be mindful of the size of his gift. Would you want jewellery? Maybe a knife? No. you don’t need a knife. You would never wear his cultures clothing, too embarrassed because of your culture’s standard.

Maybe a bracelet was the best thing to make. Yes. It’s perfect.

It had been a couple days since you had conversed with Tsu’tey, too busy with your studies and he seemed to be going away to do god knows what. It disheartened you a little, you enjoyed your time with the tall man. Your heart always beat a little faster around him, eyes lingered longer, time felt shorter.

You were standing near some of the plants right outside of the base of the camp the people had set up. You were way too immersed in your instruments, that you didn’t realise the lean man stalking behind you, simply looking down to observe what was interesting you so much.

“That is flefle.” You jumped, grabbing onto your heart as you felt your soul slip you because you were so frightened.

“Oh! Jesus you scared me.” Tsu’tey never really understood your human expressions, but he though you sounded cute saying them at least.

“I have something for you.” You furrowed your brows, confused on what he could possibly give to you. His hands were fidgeting behind his back, nervously rolling onto the balls of his feet and back down again.

“Oh can I see?” Tsu’tey nodded taking one of your small hands in his, delicately placing the bracelet in your palm. You gasped switching your gaze rapidly between Tsu’tey and the beautiful, beaded bracelet that was give to you. The beads had small engravings in them, while they alternated in colours from blue to green. “This is beautiful Tsu’tey!”

“Do you like it?” You nodded swiftly.

“Of course I love it, I might cry it’s so pretty. Thankyou!” Tsu’tey’s face grew concerned as you mentioned crying.

“Do not cry. If you cry, I will cry and that wont be fun for anyone.” You giggled at his words, the way he was so serious was amusing. Stepping forward to give him a thankful hug, your head resting just below his ribs. He stiffened against your touch, hands hovering over you, scared to hug you too tight.

Letting go of him you held the open bracelet in your hands. “Could you tie it up for me?” Tsu’tey nodded his hands careful as his fingers worked swiftly to tie the knot around your wrist.

“It is not too tight?”

“No it is perfect. Thankyou.”

[justrainandcoffee]

Memories (Luca Changretta x poc!fem!oc)

This is part of my main series → Hunger Games - Peaky Blinders crossover.

Summary: The disastrous 75th Hunger Games are over, but the rebellion barely started. In district 11, she's the new leader now. Commander Young was made to protect her people. While she was out contemplating the fire, she starts to remember. Luca Changretta and her relationship with him.

Warnings: Mentions of minors forced to have sex (only mentioned) and angst. || Despite this fic, and how much I like these two, Luca is fucking bastard in thg universe and she could NEVER fall in love with someone like him.

Words: 1k. || Credits to @evita-shelby for adding him on her fic, because otherwise this fic couldn't exist. I waited months to write this!! But it's here. It's previous to the next part of the main series.

In a parallel universe Aveline imagines her life is much better. Perhaps with a job that allows her to live in dignity and without having to worry about surviving a war started by a white-haired old man who had nothing better to do than ruin the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

Commander Young is a title she never imagined she would have, but it is what life has put in front of her. And as hard as it is to admit... she likes it. Standing up for those who can't make it on their own is what brings her the most satisfaction.

And her beloved district knows something about injustice. Sadly.

Aveline stands next to a funeral pyre. Since the announcement of the 75th games, problems in the districts have worsened. It is true that she and a group of the strongest men and women she had, not many, managed to control the peacekeepers and those who resisted were now feeding the pigs, but it is also true that what little resources they had became scarce and deaths increased. The pyre was to honour the dead of her land and the meaning of the fire was more than just the symbolism of purifying them. It was also to prevent the bodies from bringing disease to those who were still alive.

Aveline watched the fire with her precious katana in her hands. The flames brought back memories to her mind.

"Take it with you. You're going to need it someday, Linnie."

Linnie. The only person who ever called her that was him. To everyone else she's Avie. But of course Luca Changretta wasn't part of the rest. He was special, that's why he paid for her when Aveline won.

They were both teenagers at the time, she was 16 and he was 19. It didn't take Aveline long to understand what the behind-the-scenes of the Hunger Games was all about. Having no mentor, being the first winner from District 11, no one warned her, but when the peacekeeper knocked on her door to tell her she had to go to the Capitol because someone was waiting for her, some pieces of the puzzle began to make sense.

She was forced to wear a purple dress and shoes that made her even taller than she was. Another peacekeeper took her to a luxurious mansion and that was the first time she saw him. As tall as she was and with an elegance that, even for someone from the Capitol, could cause envy.

"Perfect," was what he said when he saw her. His youthful face lacked that malice that would make more than one in the future recoil and yet, it was still intimidating. "Please, Aveline, have a seat."

He said he prepared dinner himself and set a plate of pasta in front of the girl that smelled delicious. There was no way she could get something like that in District 11, even if she was a champion.

Luca wasn't like the average Capitol people she'd seen in the months since she'd won and in the future either. For better or worse, Luca was smarter than them. Maybe that's why he was dead now too, guys like him couldn't be trusted, even before he was 20.

The katana rested on a wall, like a treasure for all to see. Within reach of her hand, if only....

Luca listened to her talk, and that wasn't something the Capitol did. They pretended to listen to those in the district, only to interrupt them and talk about the wonders of being millionaires. But not him. Anyone would think that the future owner of half an empire in the Capitol's underground was actually interested. Or maybe he was gathering information.

But Aveline was on alert. No matter how attractive she found him, no matter how much she wanted to know about him.

Why did she find him attractive and intelligent when he had paid for her as if she were a prostitute?

Aveline allowed him to dance with her and allowed him to kiss her too. That was her first and only kiss with a man and it hadn't been bad. She could say she had liked it. Even when in time she would discover that girls were more to her liking.

But Aveline wouldn't let Luca go beyond a kiss. As they danced and kissed, she guided him exactly to the wall where the katana rested. A single movement was all it took for her to grab it and pull it against Luca's heart.

"Don't even try," she said. "If you get your hands on me when they open the door they're going to have to put you together piece by piece."

Far from being offended by her reaction, the boy laughed and held up his hands "I'm not taking any chances, Linnie. I've seen what you do with that. I don't want to be one more."

Luca backed up to sit in his armchair while she still held the katana in her hand.

"It's an heirloom," he continued, indifferent to the fact that he was likely to end up decapitated at any moment. "It was my father's and he inherited it from his father. We lost track of its arrival in our family three generations ago. We don't know if it was ours before the climate disaster or if someone found it."

The girl never lowered her arm and looked at him, daring him to do something stupid. But Luca didn't move from the couch.

"You're the first victor I've ever paid for, and the experience is most unexpected," he said, "You're special, Linnie."

"And you're a bastard."

"Yes. And yet no one has seen the worst of me. Not even me. But in keeping with the tradition of giving gifts to the victors. I give you the katana. Take it. You're going to need it someday, Linnie."

When in the future Aveline declared that she was not part of the Capitol's sexual abuse, it was true because Luca never laid a finger on her. In the years that followed, no one else ever took her to the Capitol again, except for the games.

She saw Luca every year at the Games. In the end he was right, no one had seen the worst of him. The rumours about him were sometimes best to ignore. The following victors were not as lucky as Aveline because Luca learned from his mistakes and there was nothing in sight that could hurt him when he paid for someone.

"You look beautiful as always, Linnie," Luca said in her ear one of the last times she saw him. He was wearing as always his best suit that matched his cocky smile.

"When are you going to stop this, Luca? You're already over 40. It's disgusting, it always was! Who's your new treasure, the girl from 10?"

"Eva, yes. Better me than Evert, Linnie. We all know what he does with kids, at least to me they're still people, not supernatural beings. But don't be jealous, Linnie, you're always going to be my first. By the way, have you ever wondered why no one else after me showed any interest in you? Such a beautiful black girl, she's the temptation of more than one. Yet no one put a penny on your name."

Aveline did not reply but looked at him intrigued. The truth was that she had not until that moment wondered why.

"I've been paying to protect you for 21 years," Luca continued "I'm not stupid enough to risk my balls and bring you in against your will. But that doesn't mean I don't protect those I love."

"Love?"

"Love. Maybe in another life, Linnie." Luca smiled at her again, "by the way, do you still have your sword?"

Aveline nodded.

"Okay. Remember this, love, you're going to need it sooner than you expect and I know you are going to know when to use it."

Aveline turned away from the fire of the funeral pyre. She couldn't help but smile. The bastard was right.

"Maybe in another life, Linnie."

"Maybe."

[rythasbrenelle]

Prompt #1: Steer

“I don’t want to go!” There was something accusatory in the high-pitched whine and the way the kit pointed his finger at Reynir, as if the ancient codes and unspoken laws of the forest were somehow his fault. Reynir kept a placid look on his face, kept his clawed hands folded behind his back, fought the droop threatening his tall ears and kept them perky instead. He tried to project control and competence, as he’d seen his master do time and again.

He hoped he succeeded.

“I know it’s scary, honey bun. But it’s our way,” Liv said. She folded her son up in her arms, an embrace that the kit welcomed and returned, clinging to her as if he’d drown otherwise. With the kit’s face buried in her neck, she offered Reynir a glance laden with apologies. Reynir answered with a brief smile and a nod. This was normal. Probably. “I want to stay with you and Elva!” the kit pleaded. “Atli,” his mother cooed. She pried the kit from her, just enough to look him in the eyes. Her fingers brushed through his hair, taming tangles of sunshine. “Do you know why there are so few males in the forest?” You see, about a fifth of us die in training, Reynir thought dryly. But his social skills hadn’t eroded so thoroughly in his isolation that he dared to say it. Not in front of the doting mother, and most certainly not in front of the anxious kit. Atli sniffled and shook his head at his mother. “Because the Word knows that however few the Wood-warders number, you are enough to keep us safe from all of the threats outside of Stjrn. Without you, and without him, there’s no village. No Mother or Elva. The Green Word chose this path for you because She needs you to protect Her lands.” She kissed the kit’s forehead, then his cheeks, solemn and gentle. Then she began to pepper the kit’s face with loud, exaggerated smooches until he cried out in protest and she couldn’t contain her laughter anymore. “Mother! Stop!” Alti squealed, twisting about until he wriggled free of Liv’s grasp. Though he felt his own smile growing by the moment, Reynir stepped away, slipping out the door to leave the mother and her son to treasure the moment without their unwelcome guest. He settled against the wall where he’d left his spear, folded his arms, and waited. It was some ticks before the door creaked open and Liv stepped out to join him. She shut the door behind her, the kit nowhere in sight. “Apologies. I know you wished to speak with him, but I think it will have to wait. He’s in his room now, packing his things before he and his sister help with the feast,” she explained. “He can bring his things, yes?” “Sure,” Reynir said. His voice had always been gentle and soft. Ordinarily it made speaking a nuisance, as he strained to be heard, but it seemed appropriate enough now. “So long as he travels light.” “It’s only a few keepsakes,” she assured him. He grunted his approval. They lapsed into silence. “You can stay, you know,” she finally said. “For the send-off. It’s in Atli’s honor, so you’ll have to wait on him anyroad. Nobody will deny you another night’s respite.” Reynir shrugged. “I’m fine outside.” “The feast will be outside. Our little hut can’t hold the entire village.” When Reynir looked at her again, her green eyes were dancing with amusement. “Outside the village,” he clarified, smiling despite himself. “Very well, whatever makes you happy,” she conceded. “But I insist that you take some food with you.” “Okay. Since you’re insisting.” Silence again. Reynir let his eyes drift shut, and he listened. Inside the hut, he could hear the kit speaking to his sister, their words indistinct. But they weren’t the only people awake this early. Throughout the village, a handful of women had already emerged from their own homes and busied themselves with preparations for the evening. They discussed food, music, and stories as they planned their grand farewell to the young jack. “Reynir.” He cracked an eye open. Liv was watching him still, but all of her humor and cheer had melted away and laid bare the truth. She wasn’t oblivious to what the Green Word demanded of Atli. It was there in the downward twist of her mouth, the nervous darting of her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll take care of him?” She spoke with a sliver of her voice, her words almost lost amidst the sounds of the village waking. “Teach him well and watch over him and keep him on the right path?” “I swear on the Word. I’ll—” “Oi! Merc!” A rough voice in his ear and two thumps against his left arm that he heard more than felt tore him free of dream and memory. “Wake up! Wake up, damn you!” Locke’s eyes fluttered open. Wind stung them immediately, biting at his face and droning in his ears. Snow crunched beneath the chocobos and the wagon they pulled with frenzied desperation. He turned toward the Lalafell at his side and saw the birds’ distress mirrored on the man’s face.

“What’s going on?” “You’re sleeping and not doing your bloody job is what’s going on!” Sosonado spat. He spared a glare toward Locke but otherwise kept his eyes forward and focused on the path ahead. “Look behind us!” Locke leaned out of the wagon to look past the canvas roof. Through whipping curtains of snow, a trio of chocobos pursued them, each carrying a rider hunched low in their saddle. Though they were a fair distance back — close enough for a good shot, not nearly close enough to throw a knife, Locke judged — they’d catch up soon. One spotted Locke and raised a hand, leveling a firearm. Locke ducked back into the cover of the wagon a heartbeat before the weapon barked, hot metal spinning off into the snow. “See the problem now?” Sosonado growled. “See you steered us into trouble. Nice driving.” A second shot rang out, ripping a hole through the canvas by Locke’s left shoulder. He’d have to check later if it found its mark, but he winced like it hurt anyroad. Not that it won him any sympathy. Sosonado sunk deeper into his own seat, diminutive form hidden by wood and cargo, and snapped the reins. As if the chocobos might be holding something back. “I just followed the road that they happened to be watching.” Sosonado scowled at the birds, the snow, Locke, then back to the road. “Which, if you recall, is why I hired you. Now quit your snarking and get rid of them!”

“Mm. They’re bandits?” Locke secured his swords on his back and hip, then he checked his revolver’s chambers. Of course it was already loaded. He was on the job, and he took his job seriously, didn’t he?

Naps aside.

“Bandits, brigands, Butchers. They’re shooting at us, what difference does what they’re calling themselves make?”

“Point.” Locke stood up from his seat. He was unsteady on his feet, still shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his body and weighed down by the anchor of his left arm besides, but he turned and planted a boot on the seat anyway. “Wait at the next town.”

“Par—”

The rest of the merchant’s words were lost to the wind as Locke flung himself from the wagon and into open air.

[aamaranthiine]

a starter for @goshiikkuburcdo's fantasy au c;

Behind cold iron bars and cast in shadows stinking of metal, there stands what is and yet should be a magnificent beast. She is not certain how long she had been kept here, only that they had taken her whilst she'd slept deep and unwary by the beaten road. It is with dark eyes that she watches men, women and children come and go from before the cage she occupies. They do not see her truly, but something about her shining still makes them ache. To them, she is a white mare beyond any other in the world; strange and striking enough to leave them heartsore long after they leave.

Mortals come and go, as do the places as her captors tote her and other exotic beasts (though none others are like her) from place to place. The unicorn does not understand why or where, or even how much Time she has truly spent enclosed and listening to the cruel, crackling whispers of the iron bars each night. She had always wondered what Men would do once they caught her and now, it seems, she is to be kept as some trophy and yet be unknown by them.

It is that one day, where the cages are parked and adorned with banners for some local festival to draw more sight seers that there is one individual that holds the unicorn's attention longer than any other. Her midnight gaze meets a pair of bright gold eyes, gleaming like the polished treasures of a dragon's hoard, and something stirs in her. Accustomed to peering at mortals and their shallow shadows, it is the tall dark-haired male whose presence she can tell is more.

"You are not like the others."

She speaks so so softly, not even registering the words had left her audibly for a second. Her head lifts a few inches, fighting the weight of the doll drums that came with her imprisonment. The unicorn dares to step closer to the limits of her cage, ignoring the stinging taste of metal, dark and Endless eyes boring into the man whom she knows is not truly human. But what was he?

[cloama]

This Week:

My dad calling me to have a conversation about the Ming dynasty treasure ships and currents during football halftime

Applied for an additional position at work. Pretty sure someone in leadership headed off HR and tanked my chances because they don’t want me to leave. Will follow up via email on Monday morning.

70’s soul music songwriting, writing long songs that actually feel like love? Close listening.

Revisiting As Tall As Lions.

A whole fucking hurricane.

FKA Twigs’ Eusexua, visual (Watch it on tv).

Nervous breakdown at the cost of food until I remembered NOLA recipes are affordable and I need to get in my bag and fucking cook.

Doechii’s Alligator Bites Never Heal (listen with good headphones). Best rap LP by a woman this year. Best rap album this year, period, if you don’t count Kendrick’s diss EP lol.

Watching Michaela DePrince in Lemonade 🕊️

Frankie Beverly has gone on home 🕊️

Partner is away this weekend. I miss him. I hate going up and down the stairs to get stuff. Come back so you can get my stuff.

White women at work over share completely unprompted them look at me expectantly for me to return the candor. It’s been so long since I had a smile and nod job. I’m smiling and nodding bc why are you telling me this?

Scrapbooking and journaling. Physical media feels sacred these days. Might fuck around and get a Cricut.

Hurricane.

Rearranging furniture until my brain feels good.

New meds so I don’t rearrange furniture until my brain feels good.

Switching to fall wardrobe in September because I live in a 4 seasons region.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 165- The Ghost of Christmas Past

Summary: While out cold on the Dorwinion castle floor, Josie dreams or "hallucinates" of last Christmas Eve when she was being held captive by her ex-boyfriend Peter in his remote cabin, deep in the woodlands just North of the Grey Mountains. A strange object is believed to hold magic. Clues blatantly dance like sugar plums through Josie's head but will she remember the trauma blocked memories when she awakens from her nightmare? Legolas and Lola throw words over Josie. Josie asks something critical of the Prince. Lola searches for someone unexpected.

*Warnings* NSFW-DARK.... with mentions of drugs, emotional abuse, angst, violence, strong language, sexual language and abuse, alcohol use

Chapter characters: Josie, Peter, Thranduil, Legolas, Lola

Chapter word count: 5,593

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist:

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through house, not a creature was stirring....except you as you paced about the living room of the secluded cabin, nestled in the middle of a desolate never ending forest. The cabin that your abusive, narcissistic and sadistic ex-boyfriend Peter was keeping you prisoner in and torturing you daily while doing so. You had been inside the wooden box for so long that you stopped counting the days and no one had come for you. How could anyone find you when you didn't even know where you were? One moment, you had been in a northern New Zealand bar and the next, you awoke in the back seat of Peter's car, bound, gagged and disoriented from being drugged.

You momentarily paused your tears and erratic steps to gaze out the window at the winter wonderland. The same window you've stared out of a gazillion times, imagining a beautiful blonde King on a great white horse riding down to free you from the evil clutches of the dragon you called Peter and slaying him with his mighty sword, then whisking you away to his castle in the heavens to live happily ever after...but he never came. It was just a dumb song anyways, that you listened to as a kid when you believed in magic.

Your tears softly free fell like the sparkling snow before you as you fogged up the glass with your hot breath, then drew a heart and whispered into it, the words you had pointlessly recited every single night.

"My King, take me away from this awful place."

The slamming of the backdoor put a startling stop to your silly pleas and in stomped Peter, ridding the wet snow from his coat and muddied boots all over the floor that he would soon make you clean up.

"Baby it's cold outside!" the tall, dark and handsome monster bellowed with a grin that you wanted to smack right off of his prickly bearded face, the beard that tore your neck up every time he ravaged you.

"I never would have guessed." you quietly riposted and went to get a mop before he ordered you to do it.

"Bitchy again. That time of the month eh? Well, I've got a box full of old treasures here that I snagged at a thrift shop. I thought since it's Christmas Eve, I'd get you something since you like that kind of crap, so a little thanks would be nice because you certainly don't deserve any of it with that mouth of yours. Women should be seen and not heard, except for the moaning of being fucked good and hard."

With your back turned to him, you rolled your tear ridden eyes. Good and hard. The only correct part about that was hard. The narcissistic creep didn't know how to be gentle in any way.

"What was that Josephine?? I can't hear you!" he snarled as he dropped the box on the coffee table in front of you, making you jump.

"Th..thanks." you swiftly mumbled as you flinched in fear of getting smacked.

"Thata girl. You wouldn't want to spend the holiday with a fat lip now. So where's dinner? I'm starving after that long ass trip."

"There's stew in the pot over the fireplace. It's all we had."

"I brought more food. It's on the back of the snowmobile. Go get it. Oh..and Josephine??" he smugly toyed while holding up the keys and jingling them. "Just in case you got any stupid ideas of taking off."

"Peter...I've been here for..I don't even know how long and I know you keep all the keys on you. You remind me every single day."

"Well, I have to because I know that every single day, the wheels are turning in your simple little mind, trying to find a way to leave me and that...will never happen. I told you that back home when you foolishly tried to leave before. I always find you. There is nothing out there for miles. That is why we are here. No one is coming and you know I'm right, don't you Josephine??"

"Y...yes Peter. You're always right."

"I don't like your tone. How many times do I have to explain it so you get it through your fucking fairy tale little head? There's nothing to the North for over a hundred kilometers and the East, West and South are nothing but mountains, rivers and woodlands. I've told you, if you want to go, go...but you know you'll never survive. All alone, in the dark, in the freezing cold, no food, no shelter, just turned 24 years old and you have absolutely no survival instincts or skills since you grew up sheltered from the world, moving from place to place every few months...and lets not forget about...the wolves."

And now you were sheltered again. And The wolves. You heard them howling every single night. It was just another reminder, besides the recurrence of the real big bad wolf rubbing it in your face, that you were trapped.

"You have everything you need here. Food, heat, electricity thanks to a very expensive generator, and most importantly...me. What do you have back there?? Nothing and no one. Your mom is dead, your dad is dead. You have no friends or other family. You have no money. All that you own is a bag of shit I brought with us that you already had packed when you tried to leave me that day. Everything else you have, I gave you. I own it. I own you."

You did have everything...except what you truly needed and wanted. Love. But you did have money. Lots of it that your dad left you in his will. But what good did it do you now? You were probably presumed dead anyways, if anyone even noticed you were gone. Peter was right. You had no one anymore but him.

You didn't want to hear his cruel rantings anymore, so you put on your coat and boots and went out to get the food.

Brushing the snow from the seat of the snowmobile, you sat down and gazed up at the full moon of the winter solstice, wondering if there was another like you, gazing into it too, wishing for things you wished for, searching for shooting stars to make those wishes upon. The last time you saw one was on your recent birthday, but that was two weeks ago, so now all you had to rely on was the moon and each unique and perfectly crafted snowflake that fell into your hand as you held it out, sobbing.

Although your faith in fairy tales was diminishing, the things that were real, you could not deny, such as the wicked effects of the Mercury retrograde that began on the 13th, just before the solstice and would last another week into the new year of 2022. Your life was already shit before it began, but it only seemed to make things worse. You could feel it through Peter's actions, the way it made someone dark even darker and nothing would change when it passed. This would continue to be your hell.

Sobbing harder, you quietly cried out. "Please help me. Someone."

Everything was so deafening outside, for the blanket of snow on the ground always absorbed sound which created a calming silence. There was no wind or breeze of any kind either in that moment and then...a cool whisp of air puffed softly over you, carrying the fragrance of lilacs, a scent you would never forget for they were flowers your mother loved.

For a moment, you smiled, believing it was her...her spirit, watching over you until you heard a man's voice and it certainly wasn't Peter's. The voice seemed to also carry in the breeze and it was deep and alluring, yet soft and loving...and filled with desperate concern.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

You gasped and flung off the snowmobile so fast as if it were on fire.

"Hello?? Wh..who's there??"

Seconds went by as your eyes darted about the darkness inside the trees and then all was quiet once more.

"Josephine!! Get your ass in here! I want my bottle of whiskey!" Peter shouted as he banged on the back porch window, glaring at you.

With great hesitance, still staring out into the nothingness, you grabbed the bag of goods and scuffled back inside, glancing back on the way with every two steps you took.

As Peter devoured his stew like the slob he was and slurped on his liquid fire, you sat on the couch, sipping wine in a state of befuddlement. Had you really heard someone? Or was your mind going into some kind of survival mode to protect your sanity, making you believe there was hope? Was it the retrograde or was your mind just completely breaking? Surely that had to be it. You were just flat out losing your mind. For one thing, how could you smell lilacs in the dead of winter?

Peter finished off most of the stew and then plopped in a chair by the fireplace and began his nightly regimen of getting sauced, but not enough to where you could ever take the keys from him. He was quite smart as most psychopaths were. The only way you would ever get them was from his cold dead body and you knew you didn't have the stomach to kill someone, not even him. It didn't mean you didn't wish him dead though. Maybe choke on a chunk of the deer meat in the stew from the deer he killed, slip in the shower or fall down the basement stairs. You've imagined all kinds of scenarios with you standing over him, watching him take his last breaths. Did that make you a bad person after all he had done to you in the past 4 years?

"You gonna open your gift or what?" he snapped.

You wanted nothing from him and would much rather throw the box in the fireplace....or at his smug ass face.

"It's..it's not Christmas day yet."

"Just open the fucking box Josephine! Your lack of appreciation really pisses me off."

Picking the box up, you fretted about what you would find, for his gifts were never thoughtful and usually just junk. and that's exactly what it was as you pulled out the first item.

Cheap cosmetic jewelry that maybe a 5 year old would wear for dress up. Honestly, you didn't think anyone would wear it and that's probably why it was in a thrift shop. Next...another pair of gawdy high heels which he bought only for his own fetish. You despised high heels and he was why. Then there was a long white dress, which at the time you had no clue would be the one you wore when you finally escaped 4 months later and the high heels would aid you in that feat.

The next two items were decent at least. Another fantasy book and a classic cassette tape that you could play on an old 80's boombox you had in the bedroom. You didn't know the artist or genre, but to you, music was music when you had none, for you couldn't pick up any radio stations out in timbuk-fucking-tu. Anything was better to listen to besides silence or the cringing sound of Peter's voice.

Lastly...you pulled out an object at least two foot tall that was heavy and wrapped in burlap.

"Thought you'd really like that one since you're into all that fantasy bullshit. It's supposed to be magical or some shit. That's what the lady said anyways. I don't think she was all there, if you know what I mean. She reminded me of one of those chicks that look like they're into that creepy voodoo shit or what not...a gypsy or some fortune teller maybe? Said it grants wishes."

"Well, than why would you give it to me? You know what I will wish for."

"Because you know I don't believe in all that hocus pocus hogwash! You're not going anywhere Josephine. Deal with it and just open the damn thing already."

Upon unraveling the string and removing the burlap, your eyes widened as you were now holding a realistic porcelain sculpture of...a male elf?? Not any ordinary elf though like one of Santa's helpers with striped tights and hats and shoes with bells on them. This one was of majestic youthful beauty and superior elegance, an Elvenking of royalty maybe? A King in all the ways you had always envisioned and dreamt of one to be, whether human or immortal, for he wore a crown of twigs and berries over his long, sleek platinum strands that hung perfectly straight over his broad and sturdy shoulders clear down to his abdomen. A high standing collar wrapped around his thick, elongated neck that was accentuated by a black blizzard stone, set inside metal prongs that reminded you of spider legs and it was centered and pinned just under his captivating clavicle at the V shaped opening. Crystals were something you knew well because of your mother's massive collection. This one in particular, also known as merlinite, was a very rare and powerful crystal. It was said to hold a strong connection to the earth that gave it grounding energy and also helped to give healing strength.

Down his slender body, ran a form fitting robe of shimmering silver and placed underneath him was a blood red outer robe that you could tell was twice his lofty height as it draped over his forearms and flowed around his feet in a swirling pool of scarlet satin. You guessed the beautiful giant to have stood well over 6 foot tall and to be highly resilient, vigorous, stealthy and agile.

The way he was prestigiously positioned on the tree carved throne with enormous elk-like antlers sprawling out behind his head, spoke of a highest stature that cautioned of puissant power and dominance. His head was held high, angled to the side with fierce confidence and noticeable arrogance. One knee was crossed over the other, revealing his grey leggings where his robe parted below the waist and one arm was relaxed on the limb rest as his hand slouched freely off the end. His other hand gripped a very tall wooden staff of twisted oak that was crowned by a peach sized and shaped amber jewel on the top, snuggly nestled inside a lattice of silver vines. Baltic gold the gem was sometimes referred to. It was made from tree resin and preserved for millions of years and would turn to stone. Just how old was this Ellon supposed to be?

Your perplexed eyes then traveled right back to his glamorous face because their was some kind of undeniable magnetic pull to this mystical being of defined glass. His skin was of flawless ivory and delicate as the porcelain the figurine was made out of. Like his body, his nose was long and lean, sloping down in to a softly pointed tip while his pronounced ears raised up in to stronger points. His supple lips were heart shaped and pouted ever so perfectly over a very compelling jawline. Even his Adam's apple was intriguingly and audaciously apparent.

Whomever created the sculpted masterpiece from clay with their bare hands was highly skilled and deeply invested in it. The artistry was of such detailed precision, right down to his crystalline eyes of the moon that your boring olive orbs were helplessly lost inside of and desperately trying to read. There were multiple rings upon his pampered fingers with one in particular standing out upon his left forefinger, a sizeable moonstone that resembled the icy blue hues of his eyes, eyes that drew you right in against your will as you began to understand them, ageless eyes that held presiding pain and darkness as if they had seen an eternity of hatred, fire, war and death, yet love and light, loyalty, wisdom and knowledge dwelled within them in competition with the evil and sheltered over those lonely soulful eyes were the boldest of brows, black as his knee high boots.

You also were now highly invested in the art piece. What was something like that doing in a thrift shop? Did the piece have a name? You wanted, needed to know more, so you carefully turned it over to see if there was any information on the bottom.

Gúl -o Aran Thranduil. Ech- a ithil sarn iest no i clair de lune was carved on it and nothing more.

"Clair de lune. I know and love the song. It's French for Moonlight...but the rest of these words, what language is that?" you whispered aloud with furrowed brows as you ran your finger softly over the grooves of the letters.

"What does it say?" Peter curiously answered your question with a question and a hiccup.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be asking. It's not English and I don't know how to pronounce any of it."

Peter took a hefty swig from his bottle and then chortled. "It probably says made in China."

Asshat, you thought. It wasn't any language you had ever seen and from all the fantasy books you have read, you guessed it to be from long ago...medieval era?? No...it had to be even older and you desperately wanted to decode it.

"Well why don't you put that pointy eared princess on the shelf...right there, in the window and make your stupid wish. I'll even entertain you and make one too." he barked, then got up, ripped it from your hand and sat it down on the wooden sill so hard, you swore it would shatter...and it should have, but it didn't. The elf sat chip free under the rays of the moonlight shining in from the window, his eyes sparkling in it as they looked right at you.

"I...I..I don't want to." you stammered as you began to tremble, knowing the whiskey was kicking in and Peter would become meaner than when he was when sober.

Here he came, storming at you, grabbing a clenched fistful of your hair at the scalp and dragging you to the window, stumbling, screaming and sobbing.

"Now. I'm going to make my pointless wish at this sexy elf on the shelf and then so will you! I can't say I wasted my money on it because it was free, some horseshit that freak at the store told me, saying the price tag is in the wishes, SO why not?...here goes nothing!"

"No, wait!...I....I changed my mind. I..I want to go first....please."

You never believed in this stuff, even though your mother and Sarah did. You and Sarah argued about it all the time and eventually, you just humored her and played along with the tarot cards and seance's for fun, but right then...you were willing to believe and be daring and brave, knowing what the consequences of your actions, or words you should say, would be after you blurted them out, and not by the price tag of karma, but by Peter.

"Alright. Go." he sarcastically agreed and pushed your head forward as he released your hair.

Your pent up anger rolled into rage and out of your mouth, as you stared into the elf's moonlit eyes, spewed words you had been aching to say out loud....and you knew, this night, you could die for it.

"My King, I wish for you to take me away from this awful place! And for all the times Peter has tortured me with spiders, I wish he would be dragged off by the Queen of all spiders, bloodied and screaming, deep into her dark cave and ripped limb from limb, leaving him alive long enough with his disgusting head attached to his torso so he can watch a dozen more spiders come and feast on the pieces and then I wish the Queen would drag his dismembered remains to her lair and spin him up in her web so he can be tortured for days, screaming in the dark as she snacks on him till his death!!"

Peter's eyes gaped as he gulped and then the rage that you knew would come...came.

"Brava!!" he shouted in a fury, clapping his hands as the Italian in him came out. "Tell me how you really feel Josephine! Well guess what? I wish that I will come back from the dead and haunt and torture you for the rest of your life!... Although that may not be very long..." he snarled and head butted you.

Down you went, to your hands and knees, stunned and almost blind as he knelt down and growled right in your face.

"There's no King coming! The only thing that's coming for you is my cock fucking you to death."

Peter grabbed the statue and hit you in the head once more, knocking you to your back, barely conscious and then he hoisted you up over his shoulder and carried you off into the bedroom, where for over an hour, he roughed you up... before, during and after having his forced way with you....and it was after this night that Peter began drugging you because the sadist realized the sex was much easier when you were practically limp and couldn't fight or talk back.

Crawling in tears of pain from the bed to the floor to find your clothes, you passed out and later awoke on Christmas morning with the sun blazing over your face and throbbing head, instantly crying once again from the pain, mostly below your waist and from also realizing you were still alive.

You stumbled in agony to your feet and gazed out the window to see the sun had melted most of the snow and the car was gone. What time was it??

After wrapping a robe around you, you crept out to the kitchen and sighed in relief when you saw Peter's coat and boots were gone too and you knew it was so the coward wouldn't have to look at you after what he did.

Knowing that you had a good amount of time to yourself, you showered, dressed, ate a donut and then remembered the elf figurine.

Gasping, you quickly hobbled to the living room to find it and sure enough, it was gone. It was real, wasn't it?? You couldn't have dreamed all of that, considering the huge knot on the side of your head from where Peter struck you with it.

You frantically began searching every corner of the cabin, even the basement that you dreaded going down to, but you came up empty handed. The creep had taken it after you wished him dead, you just knew it.

Crying ONCE AGAIN, you went back to your room and threw yourself on the bed, instantly regretting it as intense pain shot through every inch of you. As you laid there, sniffling in your snot, your eyes found the floor board where you had hid something special to you because you knew Peter would take it just as he had taken the statue. Luckily, he had never went through your bag that he had brought there when he kidnapped you, the bag you had pre-packed when you were going to leave him.

Slowly making your wincing way to the floor, you pried it open and pulled out the wooden box buried within the wooden box you were buried in. As you opened it, you smiled and sobbed some more to see the three items that belonged to Sarah, your best friend and neighbor who had disappeared into thin air on Halloween night 8 years ago.

Inside were her deck of tarot cards, a photo of the both of you, happy and twinning it at 14 years old, for you were both the same age, and her special ring, a silver ribbon ring she always wore, claiming it warded off magic spells placed upon the one who wore it. The day after she had vanished, her mother Jocelyn did too and you never saw her or Sarah again.

One night, after your sick father had fallen asleep, you snuck into their house through an unlocked window and went up to Sarah's room. That's when you found what looked like a shattered figurine all over the floor and in the shards, laid her ring. You had placed it inside her box on the dresser that had the photo and cards in it and took it for special keeping for when she came back, because you always believed she would....but she never did, nor did her mom. What you didn't know was of the special compartment the box held on the bottom and what was inside of it...until now.

As you were attempting to place the box back inside the floor board, your dropped it and the bottom popped open and out fell a beautiful amethyst pendant.

"What the??" you whispered and held it up by the chain, gazing into the purple crystal that had swirls of white clouds inside of it.

"Why would she hide it??" you asked yourself, completely and utterly confused.

You had never seen it before and she had shared everything with you. It must have been something of great importance, you figured. Maybe something personal or sentimental that she didn't want to share with anyone, not even you.

You stuffed it back in it's hiding place and the box too, then you decided to go outside for some sunlight and fresh air while you had the chance, and you took with you the battery powered boombox and cassette tape Peter had brought back to see what kind of music was on it.

Sitting on the picnic table out back, you slid the tape in and pushed play. The music began and it appeared to be some kind of country, bluegrassy, Irishy mix. It was all you had so it would have to do.

About 5 songs in and two glasses of Peter's whiskey drank down to help wash away your pain, you were completely caught off guard when a song came on that you knew. The same song you recalled the night before as you stared hopelessly out the window, dreaming of a King on a great white horse, for that was the name of the song.

You had sang it a lot as a child. Your mother was always singing it and it had stayed with you all through the years until now, but for it to just randomly pop up after you thought of it the night before, and after the wish you made to the porcelain elf, it was just too odd and it was all just too much.

"Why???? Why is this happening to me????.....Is anybody out there??!!" you screamed, so loud it burned your throat and then broke down into hysterical, uncontrollable sobs and blubbered the words as you tried to sing along.

"When I was a young girl I used to dream of a lover, to be my shining knight of strength one day. He'd carry me to a castle in the heavens and battle all my dragons on the way. And he'd ride down on a great white horse. He'd bring me love I was longing for. He'd bring me joy and everlasting peace and on a great white horse, he'd ride away with me."

"Josephine..." you heard in the wind and jumped to your wobbly feet.

"Josie! Josie...wake up!" you then heard, a voice echoing in your head. Legolas' sweet elven voice.

Was he really there or were you hearing him in your head again? You couldn't open your eyes, only mumble his name and when you did, you then felt yourself floating as Legolas lifted you from the cold stone floor...just like the night Thranduil found you in a similar state on the cold forest floor and carried you.

"Legolas?? What happened to her??" Lola frantically asked as the Prince gently laid you upon your bed.

"I do not know. Quickly, bring the healing water. Her skin is like fire."

Lola did as he asked and when she returned, she momentarily froze in her tracks with a hard dose of reality. Legolas was holding one of your hands and caressing your cheek with his other and the way he was looking at you spoke volumes of his undying love. It was as if no one else existed but you and Legolas proved it only seconds later.

"Legolas? I have the water and a cloth."

The worried and suddenly deaf elf did not hear a word Lola said as he continued stroking your cheek with a stare lost upon you.

"Legolas?? The water???"

"Huh?" he gasped and glanced at her and then took his eyes back to you.

"Would you rather I pat her with it so you do not have to remove your hands and eyes?"

Legolas certainly heard that. "I will tend to the Queen. You tend to the child as it is your duty is it not?" he snapped as held his hands out.

His words were cold and biting and Lola's eyes began to sting as she handed him the pitcher and cloth. She could hold her tongue no longer when Legolas aggressively took it from her.

"And you are appointed Josie's keeper? By whom? I am quite capable of looking after her as well as my DUTY of caring for Leean. I do believe the Queen has hired me, not you. I am the one who has always done it, never leaving her side, as you so easily did when she needed you."

Legolas' lips pursed as he turned to the bitter face matching the bitter words.

"By my father's rule...which... that is what he would wish, for she is his Queen and that makes her my Queen! And whom are you to speak to me that way, or to speak anything at all of the situation? I am Leeanduil's brother and godfather. I do not require employment or authority to care for either of them. You are merely nothing more than a servant and should mind your place and tongue if you wish to continue your duties as such."

"You did not seem to view me as merely a servant when your lips neared mine this evening! And now you threaten to remove me of my duties? And whom are YOU to do so? Josie retained my services, not you."

In a spitting image of his father, Legolas rose to his feet with rage and flared nostrils.

"I am the King! That is who I am to do so! Dare you ever question me again girl and consequences shall be suffered! Your jealous tirade is unwarranted and inappropriate and.."

"Leggy?" you grumbled as your eyes began to flutter.

His head whipped right to you as he immediately sat back at your side, abandoning the conversation with Lola...and Lola herself and continued to dab the wet cloth over your forehead which only infuriated her more.

"You are not MY King!" she barked, not caring if you heard her. "Lord Narcisse is and this is his castle. By all means, continue to pine for what shall never be yours while she pines for the one she truly loves. Unless you are a vampire named Garrett, which you most certainly are not, then it is you that shall suffer. I will leave you now to do MY duties."

Lola stormed out of the room in tears and the slamming of the door fully awoke both you and Leean.

"Yes, it is I my lady. I am here. I have not left you and I will never again."

"Leg...gy...my..my dream...I..I remember someth...." you paused with a flinched face as you noticed he was holding your injured hand a bit too tightly. "Owww!!"

"My lady?? What ails you?? Your hand?"

"Y..yes...it.."

Legolas' gasp cut you off. "It is bleeding clean through your glove!"

He carefully removed the lace covering and unraveled the makeshift bandage you had applied.

"Josie. This needs sewn up. Do not move while I locate a healer."

"NO!! Don't leave me! You said you wouldn't! I..I want you to do it. There is a thread and needle in the vanity drawer. The healing water will sterilize it."

"You...want me...a non healer...to stick a threaded needle through the tender skin of your palm??"

"Yes. I don't trust anyone here anymore. Give yourself more credit Legolas Greenleaf. Believe in yourself as I do."

He smiled at your kind words, but then frowned. "But..we have no pain reliever."

"Yes we do...hand me that carafe of wine. I will drink it down while you thread the needle."

The Prince's eyes gaped and then reluctantly did as you asked and while this was happening, Lola stood outside Narcisse's chamber door in full blown tears and sobs, vigorously knocking and receiving no answer.

"Daddy! Where are you??"

@redeemer46

[heathengentleman]

Loudly through air at night they haste, An uproar on wild black horses! As a storm the wild crowds travel by With nothing but clouds for foothold. Over the valleys, the woods and meadows – Through darkness and weather, they never heed. The traveler throws himself frightened to ground. Listen… what clamor! It’s the forces of Asgard!

Thor, the strong one, his hammer high, Stands tall in his rig, in front of the pack. He strikes his shield and hot red flames Light up the nightly raid at the scene. Horns blow, and an awesome noise From bells and riding gear resounds. Then the pack roars loudly and people listen With rising fear in their quaking homes.

The Wild Hunt of Asgard raids the county Whilst fall and winter at stormy nights. But it favors to travel at Yuletide… They feast with trolls and giants; they closely ride by meadow and path And pass the fearful nation. Then, – take care farmer! Keep all in order! As the wild hunt of Asgard may visit your home!

With the beer working in your lodge Awaking the heathen Yule-tradition… And fire from the fireplace shines on swinging knives and crazy eyes, Then a sudden shiver goes through the party, Then sound the nightly black riders’ clamor… Then the walls crack and the glasses dance; the Armies of Asgard surround the building!

There was a wedding at Oevre Flage Three holy Yule-days to the end. Among the maids there were none like the bride And no rival to the groom among men. There was a glow to the shining hall from set tables and expensive metal, There was a treasure, the rumor says, Of copper on walls and silver on tables.

And merrily sounded the drums and fiddles as the groom was steadily dancing leading his bride among young men and women – Then the Halling-dance easily rumbled! To the Dancer’s forceful moves and jumps the Maiden would swing like a pendulum, Then floated the noise and the music together And the hall would thunder from vigor and delight.

The third night, -when the beer was consumed through all the holidays – by old and young, Then thirst in the party was stopped, But the men were drunken and slow. Our bride wore her crown… It was time for the bowl to be sent round the table And the toastmaster demanded silence with a knock on the table, – and started his speech.

Then charging in on the benched circle the widely infamous Seim’s Berserks, Their eyes were rolling dark and wild On their foreheads they had scars from fighting. They leaped over the floor of the hall, -Yes! It was the brothers Grim and Wolf! Grim, who was recently turned down by the bride Came there himself, – and he was not invited.

The sleepy guests got up shaking And had little desire for fighting. Every raving man who raised his fist Was grabbed by the chest and thrown aside. The groom placed his mug down on the table Stepped up on the bench and asked for peace. But the brothers already took out their knives, – It was the groom’s life it was all about.

Then women gathered into a crowd and formed a guard for the man in danger; sheltered behind tables and benches, They stood closed in at the Bench of Honor. The eldest woman in their circle removed her headwear, revealed her gray hair and gave the groom the name of her son, Embraced him and sat him on her knee.

But the brothers wouldn’t listen to women’s plea – Attacked forward over tables and benches and divided the women with wildness- Now every thought of peace was forgotten… They grabbed their victim and dragged him along To the door of the hall and out through it. It came to a cruel fight in the yard, And the guests followed in wild disorder.

They rushed out there with candles and torches, ‘Cause over the landscape the darkness reigned. They saw the groom standing tall and strong, As now he was strengthened by winter air. He used his knife for cutting and slashing – So he gave back what they offered him. The three of them formed an ugly triangle, And none would let go of the others.

Then, -all of a sudden Grim fell over! With blood running like streams from his chest. Then even harder the other two wrestled And held each other’s backs in a grip. In the end the groom was laid to the ground, With the knife on it’s way to his throat… But then Wolf held back and stood like a drunk, And trembled and shook like a leaf.

As through the air in the dark came a thunder, – a howling horde on ferocious horses, It raced over woods to the wedding house, Intended to visit the bloody performance. Then horns blew, and an awesome noise From bells and riding-gear resounded. Now it was close – it came over the hill – There was an outcry: The wild hunt of Asgard!

There was a tempest in Heaven and Earth, That hurled a horror in every heart, It blasted along in growing circles, It punched with wings and grabbed with arms. Then Wolf was dragged away by his hair, thrown up in the air and taken away, Yes, taken away over woods and mountains, He was never seen or heard of again.

When tumults were over at the horror scene, lay Grim from his death pains coiled up, But the groom was escorted inside from the snow And placed on a bunk in the guestroom. His head was shaking, his blood was pouring; he was pending a while between life and death, But he was nursed and well taken care of, so by spring he had healed from it all.

Now he sits there, – aged and well respected, He can gather his offspring around the fire, now he often tells stories in the circle And shortens time for the young and the old. It was like that last Yule-night too, When the youth shouted, “Tell us, tell us!” His eyes in flames as he was looking back… And then he recalled his wedding days.

Text: Johan Sebastian Welhaven (1807-1873), Translated from Norwegian by Liv Wenger

Image: Åsgårdsreien (The Ride of Asgard) by Peter Nicolai Arbo

[hinatastinygiant]

6 | Blue Gold

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

The next morning, you wake up and get dressed. You head outside and see Bakugou waiting for you. He has the map in his hands, ready to continue the search.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"Yeah, are you?"

"As I'll ever be," he grumbles.

"Then let's go."

With that, the two of you set off into the jungle. The heat is almost unbearable. You can feel sweat rolling down your back.

"This place is a fucking jungle," Bakugou complains.

"Well, it's your island, Captain," you retort.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he huffs.

You push your way through the foliage, making your way toward a clearing in the middle of the jungle.

When you reach the clearing, the two of you pause and look around. The clearing is surrounded by tall trees and thick bushes. "Shit, do you have any water?"

"What?"

"We're going to need water, and food. It'll be a long journey, and there's nothing to eat in the jungle," you remind him.

"I have some food left," he tells you, "back at the ship. But if it's water you-"

"Fuck, Bakugou, I thought you said you were prepared. Why don't you have any water?!"

"If you just let me talk I can show you how to get water, princess," he groans, annoyed.

"Don't call me princess."

"Then shut up and listen."

"Fine."

"There's a stream nearby. If we follow it, we'll find a waterfall. It'll have fresh water," he explains.

"Okay, fine. Lead the way."

The two of you continue walking through the jungle. As you walk, you notice a lot of strange sounds. Birds, animals, bugs, everything is alive here.

After a while, you come across a large river. It's rushing downstream and looks pretty deep.

"This is the stream," Bakugou says. "Let's get moving. The waterfall is this way."

The two of you walk along the bank of the river until you reach the waterfall.

"Here we are," Bakugou announces.

The waterfall is a sight to behold. It's a large, wide waterfall with a small pool at its base. The water is crystal clear and looks like it would be perfect for bathing.

"Alright, let's get to work," you say.

"What? Work? We're just going to fill up our canteens and leave," Bakugou reminds you.

"No, we need to bathe, Bakugou. We can't travel around smelling like shit. Come on, it's not like it'll take long."

"Fine, but don't take too long," he grumbles.

You roll your eyes. "Just try not to stare too much."

"Oh, please, I've seen naked women before."

"Really? Who? Where?" you ask as you turn your back to him and start to undress.

"On the beach, where else? Sometimes rich a-holes come here or swim dangerously close to the shore," he admits.

"Oh," you say. "Well, that's good to know."

The two of you walk down into the pool, and you start washing yourself.

"Hey, Bakugou, have you ever gone swimming here?" you ask once you're up to your neck in water.

"No," he says. "Never felt the need."

"Why not? It's nice."

"Because I've never had a reason to," he tells you.

"What about now? Aren't we trying to find the treasure?"

"Yes, but we're not looking for it at the bottom of this river," he states.

"Maybe not, but it's refreshing. You should try it."

"I'll pass."

"Fine, but if you change your mind, just say so," you smile before dunking your head under the water.

When you come up for air, you see Bakugou sitting on land staring at the map.

"What're you doing?" you ask as you swim over.

"Trying to figure out where we should go from here. But this damn thing must be in another language."

"Can I help?"

"Whatever," he says, holding the map out to you.

You squint your eyes to see. The whole thing is written in Japanese. Does he not know how to read?

"Well, I can tell you what the symbols are, but we already solved that part," you explain. "Hey, wait, what's that by your finger? In the corner?"

"What?"

"That."

"I don't see anything."

"That little symbol right there. It's a kanji. What's it say?"

"A what?"

"Kanji. It means it's a character. It's the symbol right there. I'm assuming that's the name of the island."

"How can you tell?"

"Don't you know how to read?"

Bakugou huffs. "I've been trapped here for years, what makes you think I ever read anything?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," you reply softly. "I can teach you, if you want."

"No thanks. You're not going to be on the island long enough for me to learn," he says, dismissing the idea.

"Fine, well, it looks like the kanji for the word 'curse'," you explain to him.

"Figures."

You then swim backwards a bit. "Hey, Bakugou, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he says, still staring at the map.

"What happened to the pirates and archeologists that came here before me? I heard stories about how they all went missing."

"They did."

"Why?"

"Because they were looking for the treasure."

"So, you don't know what happened to them?" you then ask.

"I do."

"Oh. So, they're dead?"

"Yes."

"Jesus," you shake your head. "Asshole like you who goes around killing other people won't even take a bath," you tease.

"Fuck off," he grunts.

"I'm just saying, you should at least rinse off. There's nothing wrong with taking care of yourself, you know. Besides, we're going to be stuck here together for a while. I'd hate to have to spend the entire time smelling you."

"I don't smell!"

"You do," you insist. "We both do. Now, come on. Take a bath, you smelly jerk."

Bakugou grumbles. You know he agrees with you, he just doesn't want to admit it.

"Fine, whatever," he groans, getting to his feet.

"You're welcome," you say, grinning.

You then turn around as Bakugou undresses. Once he's about halfway into the water, you turn around, and when you do, your eyes widen.

He has the body of a god. His muscles are well-defined, and his skin is perfectly tanned. His hair is damp and messy, and his face is beautiful.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

Your heart skips a beat as his red eyes meet yours.

"Why're you staring?"

"Um, I'm sorry, but, well, you're, uh, you're just really handsome."

He stares at you, expression blank.

"Thank you," he finally says, sounding unsure.

"Uh, you're welcome. It's true."

Bakugou is speechless, his cheeks a shade of pink.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Good. I was worried I made things weird. I just thought you should know. Since, you know, you don't see people very often," you say as you wade into the water, turning away from him.

"Thanks," he says, still flustered.

You take a deep breath, then continue washing yourself, trying not to look at him.

You're not sure what's gotten into you, but you feel a spark between the two of you. It's been a long time since anyone has looked at you the way he does. But, it's probably just wishful thinking.

Pirate's Treasure Masterlist

Taglist: @nemisimp @boopjuice

[not-spiders]

Smile Grove HCs That No One Asked For

Grey (he’s first because this post is mostly abt him):

he has OCD <- this in itself needs a whole post just to explain my reasoning (will i actually make the post? who knows :D)

he’s pretty short <- this one is projection don’t mind me

his hair is naturally a quite dark shade that might be blond, but it could also be brown, depending on who you ask. but he bleaches the crap out of it anyway so most of the time he’s very blond

deltarune fan

and also other toby fox stuff but mostly deltarune

when he gets older he starts dying his hair fun colours (inspired by nikolai no doubt) and that leads to him expressing himself more freely through his appearance

roundest glasses you ever did see

rosacea <- i’m projecting again… moving on.…

can and will tell you everything about penguins (i stole this one from @tiredmilkshake but it was too good to not include)

favourite colour is turquoise

really large vocabulary

Tida:

gets pissed when people think her name is Tina

has a bunch of loom band bracelets (probably not actively with her because…yeah) and when she gets the chance she gives one to each of the others

probably has coloured highlights in her hair or used hair extensions

she needs glasses but doesn’t have them (shortsighted)

vegetarian

Storm:

transgender (i’m not elaborating)

had a massive crush on grey the moment he walked through the door, attempts to show affection by being an ass

feels like a bit of a big brother to tida

by extension, he will treasure the bracelet she gives him forever

he draws comics

secret hyperpop fan because hyperpop is yummy and crunchy (i don’t even know how else to describe it it’s just crunchy. not in the music sense in the physical texture sense)

he would drum i just know he would drum

Dr Grover:

women fear him fish want him /ref

Nikolai:

helps grey dye his hair the first time he does it

paints a lot, mostly abstract stuff both small and large scale

they’re the kind of person to use walls as a canvas

wears really flowy clothes

has lots of collections of small things (rocks, buttons, etc.)

indie rock listener

wants to go by something other than nikolai, just uses nikolai because it’s a convenient shift from their birth name

really tall

joint pain

Michelle:

this is going to sound like i’m joking but if the show goes the way i think it will… -> michelle is not quite human. maybe she has a few too many eyes , or slightly long limbs, etc. i have no basis for this claim but for some reason i think it’s accurate

[ofscorchedearth]

Prompt #20: Anon

Captain Brauvont showed Solongo to his private chambers, bowing with a flourish as she passed over the threshold into an opulent room. It was elegantly decorated, all polished mahogany, velvet and silk, with golden and silver treasures from his past exploits twinkling in the dim light. He gestured to the carved table at the centre of the room, laden with ornately painted platters and plates. Dinner was seared dzo steak, lovingly seasoned with herbs native to the Othard region, accompanied by roasted asparagus, carrots and popotoes. Several bottles of red wine disappeared as the two discussed their travels, Brauvont taking particular interest in the desert sands his guest called home.

"If your motive is what I suspect it to be, Captain, I'm afraid you will be disappointed." A light flush had begun to spread across her face after the first glass of wine and she was well into her second now.

Brauvont's brow slowly moved upward as he tapped his chin. "I'm not sure what you mean, my dear." She rolled her eyes and pressed a starched white napkin to her lips. "Men tend to shower women with gifts for one reason, and one reason alone."

He reached over to top up her glass with the last dregs from one of the bottles before letting out a sigh, one steeped in loss and yearning. "That they do, but that's not who I am, my dear. Do you truly wish to hear why?"

Solongo blinked and pulled herself up from her half-lounging position in a chair padded with soft cushions. "I do." She listened with rapt attention as he weaved her a tale of love lost in the rolling plains of the Steppe, of a tall, dark and handsome Xaela who stole his heart, of the pain it brought when he was forced to leave the man behind.

Several bells and bottles later, Brauvont's guest held a hand to her chest as she laughed louder than she had in a long time. "I must admit, the last I expected to find here was a kindred spirit." He chuckled and leaned over to press his hand atop hers. "You remind me of him, you know? That same confidence and bite to his words. He had no patience for idiots, either." She shook her head but smiled warmly all the same. "You flatter me."

"I think you'll find, my dear, that I only ever tell the absolute truth." They stared at each for a beat, her incredulous, him daring her to deny it, before bursting into laughter that carried out to the dark sea.

[envihellbender]

Fundraiser auction night at the Archives: bidders can bid on having sex with the assistants. Very few limits required.

Characters: Elias Bouchard, Tim Stoker, Mikaele Salesa, Jared Hopworth, Mike Crew, Simon Fairchild, Diego Molina, Nikola Orsinov, Peter Lukas (The Magnus Archives)

Content: noncon reference and discussed/deacribed but not enacted, weight gain suggestion, human auction, torture, sadism, piss, vomit

—

“Well, it’s the event you’ve all been waiting for! The Archive Auction!” Elias declared clapping loudly, his thick hands gripping to each other as he smirked, staring into the crowd with narrowed eyes. In the room were the most important and wealthiest people he knew. Most notably, Simon Fairchild sat high on the reinforced balcony, Peter Lukas right at the back in his hidden personal suite, and Mikaele Salesa had a table at the front with two beautiful young women on either side. It was an event they held every ten years, and it was usually so successful they didn’t need to hold it anytime in between. Elias sat back in his chair, smirking and picking up a large glass of red wine. He clicked his fingers, and then pushed on stage by his assistant Rosie was a tall, slim blond young man, he was gagged and tied to a wheeled office chair. His face was bruised from where he’d resisted and he continued to scream even through the rag in his mouth.

“Well, first up tonight is a chatty one. Timothy Stoker, Timothy is one of our best researchers with a First in Anthropology. He’s quite experienced in sexual matters, and endlessly charming. Shall we start the bid at…” Elias paused deliberately, ensuring everyone noticed Tim’s eyes widen and him begin to struggle fervently. “£1000?”

“£1100,” Mikaele Salesa said raising a thick brown hand. He smirked and wrapped one arm around the young woman to his right, pulling her closer to his waist. He lowered his voice, speaking to the woman beside him but knowing full well Elias was listening. “You know, my treasure, I have quite the night planned for that one. I thought we could take him to the Diogenes club, have him be a good bit of eye candy, and then parade him around the other members. Maybe let them fuck him, have him service them, maybe even be the club’s urinal-”

“Anyone wish to raise?” Elias said suddenly, tutting under his breath. Mikaele should know that his request would cost far more than that.

“1600,” a gravelly voice from the side said, nearly everyone on the room winced and turned around. Jared Hopworth was leaning against the wall and apparently no one but Elias had been able to see him. Normally he’d be rather hard to miss but with the light down low and the man hidden in an alcove, that wasn’t the case. Jared looked directly at Elias, licking his lips as he showed him just what he wanted to do to Tim through his mind’s eye. He pictured the young man tied down to a table, the bloody kind a butcher has, naked with nothing in his mouth to silence his screaming. Jared would see how many bones he can fit inside the young man, he’d pull them from his body and force them into Tim’s arsehole, fucking him with them. He’d push a second, and third, stretching Tim’s gut until it was a dark purple. He’d keep pushing it until his body split-

“£1600, quite the offer. But we can do better than that can’t we, esteemed guests?” Elias interrupted Jared’s thoughts. Too far, my boy, too far. Remember: no permanent damage, he said to Jared and no one else.

“£2000,” a low, polite voice said from the balcony. Next to Simon Fairchild was a small young man with black dishevelled hair, bright mismatched eyes and severe scar across his thin body. Mike Crew. He looked bored, as if he’d been dragged here by his father figure, but to the surprise of Elias wished to join in the fun.

“Oh? Would you like a toy to play with, little Lightening Rod?” Simon Fairchild asked, happily accepting the large pile of steaks the waiter brought to the balcony.

“I guess,” Mike shrugged, he didn’t look at Simon as he replied, everyone knew they were talking to only one man and he didn’t hide the fact he stared at him. “Just always wondered what Stoker would look like being hung from Shanghai Tower. Leave him there upside down until the bloods rushed to his head, just before he passes out cut him down, then keep him suspended over the side whilst I fuck his tight little arse.”

“Mm. Any other bidders?” Elias said with a pleased smirked. Mike shuddered and looked away with a scowl, clearly uncomfortable at how the older man leered at his fantasies.

“£2200,” a deep accented voice said from the back. Diego Molina had politely raised his hand. He sipped at his martini, as was tradition he ran through his plans in his head. He would have Tim restrained and have newer converts to the cult use him as a target practice. It was simple, but he enjoyed nothing more than seeing a handsome young man covered in blistering burns. He would fuck him afterwards obviously, a simply matter of dominating him and watching him scream beneath his bands. Elias raised his eyebrows, almost bored by the display. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Come now, we can do better than that,” he declared with a smirk. He didn’t even give Diego a response or an explanation, the man always asked for the same thing at these things. Elias would give him someone less important for it.

“£6000,” a distorted voice said. There was a chuckle throughout the room, Elias gave a booming cackle, and clapped his hands together again.

“Nice try, Nikola, we won’t make it that easy for you. Any other bidders?”

“£9,000,” Simon Fairchild finally said, he clicked his fingers and sipped at his wine, the sauce from his steaks around his plump lips and his white shirt. “You see, my lad,” he continued as an aside to Mike. “You have to be careful with a young man like that. Show him a nice time, make him good and pliant. You pour wine down his throat, and then when he’s falling asleep you strike. When you get to see fear in his eyes and his own vomit all down his front as he is thrown from the highest point of the Kingda Ka. You need to break him, keep him falling for hours until he’s convinced his bones are shattered, then bring him into your arms, letting him know he’s safe, his limbs fall soft in relief, the pain has stopped. That’s when you can do it all over again, and again, and again, until he’s dutifully suckling your cum and urine.”

“Hm, quite the offer,” Elias said nodding in an amused smile. He clapped his hands again as if his adipose ridden paws were a gavel given to most auctioneers. “Well. Going once, going twice-”

“£150,000,” a smug voice said. It came from a hidden room at the back, Peter Lukas stepped forward and folded his arms. He was thinner than usual, morphing his shape to fit perfectly within the club. He was still plump, heavy, and wheezed as he stood but less so than Elias was used to.

“A generous offer,” Elias said, amused and fondly smiling. His sharp green eyes met Peter’s watery blue irises. “That will be hard to beat…” His voice trailed off as Peter showed him precisely what he wanted to do. He’d tie Tim up in his domain, the Lonely causing Tim to be restrained in the woods, a wooden chair causing his limbs to ache as he is blinded by the fog. He would shiver in the cold and wince and whine every time a noise appeared. He’d struggle and cry, desperately looking around as his memory reset every ten minutes, constantly confused by where he was but fully aware he was alone. He had been abandoned, and he’d stay there for what felt like years. It would be only a few hours, but when he was finally brought to Peter Lukas Tim would feel as if he’d been isolated for almost a decade. That’s when Peter would kiss his cheeks, hold the slim boy to his heavy, fat drenched frame and gently, lovingly fuck him. After so long in isolation, every soft touch and caress would feel like a sharp knife between his ribs.

“Well,” Elias gasped, he rubbed his gut causing the weight to shift over his thighs. “Going once… going twice… Sold.” His voice was breathless and his lips were dry, he couldn’t take his eyes from Peter Lukas’s. You are such a cheat, going for exactly what you know I want to hear, he thought with a wry grin.

[zerobaseonefics]

OH I THOUGHT YOU WERE WAY SMALLER LIKE 160CM OR SOMETHING SHSGHSGS and i also love tall (and short) (and neither tall or short just average???) women but idk i dont like it on myself👲

YO THATS SUCH A GREAT IDEA OMG YES

my all albums cost over 400€ and last and this month i payed 137€ for new albums💀 bitch im crazy today i was in a bigger city and i bought there another enhyoen album like dark blood the white and red one and now i just bought the last version that i need to have all👲 i also bought the weverse version cuz i didnt pull heeseung and jake today (you cna say over 80€ today for albums🔌🔌) and im collecting official photocards in my photocard albums just so i can flex to my children who i pulled when i was their age (they will so totally listen to kpop, lana del rey, taylor swift etc. i can see it) so i eill probably sell one day some albums for idk what price but probably like 15-20€ with some inclusions or something (i literally see people selling albums for 5-10€ like how😟😟) (some photocards cost that much💀💀💀)

AHSHSHHS I NEED TO HAVE NO ONE AT HOME TO SING CUZ THATS EMBARRASSING SO IT WILL TSKE SOME TIME BUT IDK WHAT SONG HELP ME CHOOSE IT WILL BE SUNG (hanbin) WITH MY WHOLE HEART (idk if its „it will be sang” or „sung” sori but i chose sung because hanbin ykyk)

JAHSHAH VENOM LOOKS SO BBG THERE ICL… bet youre bbg too😜😜

okay so im too scared so i probably wont do it💀 like i saw a cute guy today (train) and there wasnt anything to sit down (it was so a lot people) but only the place next to the guy right so i asked him if i can sit next to him snd he said yes and i wanted to ask for his number but i shit my pants and now i regret it a lot but st least i know it which city he lives💪👲

i didnt choose anything in germany and in poland i can live with my fsmily, in france (toulouse) i can find a job (my french teacher studied there and she also worked in a cafe and she was like the employee of the month or something a lot of times and she still has contact with the people there and she lived in their “hotel” for like 1/4 of the price (like 500€ a month) (she was earning over 1000€ a month) and she will get me all this) my french teacher was so supportive after she found out that i want to study there and we literally have such long conversations all the time and also talk about if i got accepted or not👲 i can still apply to somewhere in germany tho idk imma just go wherever i get accepted to and then find a job and my parents will probably support me too (like with money) (omg im having a stroke reading all this because my english got so bad in such a short time💀)

BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT THINK THST IM WEIRD OR PICK ME OR SOMETHING “omg i’m so delulu😭😭🥺🥺🥺 i love them so much but they will never rven look at me🥺😭” this type of shit

YES AND YOU OWN THE BIGGEST PLACE IN MY HEART

DO I FEEL LIKE I'M SMAL??? 😭😭😭 yk when i was young i got tall so fast and so i was the taller out of everyone..........and then i got into high school and i stopped growing up so everyone became taller than me </3 i took it personally </3

400??? DAMN YOU HAVE A LOT 😧 i think i got one treasure album, two blackpink, and one straykids and that's it 🙏🏼 what's your favorite album out of the ones you have?

hMMMMM ABT THE SONG YOU SHOULD SING IT'S HARD TO CHOOSE IF I DON'T KNOW YOUR VOICE YET............ but since i sung over me you should sing say my name 🤭🤭🤭

oh you'd go to toulouse if you come to france??? i heard the city is super pretty and it's not too far away from where i am!! that's so cool that your french teacher was so supportive of you like <3 that's so cute. plus if you go there you'd be able to have the assurance of her help. it's better to come to a city like toulouse if you come to france cuz it's not as expensive as paris.

tell me when you get your answers for college!! hope you can go somewhere it won't be too hard for you

[writing-for-marvel]

Stepping on Toes

40’s!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite observing his feelings for Peggy, you couldn’t help but fall for Steve Rogers - then he asks you to teach him how to dance.

Request: Anonymous - original request here.

Prompts: “I can’t stay away from you.” and “Because I care about you!” - prompts in bold

Warnings: slight angst, swearing,

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: ok this got way out of hand and is so much longer than I intended it to be, but I hope you enjoy what I’ve done with the prompts

Dividers by @maysdigitalarts

Masterlist | Requests are open! | Library

The way he looked at her made it hard to breathe. Adoringly yearning after her, while you stared at him pathetically, wishing he looked at you that way. Your chest tightened at the smile that crossed his face as he watched her in discussion with Colonel Phillips over by the other side of the room.

Damn him for being so irresistible. Damn you for falling for someone who had feelings for a friend of yours. There weren’t many women allowed in the military, let alone the Strategic Scientific Reserve, but while working as Howard Stark’s assistant, you had become friendly with the only other woman in the agency.

You wanted to be happy for them, Peggy was a wonderful girl, one of the wittiest and skilled people you knew - she deserved someone as valiant and clever as Steve Rogers. The only issue was, you were madly in love with him.

Not a schoolgirl crush on Captain America, the tall and strong man who was the face of the war, but completely enamored with Steve Rogers, the courageous and kind-hearted man who would do anything to defend his country.

It was the small things, holding a door open for you when someone else would have let it hit you in the face; making sure you had the chance to voice your opinions in meetings, valuing your input when the other men in the room didn’t think there was anything to gain from listening to a woman speak; writing thoughtful notes in the corners of your writing pads that you treasured more than he would ever know.

“Shit!” You exclaimed as you tripped and dropped classified files over the floor of the security conference room.

“That’s no way for a lady to speak.” Colonel Phillips mentioned as he stepped on some of your spilt papers as he stalked out of the room.

“Here, let me help.” A voice came from behind you as other agents rushed out of the room, snickering, not caring about your folders and dossiers fanned out on the ground.

“No, it’s alright, I can manage.” You didn’t want to be an inconvenience to a male agent who probably didn’t believe you belonged in the reserve in the first place, before also proving yourself to be a clumsy, incompetent mess.

“Please, I insist.” A short blonde with high cheekbones and ocean blue eyes crouched down beside you, picking up some files you hadn’t reached for yet. “Sorry about the footprints.” The man said sincerely as he handed you the last of the papers.

“Thank you - and they aren’t your footprints, there’s no need to apologise.” Your heart raced as his hand lightly brushed yours. Biting the inside of your cheek, you compelled yourself to calm down - he was simply trying to be nice.

“Well, I doubt you’ll get an apology out of any of them. I’d take what you can get.” His smile was warm, and you chuckled. “I’m Steve Rogers, by the way.” He introduced, extending a hand.

“Ah, you’re the man involved in Dr Erskine’s experiment. We’ll be working closely together - I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Howard Stark’s assistant.” You said, awkwardly transferring all the folders and files into your left arm as you shook his hand with your right.

“I look forward to it.”

“Hey, everything alright? You zoned out there for a second.” The same voice as in your memory spoke. Steve Rogers stood in front of you and your cheeks burned hot at the realisation he had caught you staring.

“Yeah… yeah I’m good.” You confirmed, mentally attempting to draw the heat from your face.

“As long as you’re sure.” He looked at you suspiciously, as if he wanted to be positive there was nothing wrong, before continuing, “some of us are going to grab a drink, would you like to join?”

“You told me you couldn’t get drunk.” You pointed out, while selfishly wishing you were the only girl Steve had invited.

“Well I can’t, but that doesn't mean I can’t enjoy good company.” The smile he flashed would have knocked you straight off your feet if you hadn’t been seated at a desk.

“Alright, let me change out of these and I’ll meet you in half an hour.” You commented, hoping you had a clean dress you looked half decent in hanging in your fairly limited wardrobe.

* * *

By the time you changed and made your way to meet Steve, the pub was packed with people, the soft hum of music drowned out by loud voices and the sound of clinking glasses. Normally you wouldn’t have enjoyed this type of atmosphere - men outnumbering women fifteen to one, all so intoxicated they wouldn’t remember their actions in the morning. You would have felt intimidated if it weren’t for the knowledge that Captain America would ward off any unwanted attention.

“Heyyy doll.” A very inebriated Bucky called out seductively as you walked over to him and Steve, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

“Bucky.” Steve warned, not for the first time. Bucky became extremely flirtatious when drunk, and there had been multiple occasions where he had harmlessly flirted with you. Bucky was cute, extremely cute, and if you weren’t utterly in love with his best friend, you might even be interested. Steve likes Peggy, you should go for it.

“Only in your wildest dreams Barnes.” You jested, flashing him a playful smile.

You didn’t have too much to drink, fearing that in your drunken state you may reveal feelings to sober Steve that you could never take back. Opting instead to discuss topics like what life was like back home, and what you were going to do upon returning.

You weren’t even sure how your conversation had found its way onto this topic - something about his dancing and performing on stage in front of hundreds of people, but never with a partner.

“You’ve really never danced with someone before?” You enquired as he nervously broke your eye contact, looking down at the drink in his hands, swirling the dark liquid around the glass.

“Well, I’ve never had someone to dance with before, but now that I do, I’m nervous I’m not going to have any idea what I’m doing.” He confessed and your heart sank through the bottom of your stomach. Now that I do.

“It’s not that difficult - it’s who you're dancing with, that’s what really makes it special.” Your mother once said ‘dance with someone who owns your heart, pull them close so you can feel their breath on your cheek, and when you relax your body into theirs, your heart beating in unison, you know you’ve found the one’. And by all accounts, Steve Rogers most definitely owned your heart.

“Would you teach me?” He asked, wide eyed and hopeful. “If you know how to dance, would you teach me?” He reiterated. His big, beautiful blue eyes stared at you expectantly. You couldn’t say no to him. Not when he looked like an excited puppy ready for a walk.

“Of course I can.” The smile he beamed was reciprocated on your own features as you accepted. This was selfish - you were only teaching him because of your want to be closer to him, for him to see you in a way that you were positive he already found with someone else, yet you took the opportunity anyway.

Steve agreed to start the lesson outside, opting for a secluded area where no patron of the pub would be able to stumble into the two of you. Standing awkwardly, at your mercy, not sure what to do with his limbs, he let you guide his arms to where they needed to be.

“Hold me, like so.” You said, placing your right hand delicately in his left one, then directing his right hand to your back, before snaking your left around to the back of his shoulder. “There - just like that. Now all you need to do is sway to the beat of the music.” You explained, treasuring the closeness of his warm body in the cool night air.

The soft music which was playing inside was not audible where you were now, which Steve pointed out, but you told him to use his imagination. Robotically, Steve stepped from side to side, solely focussed on where he was placing his feet.

“You need to look at your partner. It’s supposed to be an intimate moment.” You said, taking your hand and lifting his chin so his bright eyes were looking into yours. His eyes bore into your soul, and even though you were fully clothed, you had never felt more exposed in your life than you did in this very moment. “You won’t step on my toes if you prioritise leading instead of looking at your feet - if you want to step forward, make sure you press towards me, you’re essentially forcing me to take a step back and you won’t step on my toes.” You explained through the lump forming in your throat.

“Here, keep looking at me, relax your hips, and just… move. If you move, you compel your partner to move with you.” You continued, and he did as you said. Maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, Steve led you around the courtyard, his hand protectively resting on your back, eventually finding the courage to spin you. Your body craved being in contact with him, as he spun you away, all you could think about was how long it would be until you were back in his arms, even if that would be only mere seconds. The disquiet, which was rising in your chest, must have been evident on your face as Steve broke the silence.

“Am I doing something wrong? God, was the spin too much? Am I not leading right? Is my hand not in the right position?” He asked, anxiously moving his hand from where it rested on your back to your waist.

“Nothings wrong. You’re doing great.” His proximity to you made it hard to keep your voice level, from not giving away your feelings for him right then and there.

“Alright, then what’s up with you? You’ve been acting strange all day.” Why did he have to be so damn observant?

“I’m not acting strange, we’re just dancing.” You brushed him off, hoping that he couldn’t feel your heart thumping in your chest which was currently gently pressed against his.

“Y/N, you’re one of only a few people around here who is willing to spend time with me outside of work, believe me, I know when something’s off.” He stated, pulling away from your body slightly to study your face.

“Steve…” You whispered, pleading with him to stop and not push the subject.

“You can talk to me, you know. I can help you, whatever it is.” He was always so insistent. He really believed there wasn’t a problem, big or small, that he couldn’t solve - you knew that wasn’t a quality bestowed upon him by the serum.

“You can’t help with this.” You said, trying to play down what was at this point fairly evident torment, at least to Steve.

“Try me.” He said, the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile, tempting you to kiss him. Pulling your mind away from that thought, you tried to focus, but his closeness and the alcohol running through your system made that almost impossible.

“No, Steve, you really can’t.” As much as you yearned to have his hands roaming over your body, up and down the length of your back and squeezing your hand as if he were holding on for dear life, you stepped back, breaking all physical contact with him.

“Well, maybe if you tell me what the problem is…” His face held concern, jaw tight with worry.

“The problem is I can’t stay away from you! It’s as if my soul is a magnet and it’s pulling me towards yours. No matter how much my brain screams at me that you’ve fallen for someone else, that you could never look at me the way you look at her - I keep coming back to you because…” Even after accidentally spilling that entire confession, you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that you had only ever permitted yourself to think, but not speak aloud. I’m in love with you, Steve Rogers.

“Because… what?” He asked, taking a step closer to you. You bit down on your lip as you looked up at his blue eyes which were searching your face in anticipation, expecting you to continue. Even in the dark you could see his cheeks blush a light shade of pink.

“Don’t make me say it Steve.” You begged him. You were certain your heart couldn’t handle the despair of his rejection.

“Please…” He leaned imperceptibly closer. The desperation in his voice cracked a wall around your heart and for a second led you to believe that he actually wanted to hear you say those three little words.

“This was a mistake…” You said, shaking your head, your brain scrambling to find the right thing to say, anything to say, other than the confession of love that was currently on the tip of your tongue. He’s in love with Peggy, he’s only doing this to learn how to dance for Peggy, you reminded yourself.

“Y/N, wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you tried to turn away from him. Goosebumps, which had nothing to do with the cool night air, raced up your arm.

“No, Steve, I can’t - l... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put you in this position. Just… forget this ever happened.” Pulling your hand away from his strong yet tender touch, you rushed to your sleeping chambers, leaving Steve standing alone in the cold, dark night, bewildered at the scene which had played out in front of him.

* * *

You actively attempted to evade Steve the next day, but that proved more difficult than anticipated - in attempts to recreate the super soldier serum, the SSR needed more tests run on Steve, blood work, swab tests, vitals, and that job fell into your lap.

Your heart was racing as you met him in the med bay, after procrastinating for as long as you possibly could. Mostly you wanted to avoid him like the plague, but there was a small part of you that was tormented by not having seen him all day.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Steve said as soon as you walked in to the test room where he had been waiting for you. Please, anything but that.

“Steve, please, I’m just here to do my job.” You grabbed the medical forms you would have to fill out, as well as the equipment you were needing to use for the tests.

“This is important.” He stood his ground, hand on hip. It was the way he stared at you, and the knowledge of how insistent he was, that let you know he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

You could feel your blood pressure rising - why did you have to go and ruin everything by telling him? You may not have said the words I love you, but you had made your feelings pretty clear, and he hadn’t told you he felt the same. The smell of sterile cleaning agents filled the room as you stared at him, desperate for this conversation to not be occurring.

“Steve, please just let me do my job. There’s really nothing to talk about.” Your eyes pleaded with him to drop the conversation. You wanted to go back to a time where he didn’t know about your feelings, where you could pine for him without his knowledge.

“What do you mean nothing-, Y/N, what you said last night, what you left unsaid… there’s a lot to talk about.” He took a large step closer to you, and you wanted him to reach out and embrace you. How twisted was it that the one person who could break your heart would also be the only person you wanted to find comfort in when mending it?

“Steve, please, I asked you-”

“What, to forget about it? I can’t just disregard what you said.” He interrupted, there was a desperation in his voice you had never heard before.

“Why not?” You weren’t sure you wanted the answer to the question, but it slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

“Because I care about you!” The words hung in the air as if you weren’t willing to accept them.

“Please… don’t torture me like this.” You exhorted. Steve wasn’t a liar, far from it, but you couldn’t believe his words. You had spent so long convincing yourself that he didn’t have feelings for you that his words only chipped away at the surface.

“Torture - what?” Bewilderment flashed on his face.

“You might care about me, but I see the way you look at Peggy, you don’t look at me like that.” You explained, trying to translate the reasoning in your head into words.

“How would you know how I look at you?” He said that he cared about you - why did you have to make this difficult, why couldn't you take the confession and run?

“Because I’m always looking at you - hoping that you’re looking back.”

“And am I?” He asked and you paused before answering.

“Sometimes.”

“Look, Peggy’s a nice girl, and I have her to thank for a lot, before the serum she was one of a few people who actually believed in me, but I don’t care about her the same way I care about you. I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you. When I asked you to teach me to dance yesterday, it wasn’t Peggy I wanted to practice for… it was just an excuse to get closer to you, to dance with you. I know that probably sounds pathetic...” Steve rambled, hand reaching up to nervously rub the back of his neck.

"You really wanted to dance with me?" It was a relatively innocent question, loaded with dire implications.

"Yes, only you." Steve confirmed, inching closer to cup your face. Your lips curled into a smile, as your hands found the backs of his strong triceps, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips onto yours. The kiss was tender, pure affection, everything you had ever hoped it would be, if not quite the location of choice.

Your heart was thumping in your chest as he pulled away, his hands never loosing their connection to you. The endearment in his eyes essentially announced that he wanted more, desired to kiss you again, but was hesitant because of your whereabouts.

"You're going to have to wait a minute before you take my heart rate and blood pressure, after that kiss, they're a little elevated." He chuckled, which made you smile. The sound was music to your ears, something you could listen to on repeat for the rest of your life, and if Steve were up for it, you would sign up for a lifetime of it this very moment.

Permanent Taglist: @imagining-harrypotter

[katsubiatch]

Distant Shores-1

Summary: The heathens came to raid every year, stealing treasures and killing along the way. Your father was the King of Wessex and wanted to strike a deal with the heathens. The heathens and their ruthless numbers in exchange for some lands to farm, riches... and you. You are the Christian princess that is now to marry the Heathen King, a man that you're sure would rather kill you than marry you. This is going to be a miserable marriage.

A Viking!BakugouxReader fic.

Warnings: Arrange Marriage, general viking things, abusive father

They came every year, rowing to shore in their long boats with the intricately decorated dragon or serpent heads, shields of all colors decorating the sides. They would set up camp near the edges of the water, far enough to stay dry but not so far that they couldn't leave in a haste if need be. Violent in their tendencies and lacking the most simple of manners. Vulgar in their speech but carefree and happy. Men and women fighting side by side. They were tall, muscular, built like the gods they worshiped. Some with long hair that was braided back from their face, others with the sides shorn short and what was left was braided. Almost all had some sort of facial hair, minus the young ones desperately trying to grow it in, and if that was long enough it would be braided as well. Their clothing was not all together different from what you were used to. Perhaps not as ostentatious or gaudy as a he clothing around court. It was practical and useful, rather than just for show. Your father, the King of Wessex, was intrigued by these heathens as he called them. They had came ashore last year, destroying a few temples and killing all the holy men and women inside of them while stealing all the treasure inside, before taking their leave back to their homelands. It was interesting to say the least, though they had heard of these northmen before this was only the second time they had made camp on their shores. So In an effort of good faith your father decided to invite them to the castle, to talk he said. He wanted to strike a deal with them. He was going to offer a few things he thought they could not refuse. So he sent out a messenger to bring back their leaders for a feast. They spoke in a different tongue, looking at the women of court with lustful eyes as they ate. One man, who seemed to be their leader spoke up as he looked at the King. "What is it you have to offer me?" He spoke your language but it was choppy with the words out of place. You were surprised to find he knew the words at all. His hair was short on the sides, the rest braided back until it ended in a short pony tail. He had red eyes that you felt could pierce through anything or anyone. Scars littered his arms and bare chest, an axe and a sword at his hips. "Well, I am willing to offer some lands for you to do as you wish. Farm, build settlements. They are yours to do as you wish. I am also willing to offer you something more." The man said, grinning at the Viking earl. "I am offering my pure daughter, Y/N, to you." You. You were an offering. You always knew that your marriage would be arranged but you didn't think like this. To someone who had different customs, a different language, a different land someone who was different in almost every way possible. You wanted to throw up

The last thing that you thought your father was going to offer up was you. After all you were his only daughter and you figured that you would be married off to someone, a prince or lord in order for you father to gain some lands or troops for wars. Though you supposed this was kind of the same thing. The last thing that you expected was to be offered up to the Heathen King. You could feel his gaze on you, calculating red eyes watching your every move. You kept your eyes downcast, a habit from living in the castle for so long. You tried your hardest to hide the look of shock on your face, train it into a neutral expression.

"Well aren't you lucky, you get the Christian princess." One of the men next to the Heathen king spoke to him, in their language. One that you didn't understand.

"I have no need for a wife... but I could make it work. His proposition is interesting. I feel like he is going to double cross us."

The viking seemed to contemplate for a minute, hand rubbing over his chin as he looked you up and down before looking back at his men. "I will accept your offer, but I am surprised you would give up your virgin daughter to such a... heathen like myself." You could feel your face heat up at that, like they were talking about you without you even being there, despite the fact that you could feel the Vikings eyes on you the entire time.

"Well you are the man I need to make an alliance with right now." Your father stated, leaning back in his chair. "She will make a fine wife, I'm sure she can adjust to your ways." It became quite obvious to Bakugou that the king did not care about his daughter and what happened to her. He knew of the rumors that were spread about them. How they raped women and killed them when they no longer 'served their purpose.' He could tell you were scared but it seemed as though your father did not care.

"Then she will leave with us in the morning, we will be married under our Gods." Bakugou grunted, taking a long drink out of his cup, eyes never leaving your shaking frame. There was not much more that you could take, you didn't want to marry yet let alone a barbarian that you didn't even know. Someone who hardly spoke your language, who had different customs and Gods than you.

You excused yourself and made your way out of the hall, running as soon as you were out of sight. You couldn't slow your breaths, they were coming much too fast. You felt as though you were hyperventilating and needed to calm down. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe it would be okay. Once you made it to your room you had calmed down just a bit. You still did not want to marry this man. He looked cruel and would surely just have his way with you.

You sighed as you sat at your vanity, taking out the clips and pins that held your hair up in its complicated look. You supposed now you'd have to have it in the braids you saw on all the Viking women. You moved it back away from your face when you heard a knock on the door that caused your heart to race. You knew it was your father, sent to give you instructions that you didn't want to follow.

"Well, you embarrassed me out there. Running away like that, it's almost like you don't want to marry that brute." Your father hadn't waited for an answer to come in. "You have to make him happy, the last thing I want is them storming our shores because you're too stupid to please this man."

"Father I don't want to marry him. I do not know him and... and what if he kills me? You could marry me off to a prince from a neighboring land and they could offer your army to help if the viki,.." you started to say before you were struck against the cheek. The king of Wessex didn't like being told what to do, especially not by a woman.

"You will listen to what I have to say child, you will do as you are told, no questions. You will marry that brute and you will like it. Keep him pleased bed remind him of our treaty or I can send someone to remind you of your place." Your father threatened, pointing a finger in your face while you held your cheek and tears sprang out of your eyes. You had thought perhaps he had some shred of love left for you, however he just saw you as a bargaining chip.

That night you did not sleep well, tossing and turning. Dreaming about a pair of bright red eyes.

The next morning your maids had dressed your for the last time, putting you in a simple dress and cloak that wasn't too showy but was still made of fine fabrics that showed your status. A bruise had formed on your cheek from your fathers ring but that was something he didn't try to hide anymore. His daughter had a wild tongue according to him, and he needed to correct it. This wasn't the first time that he had struck you, but you were hopeful it would be the last. Unless of course your new husband was the same.

You were told you didn't need to pack anything, your husband to be would provide everything that you'd need. Least that is what they told your father. So down you went to where they were waiting, restless horses under even more restless men. They'd been giving plenty of gold and treasures to get them through the winter so they were eager to get back home. "Here she is, your future wife." The King said, presenting you to the Viking leader. You dared to look up at him, seeing the same eyes that had plagued your dreams. You watched his eyes flick around your face, lingering on your cheek before landing on your eyes. You soon looked away, not wanting to cause any new problems. It was the way you were raised, never look a man too long in the eyes. It was disrespectful. "She has some problems obeying but I am sure you can get her in line." The king winked befor pushing your towards the horse that Bakugou was on. He looked down at you before hoisting you on top of the beast to sit in front of him. Your face turned a bright pink, you'd never been this close to a man before, and his bare chest was burning into your back. You supposed that you'd have to get used to this if you were to be married soon.

Your father and future husband shared a few words with each other that you didn't pay attention to before you were off. The entire ride the few Vikings that had come along we're all talking in their own language, nothing that you understood but they seemed to be in good spirits, laughing and joking. You were lost in your own world, gently running your fingers over the horses mane before you heard the man behind you speak up. "What happened to your face?"

You weren't expecting it after how quiet he'd been for the entire ride so you jumped at the sudden noise behind you. You chewed on your cheek, deciding on an answer before landing on, "My father was correcting me. That is all." You weren't sure of the correct answer but that apparently wasn't it as you heard a grunt behind you and a small growl.

Before long you made it back to the Viking camp, which was mostly torn down at this point, bustling with activity. The boats were being packed, tents torn down and supplies being put up. You were in awe at how fast they worked, and were intrigued with the people and what they were doing. It was almost like a culture shock, you were used to the castle and this was something different. The man that was to be your husband helped you off your horse and gave you a warning to stay close. In the matter of an hour everything was packed up, you staying close to the man was he went around inspecting work and checking things before he lifted you onto a boat and climbed on himself.

The boat itself was amazing, all the little attentions to detail was beautiful, your fingers traced over the edge and the little designs there. You were again in awe, you could deal with this. If you could see little things of beauty like this then you could take it. Once set off to the sea your eyes were wide with wonder. You hadn't ever been this far before, you hadn't even been out on the water and it was breath taking. You couldn't get enough. That is... until you were sprayed in the face with the water. You coughed and shook your head, as the men on the boat laughed. You didn't complain however, you were still just in awe of the sights. What you didn't notice was a curious pair of eyes watching you from the other end of the boat, never leaving you as he watched you drink in everything. He was curious about you, that was for sure.

After getting hit with the ocean water you learned your lesson about staying too close to the edge. However as night time drew closer and the sun went below the horizon it was freezing and your cloak wasn't cutting it. However you didn't complain, instead just hugged it closer to yourself.

"It looks like your princess is going to freeze to death." One of the rowing men commented, looking over to Bakugou. "Might want to warm her up."

Bakugou heard this and in turn stood up with a grunt before walking over to you and unceremoniously dropped on of his furs onto your shoulders. You looked curiously up at him, but melted into the warmth it gave. "Thank you." You chattered out, cuddling close to the furs.

"Can't let you freeze, princess." Bakugou murmured as shuffled back over to where he came from. You watched him go and smiled softly, perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

[sp00kworm]

I would love a Bram Strokers Dracula, where the reader is 21st century going on a college trip to the castle. She gets to stay in his room and he watches her, slowly falling for her and her love of literature. Then there’s a ball? where he re-emerges and woos her.

Pairing: Dracula x Female Reader, Vampire x Female Reader

Part 2 

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Codex

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A restoration trip to a dilapidated castle from the time of the Persian empire. Before that – your teacher had gloated in the class. You tugged your suitcase along and shouldered the weight of your backpack with a grunt before you looked up through the gate at the tall, crumbling structures.

“Part of it is in working order, with electricity and water. It gets cold but its completely safe. The other half is partly beyond saving. We want extra hands helping out with the library. There are scrolls which need a delicate touch, or they will turn to dust. That’s where you come in.” You nodded at the lead with a small smile, “Don’t look so glum!” he cheered, “Its saving history, after all.”

You tuned out his talking as your small group entered the ramparts, stepping through the iron bars and in through a heavy, new door. It smelt of freshly dried wood still. The inside was lit with new electric wall lamps, but a few candelabras were still in use, dripping wax into small holders. Everything was made of dark, grey stone, and the walkways lined with rich red fibre rugs. The portraits were restored and bright with colour. You tried not to gawk as the man lead you all to the rooms for your stay.

“Your room is the last one, but probably the grandest.” he announced as he opened another large door, revealing a grand room with a large four poster bed, covered in sheer fabric and lit with candles and electricity. The walls were covered in maps and old paintings of the surrounding countryside, but the new glass in the windows kept out the cold mountain air, “You’ll need to get the fire going but there’s kindling and wood for you. It was said that this was where Vladimir himself slept, but it seems to be just a myth from what documents were left.” The door closed behind you and you didn’t remember saying goodbye or registering the man leaving. You turned from the door and stood your suitcase up, looking around at the circular room. You were in the corner tower.

“Amazing…” You whispered as you felt the new cotton sheets and let free the silk curtains, “Its all a bit much for a stay as an overrated librarian.” You laughed as you opened your bags and headed to the wardrobe, unaware of the eyes watching you from the rafters.

 The vampire watched as you left for dinner and observed as you came back to clean and go to sleep. You dragged a book with you wherever you went. The titles were unknown to him. He was tired. Dracula curled into the rafters, hiding his face behind his leathery wings as the light burned his pupils. It was too bright. He listened as you blew the candles out before turning himself out of the stone and hanging from a wooden beam. Asleep. He slipped over the silk and watched again, his eyes drooping. The door opened and he slipped back up the rock.

“Master is she not enough?”

He looked and saw his latest follower. He opened his mouth and snarled.

“She is?” The lead architect hummed before jumping back to the door as a claw slammed near his face, “Is she, not right?”

“Get out of my sight.” He hissed before he slammed the door closed and rushed back into the rafters to watch you jump and squirm with the cold.

 The next day, you entered the room with an old fable scroll. A woman had written it for a child. A horse who lived in the stream wooed women before dragging them under the water and eating them. A young boy took the creature’s shined pebble necklace and had the beast for his own, until his daughter took the necklace and ended up in the creature’s grasp. She wasn’t seen again until the full moon came, and she rode the creature, bare, through the stream and into the ponds and lakes beyond. He knew it well. He remembered not understanding if the daughter was happy. It was a strange tale, but you smiled as you wrote it from the scroll and into a large book. The date and catalogue number were somewhere, but you seemed to take no notice as you started cleaning the parchment. He pulled his wing back over his face and settled in to sleep, listening to you singing softly.

 Days. For days he crawled through the roofs, watching you clean, hum, read and catalogue. You had a talent he was in awe of, and he was quick to ask about you. His follower obliged. A student. He could not believe you were a student at this age. Times have changed, or so he was informed. Women were not beholden to men. He laughed, a shrill noise which echoed in the bowels of the castle, shaking spiders and rats from their hiding places.

“Women are a challenge, master. They do not fall at a man’s knee anymore.”

“Did they ever, my child?” he asked with a hiss, “Women are a treasure to be found and looked after, lest they become scorn and curse your soul.”

The vampire laughed again as his disciple rushed away to excuse the noise and to lick his wounded pride. Dracula slipped into a coffin and buried into the soil before the follower returned. He leaned over the coffin with a bag, and Dracula grinned before sinking his teeth into him.

 “Ah, it appears he had family business to attend to.” Your teacher hummed at the letter, “But we can continue the work. A replacement is making their way here.”

“That’s odd.” You whispered as you returned to the library, “He seemed so keen to translate those books.” You rushed back to your workstation and looked down at the table. The ink was spilled and with a cry you grabbed for the papers, holding them up. The ink flowed off them like oil on the surface of water, and you gasped at the face that was revealed on the plain piece of parchment. It was a dragon, curled around itself. A family crest. You looked at it in wonder before laying the paper down and looking at the book it had come from. A cold hand laid on your shoulder as you turned, and you jumped as a man stood behind you.

“Dracul.” he whispered, “The dragon.” His hand laid over your eyes before you could utter a sound and blackness took over.

 “My love?” A man asked as your eyes opened, “You are going to be late.” The same man uttered again.

“Late for what?” You roused slowly and looked up. A silk canopy hung above you. You were back in your room, “What happened?”

A man sat at the bedside, his face sharp, angular and pale, with eyes that shone like a cat. The dark brown eyes softened. Dark hair fell over his shoulders in waves as he sat on the bed. Sharp nails curled over your shoulder.

“I have waited a long time.” He whispered, “But now, we can dance. Like the stories.”

“What is…” He leaned over and placed a kiss on your lips. The scent of iron clung to him and you pushed at his shoulders before fangs grazed your lips.

“You were brought here for me, but I will show you wonders of which you have never seen.” he reached for the bedside and pulled out the book you had been writing fables in, “A story like no other.”

You looked at the fangs in his mouth and realised who he was, “Dracula…”

The vampire smiled and leaned over you, pressing your hands back to the cushions before his fangs punctured your skin.