View the prompts here to request your own: https://www.tumblr.com/a-cure-for-writers-block/626273280548110336/100-nsfwsmut-dialogue-prompts
The gala was especially decadent. Mycroft watched from across the room as your gloved hand hoisted another glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. Over the past half an hour, other gentlemens' wives had gathered around you, no doubt to engage in mindless gossiping and giggling.
Mycroft's usually razor-sharp focus drifted in and out of the conversation happening beside him. His gaze wandered over to your little cabal more frequently than a man of his stature should have any cause to do, because you stood out from the surrounding ladies almost preternaturally.
You shone in his eyes, as if there was another of the ballroom's chandeliers made especially to fit within your frame, lighting you up from the inside. All else was a wash of grey he barely registered. His hazel eyes roved your body, from your hair, to the curve of your cheek, down your decorated neck to your decolletage.
Here Mycroft's gaze lingered. His mouth twitched ever so slightly under his moustache as he traced the swell of your bust beneath your dress. The stone setting on your necklace drew his eye directly to your cleavage.
"What say you on the matter, Mister Holmes?" said a booming, masculine voice near Mycroft.
"Hm?" he answered absently, taking a sip of brandy while staring at your smile over the rim of the glass.
"Mycroft?" another man said pointedly.
Mycroft blinked and returned his mind to the discussion at hand. "Well, gentlemen. I simply see it as a matter of economics…"
xxx
Mycroft offered his hand to assist you into the carriage. You took it, thinking little of the familiar gesture. But Mycroft squeezed as you took the first step, so sharply you whipped a look back at him.
"Tread carefully, my darling. Won't you?"
Your brow creased. You searched Mycroft's face and found the walls of the facade were high. He smiled genially, but you saw the falseness in the way he plastered it on, blinking expectantly.
For appearances' sake, you returned a small smile of your own. "Of course, dear," you replied, polite enough.
Mycroft chased you into the carriage like a hunting dog tracking a scent. He slotted in beside you—not opposite, as was customary—and crowded you up against the corner.
"Drive on," he called out loudly, knocking twice against the roof. To you he murmured darkly, "What games do you play with me, woman?"
You struggled against his form. "Mycroft, what on Earth—?"
Your husband wrapped a hand around your throat, holding your neck in the palm of his hand.
You stopped talking instantly. When you were silent, Mycroft stroked your jaw with his thumb and growled into your ear, "Oh, no, dear one. You will dispense with the disingenuous protestations or you will not speak at all. Do you hear me?"
You nodded.
Mycroft's hand skimmed down your necklace to your breasts. His breath ghosted the shell of your ear when he spoke.
"There is some witchcraft you beguile me with, I am most certain."
You scoffed. "I am no more a witch than any other woman."
"You are," Mycroft's palm drifted lower still down your bodice, "by no means," down your thigh, "like any. Other. Woman." He rifled through your skirts in a huff, frustrated by the layers.
Your neck grew hot and your breathing ticked up. You turned to look at your husband. "You are but a man, Mycroft," you said, as his fingers sailed up your stockinged legs.
Mycroft's lips trembled beneath his moustache as his breathing grew heavier. He reached the opening in your combinations and teased your curls. "Whatever do you mean, dear?" he snarled.
Your lips were so close to Mycroft's you ought to be kissing him. But you didn't. You breathed words into his mouth.
"You fall prey to the same wants. The same needs. You have the same weakness. Any of your sex is a slave to his desires. Yours," you stopped and gasped, because Mycroft's fingertips danced along the lips of your cunt, enticing your wetness. You continued on. "Yours, is mine."
"Mine," Mycroft echoed, parting your seam on two fingers before he pressed inward, curling his digits inside you.
His meaning was clear.
"Yours," you whispered, shrill and breathless.
You were not completely ready for his intrusion and you both knew it. You drew in another sharp breath and rocked your hips against his invading fingers. Mycroft's teeth clenched as he watched your face shift from expression to the next.
"My wants? My weakness?" Mycroft pressed in even closer, so close he squashed his nose against your temple and his lips brushed your ear. His voice was tremulous with a fevered kind of desire. "My darling. When I get you out of this carriage and into my bed. I am going to fucking ruin you."
Summary: Tequila has a lot to answer for when Y/N wakes up naked in Dean’s bed, but once the shock wears off, she realises that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Rating: Teen
Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, feelings, friends to lovers
Word Count: 1k
A/N: Another December Drabble for you all to enjoy!
My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi
Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖
The sun streams through the motel’s threadbare curtains, rudely awakening you from a deep, drunken sleep. Your head is pounding, and there’s a ringing in your ears that comes with the vague memory of the loud music playing at the bar last night.
It’d been a hard hunt to stomach: Lamia, a child-eating demon, had decided to take up residence in Grangeville, Idaho, and once you’d blasted her ass back to hell, you and Dean really, really needed to let off a lot of steam.
Luckily, there was a dive bar next door to the motel, so neither of you had to stay sober enough to drive home, and you’d both been well and truly shit-faced. You’d hustled a small fortune playing pool; he’d sung karaoke, and there were tequila shots… lots and lots of tequila shots.
A snore from behind you made you freeze. It sounded like Dean, but that couldn’t be right. Why would you and Dean be in the same bed? Whoever it was rolled over and slid their arm over your waist, pulling you into their body. You could feel something hard poke the back of your thigh… at least he’s packing, you thought before the mystery man spoke.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Suddenly, the whole night’s events come flooding back to you at once.
One tequila shot turned into two. Two turned to four. Four turned to six, and before you knew it, you were stumbling through the door to Dean’s room, lips attached to his, nails raking through his hair and over his scalp and neck, tongues dancing a passionate tango while your clothes flew in every direction.
Dean made love to you so deliciously good. He was sweet and gentle at times. Rough and hard when you needed it. In all the years you’d known him, this was the first time you’d ended up in his bed, yet he knew your body better than you did.
The green-eyed hunter had known how to pleasure you better than anyone had before him. Touching places no one had ever touched before. Taking you higher than you’d ever been, making you scream his name so loud the occupant next door had banged the wall.
It’s overwhelming, and you can feel last night’s alcohol swirl dangerously in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance. You lifted the covers and glanced down. Yep, definitely naked.
Pulling the sheet tighter to your body, you cautiously turn around, your worst fear confirmed as Dean’s twinkling green orbs and cocky smirk greet you.
“Well, this changes things!” he grins, and you can’t decide if you want to punch his painfully beautiful face or kiss him.
“Oh, God!” you gasp, covering your face with your hands. “This can’t be happening.”
“Y/N?” Dean asks, concern evident in his voice. “You okay?”
“I can’t believe I did you—I mean that. I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble.
“Come on, don’t be like that! We had a great time. I got you off six times, sweetheart! That’s a personal record for me!”
Dean’s words are meant to be comforting, but they do the opposite and only embarrass you more. The urge to kiss him is gone, leaving you wanting to punch his painfully beautiful, smug face.
“Seriously, Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you in any way? Did you not want that to happen? Because I gotta say, you were all over me at the bar, and I get that we had a lot of tequila and were drunk, but I thought you wanted me, too?”
Now that Dean had put his cocky persona aside and the real Dean was in the room, you’d changed your mind again and wanted to kiss him.
“No, Dean. I wanted it to happen. I have for an embarrassingly long time. What I don’t want is to be just another notch on your bedpost. It’s why I’ve never given in to your very persuasive charms over the years. Because I want to be more than just one night to you. And I know that’s not what you want—”
“Woah, Y/N, slow down!” Dean shot up on the bed and turned you to face him. “Did you not hear me when I said this changes things? Do you honestly think I’d risk what we have for one night? I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and last night was the first time since we met that you’ve shown any interest in me. And sweetheart, I haven’t been shy in pulling out my best moves for you.” His words and body language are so expressive and genuine, and you know he’s not feeding you a line. He likes you and he’s wanted you for a long time. All of his flirting and come-ons were real.
“And I thought ‘this is it. I finally get to call her my girl’. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with it when we were drunk, but I don’t regret taking my chance with you. Please tell me you don’t regret what happened.” Dean cups your cheeks to keep your gaze on his. The pain crossing his features breaks your heart. You want to tell him you feel the same way, but it’s risky.
“Honestly, I don’t remember much from last night, just bits and pieces, but I know enough to know that if that happened, I wanted it to happen,” you say, trying to ignore the look of Dean’s disappointment at your lack of memory from the night before.
“Do you really want me?” you ask, terrified this was a tequila-induced dream.
“Since the day I met you. And if you’re interested, I’d like to see where we’d go. Together. As a couple.” For once, Dean looks incredibly shy and vulnerable, making your heart swell.
“I’d like that too, De,” you smile, giggling when he grins boyishly.
“Yeah?” he checks, and you nod.
“Yeah,” you confirm.
“Then, I think you should lay back and let me refresh your memory of last night,” Dean grins as he gently pushes you back down on the mattress and pulls your legs apart.
Last set of my December Drabbles posts. Written after Chapter Four / Scarabia Chapter, burnt out and taking no shit Yuu.
Word Count: ~5k
-----------------------------------------------
You read over the set of questions Crowley had provided to ask for end of year interviews. Technically, it was supposed to be Dire's job to check in on all the students, but yet again the task was passed onto you. As you looked over the questions, you felt your eyes glaze over but a certain burning in your chest. None of these had anything to do with checking in with mental health, which was clearly what the students needed. You're no therapist. You're no faculty member, you're not someone who should be doing this anyways. You flip the paper over and think over a question you could ask. Just one. You have so many people to get through, and your emotional capacity and mental tenacity are nearing their limits.
As the first person walks in an the two of you get to chatting, you finally settle on a question, maybe seeking some wisdom for yourself, and a glimpse into the way your friends, enemies and acquaintances think
"What advice would you give someone who's looking to improve their day to day life? Or just advice in general?"
Riddle is slightly taken aback by the question, before smiling assuredly.
"I've been learning quite a bit myself what improvement can mean from one person to another. As you know, the standard for improvement and growth has always been set very high for me, but I think...I think that perhaps the best advice I can give is to learn to set a high standard for yourself rather than....someone else's approval.....it's not advice I've learned to follow, but I received it from a close friend this year and I believe it's sound. At least if you are disciplined enough to do so for yourself."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Trey laughs a little bit in response, grabbing at his glasses frame and tipping them up slightly, before crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, sighing a bit.
"Advice, huh? Well, I can't say anything for sure, but I guess...don't sweat the small things. It's old advice, but there's a reason it's been said."
"Did you want to elaborate on that?"
"What else would there to be elaborate on? I thought that was pretty straightforward."
"Maybe it has a little more of a personal meaning to you?"
"I mean, I've got a bunch of younger siblings, and as vice housewarden I end up looking after a lot of people in the dorm, including Riddle. If I had to worry about every single thing everyone shorter than me was up to or doing, I'd have grey hair by now."
He had a shit eating grin on his face as you stopped writing and looked up at him unamused.
"You're not funny."
"I like to think I am."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cater's face almost falls a bit when he hears your question, but he keeps himself smiling.
"Could...could you repeat that please? Cay-cay's um....I need to make sure I heard that right."
"What advice would you give someone who wants to improve their day to day life?"
He looked almost haunted, though he was trying to maintain his happy disposition.
"Did...do you want a different question?"
"Ahah um well no! No, it's ok, I got it I just...need a minute I guess! It's...I guess nobody's asked me for advice...ever. I've given it just never asked...specifically, y'know? Ahhh, never mind, can you forget all that and we can take it from the top?"
You can't hide your concern and confusion all that well, but you nod a bit and smile reassuringly.
"What advice would you give someone who wants to improve their day to day life?"
Cater lights up as if the emotions he was conveying a moment ago had never existed.
"That's easy! Cay-cay's got you covered! Find something to smile about everyday, because if you don't-...just find something to smile about everyday. Even if it's just one thing that'll keep you going, you're still going, and that's what matters."
His smile falters just slightly. "That's all you needed from me, right? I can go now?"
You give him a small smile and nod, and watch as he leaves the room, an awkward tension still sitting in the air.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Deuce looks like a deer in the headlights at the question.
"Why would you ask me that?"
You gave him a knowing smile, cocking your brow a bit and he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I think you have plenty to contribute to this, Deuce. We both know you've undergone a lot of personal growth to get to where you are now."
"Well yeah but it hasn't been easy! And you were there when I've had.... when I've flown off the handle and just gone right back to who I was before."
"But you're not the same as you were before. You feel regret, which was what made you want to change in the first place, because before you heard your mother on the phone, you didn't. I wasn't there when you were a delinquent, but I've known you for a few months now and can say with confidence you're doing a good job Deuce, you're making a lot of progress towards your own goal. If you could just share a little bit of insight on what's made it easier, or what's been a motivator other than seeking your mother's approval, I'd really appreciate it."
He thinks it over for a moment, nodding slightly as the words slowly come to him.
"I...I don't really know, but I guess....I've never stopped trying my best...and I give myself room to be angry when I need it. I think a lot of people either try their best most of the time, or don't put very much effort forward at all, so I think the second thing might be the advice I would give someone. To give yourself room to feel your emotions, big or small, just make sure you have a safe place to do it where you won't hurt other people too."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ace looks stupidly unamused and kicks his feet up on your coffee table, blatantly ignoring the look you gave him for doing so.
"You're bein' so formal. We're friends why are you acting like that?"
You couldn't help but huff a bit, amused but not wanting him to know that.
"I have to do this for Crowley, it's not like I want to. Just answer the question Ace, then get out, I have so many other people I have to get to today."
You regret the second part of your sentence when you see his shit eating smile from across the way. He settles even deeper into the seat and sighs deeply, happily and puts his hands behind his head.
"So I get your full, undivided attention until you get the answer you're looking for? Cool."
"Mmm, mhm, you get my full undivided attention until you waste my time and I throw something at you and the countdown is starting my patience is paper thin right now Ace, do not test me."
He scoffs and sits up properly, groaning out of boredom.
"Fiiiine, but is it really wasting time if you're hanging out with me? You owe me an hour after thi-"
"Sure, yeah, whatever, shut up and get out, or answer the goddamned question and get out."
"Sheesh, ok, fine, the best advice I can give is for you to loosen up, Great Sevens you're tense."
"NO SHIT SHERLOCK."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leona didn't even come to you for HIS interview, you had to go track down the lazy lion yourself. He mumbled something when you knocked at the door, but you didn't hear nor care if it was to come in or to go the fuck away. You let yourself in, sat at the end of his bed and waited for some sort of response.
"I will throw this clipboard at your head I know you're awake."
Clearly, he thought you were bluffing, as a few seconds later a very angry cat was growling at you, and your clipboard had bounced off his head and sat on the floor. You remained unphased, tapping your pen against his nose once, lightly.
"You don't scare me, now what advice would you give someone who wants to improve their day to day life?"
"The fuck kind of question is that to wake me up from my nap from?"
"The kind that if you don't answer I'm calling your sister in law and asking her to make you because I don't have time for this shit either Leona. Answer the question. And before you say anything about me not having your family's contact info, I do have both your phone and password so tread lightly." It hadn't been hard to get, Ruggie was an open book for the right amount of Thaumarks, and Leona's phone had been on the floor, but Leona looked mildly impressed for a split second before remembering he was annoyed, huffing and laying back.
"You're lucky I don't eat you alive for throwing that piece of shit at me, herbivore.”
“Are you going to answer the question?”
“Yeah, I just woke up, give me a damn minute.”
“Mira, set one minute timer.”
Setting one minute timer.
“Oh for Great Seven’s sake, is that how petty you’re being? Fine. If you can’t sleep it off, get something to eat. Now get out of my room, before I decide to eat you.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ruggie didn’t even bother sitting down, he recognized the set up from the year before and laughed a little.
“Shyeeheehee if these are the same questions from last year, can’t y’just hand over the paper and pen and I can pretend to write something that Crowley won’t read?”
You couldn’t help but snort a bit. While it was tempting, your curiosity for what the hyena boy had for advice outweighed your want to be a little lazy. Besides, at this point it wasn’t for Crowley, it was for you.
“Not this time. I’ll be honest. I have a question for everyone, I’m just trying to maintain my sanity though, this isn’t about the headmage anymore, this is me holding on by a thread and looking for some hope for the future.”
You laugh weakly, and Ruggie smiles a little, concerned, but it was understandable. You had a lot on your plate, and he was kinda happy that you were that honest with him. He finally sat down across from you and slung his bag from over his shoulder to sit on his lap as he dug through it.
“I’m not great with advice, but my gramma always said something about if you wanna go fast, go alone, if you want to go far, go together. So surround yourself with people that are gonna getchya to the end of the school year, ok? Or until Crowley can send’ya home. The other freshies are doin’ a pretty good job from what I can tell but if y’ever need a lil pick-me-up y’can let me know. Might even do it for free.” He grins and winks at you as he finally produces an apple from his bag, rubbing it gently with his sleeve before offering it to you. “I don’t got much, but you’re doin’ a good job prefect. Hopefully y’can pretend that’s like…a bigger prize or somethin’. And I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I could be a part of that group if y’want me to be.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jack’s ear flicked a bit at your question, his rather stoic expression making you question exactly what was going through his mind.
“That’s a pretty broad topic…but my grandparents and parents always say that ‘we will be known forever by the tracks we leave’…so…don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to be remembered for.”
“Is that all you want to say?”
He simply nods once, happy with his answer.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Azul pushes up his glasses and chuckles a little.
“That isn’t something Crowley had you ask, now is it? If advice is what you’re seeking, then perhaps scheduling an app-“
“Azul. I would love to hear you out but frankly I don’t have the time nor the fucks to give about your business deal you’re about to offer, so if you won’t answer the question, I’ll just inform Leona that you refused to co operate and I know how to push his buttons in just the right ways to do so.”
An awkward silence filled the air before Azul cleared his throat a bit.
“That won’t be necessary. Wisdom that had been imparted on me by my nonna goes as follows: chi non fa, non falla. In other words, he who makes no mistakes, makes nothing. The path to greatness is full of obstacles but can be paved as you learn how to get rid of them. In my case, I recognize that I was fortunate to have seen the road paved by my nonna, and learned from her mistakes so I wouldn’t have to make my own. On the other hand, not having had that example to follow would have allowed me- er…and individual to learn on their own so that they understand and appreciate just how much effort is required. As long as you’re learning, you’re not failing, and sometimes that’s enough.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jade looked rather amused at your question, folding one arm across his chest and holding his chin with the other.
“Tried and true advice is the best advice I have to give. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, you never really know who you can trust.” He smiled a bit at you, but you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it.
“I’ll be going back to the lounge now. If you require anything from me, I’m simply a call away.”
Did having his number make you a friend or an enemy? Did you really want to know??
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Floyd giggles as he turns the chair around to sit in more comfortably, rocking a bit, before your question finally processes and all his excited movement stops and he slumps in his seat.
“Awww but that’s so borin’. It’s not like under the sea where if y’don’t like someone you can just y’know…” he draws his hand in a slitting motion across his neck, tilting his head, and making a wretched squelching noise. “Soooo I guess the only advice I can give ya is if someone’s bein’ stupid to ya, call me! I’ll squeeze ‘em reaaaaal good for ya shrimpy!”
He rocks in the chair a bit before he gets up. “I ain’t answerin’ any other questions, so ya better be happy with whatchya got.”
It was good enough.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kalim was bubbly as ever, but tilted his head like a confused puppy at your words.
“Oh um, I don’t really know. I did hear this one saying though that I thought was really pretty and it was like..um well it went like ‘don’t let the shadows of today take away tomorrow’s sunshine’.”
He sat, expression rather blank but happy. He looked rather expectant though, as if he was awaiting praise. You smiled a little bit at him and decided to dive in a little further.
“What does that mean to you?”
He looked a little surprised, but really thought it over for a moment.
“Well, everything can’t be great all the time. Things are usually ok at best for a lot of people, most of the time. But dwelling on the mistakes we make isn’t going to make us feel any better, so why hold onto them when we can let them go and be happy?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jamil frowned, shaking his head a bit.
“You’re asking me this now? What question are you going to ask everyone else?”
He looked rather haggard, but you couldn’t decide if after the whole hostage situation, you thought he deserved it, or if you felt bad for him. You ignored your feelings on the matter for now and sighed.
“Everyone’s getting the same question.”
“Very well then. My advice is don’t fucking overblot.”
You looked up to see a somewhat smug expression.
“Ask stupid questions, you get stupid answers. I’m going back to my dorm prefect.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vil was poised and ready as ever.
“That’s easy. The only way to ever improve is to practice. Most people say practice makes perfect, but that’s simply not true. If you don’t put your full effort into practicing, if you take short cuts, then you will never reach the level you hope. Perfect practice makes perfect. You must be persistent in achieving greatness; persistence is what sets apart the greats from everyone else. Regardless of what you’re practicing for, whether it’s a role in a movie or to develop patience, the saying remains true.”
He smiled a bit and sat up more in his chair. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?”
You smiled back a bit, finishing writing his response best you could. “Nope, that’s all for now. Thank you Vil.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rook tilted his head a bit and smiled.
“Ah, mon trickster, is that all you are looking for? Surely the head mage would not be asking a question of this depth.”
He hummed a bit to himself, not really looking for an answer from you- he already knew.
“I don’t so much have advice as I do a saying I learned in my time in Pomefiore. There is no rainbow in the soul if there have been no tears in the eyes. Isn’t there such beaute in that? Your soul only grows more beautiful as it does strong when you face hardships, so do not despair when the clouds blur your vision and a downpour slows you in your path. I could simply go on for hou-“
“You really don’t have to Rook, I got the gist….I think. Thank you for your time.”
He smiled and tipped his hat politely.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Epel was more prepared than you may have thought, but it was appreciated.
"You don't ignore the fuel gauge on a blast cycle when it says its empty. You don't ignore the flashing lights and alerts that let you know when your bike needs something. So apply that to yourself. You need fuel too, so don't wait until you can't go anymore to eat. Don't go until you're so exhausted you break down. Sometimes circumstance makes it difficult, but don't ignore the really big signs that's something's wrong and assume its gonna get better."
As if on cue, his stomach rumbled, and he flushed a bit.
"That bein' said, my dorm ain't exactly a picnic. The servin' sizes barely fill me up and peanut butter can work miracles, but not that big. Jack sometimes brings me leftovers from the meals at Savanaclaw, and Deuce sneaks me desserts but it ain't the same as one home cooked meal a' comfort food, y'know?"
You nodded apologetically. You refused to get actively involved, but you could offer a fellow freshman a hand.
"If you bring ingredients, you can use my kitchen. Just don't get caught. And make me some food too."
He looked surprised, then absolutely beamed and laughed softly.
"Y'betchya! I'll make sure it's the best damn food y've had in yer life!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Idia’s tablet floated in front of you. There was a drawn-out silence, and you wondered if he was even paying attention behind that screen or not. Finally, he responded.
“Just advice in general? Lol why would you ask me? You want gaming advice, reqs, strats, sure then yeah, you could shoot me a text or something I guess but this is just p. stupid. I literally don’t leave my room and I’m a nepo baby what relevant and useful advice could I possibly give to a normie?”
“Just give me an answer I can write down Idia, it really doesn’t matter.”
“Fine then. Avoid middle schoolers at all costs. I can absolutely destroy newbs in game, but IRL? Those guys can pin down your biggest insecurities in two seconds flat and won’t be afraid to call you out on it.”
“You took that from a comedy sketch.”
“….shut up, I tried, ok? I guess…..read all the tips on the loading screen of a game when you get the chance. Does that work?”
You sighed softly, before giving him a tired smile.
“Yeah it’s good enough.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ortho let out a sad sounding beep.
“What’s wrong Ortho?”
The little robot kicked his feet a bit in his seat, processing.
“I’m not human. I could give advice, but it might not apply the way I think it does. I could search for it, but it would not be my advice to give. Even if I said something as simple as ‘do your best’, I don’t know, really, what that means. If I give 100% effort in something, I’m pushing the extents of my hardware and software. I run the risk of overheating. I might hurt myself, and in doing that, waste my brother’s time in making him repair me over something that could have been avoided. I have my “best” programmed into me. A human can push past that discomfort, past that risk if they so wish, and in theory, achieve giving more than their best, or something that would be recorded as an anomaly or outlier in a research setting. I have no advice to give.”
He lets out a sound like a sigh and sits cross-legged.
“Even when I try to give big brother advice, when he follows it, things seem to go wrong. I don’t think I should be who you ask.”
You looked over his defeated looking figure. You couldn’t help but feel empathy for him – clearly this had been on his mind for a while. You set aside your clipboard and held your arms open.
“You look like you need a hug.”
The little robot looked up surprised, then visible relief flooded his features as he nodded a bit and floated into your arms, hugging you tightly, but took care to not let his hair get too close to you.
“Doing your best, regardless of who or what we are is all that matters Ortho. My best on a day-to-day basis fluctuates. Sometimes my best means I got out of bed in the morning. Sometimes my best means I finally do those tasks I’ve been meaning to do for weeks. Sometimes my best means I’m on top of everything, getting things done, and feeling great. Everyone’s best looks a little different, sometimes even within the span of hours. You’re doing great. You have people that care about you and will pick you back up if you need a little self help. While some of your capabilities are limited by programming, your actions are not. You still choose to help where you can. You are kind when you want to be. I think that’s when you’re at your best.”
Ortho pulled away, nodding a tiny bit.
“I think I understand. Thank you, prefect. I appreciate it.”
Even though his mouth was hidden, the wrinkles around his eyes told you he was smiling again as he went on his way.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malleus seemed intrigued, but a little surprised at your question. He shut his eyes gently as he thought it over.
“For the fae, years pass by like seconds. To give advice that would only aid you in growth for the next year seems rather near-sighted, though I suppose for you, that is plenty of time to develop your character.”
He hummed softly, trying to think of something he could give you, that wouldn’t be overwhelming. You gave him his time, rather happy in the comfortable silence the two of you were able to sit in.
“I suppose I’ve always taken the passage of time for granted. Perhaps that is something I will work on as I set my own goals, though with that comes the advice I wish to impart upon you. Your time is precious. However, the only thing more precious is how you spend it. I only wish for you to be happy, healthy, and successful Child of Man. Ensure that the time you spend with others lifts you up, encourages you, and allows you to grow into your potential. I hope that one day, I will see you grow into your full potential.”
He smiles softly, hoping that you catch on that he hopes you’ll include him in that circle of friends that will help you continue growing.
However, it’s the wording he used that has you wondering if he has had something to do with why you haven’t been able to go home yet.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lilia giggles softly.
“Asking for advice from your elders, hm?”
He settles in his seat on the ceiling, enjoying the fact that you couldn’t hide a tiny smile from forming from his antics. He pouts thoughtfully and taps his chin.
“There’s a lot I could say. Learning to change with time, to live everyday to it’s fullest, to learn to not be afraid to take risks, that there is value in re-evaluating who you’re friends with, that you should follow your heart until your mind screams no, icicles are ideal weapons, you can train crows to sound like humans and then send them after people you hate, develop your vocabulary to the point where if someone makes you mad you make them feel stupid in your response, that you should never swim on an empty stomach, but never go on a roller coaster with a full one, don’t stick metal where it doesn’t belong, never trust where a toddler’s hands have been….I was going somewhere with this.”
He paused, spacing out for a moment before shaking his head and coming back to earth to finish what he needed to say.
“Truth be told, I think the most important advice I can give is learn to tell others how you need to be loved. Nobody will ever know what you need, so even if you can’t tell the full extent of what you need, someone close to you will do their best to interpret what you mean to get you what you want. The second step to that then, is to let yourself be loved. You are the only person who sees you in as harsh of a light most people see themselves in. Let other people in to make it better.”
He beamed and turned right-side up again.
“Will that suffice, prefect?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Silver looked very concentrated, but needed you to repeat the question. He closed his eyes a bit as he thought, but seemed to startle when he opened them again and sighed.
“Be grateful for what you do have, what you can do, instead of being upset at your incapabilities…you have other talents…and other traits than mistakes and shortcomings.”
He sighed softly, mumbling something under his breath. You couldn’t make out much, but it sounded like something he had heard many times before, himself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sebek puffed his chest out, looking disproportionately proud at being asked for advice, though as soon as he opened his mouth you realized you forgot to set a very important boundary and interjected.
“It can’t be about Malleus. At all. Or any specific person for that matter.”
Sebek’s shoulders fall a bit and he looks a little annoyed.
“You did not specify that BEFORE HAND HUMAN!”
“Well I did now, so deal with it.”
“FINE! I will share with you something that has been shared with me often. It’s-“
“Please your inside voice?”
“THAT WAS NOT WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY.”
“I bet you hear it a lot though.”
“THAT IS IRRELEVANT. NOW BE QUIET SO I CAN COMPLETE THIS TASK, BENEATH ME AS IT IS, THAT I MAY LEAVE YOU TO YOUR PATHETIC UNDERLING WORK FOR THE HEADMAGE!”
You didn’t justify that with an answer, just gestured with your hand for him to get on with it. He cleared his throat a bit and tried to calm down a little.
“I was going to say…the more challenging a conflict, the more glorious the triumph. You mustn’t forget to allow yourself to be proud of what you have achieved. While your conflicts and mine may vary in how difficult they are, it does not change the fact that on an individual basis, we must acknowledge the effort we put in to overcome them.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Grim sat across from you, his tail swishing curiously side to side, his head tilted and eyes wide before he grinned widely.
“Course ya want advice from the Great Grim? Now listen up hench human, ‘m only gonna say it once so ya better make sure y’write it all down, got it?”
You nodded a bit, trying to downplay your smile a bit at the toddler-like energy your companion emanated. He stood up on his chair, pacing back and forth a little bit like a drill sergeant.
“Never eat expired tuna. If you’re really that hungry, no YA AIN’T. If ya need something from the tallest shelf, climbin’ on the counter is sturdier than any chair in Ramshackle. Sneaking food from the cafeteria works real well if your cheeks are big enough to store it!... And if ya don’t eat it as you’re tryin’ to make a break for it. Ace’s most ticklish area is behind his ear, which is why he always pushes me off when my fur rubs up against him when I’m on his shoulders. If ya ever need me to bug’m, let me know! I think that’s all I got for now.”
He stopped and placed his paw on his chin in thought, before one more thing came to mind and he hopped over to you, pushing his face gently against yours.
“Oh yeah. ‘Nd don’t forget t’tell the people y’care about they mean somethin’ to ya, in one way or another, 'kay?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maedhros, The Tall, The Kinslayer, The Dreaded, looked up sharply as the young servant slipped into the room hesitantly.
“These have come,” they said waveringly. “Seasonal greetings…”
Unable to conceal the rare burst of unabashed joy painting his stern face a delicate pink, the Lord of Himring grabbed the missives and pressed them to his chest fitfully.
“To our brother, are your toes frozen yet?” The twins.
“Nelyo, I shall arrive soon—I hope you’ll have mulled wine at the ready.” Káno.
“I am alive. Are you?” Moryo.
“Warm greetings to a cold man!” Turko and Curvo.
Grinning, Maedhros sighed.
Here is the song that inspired this drabble. Disconnected by Jazz Morley!
The first snow of winter had fallen, gentle and pure, settling over the world like a quiet blanket. Gale stood by the window, staring out at the white landscape, his heart racing with an old, familiar fear. The chill in the air was nothing like the freezing cold of the Stalag, but it still made his bones ache with memories.
He’d always hated the snow back then. A reminder of hunger, pain, and the suffocating cold. The thick, heavy coat he had worn back in the Stalag did little to protect him, while John had always seemed to survive with nothing more than a thin jacket, as if the cold had no power over him. Gale had envied that. He still did.
The memories of that first snow in the camp were still sharp. The way the cold dug into his skin, the sharp, biting wind that cut through everything, and the fear that had settled deep in his chest every time the snow started to fall. It had meant more than just winter—it meant suffering.
But now, there was warmth beside him.
John stepped up behind him, his presence solid and reassuring, his hand settling on Gale’s shoulder. “It’s just snow, Buck,” he said softly, as if trying to pull him from the grip of the past.
Gale’s throat tightened. It wasn’t just snow. Not for him.
John seemed to sense the tension in his body, and without a word, he wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. Gale leaned into him, feeling the warmth bleed into his skin. "You don’t have to get used to the cold," John said, his voice calm and steady, offering the kind of comfort that only he could. “Not when I’m here. I’ll keep you warm. Always.”
Always, Gale thought, staring at the snow-dusted ground of Arlington Cemetery. John had died in April, yet every time Gale visited, it was always in winter, always during a snowfall. It felt like fate had decided that this would be the moment he'd confront the memories—the biting cold that pierced through his chest, making everything feel raw again.
He crouched down, removing his glove to carefully brush the snow from John's headstone, as if handling something sacred, something that still belonged to him.
He closed his eyes, forehead resting against the cold marble. "Cheater," he whispered, the word bitter on his tongue.
Why did you leave me, Bucky? How could you? Gale’s throat tightened as the burn in his eyes flared up, the raw pain threatening to break free. Why did you...? The thought spiraled, suffocating him, and he tried to hold it in, struggling to steady his breath. But the sob caught in his chest, relentless, shaking him to the core.
Gale's palm pressed against the stone, and for a fleeting second, he felt warmth—impossible—but real. His hands didn’t feel the cold anymore.
There it was, the anger. The burning rage that felt like passion, like hate. They felt mutually exclusive on some days, painfully so. The cold marble counter felt like icicles burning into her skin. The feeling of existence was pain. And still somehow she persisted. The tears brimming in her eyes weren’t born of any sadness. It came from her soul. Her naked feet were currently standing in a relatively cold, big, dark and empty kitchen with only the dim light of the moon shining through the window to help her see. The tiles felt similarly to the countertop she was leaning on. Nothing felt real, yet everything hurt. It wasn’t fair.
It was useless and without reason. Wanting to scream so loud everyone in the world would hear. But nothing ever seemed to come out of her mouth but a wail, a sob. The conflict between those actions and thoughts, feelings and wants just clashed and clashed like the ocean on a cliffside - violent and loud.
Bucky’s footsteps weren’t audible. He was wearing the socks she had given him last year for christmas. He cherished them and wore them to bed, even. When she hadn’t returned to bed he got worried, his heart aching with the thoughts of what she may have done to herself. Or if she had left him for good. The latter hurt him more, if she had relapsed it would be okay, he could help. If she was gone he would feel lost, alone. She felt like the missing piece that he always searched for. His steps, soft and quiet, came to a halt in the frame of the kitchen.
“Y/N…”
his voice sounded soft in her ears, pulling her back to reality for a moment, her gaze not moving from the countertop. Upon hearing his voice her tears doubled, tripled, and she caved. A sob rang through the kitchen as she fell to the floor. He was there in a moment, his metal arm and his flesh close, warm. Holding her. He realised it wasn’t relapse, it was her emotions ringing through. It was difficult to tell at times, but after so much time spent together he could read her like a book. He pulled her off the cold, clean tiles onto his lap, now sitting on the floor with her in his arms. Her sobs grew louder, her tears wetting his shirt. He didn’t care.
Safe haven, is what he always has been. A place where she could let go.
“It hurts-” She sobbed, and almost clawed at him as if trying to grab a hold of something as she fell. It certainly felt as if she was falling into a chasm with burning hot lava, slowly eating away at her skin as she could just watch herself deteriorate into ash, then into nothingness.
He just held her and made sure she knew she was not alone. That her pain was understood and shared. There was no worse feeling than being alone and he knew that.
So he would sit there, hours if it took that.
“Take your time, doll. I won’t ever leave.”
To him a soft spoken promise, but to her?
The whole world.
I promise I don’t keep meaning to do part 1/part 2s but I lost some writing time today and it just isn’t getting finished. Anyway, here’s the before the present buying cuteness and a little sadness and then tomorrow I’ll post the shopping and the Christmas holidays.
“That’s time. Everyone pass your parchments forward and no homework over the holiday break. You’ve all done marvellous work this semester and I cannot wait to work with you all again in January.” Remus called out to the class after a cursory glance at the clock. He’d accidentally let class run an extra three minutes but thankfully this was the last course before supper.
The classroom erupted into babble as the students passed their tests forward. Remus walked by the front row collecting all the tests and then moved to his desk to pack the tests and his books up. A few students came up to wish him a Happy Christmas, he returned the wishes with a smile and watched the classroom empty out until only one student remained.
He looked so much like James, it caused a pang of ache in Remus’ chest. He’d grown quite a bit over the last few months in the way that teenagers begin to resemble baby deer; limbs too long and not enough control over them. His hair was getting shaggier too, sticking up at all ends. Perhaps Remus could convince him to trim it a bit over the holidays. Harry was staring out the window as Remus walked over to him.
“Something on your mind, Harry?” Remus smiled warmly at his godson.
“Professor Lupin…” He began but Remus held up a hand.
“It’s the holidays now, Haz. No need to call me Professor.” He instructed, pulling over a chair to sit down in front of where Harry was seated at his own desk.
“Moony…” Harry smiled tentatively. “I need your help.” He admitted just as slowly as he had spoken Remus’ nickname. Remus kept the shock off his face, unsure what his godson could have in mind. He’d had a pension for getting into trouble since his first year at Hogwarts and not the good kind James had gotten himself into, but the kind where he’d nearly died multiple times.
“I’m always here, you know that.” Remus’ expression softened even as Harry grew more nervous.
“Idontknowwhattogetpadfootforchristmas!” He rushed out. Remus looked at him in momentary confusion before bursting into laughter.
“Ok, take a breath, I’ve understood Padfoot and Christmas?” He inquired leaning forward warmly.
“I don’t know what to get Padfoot for Christmas.” Harry repeated, slower this time. “Will you help me?”
“You don’t have to get him anything. He’s happy to just spend the holidays with you after all these years.” Remus attempted to reassure him though his hunch was that since Harry was the perfect mix of James and Lily this would not placate him.
“I have to get him something.” Sure enough.
“Ok, how about we go into Hogsmeade tomorrow and do some Christmas shopping before we floo home.” Remus reasoned, mentally calculating how to rearrange their day to allow for a shopping trip.
“You mean it!” Harry looked up excitedly.
“Of course. How about this, I’ll meet you at Hogsmeade station so you can walk down there with Ron and Hermione and say goodbye to them and then we can continue into the village for our shopping.” It was worth rearranging their plans for the look of delight on his godson’s face.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up out of his seat and embracing Remus. Remus chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair.
“Come on now, we’d better get to supper.” He stood with an arm around Harry’s shoulders as the topic changed to plans of picking up another gift for Ron. Though Remus would have guessed that was just so Harry could go to the Quidditch store for his own reasons.
Sometimes it was so strange to walk these halls again. Even with this being his second year back at Hogwarts, Remus still felt the metaphorical ghosts of his past around every corner. Last year his mind had been stuck so firmly on Sirius, when Remus wasn’t imagining him there, he’d actually physically see him in those awful wanted posters or discarded Prophets. This year though it was Lily and James who haunted him.
One particularly vivid memory hit him when he rounded the corner towards Gryffindor tower from his office. Of James standing just by that tapestry fretting about what he was going to buy Lily for Christmas. His hair was a mess, all of him was really because his uniform was wrinkled and windswept. Remus tried to recall if he’d just gone flying but he didn’t remember James carrying his broom during this conversation. James had been pacing back and forth as they waited for Sirius and Peter to meet them.
“You really think she’ll like this necklace? Maybe I need to go back to Hogsmeade. Oh! What if I get her an owl! She doesn’t have one and she’s always talking about how she wishes she didn’t have to borrow Marlene’s to write to her dad. Or a cat! She loves cats. Do you think it would be too much to buy her a cat? Is there time to go back to Hogsmeade tonight?”
“Jamie, calm down.” Remus chuckled. “Lily has been one of my best friends for six years—“
“Not helping.” James grit through his teeth.
“Anyway,” Remus rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need an owl or a cat or even that necklace. Though the necklace is perfect!” He added at James’ panicked expression. “She’s going to love just spending the holidays with you. She’s so excited to meet your parents.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Whatever you give her, it’ll be perfect.” Remus pat James’ shoulder. James sighed.
“It’s just the last Christmas before…” Before indeed.
“I know. Best not to think about it. Look there’s Wormy and Padfoot.”
Remus shook himself out of the memory before he could get too sad. They all ended like that now, their childhood tainted by the war. Harry’s too now. It hurt to remember, to be in this place and live the memories again in such a visceral way. He gave the password to the portrait and fought another wave of nostalgia as he made his way across the common room and up the boy’s staircase. Thankfully Harry hadn’t been assigned to the Marauder’s old dorm. That may have been too much for Remus to handle today. He plastered on a smile now though, tonight he’d share a drink with Sirius and they’d reminisce together, now he would worry about Harry.
He knocked twice on the door before it was opened by a very distraught looking Seamus.
“Oh hello there Professor.” Remus didn’t miss his shocked look.
“Everything alright, Seamus?” He inquired.
“Erm…” He looked sheepishly.
“He stole my jumper and won’t give it back!” A voice from deep within the dorm called out.
“I did not steal your jumper, Dean! Besides, it looks better on me.” He muttered the last part under his breath and Remus had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. So the glances he’d caught between the two students this year were something after all.
“Is Harry here?” He asked, leaving the boys to their own privacy and moving back to his task at hand.
“Over here, Profess—Moony.” He corrected himself shyly. He was haphazardly chucking things into his trunk. Remus chuckled at how like James that was.
“I just came to take your things so you don’t have to carry them around Hogsmeade but it looks like I may have come by too early.”
“Nearly done.” Harry exclaimed. “Ron, have you seen my transfiguration book?” He called over to the redhead who looked even worse for wear than Harry was with packing.
“Uuh, oh here!” Ron dove under his bed and retrieved a book, tossing it just past Remus’ nose. Harry caught it expertly. “Oops, sorry Professor.”
“No harm done, Ron.”
“There. Packed!” Harry looked up from his packed bag and handed it over to Remus. “I’ll meet you at the station?” He asked, clearly making sure they still planned to go on their shopping trip. Remus smiled warmly at the hesitation in his question.
“Yes, see you in a few hours.” Then he turned to the room at large, “Happy Christmas, boys!” The greeting was repeated as Remus left the dorm.
Thranduil strode into his private chambers and shut the door behind him, soothed by the fragrant smell of the mulled wine that was waiting for him at his usual seat.
It had been a long day. For some reason, his son had been asking him strange questions and giving him mischievous looks that had him pondering what Legolas might be up to.
He needn’t have questioned it long, however.
He stepped further into the room and stopped short when he saw you seated in his chair.
You read the subtle disapproval in the twitch of his eye, though he simply tilted his head.
“Good evening,” he offered.
You stood and offered a polite bow. “Good evening my king.”
You had started calling him your king, despite not being of Mirkwood, as a matter of respect. Lord Elrond had sent you to liaise with Thranduil about a complex matter of trade between the two realms, and, some weeks later, you were nearing conclusion of all the formalities. Soon you would have to return to Rivendell, and, if you were honest, you were a bit sad at the thought. Mirkwood was so different from your home in the hidden valley, and you had grown quite fond of it.
Thranduil stepped past you and slowly served himself a glass of the wine that was still simmering in a pot sitting on the table. He took a sip and then finally glanced over his shoulder at you, brow raised.
“What business have you in my private chambers, pray tell?”
“Oh-” You felt color rising to your cheeks as you looked down. You were instantly mortified. “I was told that you had called for me. My apologies, there must have been a misunderstanding-”
“Who told you that I had sent for you?” He turned to face you, his expression unreadable.
You pursed and then licked your lips, feeling foolish as you avoided eye contact. He might think you were lying, you realized, because the answer was absurd; but you thought it best to be honest regardless.
“Prince Legolas.”
You looked up in time to catch the subtle smile that ghosted his lips. “Ah. I see.”
It seemed he believed you.
You bowed again. “I will leave you to your evening, my king. My deepest apologies once again.”
“No need to apologize,” he purred, holding a hand up in a dismissive gesture. “You were simply doing as instructed. I can ask no more than that.”
When you tried to open the door to the hallway, the handle would not turn. You tried the other door, then both at once.
“Problem?”
You were sure King Thranduil must think you were a complete imbecile by now. Just as you turned to explain that you were having troubles with the door, he appeared beside you and placed his lithe fingers on the handle, frowning when it did not move.
“It seems we’ve been locked in,” he stated simply and without alarm.
“Locked in?” You looked up at him, concern resting subtly in your features. “But why would-”
“Would you like some wine?”
“My- king?” Your concern faded to confusion as he stared down at you. He was smiling, his impossibly pale eyes boring into you.
“Come,” his tone became more authoritative. “Have some wine with me while we await a rescue.”
You followed him back to his table, knowing better than to disobey a foreign king in his own home. You sat down in the other chair, murmuring a polite thank you when he handed you a goblet of the warm, fragrant liquid.
“I would like to ask you not to call me that.”
“Call you what-”
“Your king. Please, refer to me as Thranduil as you refer to my son by his name alone.”
That seemed far too forward, but you weren’t going to argue with him. “If- that is what you prefer…”
---
In the hallway, Tauriel looked over her shoulder as she approached the king’s private chambers. She grinned when she saw Legolas casually pacing the floor.
“Well?”
Legolas returned her grin. “They just tried to get out, but Ada didn’t even call for the guard when he realized the door was locked.”
Tauriel’s nose scrunched in amusement.
Legolas played with the large key to the doors and raised his brows. “Should we go pass some time?”
---
The drink you’d been encouraged to have was delicious, and filled you with warmth and a feeling of coziness. You wondered if Thranduil drank this every night before bed; it certainly seemed like a good choice for unwinding.
The two of you had exchanged pleasantries, and he’d asked about a walk you had taken with Tauriel earlier that day. He seemed so relaxed in comparison to you, and you wondered how he was so unperturbed by being locked into these chambers unexpectedly.
After a quiet moment passed, his voice startled you.
“You must be looking forward to returning home.”
You looked up from your cup to see his eyes trained on you intently.
You licked your lips. You had been taught never to outright disagree with someone who held power over you, though you also weren’t inclined to lie to Thranduil. You weren’t sure if he was subtly telling you he wanted you to leave, or simply making conversation. You hummed.
“I’ve really enjoyed my time here. I had no idea Mirkwood was so different from Rivendell, and I fear I may find myself missing it greatly upon my return.”
There was a twinkle of approval in his icy eyes, and in the soft raise of his chin as you spoke. “I am happy to hear you’ve enjoyed our hospitality. It is rare that we have guests from the hidden valley.”
You nodded. “I suppose only those on business.”
He pursed his lips and gave a small nod, then sipped his wine. “And with ours nearly concluded I suppose it shall be some time until such an occasion arises again.”
“A shame.” You let out a small sigh and sipped your wine, a sadness settling over your features as you thought of the long journey home and the feeling of loss that was sure to accompany you there.
You had spent a disproportionate amount of time socializing with Thranduil’s son and his friend Tauriel, who had immediately taken you under their wing when you arrived in their forest home. Despite his high station, Legolas was surprisingly light-hearted, and had invited you several times to dine with him and the king. Despite only knowing them a few weeks, you’d managed to grow closer to and fonder of Legolas and Tauriel than your acquaintances in Rivendell.
Thranduil, on the other hand, had a way of making you feel slightly unnerved. He had striking features and carried himself with such authority that even if you hadn’t known him to be the Elvenking, you would have surely taken notice of him.
And taken notice you had; his intense stares met you in your dreams as you imagined becoming closer with him.
Once, a week after your arrival, you happened to witness him laugh at something Legolas had said; a genuine, facade-crumbling laugh that you never could have imagined from him. Since that day, you had wondered if you could ever hear such a magnificent sound again.
For Thranduil’s part, he’d been curious about you from the moment you arrived in Mirkwood. Unfortunately, you seemed the least at ease around him. You were able to speak almost casually with his son, and he’d heard various things about you from Tauriel, who was becoming a good friend to you. He wondered if his position intimidated you, or if perhaps you were trying to maintain a distance so as to be a better negotiator.
You were never rude with him, but you were adept at politely declining suggestions that were not to Rivendell’s best interests. It seemed to him that every conversation with you was a sort of dance around things you felt you shouldn’t say and potential points of contention. He wished to push past your defenses and engage with you as the others did.
“A shame, is it?”
You felt your cheeks grow hot and you looked up from your wine to see the stoic Elvenking’s icy blue eyes boring into you. You struggled to know what to say, your mind slowed by the sweet liquid you’d been drinking deeply of.
“There’s no need for you to leave Mirkwood when negotiations conclude,” he offered lightly, then took a sip of his wine.
You struggled to read his face.
He noted your lack of reply. Perhaps he needed to be more forthcoming with his suggestion. “We could send written notice to Lord Elrond with the final contract and you could remain here as long as you wish.”
It was a generous offer. They’d given you such lovely accommodations and had treated you as an honored guest for so long that you were sure you’d soon wear out your welcome. Not so, apparently.
“To what end, my- er, Thranduil?” Your insecurities soaked through your voice. “Once we’ve concluded, then surely I’ll be of no use here.”
“Use?” He let out a quiet snort. “If it is a task or occupation you find yourself in need of, I’m certain one can be afforded. You’ve proven yourself to be a skilled intermediary.”
He caught the way your brows rose and your eyes sparkled with interest. “If- If you truly mean so, then I would be happy to stay here.”
A soft smile played on his lips.
It seemed you’d said the right thing.
Happy, he thought. Not ‘honored’, not ‘open to the idea of’- but happy. He took your use of emotive language as honesty.
“It would make us happy to have you.”
“Oh-” You felt your face flush and you gestured with your hand - about to say something self-deprecating - accidentally knocking over the goblet of wine you’d put down on the table.
You stood in a panic. “Oh! My- my deepest apologies, I-”
“It’s nothing.” Thranduil was upon you immediately, his lithe hand resting on your shoulder. “Just a spill.”
You licked your lips, feeling a bit dizzy at having stood up so quickly after so much sweet alcohol.
His other hand hooked under your chin and he stared down at you with knit brows. You looked unsteady on your feet. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I feel… a bit strange,” you hedged. Not only from the wine, but also at his soft touch and proximity; his invitation to stay in Mirkwood still feeling too wonderful to be true.
He let out a soft hum. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
You noticed the way his lips tugged downward as he studied your face.
“You are so at ease around the others.”
“I simply mean not to offend,” you murmured.
“Far from it… The only offense is the pedestal upon which you have placed me. I would prefer your friendship to your fealty.” His gaze flicked to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Though I would accept both.”
You almost protested; insisted that you were too low station to befriend the Elvenking (or his son, for that matter, though you hadn’t had much say once Legolas had decided to befriend you). Not wanting to displease, however, you simply felt your breath hitch as you watched him watching you.
“I see,” you murmured.
Not one to be denied that which he wished, Thranduil took your acquiescence as an invitation, and slowly lowered his face to yours. He paused, noses touching and searched your heavy-lidded eyes.
“May I?”
Was this reality? A dream? If you’d fallen asleep and invented such a scenario in your mind, you were surely glad of it.
“You may.”
His lips tasted like sweet wine and spices, softer and warmer than you would have thought, his hand moving feather-light over your jawline to cup it.
When he pulled away, you looked down at your feet, heart thumping in your chest.
“I hope with you staying in Mirkwood, we can become very good friends indeed.”
“I would like that,” you admitted.
“We can discuss more in the morning, but for now I think perhaps you’re in need of a rest, hm?”
---
In the quiet hours just before sunrise, Legolas snuck back to the locked door, Tauriel in tow. They carefully, silently, eased open the large door, smirking to each other at the sight of you resting sound asleep in the loose arms of the king. You were both sitting upright against the headboard, fully dressed, having fallen asleep awaiting a rescue that Thranduil had hardly been in a rush to receive.
“I think it worked.”
---
December Drabbles Masterlist
A/N: Thanks so much for your patience with this request! I started it right away, but life was SO BUSY this month and then it became a lot longer than I expected... I have such a hard time with brevity, haha. I hope it's okay, this is my first time writing Thranduil and it seems like everyone does so a little differently. Thank you so much for the request! Please send me another any time!
