anari3l
Writings from the Wood
Fanfictions written by me (kaclydid).
Requests: OPEN
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All works cross-posted on AO3
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Hey ... just wanted to say I love your work! I was thinking maybe you could write a Bohannon x reader where she's Durant's daughter/niece and we're looking at a secret/smutty story? Thanks!
Words: 784 /// Pairing: Cullen Bohannon x Durant!Reader /// Warnings: Slight hint of smut. MDNI. 18+ /// Notes: Finally got something down for this ask. Definitely think I may continue.
It wasn’t every day you kissed a random stranger, let alone sleep with one. You weren’t sure what had gotten over you - you hadn’t been drinking, you’d never be caught dead in a saloon, and you were not a woman of the night who slept with men for a few coins come morning.
But his intense gaze, soft smile, and even softer kisses had you falling head over heels for the man.
Cullen’s lips on your neck, his hands on your waist as he bunched the fabric of your skirt up in the back of a wagon at some depot in the middle of nowhere was intoxicating. The six days you had spent traveling alongside him in the coach were enough to get to know the man on an amiable level, culminating in an intense night together.
***
"Oh go get fucked by the horse you rode in on!"
Cullen's eyes widened at the words, and he spun on his heel, ready to break up a fight. He almost had to laugh at the statement, though, the words coming from a rather sweet sounding young woman. Across the muddy street, the working girls standing on the small porch of the boarding house were in fits of laughter, their heads thrown back and hands holding their sides at your outburst.
Clearing his throat, with a "'Scuse me, ladies" as he stepped up onto the small porch, he was barely able to dodge a slap aimed directly at his face. Catching the wrist, he met your gaze, eyes wide and a bemused smirk lighting his face.
At realizing the man you had almost slapped wasn't the man who had been catcalling and trailing after you all morning, your eyes widened and your wrist went limp in Cullen's grip as recognition hit.
Cullen. The man you had shared a rather intimate ride in a coach with 3 weeks ago was standing in front of you.
He had said he was heading to the Wyoming territory to work, but finding him here, in Durant - or Cheyenne as you learned it was now called - was something you weren’t expecting.
“Terribly sorry.” You shook yourself, taking your wrist back and dusting off your front as you looked around the street. The drunk who had been pestering you wandering off in the direction he had come, waving you and Cullen off.
Cullen bit back a smirk as he waved off your apology. "Heard a bit of commotion over here, everything all right?"
Eva nodded from her spot on the small porch. The girls around her filed back inside to go about whatever business they needed to tend to. "Miss here's got a mouth on her worse than my girls."
You blushed, ducking your head away. "I'm terribly sorry, it flew out before I could think."
Cullen laughed, a bark he couldn’t keep in as the crowd dispersed. "Hear a lot worse than that 'round these parts." He looked you over, catching your gaze. “Heading to Wyoming, you said.”
“Never said you were heading to Cheyenne,” you replied.
Cullen smirked. “You didn’t ask.”
You furrowed your brows. “Didn’t give me time with the way you were –”
“Ah, there you are!” The voice cut off your thought, making you clamp your mouth shut.
You heard your name called from behind you and you spun, plastering a smile on your face. Cullen took a step to the side as Durant stepped up, cigar in hand and looking every bit pleased with himself. “Mister Bohannon,” he greeted.
“Durant,” Cullen nodded, tucking his thumbs into his belt as he relaxed, one foot propped on the wooden walk.
“I’ve just had lunch with General Grant,” Durant started. “He’s had some fine ideas I believe we can start to move forward with.”
“Looking forward to speaking with him,” Cullen replied before motioning to you as you stepped aside. “I was just speaking to miss …” he trailed off, realizing you had never given him a surname during your last meeting.
“My daughter,” Durant interjected with your name, holding a hand out between you and Cullen. “Mister Cullen Bohannon, Chief Engineer of the Union Pacific.”
You noted the disdain lacing your father’s words as he introduced Cullen. “Pleased to meet you, Mister Bohannon.”
Cullen’s blue eyes were wide with shock, but he managed to tip his hat at you. “Pleasure, Miss Durant.” At your name, he shot you a glare.
“We have much to discuss, and I am sure your mother is wondering where’ve you run off to,” Durant sighed, flicking the ash from his cigar with his finger.
“Yes, of course,” you nodded, following after your father after nodding to Cullen. “Farewell.”
“Shit,” Cullen groaned, turning on his heel.
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It's my 9 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
Wow... happy bday to me!🎉
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Cupcake Epilogue
Pairing: Cole Cassidy x Reader // Words: 627 //Warnings: FLUFF // Notes: I read my own notes wrong for requests and this happened. // Cupcake Master list is here
Pizza, beer, and movies had always been “date night” for you and Cole. Long before you had been dating, and even longer before you had finally been married.
As the years went on, after Overwatch had fallen and you all went your separate ways, it was easy to fall back into an idyllic relationship, one that had formed years ago as recruits, and one the both of you had dreamt of.
“Alright,” Cole smiled, plopping onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn and two beers in hand. “What are we watching tonight, darlin’?”
You smiled, pulling the water bottle from the back pocket of his jeans as he sat forward, aware he had almost squashed the plastic container. As he settled back in the cushions, you stretched your legs over his lap, folding your hands on top of your belly, balancing the water bottle on the large bump.
“Thought you wanted to watch an old western?” you started, “Change your mind?”
Cole shrugged, kicking his feet onto the coffee table and draping an arm over the back of the couch. “How ‘bout something we ain’t never seen before?” he asked, scrolling through the movie options on screen. “Just pick something and see where it goes?”
“Deal,” you nodded, adjusting so you sat against his chest, shoulder to shoulder. “Now pass the popcorn,” you made grabby hands for the bowl on his other side, “And the Tums. Our peanut has already kick-started my nightly heartburn.”
Movie nights had always ended up with one or both of you falling asleep on the couch, blankets shared between the two of you. The TV had long turned itself off to save power, the movie and credits long over and forgotten as both of you fell asleep before the ending.
Cole shifted as he felt you shift against him, trying to get comfortable as you laid on his lap. Blinking his eyes open, he rubbed at them before running a hand through his hair. He smiled as his hand came to rest against your abdomen, your pregnant belly supported by a throw pillow. “Lettin’ your mama finally get some shut eye, huh?” he mumbled.
He sat there for a moment before stretching out the stiffness in his joints, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to wake you to get you into the bedroom. He missed the days the two of you slept on the couch all night, or those nights you fell asleep and he carried you into the bedroom, smiling at the uttered protests that you were “just resting your eyes”.
He yawned, sitting up. “Darlin’, come on. Wakey wakey,” he said gently, running his finger over your hairline and down your cheek. “Can’t sleep on the couch.”
You mumbled something in your sleepy daze, but started to push up into a sitting position. “How’d the movie end?” you asked on a yawn.
Cole matched your yawn with a smile, tossing the blanket and remote onto the cushion. “Think we both fell asleep, darlin’.”
You took the hand he offered to help you stand, taking a moment to balance yourself as you rose. “When was the last time we finished a movie?”
Cole smiled, guiding you to the bedroom and turning off lights as you went. “Can’t remember,” he answered, quickly changing into his pajamas as you fluffed the pillows on your side of the bed. “Maybe one day we will.”
You nodded as he slid into bed behind your back, arm draping over your waist so his hand sat comfortably on your stomach. “Love you, cowboy.”
He kissed your shoulder. “Love you too, darlin’.” As your soft snores filled the air, he nuzzled closer to your back, his hand splaying along your stomach. “Love ya both.”
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I had so much trouble deciding on only one situation, but given my own situation I finally decided to go with this. Could I please get 65 with either 4 or 26 for thranduil? Love your work
Pairing: Thranduil x Reader // Words: 953 // Warnings: Abusive ex/abusive partner. Hint of sexy activities. 18+ // Summary: Thranduil saves you from an abusive partner
READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING
Note: I'm really sorry this took forever. I wanted to write this right, and kept restarting. I hope your situation and anyone else in a position such as this has someone to help them through it. I send love and hugs along to all my readers out there.
***
He didn’t know how someone could have been so rough with you. A monster who had broken down every wall and taken more than he was given, leaving you a husk of your former self.
If he had been a smarter elf, a smarter prince, he would have asked you to marry him when you were both young, before devastation and loss. But he hadn’t. He married for the kingdom, bore an heir, and lost his Queen within a span of years unrivaled to the years of a man’s life. Thus, he opened a path for your life, a path towards a young, upstart of a Guard.
He had seemed strong and protective, and as the years went on, Thranduil had lost touch with you and your forming family as his duties grew after his father’s death.
And he hated himself for it.
Watching as you shrunk back from the elf, a lump rose in Thranduil’s throat. You were scared. Your eyes downcast, and hands clasped in front of you, but Thranduil could see the whiteness forming on your knuckles as you clutched just a bit too tightly to your skirts.
As King, he could have walked right up to you, broken up the conversation and sent the guard – your husband and lover – on his way. With an order, Thranduil could make it so he would never harm you, yet he had been frozen to the floor as if captured in a magic hold. But as you turned to walk down the corridor towards him, Thranduil’s anger bubbled up and he found himself stepping up to you, the bruise against your cheek wasn’t hidden by any cosmetics, or any elven magic, and stood stark against your skin.
Throughout the years Thranduil should have done something, he knew. A naiveté formed in him as he continued to bond with you as a top advisor and friend, pushing the thought of your husband from both of your minds when you were together, as if those days you were together would somehow fix any problem the two of you had. He saw you laugh, smile, the light returned to your eyes as you strode side by side along the halls.
It wasn’t often his kind remarried - or left their lovers for that matter. It wasn’t often someone watched the one they loved be broken down to someone they no longer knew. He loved you. He always had, and seeing you with the monster your husband had turned out to be was killing him inside.
“Your Highness?”
Thranduil’s head lifted as he looked to the guard in the yard across from him. He had been lost in thought, his anger slowly rising as the day had unfolded. Standing at the edge of the clearing, Legolas sat, pressing a damp cloth to your head to staunch the bleeding cut at your hairline.
The moment he had raised a hand against you, Thranduil’s resolve broke. “Do not.”
The guard sheathed his sword, taking a step towards you with a muttering of your name. Thranduil’s sword came up to halt his path, the blade sitting at heart’s height. Meeting the guard’s gaze, Thranduil’s icy blue gaze hardened evermore.
“She is my wife, I must protect –”
“No.” Thranduil’s voice echoed around the clearing, all the guards around standing at attention at the commanding tone. None had dared step up to fight alongside the guard in solidarity. They knew their King was no match on the battlefield. “You have disrespected your oath to the kingdom,” he started, steppling slowly towards your husband, sword still blocking his path. “You have dishonored your vows to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You have armed an innocent, and drawn blood.”
Coming to stand face to face with the guard, who had the gall to square his shoulders and match the King’s glare, as if in yet another invitation to fight, Thranduil hardened, his chin raising ever so slightly as he lowered his sword. “For these crimes, you are banished. Leave. Now. Never return.”
“But my wife—”
“Is under the protection of the Woodland Realm, and the Royal Family. And you, are trespassing. If you ever step foot into my forest, I will know, and you will spend the rest of your days rotting away in a cell never to see the light of day.”
***
The banishment had come as a bit of a surprise. You wished Thranduil had killed Elian. Wished he had gotten the same treatment you had endured over the years.
You told Thranduil everything that had happened that night, crying into his chest as his arms wrapped around you. The tears weren’t for your husband, or rather ex-husband. You cried in relief as you were finally able to confess all he had done to you.
“I am sorry, meleth,” Thranduil murmured against your hair, brushing a finger over the line of the cut on your temple. “I am sorry it took me so long to free you of him.”
Thranduil had always made you feel loved, safe, and protected. As he lay you on his bed, kissing you for the first time in years, you melted into the love he gave, the tenderness he treated you with as his hands softly ran over the healing bruises hidden under your dress. He kissed you in all the spots you had spoken of hours ago, detailing some harsher wounds he had never realized you had been hiding. Love flowed from both of you as you rekindled a flame long thought extinguished.
And when you awoke in the morning, naked and sated, in the arms of the King, you had no doubt you would never experience anything but love with him.
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A Shirt
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader // Words: 538 // Summary: The girls trick Reader into wearing one of Arthur's shirts // Humors of Whiskey Masterlist // Note: Yeah, I know this trope may be over done, but seriously, you should steal all of his shirts.
----------------------------------------
"God damn it, Arthur!"
You yelled as you threw yourself behind a half-submerged log, covering your bare body with what was once a newly laundered shirt as shots rang overhead. Mary-Beth and Karen ducked behind a tree, half-dressed, scrambling for cover and the pistol laying on top of a pile of laundry.
What had started as a calm swim while working on laundry, a few miles down the coast of Flat Iron Lake from Clemens Point, had turned into a stand-off between a group of Lemoyne Raiders and Arthur.
"Get outta the damn water!" Arthur hollered as he rounded a tree, ducking as a bullet blew off a chunk of the trunk's wood beside his head.
Cursing under your breath, you pulled the shirt onto your shoulders, glad it covered you enough to crawl up the bank to your own rifle. Laying in the tall grass, you fired down at one of the Raiders, too drunk to find cover behind a tree.
"This our land, ya hear!"
"You can't take us!"
You had to give it to them, those Lemoyne Raiders were persistent.
Karen's scoff was loud enough for all of you to hear over the gunfire, followed by a laugh as she hit her own target square in the chest.
Finally, the only sound in the air was Karen and Mary-Beth's whooping laughter as they danced out from their cover. You laughed as you pushed to your knees, looking down to the now dirty shirt you had thrown on. "Hey, pass me a shirt or somethin'," you said, motioning to the basket Karen was picking up from the water's edge.
She tossed you a shirt as Arthur whistled, turning to the horses as the three of you continued to make yourselves decent. Finally, after finding a skirt and your boots, you tucked the oversized shirt in and grabbed your rifle.
"Those raiders are relentless," you sighed, setting the rifle in the back of the wagon.
Arthur nodded, glancing up at you for a moment with a cigarette between his lips. "Yeah," he started, cutting himself off as he looked back to you. "That's my shirt."
You stopped, looking down at yourself. The shirt Karen had tossed your way was the worn-out blue shirt of Arthur's. You chuckled, placing your hands on your hips. "I think it fits me."
He shrugged, ducking his head slightly as he took the basket Mary-Beth held out to him. "I'll want it back."
You smirked, hitching up your skirt to climb onto the wagon. "I'll think about it."
*********
"You threw me that shirt on purpose," you accused Karen as you nudged up to her in the supper line later that evening.
"No, I swear!" she laughed, spooning a portion of Pearson's stew.
"Happy accident," Mery-Beth piped up from behind you.
Karen snickered, leading your small group away from the cookfire. "But did you see his face when he saw you in it?"
"And a blush!"
You rolled your eyes, glancing over your shoulder to the campfire where Arthur sat hunched over his own plate of food beside Javier and John. "Y'all are crazy. How many times do I have to say there's nothin' between us!"
They just smirked. "Keep tellin' yourself that."
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Hey, can I please get Frodo x female reader with 9, 13, and 25 if that is possible? thank you for taking the time to read❤️
What drabble list are you asking for? I'd love to add you to my queue!
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Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)
1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?
2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?
3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?
6. What is your darkest fear about writing?
7. What is your deepest joy about writing?
8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?
9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know
10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?
11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?
12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules
13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?
14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?
15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?
16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.
19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?
20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch
21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?
22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?
23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.
24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?
25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?
26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?
27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?
28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?
29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?
30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?
31. Write a short love letter to your readers.
32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?
33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?
34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:
35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?
36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?
37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?
38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?
39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?
40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.
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It's my 8 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
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I'm always caught between "wanting to draw certain scenes in a fanfic I just read" vs "being unsure if fanfic writers welcome unsolicited art" vs "too socially inept to ask them" so I'm just stuck with random doodles I never bother to post
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Welcome to Sanctuary ch.1
Pairing: Nate/Sole Survivor x Merc!Reader
Words: 933
Summary: You meet the infamous Nate, General of the Minutemen in Sanctuary
Notes: No one asked for this, I know. But I made a very handsome sole survivor on my last playthrough and got inspired.
You smiled, waving to the child as the caravan started off. Behind you the rest of the group said goodbye to the settlers.
“Say hi to Nate for us!” the old man said, shaking Lucas’s hand with a large smile.
Lucas nodded, waving back. “I’ll tell him the news!” he responded, nodding to the bundle held in the woman’s arms.
You watched as the family waved after you, the two young children chasing after the brahmin as the group started down the crumbling road.
You had joined up with this caravan on the southern outskirts of the Commonwealth. Happy to have a few extra caps in hand, you graciously took the guard position and kept your mouth shut. Lucas seemed to be well liked by everyone you came across as your traveled a well worn route through the Commonwealth, and the brief stays in settlements with actual marketplaces were always relaxing.
The past three days you had walked through a handful of settlements around Boston, heading north to a newer, larger settlement called Sanctuary. You had grown up in and around the Commonwealth, and especially the Boston area, and were surprised to hear of a new large settlement encroaching on the success that was Diamond City.
“Who is this Nate guy everyone keeps mentioning?” you asked Lucas as you stepped through the gate of the Castle, glad to have some semblance of sturdy walls around you.
“Say hi to the General for me, would ya,” Lucas smiled to one of the minutemen as they passed under the gate of the castle.
“And who’s the General?” you added.
Lucas smirked, dropping into the bench beside you as the caravan settled into the camp for the night. The walls of the castle would afford you enough protection without a watch tonight. “The General of the Minutemen,” he started. “Nate. Some wastelander turned General, mayor, merc for hire, scavenger … he’s done a lot.”
“Never heard of him.” you shrugged, picking at your food.
Lucas nodded. “Understandably. He’s pretty new to the area. Most of the settlements we’ve been passing through are run by him,” he said around a mouthful of stew.
“Now you’re fucking with me,” you started, smiling, dropping your arms to rest along your knees. “Ain’t no way one man can be in charge of all those little farms. Mayor of a settlement, I get -- spent enough time pissing off McDonough to know how most settlements are run -- but all of those farms?”
“Nate’s different,” Lucas said. “He’s run with us a few times. Brings in the caps, and pays us handsomely. Your paycheck’s comin’ from him when we reach Sanctuary.”
***
“Caravan’s in!” MacCready’s voice cut through the morning din of Sanctuary as he walked down the sidewalk. Nate saluted the merc from his spot on the watchtower near the path that lead to the vault, leaning against the wooden railing as the brahmin entered the settlement.
Nate had found this tower was his favorite just to watch the settlement. It afforded a full view of the cul-de-sac and marketplace, and was central enough to meet anyone who came through the main gates.
“Worried for a minute, there, Lucas!” he called down, kicking his right foot over his left as he leaned against the railing, rifle held in his crossed arms. “Bunker Hill said you left eight days ago.”
You watched as the man stepped off the tower, shrugging a beat up sniper rifle across his shoulder as he matched Lucas’s gait. Lucas shook Nate’s hand in a friendly greeting. “Stop finding new settlements, and shipments won’t be late. Those farmers are always willing to buy.”
Nate nodded, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “Stall’s all set for you. You heading out two days from now?” You kept your spot behind Lucas, mouth shut, and rifle held in hand, ready to fire at the earliest sign of trouble, but you kept looking over to Nate as he spoke.
Lucas nodded, shrugging as they led the caravan down the street of Sanctuary to the marketplace. “About. What’s up?”
“Mac and I are heading out. Might hitch a ride,” Nate answered. Stopping, he met your gaze, “New gun?”
You introduced yourself, relaxing a little bit more as Nate smiled a very white toothed smile at you.
Lucas waved over to you. “Picked ‘em up outside Quincy.”
Nate held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Nate,” he introduced. “Welcome to Sanctuary Hills.”
“Thanks,” you nodded, matching his friendly smile.
You had to admit, out of all of the settlements you had visited over the years, this was one of the nicest. Like Diamond City, there was a rotating security presence, keeping everyone safe, but you had to admit no one looked scared. The pre-war houses that still stood had been converted into all manner of buildings -- a Minutemen barracks, bath house, school house, security office -- and you found yourself wanting to know how.
Nate … he seemed odd. At least compared to literally everyone else you had ever met in the wasteland. He held himself as if he was a merc, a gun for hire. He carried his rifle under his arm, and eyes continued to scan his surroundings with practiced ease. As you followed the caravan further into the settlement, you watched as the man was greeted by everyone who you passed.
You leaned against the old diner counter beside Lucas, gaze trained on Nate as he played fetch with Dogmeat in the street. “Alright, what’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Lucas smiled, dropping a bag of caps beside your arm. “Welcome to Sanctuary.”
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Hey, can y’all rb this if it’s okay to send you messages asking about your ocs, cause on god I wanna interact with y’all but I am terrified of being annoying lol
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hii again, its officially severus snape brainrot time!! I was wondering if i could get a snape qnd professor reader who accidently calls him sevy infront of the students? maybe she walks into his classroom, not knowing he had a class to teach(maybe extra classes or sumn) just ready to bitch about umbridge and whining his nickname out while the kids are like ....? and just their reactions to it? maybe they keep pestering the two about it and just hilarious???
totally fine if you dont want to write it but thamks!!!
"Sevvy," the voice trailed through the door before the owner appeared, and the class Severus was covering all turned their gaze to watch you instantly freeze in the doorway of the dungeon classroom.
Severus held his normal sneer, the one every student at Hogwarts knew and saw on the daily. Clearing his throat, to hide a laugh, he nodded your way. "It seems Professor Twill has something to share?"
You pursed your lips, meeting the gaze of Draco Malfoy and glaring before folding your hands in front of you. "I'm terribly sorry for the interruption Professor," you nodded.
A few snickers started through the class, and Snape's loud "Silence!" boomed through the cavernous room. "Professor Twill?"
"Would ... would you mind if we spoke in private for a moment?" you asked, hooking a thumb over your shoulder to motion to the hallway behind you.
Snape nodded. "Turn to page 357 and read to the end of the chapter," he ordered the class, waiting until they pulled their books out before striding down the length of the class to the door.
You turned out of the classroom and stepped into the hall, covering your face with your hands. As Snape closed the thick dungeon door behind him, you groaned.
Severus chuckled as he noticed your embarrassment. "Dear?" he started, folding his hands in front of him. "Most uncommon for you to barge into my classroom---"
"I'm sorry," you interjected, laughing at yourself. "I just ... I had a meeting with Umbridge and just ... I'm about to put something in her tea!"
Severus nodded, pointing to the classroom door. "They're not going to let that one slip."
"Malfoy hasn't shut up about it," you groaned. "But I guess it was bound to happen."
Severus nodded, "Were you only looking to complain about other staff members, or did you need something else?"
You shook your head. "No, I thought you were free this period, I'm sorry. McGonagall is usually who I complain to, but she had a meeting with Dumbledore." You straightened, "I'll let you get back to class."
Severus nodded, smiling sweetly to you. Without a word, he flung the large classroom door open, and the conversational din of the students immediately died out. You waited in the hall as Snape continued to the front of the class. "Malfoy! Ten points from Slytherin."
You chuckled as Snape continued the class before walking off.
***
You sat in your desk chair, head buried in your arms on top of your desk. The gramophone on the desk behind you played a soft symphony of music to make the stone walls of the dungeon classroom feel a bit warmer. There was a knock on the door, and before you could lift your head, your next class started to poke their heads into the room.
"Professor?"
You sat up, brushing your hair away and making sure none of the parchment on the table had stuck to your cheek. "Yes?" you asked as they started to file into the room. Glancing to the clock on the wall you sighed, and stood from the chair. "Sorry, please come in. Take your seats."
As your class settled into their independent projects, you flitted around the classroom, answering questions and giving pointers. This beginning alchemy class was small, and you were grateful, but the castle was a breeding ground for rumors, and most of the short conversations you got the tail end of in passing had to do with yours and Snape's relationship.
***
You made the tea in the small kitchen much louder than usual, slamming cupboards shut and placing the kettle on the stove not so gently. Snap sat at the small table in the corner, watching as you made the tea, waving your hands exasperatedly, wand in one hand, as you paced in front of the small stove.
He let you rant, smiling as the subject stayed on the fact that you had literally whined out a personal nickname for him in front of a full class of fifth years.
"It's alright," he sighed as you finally paused to take a breath.
"It is so not alright, Sevvy," you groaned, dropping your hand defeatedly. "I am never going to hear the end of that mess up!"
Snape shrugged. "I'm sure they're much too scared of me to try," he smirked, watching as you set the tea cup in front of him. "Now, what of your meeting with Umbridge today?"
"Oh my god, you will not believe the sheer audacity of that woman!" you started, groaning as you sat down to regale him with the newest policy Umbridge had tried to enact in your classroom.
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I like these. Send in prompts.
Oneshot ideas
Okay slutty wonders. Here’s a list of topics that I can write about for ANY MARVEL CHARACTER AND POE DAMERON. I will only write for these charters. Sorry :( This list will consist of smut, fluff, and angst. To ask for a topic just say the number you want and the character. Exc: Loki number 23. if you want you can combioned 2 different ones. exc: Steven grant 23/34. Enjoy!
Smut
1.Morning sex
2.waking up to the eating you out
3.waking up to them fucking you
4.love making
5.rough sex
6.possessive sex
7.eating them out/sucking them off
8.oral sex
9.public sex
10.punishment sex
11.ridding them
12.car sex
13.dark sex
14.they put a baby on you
15.shower sex
16.gotta stay quite sex
17.they see you in linger
18.you see them in linger
19.you catch them touching themselves while saying your name
20.they catch you touching yourself while saying their name
21.sex after a fight
23.they catch you watching porn
24.sex after getting back together
Fluff
25.you steal their stuff
26.comfort cuddles
27.shark week troubles
28.coming out of the closet
29.they tell you your beautiful when you don’t feel it
30.they take care of you when your sick
31.they stand up for you
32.endless kisses
33.they spoil you
34.partner appreciation
35.they help you sleep
36.comfort after a nightmare
37.they help you with burnout
38.spa day
39.friendly competition
40.family time
41.waiting for a baby
42.them talking to your unborn child through your tummy
43.them taking care of your kids
Angst (Some have TW with them so be aware)
44.you get kidnapped
45.they watch you get tortured
46.they almost lose
47.they lose you
48.them coping with loss
49.you sacrifice yourself
50.TW… they see you self harm
51.they cheat on you
52.you break up
53.they die
54.you get attacked
55.a friend hurts your feelings
56.family troubles
57.MAJOR TW…they find out about a suicide attempt
58.you have a break down
59.you lose a baby
60.past trauma
61.they hit you by mistake
62.they say something they didn’t mean.
63.you flinch during a fight
64.TW…you have a panic attack
65.TW…they save you from an abusive person in your life
Keep in mind the angst may have a really bad ending…any who I write for guys and girls cause I’m a bisexual :) And I’m all for some mommy wanda<33
#thranduil x reader#arthur morgan x reader#jesse mccree x reader#cole cassidy x reader#cullen bohannon x reader#shay cormac x reader#jacob frye x reader
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cupcake pt. 10
pairing: Cole cassidy x reader /// words: 528 /// summary: the undercover, secretly married plotting begins. /// notes: I had plans to write the name change in, but changed my mind, and just edited my entire Google doc. I'll update the other chapters later.
If you knew you wouldn’t get fired for it, you’d shoot Gabriel Reyes.
The undercover job was one thing. The entire story he had come up with was something else entirely.
You and Cole were to play a newly wed couple, who was moving into a rather nice three bedroom in suburbia. White picket fences, neighborhood block parties, and all that jazz.
Reyes sighed as he sat down at the table. “Fully furnished house, at your disposal. Target’s last known address is two houses down and across the street. Living room has a line on the house with the best angle. Everything is wired, and we’ve got agents in the area for monitoring. Stake it out. Don’t interact with the house if you don’t have to. Get to know your neighbors, gather intel …”
Cole nodded, folding his arms over his chest as he turned to watch the agents push a motorcycle into the garage. “Play it as if it’s true.”
“Don’t fuck it up,” Reyes interjected, standing from his seat and jabbing a finger into Cole’s chest.
He started walking back out to the garage, you and Cole following behind. “We’ve alerted your family,” he started, turning to you, “All calls to and from them will be patched through me. But you are on assignment. Deep undercover ---”
“My sister’s too busy with her own life to care about my work. I mentioned I’d be busy with a work thing to mom, but if she tries to reach me … “
“I’ll handle it,” Reyes nodded. “We’ve gathered a few boxes of your personal effects, from your apartment. Pictures, and whatnot. We need this place to look homey.”
“Got it,” Cole nodded, eyeing the brand new motorcycle he was standing beside.
“Oh, one more thing,” Reyes smiled. He turned to a box on the workbench and pulled out a framed photograph and a small box. “We worked with what we had, but it’s passable,” he said, holding out the fake wedding picture of you and Cole. “And your rings.”
He didn’t wait for another remark from you before setting down the datapad he had been carrying around. “Weekly check-ins, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” you and Cole nodded in unison.
“Congratulations, you two!” he smiled, turning to wave back at you as he walked to the fake moving truck. “It’s a beautiful house.”
You sighed, looking around you. “This neighborhood is …. creepy.”
“I kinda like it,” Cole smiled, standing in the driveway. “Always dreamt of a place like this.”
“Oh, really?” you asked, turning to face him. “I always thought you’d like moving around more. Being in Deadlock, I’m sure you never had a real place to call home.”
“Nope,” Cole agreed. “S’why i’ve dreamt of this.”
It had been a long while since you had been deep undercover for Blackwatch. No contact was normal for these kind of jobs, but for some reason, this felt like a total set up on Gabriel’s part. Hell, Morrison and Amari were probably in on this whole gag as well.
“Come on,” you sighed, slamming your hand against the garage door opener as you led Cole inside. “We’ve got work to do.”
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Far Away pt 4
Summary: Cullen's got a broken nose, Reader chooses a side against Durant.
Words: 1537
Durant was back. Which meant this wasn’t going to run as smoothly as Cullen had hoped.
Your eyes were wide as you walked into the train car where Durant sat behind the desk. The sight was familiar, he seemed comfortable in the plush car, and yet, out of place. Now that he and the board were fighting for their rights to the railroad, Cullen was running things, and you had to admit they were running fairly smoothly. You hadn't stepped foot in the train car in months ... Cullen never used it. He had a simpler one, one with less velvet and grandeur, one that was more practical to Cullen's needs.
At least you had thought everything was going smoothly.
As you were led in by one of the assistants, you stared in shock at the sight before you. Both Durant and Cullen sat, nursing bloody, broken noses at opposite ends of the room.
"Ah," Durant started, lowering his handkerchief slightly as you walked in, and guiding you over with a wave of his hand. "Our lovely doctor. It's a pleasure to see you again ... Mrs Kinson."
You smiled, nodding gently as you motioned for Durant to stay seated. His proper upbringing and social status usually would have had him stand upon a woman entering, but you could give him a pass this once. Upon a simple once over, Cullen seemed to be worse for wear than the businessman. Cullen sat nearest the door you had entered from, tall frame practically laying in the plush armchair. His head was tilted all the way back, a bloody handkerchief pressed against his nose.
"I'm assuming you would like to know --" Durant started as he placed the handkerchief back against his nose.
You cut him off, "You either threw the first punch, or Cullen did. Either way, I'm assuming one or both of you deserved it," you smirked at the incredulous look Durant gave you, almost as if he was shocked to hear you speak to him in that way. "You alright?" you asked, stepping up to Cullen and guiding the hand holding the rag to his nose away.
He groaned, glancing up to you as he lifted his head just slightly. "'m'fine," he mumbled. There was already dark bruising starting up one side of his nose, darkening the socket of his left eye.
You tentatively placed a finger against the bridge of his nose, earning a small yelp of pain as he tried to jerk away from you. "It's broken, I'll need to set it ... I'll recommend coming to the tent to do so," you explained, placing Cullen's hand back to his nose. "Mister Durant?" you asked kindly, as if asking for permission to look at his nose as you stepped around his desk. "I would like to say I am rather ... intrigued as to how your meetings always end up with someone getting hurt."
Durant managed a dry chuckle as you prodded at his nose. There was a bit of bruising across the bridge, but unlike Cullen's, it didn't seem to be broken. "Misunderstandings, I'm afraid."
"About?" you asked, pouring some water out of a canteen to dampen a cloth, cleaning the drying blood from Durant's upper lip.
"Me," Cullen chuckled.
"More so his way of running things," Durant interjected, holding his head as still as he could while you cleaned.
You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile as you stepped back, tossing the used rag and canteen into your bag. "Well, I'm surprised Cullen didn't break your nose," you smiled. "You'll be fine, just a bit of bruising. The bleeding should stop soon."
Durant nodded, sitting straight. "Then I believe this meeting must be adjourned for the moment," he started. "I am sure General Grant will want to hear --"
Cullen groaned, standing to his full height. Glancing to the bloodied rag he held, he sniffed, face contorting in slight pain. "Impeccable timing as always, Durant," he smirked, the bruising on his nose darkening the expression a bit. "Just in time for our meeting over supper. I'll send your regards."
You groaned, pushing Cullen's shoulder as he tipped his hat sarcastically to Durant as he held the door open for you. Durant only groaned as you exited. Walking back towards camp beside Cullen, you laughed. "So ... why'd you hold back?"
Cullen smiled, wiping at his nose. "Would you believe me if I said he punched first?"
"I'm only assuming you deserved it," you smiled, looking up to him. "How many broken noses am I going to have to set for you?"
Cullen shrugged, stepping onto the small wooden porch outside of your infirmary tent. Sitting down on a wooden chair inside, he watched as you gathered some rags and clean water.
"He's bitter."
You nodded, stepping back up to him. "Yes. It's been quite a year for him."
Cullen managed a smile as you stepped between his knees, fingers pressing against his cheeks, before he winced, closing his eyes against the pain. Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but you took that moment to push his nose back into place. He jerked away, head tilting back in pain as you stepped back.
"I swear," he started, gulping back the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes as he shook his head slightly, slightly dazed from the quick action, "Your bedside manner is nothing to write home about. You treat all the soldiers like this, or am I just special?" he joked, poking fun at your history with the Confederate army.
"I guess you're just lucky," you smiled.
***
"Mister Durant!" You interjected, stopping with a slight stomp as you turned to face him. Exasperatedly you dropped your hands, slapping them against your skirt, and head tilting back in annoyance. "Just because I have a relationship with Cullen does not mean I know the inner workings of his mind! I have no clue why you're asking me after his meeting with Grant. I wasn't there."
"Surely, he must have confided in you in some way, Mrs Kinson," Durant pushed on. "A brief explanation as to what was discussed."
"Believe me, if I knew, I might tell you," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I have not seen him since yesterday, when I set his nose. I'm not sure what time his dinner meeting ended with the General, or where they ended up on topics of discussion. I also do not know if they even spoke of work related items, or if it was a friendly dinner. Now, is there something I can actually help with? Or do you just want to use me as a spy on Cullen?"
Durant looked perturbed. You had obviously hit a nerve. He must have known you were too stubborn yourself to divulge secrets of your relationship to him. And he must have known how much more you enjoyed working with the railroad with Cullen at the head. Yet, he still seemed to think he was in charge, and no matter what, he wanted to know what Cullen's plans were.
"I am sorry for pestering you with these questions, Mrs Kinson. I am just wondering ..."
You held up a hand to cut him off. "Mr Durant. Is it not against the rules of court to discuss a trial outside of chambers? It would be rather ... impertinent to keep at it. If they did discuss matters of the railroad, I, as I have said, have not seen hide nor hair of Mr Bohannon since last night. I assume he is out on the cut ... although, I'm sure you guessed that."
Durant looked off to the horizon, sighing a bit as he straightened his shoulders. "I am sorry to have bothered you, then, Mrs Kinson."
You smiled. "I will however tell you this," you started, raising a finger to give him pause as he started to turn away. "Cullen won't admit it, but you, showing up with the Credit Mobilier board ... felt like an attack. Not only on him, but the railroad." You smiled brightly, "I hope you have a wonderful day."
****
Cullen laughed heartily as he leaned back in the wooden chair, listening to you run through your meeting with Durant earlier that day. "He wants you to spy on me? As if I'm some rebel across enemy lines?" he asked, smile bright.
"Well, you were and are a rebel," you smiled, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for him. "He seems to think you and General Grant have been discussing grand plans for the railroad. He kept asking me about your dinner last night."
"We didn't talk business, only ... reminisced? I guess is the right word," he answered, sipping at the coffee.
"I also told him I hadn't seen you since yesterday, so I was the last person who would know," you added, sitting back down in your seat.
"I met with Grant this afternoon again," he started conversationally.
"Oh? Discuss anything interesting I can continue to keep from Durant?"
"Durant," Cullen answered, and at your strange questioning look, continued, "The city, Durant. Grant told me it was renamed."
"Oh?"
Cullen smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Cheyenne. After the natives in that territory."
"Durant know?" you asked.
Cullen chuckled. "Not yet."
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Pairing: Thranduil x Reader
Words: 707
Request: @perwaineintsomi submitted: "Hi! What do you think about Thranduil and his wife fighting while young Legolas is with them. Like you know, it's normal to witness your parents to argue sometimes but I haven't seen any fanfic or whatsoever about it. What do you think?"
Author's Note: Favorite character to write is probably young/baby legolas. Kids are adorable.
“I don’t need your understanding! I need your support!” Thranduil’s booming voice echoed around the chambers as he turned on you.
“I have tried to support you in everything, meleth, but this? This is …. This is madness!”
Thranduil leaned against the desk, finger pressed against the pile of missives. “This is what is best--!”
“This,” you started, pulling the missive from beneath his finger, “Is a sure way to lose your credibility as a just king! This,” you waved the parchment in front of his face, “Is a sure way to get half of our kingdom - and kin - killed!”
Thranduil groaned as he pushed away from the desk, walking around to stand in front of you. Grabbing the parchment out of your hand, he held it aloft, “This ensures the security of our kingdom.”
“It ensures we’ll be locked off from the rest of Middle Earth!” you argued. “This,” your hand wrapped around his wrist, “isn’t a peace treaty! It’s a coward’s way out.”
Thranduil scoffed, dropping his hand as you released his wrist. “Why must you be so stubborn?”
“Says my stubborn husband,” you scoffed, relaxing down into a chair. “You wish to protect our borders, the forest, and all who live in it, and you have asked me for my advice.”
Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he paced before you. “Advice I usually am open to!”
You groaned, head in hand as your fingers ran along your temples. “Meleth, this is getting us nowhere.” You took a deep breath, “We have a kingdom to care for, to protect. I understand what you are trying to do,” you started, meeting his gaze as he rounded back around the desk, “You’re following what your father would have done.”
He glared up at you as he took his seat, robes fanning out around him as he sat. “My father would have immediately raised alarms and placed garrisons throughout the wood!”
“Nana?”
Your head snapped to the door, where the small blond head of your son peaked around the slightly opened door. “Come on in, my leaf,” you smiled.
Legolas ran over to you, crawling up into your lap as you opened your arms. “You’re yelling,” he said simply, reaching over to look at what his father was writing at the desk.
You chuckled, nuzzling your nose into his neck. “Your father asked for help. Perhaps you can give him some advice?”
“I want to help!” Legolas beamed, sitting back in your lap and smiling up to you.
Leaning forward, you whispered not too quietly, “Tell your father he should trust Nana. Like I always tell you to do,” you smiled.
Legolas nodded, blond hair bouncing along his shoulders. “Ada!” he called his father’s attention. Thranduil paused his writing and looked up at his son, holding back a smirk. “Nana’s right, isn’t she?”
Thranduil scoffed, meeting your gaze. For a moment you held it. “She is stubborn,” he relented before meeting Legolas’s gaze once more. “Much like you will grow to be, no doubt.”
You smiled. “I agree a garrison at the edge of the forest is wise, but we do not need to expend every available guard and soldier to man that garrison. We must analyze and form plans. This darkness has not yet reached our borders. I suggest more patrols along the paths of the Wood, more frequently. Thus, you get more soldiers on their feet, and we don’t need to waste resources stocking forts and camps all over the wood. Until it is absolutely needed.”
Thranduil sighed, meeting his son’s gaze once more. “Your mother is right, you know,” he relented. “No matter how much I hate it sometimes.”
Legolas smiled. “See?” he started, turning to look at you, “Ada said you’re right!”
You smiled. “Come on, my leaf,” you started, rising from the chair and holding the child on your hip. “Let us bid your father goodnight.” You stepped up to the side of Thranduil’s chair as he looked up to the two of you.
“I’m only this stubborn because I have some very valuable things to protect,” he pointed out, pressing a kiss to Legolas’s head.
“I know,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s temple. “Don’t stay up too late, meleth-nin.”
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HI, if it’s not too much trouble, could I request a Thranduil x Reader fic where the reader is like, I dunno, an enchantress or something like that and they meet because she is needed to assist the elves during a battle of some kind? Obviously it’s fine if you don’t want to, it was just an idea that I had circulating my brain.
Pairing: Thranduil x Enchanter!Reader
Words: 1130
Author's Note: This has been sitting in my ask for ages, but I finally thought I'd give it a try.
Summary: Reader is an enchanter employed to protect a young Thranduil in battle. They teach him a few magic tricks.
************
"You are to protect the King at all costs. Even if the cost is your life."
The battle had been long and hard. At some point you had been separated from the group of soldiers you were stationed with, fighting your way through orcs to a dragon.
As the battle dwindled, and you found yourself stepping over the bodies of soldiers, both elven and orc, you watched for signs that the dragon was defeated, or gone for good. Finding your way back, you heard yelling ahead, echoing through the stone ruins.
Nearing, you saw the Royal Guard, amassed around a shape on the ground, looking very worried.
Stepping up, your heart sank as you recognized the draped fabrics of a robe of the figure on the ground. Eyes brimmed with tears, you ran to him, dropping your weapons to push aside 2 guards. He was bloodied, far more than he should have been, laying on the dirt, face hidden from view.
"You were to protect him!" one of the guards yelled as you pushed past, kneeling beside Thranduil.
"He's alive," you breathed, placing a hand on his chest. "He'll be fine," you reassured.
The guard didn't move from his spot at the head of the young king. His face was set in resentment, glaring at you as you dared reach a head to place against the king's heart.
You squared your shoulders, matching the guard's glare. "If you do not move, and show me his wound, he will die. I will help. I can help."
One of the other guards ordered the men to stand back, giving you space as the guard at Thranduil's head nodded slowly.
Thranduil had suffered a massive burn across half of his face down his neck, to his upper chest. The flesh was burnt and twisted, mingled with remnants of the silk tunic he wore.
Biting you lip, you held your breath, murmuring a soft spell under your breath as your hands ghosted along his wounds. The guards watched as you worked before being ushered away completely, leaving you and the one guard tending to Thranduil.
"You were to protect him at all costs," the guard said after a few moments, his voice hoarse.
You didn't answer, watching as the raw bits of his wound stitched themselves back together with your magic. "I am," you finally responded. "He will be scarred, but he will live," you added, pressing your fingers to his pulse point.
***
You paced before the large doors. Thranduil was just as stern as his father had been, you knew, and you knew you hadn't followed orders completely.
You were ordered to guard his life with your own. You were the one who should have been burnt, almost on death's door.
"Well?"
You spun as the advisors stood in the doorway behind you. "Do you have a solution?"
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I do."
***
Thranduil slept off his wounds for the next few days, waking only to drink herbal teas and broths. When he finally woke, you were sitting beside his bed, chewing on the nail of your thumb.
He groaned as he moved, wincing as he turned his head. Your name came from his lips in a hoarse whisper, and you immediately jumped.
"Oh thank the gods you're awake," you cried, standing from the chair.
"You're ..." his finger reached up to motion to your cheek. "You've been crying."
"Well, I was almost beheaded."
"Nonsense." His voice was hoarse, but he seemed strong enough to continue speaking. "You much to valuable to be executed."
You walked around the bed to the side table and poured some water. "I vowed to protect you with my life. It was my duty."
"And yet I am alive," he responded, taking the water you offered. "Why ... would you be punished."
Staring at him, you had to marvel at your handy work. The Glamour spell over his wounds was some of your best work. The magic had healed him enough to leave no raw flesh, but without the glamour, his flawless cheek would be blemished by a gaping hole.
"If you can ... can you sit up? I ... guess I have to explain some things to you."
He nodded, sipping the water before pushing onto an elbow, wincing at lingering pain in his chest. "What happened?" he asked, reaching a hand to scratch at his chin.
You plucked the looking glass from the table, holding it out to him. "What do you see?"
He glared up at you, smirking as if you were about to tell a joke. "My face."
Your eyes were brimmed with tears, red and raw from days of crying. Dark circles lingered below your lashes, testament to nights with no sleep, and overwork.
His smirk fell to a more concerned glower. "What happened, melon?"
"You were injured," you said, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking glass still in hand. "I used every ounce of energy I had to heal the wounds, but ... I couldn't ... it didn't matter how hard I tried ... how much power I sacrificed ... a scar remained."
At that he chuckled, once again thinking you were jesting. "But I am ..."
You cut him off, reaching a hand out to run a finger along his cheek. You watched as your magic faded. Taking a deep breath, you held the looking glass back out to him, mirror down.
Thranduil took the mirror slowly, meeting your gaze, and you saw his heart sink as he did. Your eyes were once again wet with tears, instantly falling off your lashes. You seemed to look over his entire face, not lingering on one spot, yet not turning away.
Slowly, he raised the glass and looked at his reflection. He hitched a breath as he looked over himself, noting the clouded eye and open cheek. Turning his head back and forth, he seemed to relax.
"Tell me of this magic."
"It's a glamour," you answered, feeling a bit more relaxed as Thranduil continued to admire himself, "I can teach you how to control it, if you wish." You reached back up, and were surprised as he leaned into your hand cradling his cheek. You both watched as the magic covered the wounds, two blue eyes stared back at you from the mirror.
He smirked, looking from the mirror to you and back a few times. Finally, he set the mirror aside and stood on shaky legs. You followed, and were surprised as he held a hand out to you. "You continue to amaze me, melon." He started, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I wish for you to stay. Your abilities are most exceptional. Will you ... will you stay?"
You sniffled, nodding in agreement. "There's much magic I can teach you, My King."
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